Page 24 of Invocation

He led her down another tunnel and down a lot of stairs, then into a busy cavern that was open on one side, facing a dark valley outside. Novikke was out of breath by the time they reached it. She began to think of the place like a giant anthill—a few structures above ground with a massive labyrinth of tunnels burrowing into the earth below.

It was shockingly chaotic. Voices echoed off the walls, amplifying the already significant noise.

“I thought night elves were supposed to be quiet,” Novikke said wryly, leaning close to be heard and to keep from losing him in the crowd.

“Hard to keep things quiet in such a cramped place. I doubt it’s been quiet here for many centuries now.”

“Why don’t they expand the city?”

“Digging through bedrock is difficult, even with magic, and people don’t like to be too far from the surface, anyway.”

She was about to ask why they didn’t build on the surface, and then she remembered the trees in the town above them. They’d carefully built around the trees to avoid cutting them down.

“It’s built vertically so that it doesn’t take up space,” she realized. “So that it doesn’t encroach on the forest?”

“Of course.” He turned to consider her. “You…don’t do it that way in Ardani?”

“No.”

He shook his head. “Humans don’t respect the land.”

“I don’t know what you’re picturing, but the land Valtos sits upon isn’t like Kuda Varai. It’s a lot of flat, empty fields. It’s good for farming, but it isn’t brimming with magic. It isn’t alive like Kuda Varai is.”

“All land is alive.”

“But we don’t have a god living in ours.”

He tilted his head as he thought about that. “I suppose not.”

Novikke ducked her head as they passed a trio of men and women in sleek, gleaming armor. Their matching uniforms made Novikke think that they were part of the city’s official guard. They weren’t the only ones who were armed, though. Nearly everyone in the city carried a knife or sword of some kind.

“So, you don’t have a home here?” Novikke said, her eyes tracking a shop with cages full of black birds out front, and then another selling colorful blown glass lamps.

“No. I spend all my time out in the forest. I move from outpost to outpost on patrol. I don’t have a permanent home.”

“We’re both nomads, then.”

He looked down at her. “You don’t have a place to go home to?”

She almost laughed. “I haven’t had a home for a long time,” she said.

He noted the bitterness in her voice, and gave her a faintly concerned look.

She shrugged, and evaded the question his eyes were asking. “I take letters and news from town to town on horseback. Half the time I don’t even stay in towns. If it’s not convenient to my route, I’ll camp in the woods between destinations.”

“Horseback?” he repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

“It’s not translating.”

“Oh. Horses,” she said. “Those big animals that carried the army’s supplies, remember?”

“Oh.” His eyes widened a little. “You ride them? I was afraid to even go near them. I tried to keep my distance.”

“That’s probably wise,” she said, thinking of all the people she knew who’d been thrown or kicked or bitten. “But they can run a lot faster and farther than people can.”

“They don’t fight when you try to get on their backs?”

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