When she was ready, the Tezerenee led her to the wagon where Faunon was kept. Two sentries stood ready to receive them. Sharissa expected to see Lochivan nearby, but could not find him. It did not break her heart.
Her guide spoke to the others and indicated Sharissa. One of the guards nodded and both stepped aside. Nodding as if their obedience was to be expected, the sorceress strode past them and over to the wagon door. The Tezerenee preferred a wagon that was more of a room on wheels, including windows and a door. There was no real need for such an elaborate structure where a simple cloth-covered wagon would have sufficed; the wagon was merely a result of the clan’s tastes. In some ways, it resembled a tiny citadel. Sharissa knew that it was even protected to some extent by defensive spells.
A light from within blinded her when she opened the door. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, took a moment to recuperate. Sharissa saw that a lamp illuminated the interior and wondered if it had been left specifically for her use. The lamp hung on a hook in the ceiling. Beyond it were several mysterious sacks from which emanated a slight magical aura, but nothing that made her worry. Supplies of some sort; she had seen their like often.
Other than the sacks and the lamp, only one other item decorated the wagon’s interior.
Faunon.
He was chained so that he could sit on the floor with his legs outstretched, but there were other chains above those, an indication that sometimes he was forced to stand, probably during questioning. Physically, Faunon looked no worse than he had the last time the tall sorceress had spoken to him. Vraad torture, however, did not necessarily leave its marks on the skin.
She closed the door behind her, even though that did not mean that they could not hear her. It would give them a sense of privacy at least. “Faunon?”
The worn figure did not respond.
“Faunon?” Sharissa’s voice quivered. Had they killed him and left the corpse there for her to see? Was this Lochivan’s mad jest on her?
His chest rose and fell. Sharissa breathed a sigh of relief, more horrified at the thought of his death than she would have believed. The elf was the only being other than Darkhorse that she could think of as a friend.
He looked up. His handsome features were marred by dark circles under his eyes and very, very pale skin. Despite the excessive anguish he had gone through since last they met, the fire was still alive in his eyes. As they focused on her, the flames burned brighter, as if her presence heartened him.
“Lady Sharissa.” He coughed. “I was told you would be coming. I thought their words just another torture. I thought I would never see you again.”
“I couldn’t get to you.” It would do no harm to speak a little about their last encounter. She knew by now that they had at least known of it, if not what the two had actually said during that encounter. “Then, I found you had been moved.”
“These Tezerenee like to play games. One… one of those games is to move me from one place to another, with each… each progressive accommodation worse than the last.”
Sharissa moved close enough to touch him. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder… for both you and Darkhorse.”
“And what could you have done? There is a saying among us elves,”-he gave her a weak smile-“one of our many sayings, that more… more or less means one should wait for the proper time, for eagerness and overconfidence have brought down many an empire. In this land, we have seen much truth to that.”
His ability to still find strength despite the situation encouraged her.
“I asked them to let me talk to you, Faunon. I told them I might be able to gain your cooperation.”
“You will always have my cooperation. It is only these Tezerenee who will not.”
“There must be something you can tell me, something that will save you from further questioning for the time being. Something about the land or about the caverns in the mountains.” She was almost to the point of pleading. If she failed, the Tezerenee would only redouble their efforts in regard to the elf. Sharissa’s heart beat madly when she thought of that.
Faunon shook his head. “I told them about the caverns. What little I know. I warned them to stay away, that even the Seekers no longer trusted the place.”
“Why is that?”
He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “I told them that something evil lives in the lower depths. They, of course, thought I was trying to pass on some ancient legend, but this thing is a recent horror. My people have spied upon the aeries before, including the caverns, and no one has ever spoken of any monster.”
“Are you certain?” Unlike Lochivan or Barakas, Sharissa was willing to believe what the captive elf was saying. She could see the truth of what he said in his eyes. She could see many things in his eyes.
“As certain as I am of anything,” he replied, but his voice was distant, as if his mind were elsewhere. Sharissa blinked and turned away until she was certain she could face him without reddening.
“Is there anything else you could tell them? Are there many Seekers left here? Have you seen the upper caverns?”
“I saw a huge, unearthly stallion race to the east. It was weeks ago, but they might-”
She shook her head. “That was Darkhorse.”
“Darkhorse?” He gave her an appraising look. “I thought the name only fanciful. There are many such names among us elves. When you used this Dark-horse’s name, I did not think it was meant to be so literal. For a Vraad, you make interesting friends. First an ebony demon and then myself. I thought your race rather arrogant toward outsiders.”
“Are all elves the same? You hardly seem as formal I was always told.”
“I take your point.” Since the start of her visit, or perhaps even because of it, Faunon had grown stronger and more coherent. Sharissa was pleased, but realized that it all meant nothing so long as they were prisoners of the Tezerenee.
“This Darkhorse,” interrupted Faunon. “You mentioned him as a fellow prisoner. Is the dragonlord so powerful that he could bind this stallion to his will?”
Outside, something thumped against the side of the wagon. The sorceress listened for a moment, but when it was not repeated she decided it was nothing. “He wasn’t before. They’re growing stronger, Faunon. Soon, they’ll rape this land as they did the last… and I can do nothing to stop them!”
“Nimth. That’s what it was called, wasn’t it? The world we fled from? The world the Vraad ravaged?”
She nodded.
His mouth was a grim line. “I doubt they will find this domain so pliable. It has faced others before your people. There were many who wanted to adapt the land to them instead of working with it. Whenever that happened, the land seemed to make them adapt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you felt any different since coming to this world? Any change at all?”
“I felt more at home than I ever had on Nimth. It was a glorious change for me.” For the first time, she recalled the wine and food in her hands. The young Vraad showed it to Faunon, who momentarily dropped his question and smiled at the sight. “Is that wine? Could I have a bit of that before I continue? Our friends have given me nothing but brackish water, albeit all I could drink.”
“Let me help you.” She brought the wine to his mouth and tilted it. Faunon, his eyes on her, swallowed twice and then indicated she should stop.
“Thank you… gods! What sweet honey!”
“The Tezerenee make it.”
“Proving that they have at least one good quality, I suppose.” While she broke apart some bread and cheese for him, he returned to his subject. “Having spent these few wonderful moments with you, I can see that you and the land would have no quarrel. The same cannot be said for the dragon men, however. The land will not tolerate them.”
Sharissa thought to ask him if he knew of the founders and how their kas, their spirits, were a part of the land now, but the telling of that would take her much too long.
A heavy weight fell against the wagon, striking so hard that the entire structure shook.
“Are we under attack?” Faunon asked, frustration at being chained during a time of danger taking over. The sorceress had thought of trying to remove the chains, but, recalling that they were like her collar, knew it would be an exercise in futility.
