"What's he saying?" Mr. Nightstick asked the woman beside him.
"He's saying, 'Hands off the kids or we'll break your face. Get the cuffs off them."
It quickly became apparent that there were two types of armed elves present. Hospice security appeared to be laedin caste, in camouflage green and browns done with elfin flare for fashion. They carried bows and spell-arrows and interceded between the humans of the EIA and Windwolf's personal security—which was all higher-born sekasha caste, armed to the teeth and thoroughly peeved. Even the hospice healers seemed intimidated by the sekasha, taking care to make no threatening moves as Windwolf was shifted off the worktable onto a stretcher and then handed out the trailer. The cousins were kept back, out of the way, as the healers and the sekasha carried the injured elf into the hospice.
By then, news of the cousins' arrival with Windwolf must have reached the enclaves that lined Elfhome's side of the Rim; elves drifted out of the darkness to gather in the parking lot. They were largely ignored by everyone, but seemed satisfied with swapping information among themselves. Only one rated attention from the guards; she drifted out of the woods like a will-o'-the-wisp, a gleaming beauty who made Tinker extremely aware of how short, dirty, and scruffy she herself really was in comparison. Obviously one of the high caste, the female crossed the parking lot and stopped one of the hospice guards with a touch of her luminous hand. The two made an effective roadblock, preventing the cousins and their joint elf/human guard from entering the hospice.
"Wolf Who Rules has been found?" the female asked in High Elvish. The guard bowed low and answered in a rapid flow of high tongue that Tinker couldn't follow. (Tinker had always found the more formal language to be too tedious and pretentious to become fluent in it.) She did catch, however, the female's name: Saetato-fohaili-ba-taeli. Roughly, it meant "Sparrow Lifted By Wind" though the «Saetato» could indicate soaring rather than lifted. While the female did not seem the type to take a human nickname, she would probably be called Sparrow.
As if collateral damage from Sparrow's beauty were not enough, the guard indicated the cousins, and Sparrow turned her stunning regard their way. From ankle-length hair, so pale blond it was nearly silver, with ribbons and flowers worked through it, to her tall lithe body encased in softly gleaming fairy silk of pale green, she was perfection taking humanoid form.
"These two wood sprites?" A soft musical laugh as eyes of deep emerald studied the cousins.
The guard clicked his tongue, the elfin way of shrugging, and added something about Windwolf putting them under his protection.
"Yes, of course." Sparrow clicked her tongue against straight pearly teeth and drifted away.
Minutes later the cousins were alone, under joint human/elf guard, in a waiting room, holding mugs of hot chai. Oilcan was quietly shaking off the adrenaline, which left Tinker plenty of time to think. They had done it—kept Windwolf alive all of Shutdown Day and delivered him to safety. With all of Pittsburgh, why though, had he ended up in her scrap yard? Just stupid luck, or had the life debt between them somehow guided him to her? And now what? Did he disappear out of her life again, until the next monster and the next life-or-death fight?
She touched her breast pocket to feel the spell within. If she got a moment alone with Windwolf, it might be the last time she could ever cast the spell. Even if she was sure the spell wouldn't harm him, did she want to sever the link? She scoffed at herself; what did she know of him except that he was arrogant? Strong. Brave. Altruistic. Honorable. Beautiful. That he was capable of wit and patience even while enduring great pain, facing probable death. And he was possibly a great lover.
The door swung open, and a man came in as if he ruled the place. He could nearly pass as an elf. He was tall, sleek, had blond hair drawn back into a braid, and was stylishly dressed from painted silk duster to tall, polished boots. He checked himself at the sight of the cousins huddled on the couch. Finally, the man let out his breath loudly and glanced at his PDA. "Which one of you is Oilcan, and which is Tinker?"
"I'm Tinker," she answered. "He's Oilcan."
He crossed the room to tower over them. "Brother and sister?"
"We're cousins," Tinker said.
"I'm Maynard." He didn't need to say more. Everyone knew Director Derek Maynard, head of EIA. In Pittsburgh, it was just short of saying "I'm God."
Oilcan moaned softly and sank deeper into the couch.
"You are in luck that elves believe that the ends justify the means, as long as it's done with honor. We've been told that the court would be most displeased with us if we press charges." He said it almost like the royal "we." "So the question is, what all do we need to pardon you of? Are you citizens, or do we have to draw you up papers? Is that truck yours, or did you steal it?"
"We're citizens," Oilcan said. "But we need our papers back. Your men never gave them back."
"We didn't do anything wrong until your men attacked us," Tinker said.
Maynard looked at her, eyes narrowing. "Was this before or after you destroyed the checkpoint?"
"We were waiting for Startup about a mile from the checkpoint when they forced their way into the trailer," Tinker said. "They were going to kill Windwolf. I had Windwolf's gun, so I pulled it on them. I made them get out. Then we rammed the gate."
Maynard studied her, all expression going from his face until he was unreadable. "What made you think they would kill Windwolf?"
"The one who got into the trailer called Windwolf 'sitting duck' or something like that."
" 'Easy prey. " Oilcan mimicked their thick rough voices. "He said 'He is here—easy prey. Then the other said, 'Do them all. Quietly. They were going to kill all of us."
"Yeah, no witnesses," Tinker said.
"What makes you think they were EIA men?"
"They had on the border guard uniforms and asked to see our papers."
"It is important for you to understand this." Maynard dropped to one knee so he was level with them. "The EIA did not try to kill Lord Windwolf."
"They were too big to be wearing stolen uniforms," Tinker said. "They were taller than you, with lots more muscle."
"Whether they were truly EIA or not is yet to be seen. I doubt very much that they were my men. If they were, they were not acting under my orders. It is very important that no rumors to the contrary start. Me sanctioning a murder of Lord Windwolf would mean war. Perhaps war isn't a strong enough word. It would be genocide. The elves would rid Elfhome of humans."
Had he ordered it? Tinker considered what she knew of the man. Everyone had something different to say about Maynard—some of it insulting. No one called him stupid, though, and sending men in uniform would be the height of stupidity.
"Okay," Tinker said. "You had nothing to do with it. So, I guess this means we won't get our papers back."
"I will see you are issued replacements," Maynard said.
"We had reports that Windwolf and his guard had been attacked by wargs just before Shutdown. His guard had been killed, and he disappeared. We had no idea if he was in the city or still on Elfhome. We were hoping he made Elfhome. Apparently he didn't. How did he end up with you?"
"The wargs chased him into our scrap yard at midnight last night. I was there alone. They were temporary constructs, so I was able to disrupt them with our electromagnet. They reverted to dogs, and Windwolf shot them."
"And you've been sitting on him the last twenty-four hours?"