“Not sure yet about the first, no to the second.”
They walked into the house and sat at the table off the small kitchen. Arlingfant looked amused. “He didn’t think you would. I thought of him after you left me. He’s changed since you knew him. He killed a man not too long ago. An Elf. He was in training to join the Home Guard—a natural, given his skill level. But he got on another trainee’s bad side, and when the instructor wasn’t looking the trainee tried to cripple him during an exercise. Cymrian reacted instinctively and killed him. His sister told me. But, you know. Once you’ve killed another Elf, you can’t be in the Home Guard.”
Aphenglow understood. There were certain prohibitions that could not be violated. Killing another Elf in service to the King was one.
“But why does he want to work for me?” she asked.
Her sister grinned. “Don’t you know?”
Aphen gave her a perplexed look. “No, I don’t know.”
The grin broadened. “Well, you’ll figure it out.” Arlingfant rose. “Let’s fix ourselves something to eat and then we can talk some more. How does a vegetable stew sound?”
It sounded wonderful. Aphenglow followed her into the kitchen, and for the time being pushed thoughts of Cymrian from her mind.
13
Aphenglow spent the balance of the following day working in the underground storerooms that housed the Elven histories and related archives, continuing her search for information on the missing Elfstones. In particular, she was hunting for more information on Aleia and the rest of the Omarosian family and the connection between the two. She wanted to be certain she hadn’t missed anything here before turning her attention to the Chosen histories.
She found exactly nothing she didn’t already know. Except for one thing.
While searching the writings peripheral to the Elven histories, she found herself sidetracked by references to various maps of the times in which the writings were recorded. Wondering how much of the Faerie world might have been mapped in the earliest of times—particularly the time of Aleia Omarosian—she left her place among the writing archives and moved over to where the maps were stored. She searched them front-to-back without success, but then found a further reference to an ancient file that seemed to be missing. This, in turn, led her to another room entirely, where piles of old maps were bundled in stacks, and she spent the next three hours scouring these.
In the end, she found something unexpected.
Something that might prove even more useful than the diary.
It was a map, crudely rendered and enigmatically labeled, of the world as it existed in the period during which Aleia Omarosian and her immediate family had lived. Aphenglow was able to identify the time period for three reasons. First, the Elven home city of Arborlon was clearly labeled, although it was located in a different place than where it was now; second, the city of Parsoprey—on the other side of the Dragon’s Teeth Mountains—to which Aleia had gone to visit her grandparents, was also identified.
But third and most important, Rajancroft—the home city of the Darkling boy who had stolen the Elfstones after being rejected by Aleia—was labeled, as well.
Even though two of the cities were gone completely and the third moved to a new location, it should be possible to determine approximately where each had once been on the present-day map by using the mountains as a measuring stick.
Which meant it might be possible to find the ruins of Rajancroft and perhaps even the location of the missing Elfstones.
That effort would be aided immeasurably if she could persuade her grandfather and the High Council to allow the Druids to use the seeking-Stones.
She sat quietly for a time after that, speculating on how she might make this happen. She must be strong, but not too aggressive, in presenting her cause. She could afford to press, but not antagonize. There was bound to be resistance, but she had to find a way to overcome it. She had to turn that resistance into support, however grudgingly given. All sorts of approaches suggested themselves, but none of them seemed quite right.
And admittedly, it was still a gamble. As she had speculated before, surely someone over the centuries had tried to use the blue Elfstones to find their mates and failed. There was no reason to think that she and her fellow Druids would be any more successful.
The most difficult part of this business was not being able to be candid about what she was doing or why. Elves in general did not like obfuscation and deceit, and by keeping from them the whole of what she knew of the Druid mission she was perilously close to crossing that line. But she had been told her parameters when she’d suggested this, so she couldn’t very well complain about it now.
She left the palace shortly after, deciding to go early for her dinner with Jera and Ellich. Perhaps getting out of the storerooms for a bit would help clear her mind. As she left the palace and started down the road leading to her aunt and uncle’s home, Cymrian appeared from nowhere and fell in beside her.
“Any problems?” he said, his eyes shifting here and there as he walked next to her.
“Where have you been?” she asked, a bit disgruntled that she hadn’t seen him before this.
“Close by.”
“All day? I never saw you once.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? If you could see me, so could someone else. I couldn’t come inside the palace, but I figured you were safe enough there.”
“I’m safe enough anywhere.”
“Are you?”
She gave him a look, but said nothing. “Where will you go now?”
She hesitated before telling him, finally deciding there was no reason not to. “To my aunt and uncle’s for dinner. Jera and Ellich.”
He nodded. “Good people. Say hello for me.”
Then he drifted away, peeling off into the woods and disappearing in the same way he had the day before. She stopped to watch him go, intrigued in spite of herself. She found him inexplicably interesting and couldn’t provide a reason for it.
She enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her aunt and uncle, and when Arlingfant arrived later on, the four shared the evening meal and several hours of reminiscence and laughter. It was the most relaxed she had felt in days, and when she arrived home that night she went straight to bed and fell immediately asleep.
The following morning, she appeared before the King and the High Council to make her request.
She rose early, but not early enough to catch Arlingfant, who had already gone off to the Gardens of Life to celebrate the sunrise with the Ellcrys and the other Chosen. Ellich had told her the night before—taking her aside for a moment’s private conversation—that arrangements had been made for her to appear in the Council chambers at midmorning. She had been calm about it when told, but felt nervous now that the audience was almost at hand. She gave more thought to what she would say, knowing even as she did so that the direction the appeal would take would ultimately depend on the reaction of the King and members of the High Council to the idea of allowing the Druids to use the Elfstones.
When she walked out the door on her way to the Council chambers, she found Cymrian waiting. She realized she had never mentioned him to her aunt and uncle, even after promising herself she would do so. Her unhappiness at having let that slide kept her from saying anything rude. Instead, she smiled disarmingly.
“Keeping close watch over me?”
“Keeping you in sight.”
“I have to appear before the High Council.”
“I know. I’ll be with you.”
“They won’t let you in. The audience is closed.”
He nodded. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
They walked on as she pondered this equivocation, wondering what he meant. Surely they wouldn’t allow him into a closed Council session. Not with his violent history. In point of fact, she didn’t want him there anyway. What she had to say wasn’t meant for his ears. The fewer people who knew about her plans for the Elfstones, the better.