Page 55 of Elven Lies

The circular room with a domed concrete ceiling strobed with growing and fading flashes of the orbs’ red-orange light, illuminating only bits and pieces at a time.

Most noticeable were the intermittent flashes of Mr. Kaplan’s form in the darkness as he flung himself back and forth across the room, pulling at enormous mechanical levers in the walls and stumbling all over himself while simultaneously trying to avoid the flying orbs clearly set to attack mode.

Why the old elf had installed four different levers and control panels in four different difficult-to-reach places around the room to deactivate his security alarm, Rebecca couldn’t guess. But when the most violent tremor of them all ripped across the floor and made the stone at her feet roil like a pot of thick soup on the verge of boiling, she couldn’t help but feel the remaining time to deactivate the alarm had almost run out.

Another heavy lever cranked down in Kaplan’s hands with an echoing boom before the siren rose again in a new cycle.

“Oh, come off it,” Kaplan seethed. “These damn contraptions… What are youforif you don’t work?”

The orange orbs zipped faster and faster around the room, creating a sickening swirling-strobe effect, until the elderly elf snatched a large rock off a nearby table and used it to mercilessly beat the final control panel in front of him.

Hollow clangs reverberated around them. The siren wobbled, let out a choking stutter oddly reminiscent of a cough, then cut out entirely.

The ground stopped trembling. All detached orange orbs froze midair before each letting out a gentle hum and phasing back into their soft white light. Then they rose toward the ceiling together to illuminate the room as one.

From somewhere far below them, a deep metallic grind filled the instant silence before petering out in a stuttering series of metallic clanks until, finally, the place fell silent.

Kaplan tensely scanned the domed room, then sagged against the wall with a sigh of relief. After a few moments to collect himself, he seemed to remember he had visitors and straightened again, brushing down the front of his suit jacket.

Straightening his lopsided top hat with one hand, he wagged an accusing finger at Rowan, still panting to catch his breath. “I have half a mind to bind him for the duration of your visit.”

Rebecca also glared at the Blackmoon Elf. “Just say the word, and I’ll help you.”

Rowan seemed oblivious to the chaos he’d unleashed, focusing instead on taking in every bit of the room before he chuckled, but he offered neither defense nor apology for his actions.

Big surprise.

“If you’ll still accept my hospitality, my dear,” Kaplan said before clearing his throat. “Welcome. Please, make yourself comfortable, and we can discuss your little mystery.”

“Thank you.” Rebecca centered her warning stare on Rowan for a moment longer, then finally peeled away her gaze to take in their new surroundings.

Beyond the glimpses she’d caught of the domed ceiling and the metal panels of gears and levers at various intervals around the circular room, the orbs of soft white light bobbing just beneath the ceiling now illuminated everything else.

Tall, sturdy metal shelves covered every bit of available wall space, housing an odd variety of magical artifacts and spell reagents interspersed with the odd human knick-knack.

One collection boasted a series of highly volatile potions swirling in enchanted glass vials up on the top shelf, a partially reconstructed Xaharískirraskeleton on the second, and a wide variety of single, unpaired shoes on the third—from boots to sandals to dress loafers to athletic sneakers for men and women, all in different sizes and various stages of wear.

A brightly painted globe spun on its own on a pedestal across the room, beside which hung a six-foot pegboard with a hook through every hole and a different key hanging on every hook.

Tilting stacks of books dotted the floor, both on and off the woven area rug. In the very center of the room, two mismatched armchairs perched on either side of a twin-sized bed, complete with antique wooden frame, though the sheets were rumpled and the pillows lumpy from use, almost as if Mr. Kaplan had just woken for the day.

The place had an oddly cozy air despite the cobwebs draped across every shelf and the thick layer of dust streaking the cement floor, but only in random patches, while other areas looked recently cleaned.

After her quick perusal, Rebecca made her way toward the closest armchair, which seemed the most appropriate place to sit and after having to maneuver through a maze of stacked books just to reach it.

When she finally made it and lowered herself onto the slanted cushion, Mr. Kaplan was already seated in the opposite chair, settling comfortably against the well-worn fabric with a sigh.

He propped both feet on a mismatched footstool in front of him, and somehow, it didn’t seem at all odd that the elf still wore his stiff top hat, crisply pressed suit, and leather loafers polished to a high sheen while resting in his own home. Or workshop. Perhaps it was both.

“Lovely,” Rowan said cheerily as he made his way toward the center of the room. “I’ll just take the mattress then.”

“You most certainly will not!” Kaplan screeched.

“But you said to make ourselves comfortable.”

“Notyou.” Kaplan wagged a finger at him again. “You stay right where you are. Just like that, yes.”

Rowan frowned despite the playful smirk remaining on his lips. “For how long?”

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