Page 31 of The Ivory King

Damn the man. And damn his honor.

I rode out that morning with my hair in a long tail, my hood up, and in a mood most foul.

My sour mood did not lift until we reached the rocky shores of Lake Tolso at midday. The cold water lake was massive, a deep blue that reflected the puffy clouds and scraggly pines that had begun to elbow their way into the forest for the past hour or so. Small boats dotted the lake as fishing birds strolled theshores, picking what they could find to eat amongst the smooth black rocks.

Situated to the left was a small fishing village of squat stone homes. Thin dogs of brown and black sounded the alarm as we emerged from the Glotte. Heads turned from their menial tasks of hanging out wash, smoking fish, and tending fishing nets. They were poor people, that was obvious, of mixed heritage. Many were shorter than most elves, indicating some dwarven blood in their past. Most had small, pointed ears, and many had facial hair, which was a trait that we elves did not possess. They seemed a wary lot at first, many children dashing from their games of rock toss to hide behind their mother’s skirts. Heads of red, yellow, brown, and black all assessed us before one old woman, thin, obviously elven for her ears were long and tapered, broke from the gathering of elderly women scaling fish to toddle toward us.

“Beiro!” the ancient elf shouted as our guide slid from his tired horse and ran to her. They embraced with tears of joy wetting their cheeks. I glanced over at V’alor. How he had not tumbled from Sirdal’s back was a mystery. His exhaustion was evident and worrying.

“When we find shelter, you will eat and sleep,” I said to him. He gave me a look. “That is a command.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied with little fire, a sure sign of his fatigue.

The rest of the Lake Tolso villagers, seeing that we were with Beiro, who was a friend, came charging at us, smiles on their faces. The little ones shouting and clapping was something that Atriel was not overly fond of, and she began nipping at the short fingers that were reaching for her soft nose. I patted her neck to soothe her, whispering nonsense to the horse as I had seen Beiro doing time and again on this slog of a journey.

“Move aside now, little ones.” A man with a coarse red beard worn in a plait as thick as my thigh pushed through the throng of women and children to offer me a fish. His head was bald and covered with bold tattoos, his face wrinkled with age, and his clothing smeared with fish blood and entrails. “You look the noblest among your party and so our welcome gift of a fresh yellow salmon is made to you.”

“Thank you.” I took the fish and passed it to Pasil. Tezen was flying over the heads of the little ones now, covering their hair with purple dust as they ran in circles, trying to catch the pixie princess. “We are seeking a place to rest for the night.”

“Yes, that is obvious. You all look as if you had been shat out of the damp end of a rock crab,” the dwarf stated.

“We feel much that way,” I confessed as I slid off Atriel’s back to shake hands with the spokesman for this village. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is—”

“No need for introductions. Even a dullard like me knows the Stillcloud sigil your men wear and the look of a noble elf. Lord Stillcloud, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the shores of Lake Tolso. I am Thavus Whitehead, the village master of Tolso on the Water. My wife is Hythra, grandmother to Beiro.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Hythra,” I said as I bowed courteously to the elderly elven woman in the dark red dress.

“Such breeding and manners,” Hythra said as I straightened to toss my hair over my shoulder. The tail I’d tied it into was sloppy but workable. “And noble hair. Not that I would require hair to show me that your blood is rich with aristocracy. You honor our village and our home with your presence, my lord.”

She curtsied as a lady would at court. Only the skirts that she held out to the sides were not of fine lace. They were homespun and speckled with fish blood.

I nodded and smiled as my tired mind tried to find one sign of dwarf in our guide and came up empty. One need only glanceat Beiro to see his lineage was that of a finely bred elven line. Not nobility surely but above the working class and laborers. No, Beiro was decidedly an elf, but that opened up another question. Why was a woman of such obvious education and gentility living here among fisherfolk with a dwarven mate?

“The honor is ours, my lady. We thank you for your hospitality.”

Beiro stepped up. “I will tend to the horses.”

“Pasil will assist you,” V’alor told Beiro in a tone that brooked no backtalk.

“I would rather he not,” Beiro snapped. The tension radiated off the two men, causing the children nearby to quiet.

“I am the guard captain. You shall listen to my orders,” V’alor barked.

“Butyoudid not hire me, Lord Aelir did, and so I heed only his words,” Beiro fired back, his hands already gathering reins.

“Go, tend to the horses,” I interjected. V’alor shot me a glower that did little to intimidate me. “We have been invited to dine with the village master, and that is what we shall do.” I turned from my stunned guards—all three of them—to address Thavus. “Please, Master and Lady Whitehead, lead us to your home.”

Thavus led us through the crowds of fisherfolk to his hut, a large stone abode crafted from dark black river stones. Racks of drying fish stood outside the home, much the same as all the others, as a brown pup with a fishtail in its mouth dashed by with four other puppies on his stubby tail. “Hythra just dropped the sweet water roots into the stew so it will be a bit until they’re cooked enough to chew, but please, my lord, enter our home and use it as you would your own.”

We stepped into a home filled with roughhewn furnishings, hardy tables, and woven mats of dark red and green on the wooden floors. A hearth burned nicely on the far wall andround windows looked out on the lake. A modest home with a lingering smell of fish, but a home that would offer a few hours’ respite to our haggard band. There were two rooms off the main living and cooking area, both with large beds piled high with quilts and plump pillows.

“The bedding may not be what you are used to, my lord, but the quilts are ones that I made myself and the pillows are stuffed with the down of the snow geese,” Hythra proudly informed me as she showed me to the main bedroom. “Your men may rest in our spare room and the little miss may pick her place.”

“I shall stay with my lord if he will have me,” Tezen hurried to say. I nodded. She lighted on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “Your captain is dead on his feet. Send him to bed, my lord, lest he fall on his face into the fish and root soup later.”

“That was my plan,” I softly replied, then turned to face V’alor. “Captain, go rest. Lieutenant, you shall take first watch outside. Tezen will relieve you so you can eat and sleep. We shall leave at the first break of dawn.”

“As you wish, my lord,” both the men in copper armor replied. V’alor gave me a look that was hard to interpret as he moved to enter the smaller guest room.

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