So when the two of them arrived in Center Trunk, he decided to go with Vinetia to her squad’s barracks, and spend the night there, rather than report to Silvan’s office so late at night, so that he could put off for a few more hours the conversation that he feared to participate in. He fell into an empty bunk and slept in his clothes, then arose groggily in the morning at the sound of others starting to stir, and slipped away from the barracks quarters.
He knew he had to go see Silvan, much as he dreaded the thought. With slow steps he walked through the morning air that was dense with mist, shrouding his view as he journeyed around the base, and he walked past his destination once before he realized that he had missed it in the fog. Minutes later he was on the steps, then up the stairs to the doorway to Silvan’s office, where Giardell was already standing on duty.
“Guardsman Kestrel, reporting for duty,” he spoke to Giardell, “as ordered by Colonel Silvan.”
“The colonel’s not here yet,” Giardell replied, looking at Kestrel in a manner that weighed his appropriateness for an audience with the spy master of the elves. “He won’t be here for a bit more this morning. Why don’t you go to the baths and clean yourself up so you’ll be more presentable?”
It was a question, but clearly a strong suggestion, and Kestrel decided to act on it. At the very mention of the word bath he had imagined how refreshing it would feel to soak in hot water.
“I’ll go do that. Which way are they?” he replied, and listened to the directions Giardell gave.
“Tell the colonel I was here early and I’ll be directly back,” Kestrel asked, and then he was down the hall and down the stairs, leaving Giardell to muse whether the youngster was up to the challenge that Silvan had planned for him.
When Kestrel returned to the office door an hour later, he looked and felt better. Giardell left him standing in the hallway while the guard went into the office, then returned and motioned for Kestrel to enter.
Inside, Silvan sat at his desk, crisp, clean and alert to start the day, making Kestrel glad that he had taken his bath and improved his own state before the meeting.
“Welcome back, Kestrel. You’ve been hard at work in Firheng, I understand,” Silvan began.
“Yes sir, I tried to do everything they taught me,” he answered cautiously.
“And you’ve heard about the disaster we’ve suffered?” Silvan questioned.
“The fire and the battle?” Kestrel clarified. “Yes.”
“Vinetia filled you in? That’s good,” Silvan responded. “We lost an enormous number of guard members, probably the worst loss in the lifetime of anyone alive today. We weren’t prepared for that type of attack, and our lack of knowledge and preparation hurt our people badly.
“I understand you lost a couple of acquaintances too, Kestrel. I’m sorry about that,” he added.
“A couple?” Kestrel asked. “Vinetia told me about Lucretia; was there someone else?”
Silvan paused and closed his eyes, while his fingers rubbed circles around his temples. “I’m sorry, I forgot that you wouldn’t have any way of knowing. The majority of our casualties came from the Elmheng contingent of guards; you probably knew several of them, but I was thinking of Commander Mastrim.”
Kestrel’s vision grew blurry, and his throat felt thick. “Commander Mastrim?” he echoed in disbelief.
Silvan let only a momentary pause pass. “The Commander died bravely, and helped save the lives of others. When it became apparent that our guards were in a tight situation, Mastrim led a charge directly into the humans. He and virtually everyone with him were killed, and the rest were captured and taken away to be made slaves. Mastrim sent the rest of our guards back into the forest, and at least a few were able to work their way around the fire and bring us back news of the defeat. The rest perished.”
Kestrel was taking deep breaths, trying to overcome the shock he felt. Mastrim was dead, which was terrible. Now Cheryl and her mother were alone in Elmheng without him. And others had died as well; Backsin and many of his other friends in Elmheng were probably victims of the human attack; he hadn’t thought about the losses. The idea of a battle had been abstract and nebulous, other than the report of Lucretia’s death; now it grew oppressively real.
“It is a terrible thing,” Silvan said. “Even here in Center Trunk, the people know it is a terrible thing to lose so many of our guards in a war, especially a war we didn’t even know was coming, because we didn’t have agents among the humans to give us warning.”
“Are they going to attack again? Are they going to burn down more of the forest? Do you want me to go pray to Kai to make the rains come again?” Kestrel asked.
“We don’t understand what they plan to do,” Silvan answered. “After they won the battle, and after the forest fire had consumed itself burning all those trees, they took their great machines, and their army, and their captives, and they left. They’re completely gone, and we don’t know where or why or for how long.
“They could come next month, but probably not too much later than that because they’ll be getting into the rainy season and winter. Or they may come back in the spring and start a real offensive against us — they may burn a trail of conquest all the way to Elmheng for all we know,” the colonel told Kestrel.
“We need your help Kestrel, even more than Commander Mastrim or I realized. We need you to go over to the human side and spy on them for us, so we can find out what their plans are,” Silvan said.
“I’m not ready to be a spy, my instructors said so,” Kestrel automatically replied.
“We’re not talking about immediately; we’ll send you back to Firheng for more training, before we send you out to the humans. My gut tells me that they will not attack again before the spring. We’ll have time to train and transport you so that you can infiltrate their army, learn what they have planned, and bring the information back to us.”
“I’m not ready, and I’m not human,” Kestrel repeated and enhanced his refusal.
“You are our best hope of preparing for the next attack, so that we can get revenge for the deaths of Lucretia and Mastrim. We don’t want to see others die just as pointlessly,” Silvan said intently. “I know this is asking a lot of you Kestrel, more than is fair to ask. But I believe you can do this, and you have the friendship of two sets of gods. You will be protected.”
“I’m not human,” Kestrel returned to his strongest argument. “My ears may not look perfect among elves, but they look even less like human ears, and my eyebrows are still strong for a human.”
“We can change that,” Silvan said haltingly. “We believe we can change your appearance. You’ve already got a build that’s almost human. You would fit in as if you were one of them.”
Kestrel’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What do you have in mind?” he asked suspiciously, worried about what Silvan would propose.
“We have a doctor who can cut your ears so that they look human,” Silvan said. “They’ll grow back to about the shape they are now, but it will take a couple of years. You’ll have plenty of time to move about among the humans before there’s a problem.”
Kestrel flinched at the thought of someone carving his flesh, cutting away pieces of his ear as though it were a piece of clay to sculpt into shape. He knew that ears could regenerate, unlike among humans; one of his friends had lost part of an ear, and it had regrown within a few months. It hadn’t taken two years.
“Are you sure they’d grow back? I’m elven enough?” he asked.
“We think so,” Silvan said. “Honestly, Kestrel, we won’t know for sure until we go through with this, but we believe that since you’re three quarters elf, and your ears are mostly elven, they should grow back.”
“And if they don’t, I can just keep spying for you anyway?” Kestrel asked cynically.
“That thought has crossed my mind,” Silvan admitted. “But I really don’t think it will happen. I think that in two years’ time Lucretia or Mastrin wouldn’t even know anything had even been done to you.”
“How will the doctor cut it?” Kestrel asked, realizing that he was considering the question.
“We’ll knock you out so that you’re insensible — probably with ale, lots of ale,” Silvan explained. “And then it will be a very quick matter of a few snips and sewing some of the flesh back in place so that it grows back the right way. You could go back to Firheng right away, and the ears could heal while you continued your practices and studies.
“In a couple of months you’d be ready to go on some training excursions, and then you’d have the chance to go out on your own to help us protect the Eastern Forest,” Silvan finished.
“May I think about it?” Kestrel asked, fearful that he was going to say yes, fearful that he was going to be turned into a human, and never return to being an elf. Even with his semi-outsider status as a mixed breed member of the society, he felt a devotion to the Elven race and culture, and Silvan made everything sound a little too simple.
“Of course Kestrel. We’re asking a lot of you. Take some time to think about it, but don’t forget how much
