Elvenborn

fallen.

Oh, Ancestors, I only hope that Triana didn 't place that girl with me to get at Gel rather than me. . . .

With his thoughts flitting between amusement and concern, he wasn't paying a great deal of attention when Moth brought him into a tiny chamber kitted out as a sitting-room, where a

young woman waited, pacing up and down in front of the win­dows, displaying no great patience herself. All he noticed at first was that she was red-haired and green-eyed, clothed in the same sort of tunic, boots, and trews as a common laborer, with the physique of someone who was athletic and very much used to taking care of herself in any and all circumstances. He couldn't imagine why Moth had insisted he meet this person— unless, perhaps, she was one of Moth's human servants and had information about the Young Lords?

'Lord Kyrtian,' Moth said formally, 'I believe that you have many things to discuss with Lashana.' She tipped her head to the side as he sighed with exasperation, still wondering what she was getting at. She pursed her lips, but her green eyes held the ghost of amusement in them. 'I believe you might know her by another name. Elvenbane.'

WHAT?

He lost every vestige of exasperation, annoyance, impatience in that moment. He stared at the woman, who stood poised like a deer about to flee, trying to make his mind believe what his ears had just heard.

Red hair—but elven eyes. And the ears. Wizard blood, unless it's an illusion—

But Moth would never have been fooled by an illusion. Moth had met Wizards. Moth's friend Viridina—her son was a wizard.

'Lashana arrived bearing a letter from Viridina's halfblood son, verifying her identity,' Moth said, as if divining his thoughts.

She probably is, the old schemer! She doesn 't need to read thoughts, she knows me like her favorite sonnet!

'I am—fascinated to meet you, Lashana,' he said carefully. 'Or should I call you 'Elvenbane?''

'Please don't,' the young woman said firmly. She was still tense and very ill-at- ease. 'It's not a name I ever claimed for myself.'

Both of them stood so awkwardly, so stiffly, that Moth began to chuckle. 'Kyrtian, Lashana, for Ancestors' sake, sit down! You look like a pair of bad carvings, I do swear!'

Kyrtian relaxed marginally, and gestured to Lashana to take a seat on the cushioned bench nearest her. She did so, moving as if she was an old creature with frozen joints. He selected a slightly lower seat on a stool, to put his eyes a little lower than hers.

'I don't have much time,' she said, finally. 'And I'm not cer­tain how to begin.'

'I can tell you that,' he offered, and tried a smile. 'Begin with why you knew you could trust me not to kill you on sight.'

As he had hoped, such a direct and blunt approach was pre­cisely the right way to approach her, and she began telling him the most amazing story that he had ever heard in his life. He lis­tened and had to work not to allow his mouth to fall open with shock more than once. To think that two of her people had got­ten close enough to him to stand guard on his very tent so that they could spy on him! He would have to have a word with Gel about that, later.

At some point his capacity for sheer astonishment was ex­hausted, and he could only listen to her in a sort of trance. It was all too impossible to believe, and yet he had to believe in it. The things she told him fit too well with what he already knew.

Then, after talking until she was hoarse, she paused, and ex­changed a significant look with Lady Moth. 'So,' she said. 'Now you tell me to take myself off. Or—'

'Or I ask you if your Wizards would dare accept the Elven-lord Commander as an ally,' he finished, having already come to the conclusion that this, and only this, could be the reason why she had come to him. Brilliant— audacious—and com­pletely logical. And on the other hand, completely illogical that she should ever trust a fullblood.

She stared at him, and suddenly every bit of tension ran out of her, just like water running out of a cracked jar. 'Fire and Rain!' she exclaimed weakly. 'You're just as Keman claimed you are!'

He wondered if she had read his thoughts, using the same hu­man magic that some of his own people had— and Moth's.

'Only the surface,' she replied instantly. 'I don't pry; none

of us would. And if you want, I can teach you a method to keep even the surface thoughts private.'

He looked deeply into her emerald eyes, so like and unlike a fullblood's, and saw only sincerity in them. He'd been around human mages too often to feel unnerved by her instant response to his thought. 'I'd appreciate that,' he replied. 'But it can wait. So, now I assume you know about my own people?' A sudden, blinding idea occurred to him at that moment, the way that he could, finally, safeguard his own people and his mother no mat­ter what happened to him, and he saw that she saw it in his thoughts by the surprise that flashed into her eyes.

'Yes!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, indeed yes, Lord Kyrtian, we can, and we will, take your folk if they must be evacuated! Por­tals—the transportation magic—whatever is needed; between your people and mine we can do whatever it takes to get them to safety. And you needn't fear for your mother and the other Elves of your house, either—we have Lorryn's half-sister with us and she is as welcome now among us as he is!'

Now it was his turn to feel relief that made him sag. 'Blessed Ancestors,' he murmured, passing a hand over his brow. 'If you knew what it meant to me to hear that—' Then he smiled weakly. 'What am I saying? Of course you know.'

But relief from one problem didn't help much with the oth­ers, and if this young woman did not have much time, they needed to make plans, urgently. 'Bless you, Lashana. Now— let's decide between us what I can do for you and yours.'

Gel was not happy with him.

'Next time—' Gel muttered under his breath. 'The next time you go making hare-brained meetings without me, with women you've never seen and don't know anything about, I'll take you to the horse-trough and hold your head under till you come to your senses, I swear!'

Kyrtian sagged against the back of his chair, but was not go­ing to back down this time. He didn't blame his old friend—but something had told him that Lashana and Gel shouldn't meet, yet. There wasn't enough time to negotiate all of Gel's suspi-

cions, not and come to an understanding before she had to leave. Ancestors! The danger she had put herself in by coming to him directly! And the danger had increased with every mo­ment that passed; there was no telling who could have discov­ered her there.

Gel's dinner sat uneaten in front of him; he had already stuffed his meal down his own throat as he'd explained the mir­acle that had happened in that incongruously ordinary room this afternoon. 'Gel, Morthena was there the entire time—and what could one little wizard-girl possibly do to me?' he asked, reasonably.

Gel only growled. 'I suppose you know she could have been talking things she's got no authority to promise?'

'Morthena says she has the authority, and that's good enough for me.' His mind was too full of plans now to be put off by Gel's irritation. His old friend was mostly just annoyed that, for the first time, he had made plans and forged a pact without Gel's supervision. 'I know what I'm doing, Gel,' he said, with perfect conviction.