Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (10 page)

But he’d failed to mention that he had a wife. A clingy wife. A very clingy, cuddly, sweet-smelling wife. Oh gods.

“I don’t feel well,” I said. “Brandish winters do not agree with me. Just… let me rest.”

“Okay, love,” she said, and she fell asleep while spooning me.

I should mention that Tamril sleeps in the nude.

Stepping out of the royal tent, I ran into the guards posted some distance away. They saluted and asked if I needed anything.

“I’m going for a walk in the woods,” I said. “I feel like some fresh air.”

One of them pointed. “There’s a tree bog over there. Will you need any toilet paper, Your Majesty?”

Capran toilet paper, or at least the royal kind, comes in a small square package. Each quilted sheet was moistened with something that smelled like flowers and glowed in my Sight. Some sort of potion—it left me remarkably clean. The otherworldly wet wipes did their job, then crumbled to sawdust. Very tidy.

I still clapped my hands out of habit, cleaning spells being one of the first things elven children learn. Then I remembered that the disguise ring was using up all my magic. I was closing the door behind me when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Yaaugh! Dagonet, you scared the crap out of me! No… you waited till I was finished.”

She looked haggard. Running to keep up with horses can do that.

“Must’ve been a rough day for you.”

She shrugged. “I was discharging my duty.”

“Need some toilet paper?”

She glared. “Do you know how long I’ve been here? Waiting for you?”

“Long enough to report on troop movements?” I raised my hands. “Okay, I’ll be serious. You need horses and supplies. Steal them.”

She raised an eyebrow. I brought out a purse. “This is enough for a good horse.” I counted out a few local coins. “And this should cover your supplies. Don’t get spotted, but try to pay for what you steal.”

She took the purse. “Not getting spotted is what I do. I never leave any tracks.”

“You must wipe very thoroughly.”

The rest of the journey was uneventful. Tamril continued to try and get more intimate—carriage sex was one of her favourites. But telling her I had a headache usually worked. So did pretending to be asleep. What really fixed things (at least for the trip) was when I claimed travel sickness. Any more motion might make me vomit, I said.

“Are you sure you won’t take a potion?” she asked.

“Potion sounds too much like motion. Ugh, I’m nauseous, I’m nauseous, I’m nauseous…”

Probably out of character for Arawn, but not once did anyone suspect. Even though I’d exchanged more than a few words with them.

“What language am I speaking?” I asked Tamril after she’d given up renewing her membership in the Mile Post Club. “What language are you speaking?”

“We’re both speaking Caprish. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I was speaking Caprish, a language I’d never learned. The disguise ring, of course. Its imprint of Arawn included not only his appearance but also some of his skills. I hadn’t forgotten to speak Elvish, but I had a compulsion to answer in whatever language I was spoken to. “Tell me what you think of this.” I recited a dwarven battle song.

“What is a Worm of Dread?” she asked.

“Hell on gardens, I think. What about this—”I recited a Northland limerick. Heronimo had taught it to me without bothering to translate. He told me it was incredibly filthy, enough to make any human woman blush.

“No idea,” she said.

So. The translation magic only worked with languages you understood.

It was a long journey. I had plenty of time to examine the ring’s intricate enchantment. Since my Sight was a passive ability, it was the one kind of magic I could still use. The disguise didn’t change my appearance. I wasn’t any hairier. It only made people think I looked like the capran king. To do that took a great deal of magic. It even took over parts of my brain in order to broadcast suggestions. It sounded a bit like I am Arawn, I am Arawn, I am Arawn… From time to time even I would forget that I was not him, that I was an elf on a mission of honour. I found myself sitting closer and closer to Tamril.

“I am Arawn.”

CHAPTER 10: MEERWEN

To the pilot of the ice yacht, Mina and I weren’t passengers so much as temporary crewmen. The three of us put on goggles and helmets and pushed the yacht to a running start. When we were fast enough the pilot jumped into the rear cockpit. “Get aboard!” he said. We scrambled into the cockpit amidships. “Mind the boom!” We ducked and the yacht turned. The portside outrigger threatened to lift up and we shifted our weight to steady it. The steel runners rasped as we picked up speed. The steady rasp became a growl as the ice blurred and the wind rushed past. The city shrank in the distance.

Ice yachts can go many times faster than the wind. They’re surprisingly agile too, making them the obvious choice when you need swift transport in mid winter. There were worse ways to travel. Then again, there were more pleasant travelling companions. Mina sat sullenly beside me, arms crossed. She was dressed thickly enough that she couldn’t have been cold.

“You comfortable?” I had to lean over to make myself heard.

“Not really. I’m imagining what could happen if we fell into the ice, or if a runner caught on a crack. The speed we’re going, just hitting a snowbank would break our necks.”

“I wouldn’t worry. This yacht may not be dwarven-made, but it can handle a crash. Our captain is a skilled pilot and hedge wizard who can see where the ice is thickest.”

“I’m not feeling any better about this.”

“Well, maybe if you could see things the way we do.”

“D’you think I’m half-blind because I lack the elven Sight? I manage fine with my dwarven senses.”

We shifted our weight into another turn. “Why are you so hostile?”

“I’m not hostile!”

“And stop yelling.”

“I am not yelling!” She closed her mouth. “Okay, maybe I was yelling.”

“Are you mad at me personally, or is it something else?”

She stared out at the scenery for a few miles. Then she said, “It’s not you, it’s your world. Have you ever wondered about doorknobs? Of course you don’t. You’ve never had to think about them because they’re always at the usual height. Do you know, I keep a footstool in every room in Angrod’s castle? I do the same thing in our Drystone home.”

I shrugged. “So you’re short compared to elves. Why let that bother you? I’m sure I’d be as uncomfortable in a dwarven fortress.”

“But most don’t have sizeable populations of elves, do they? To say nothing of halflings and humans. Halflings are just stockier elves, but Heronimo keeps bumping his head and getting stuck in chairs.”

“You come to our cities and complain when they aren’t made for you?”

“Oh, should I be grateful for the privilege of being there? Remind me to thank you next time I trip over the stairs.”

We leaned into a turn and I looked at Mina. The goggles didn’t fit and neither did the helmet. “Heh. How do you like that bucket seat? You seem to be slopping over the sides.”

She frowned, then looked down. I continued to grin and she shook her head. “Okay, I do look funny. These chairs weren’t made for my hips.”

“Could use a little more padding, wouldn’t you say?”

“Bitch. You could use more padding.”

We laughed. “Okay, maybe I should’ve gotten a different helmet,” I said.

“I booked this yacht. There wasn’t any time… it just seems unfair. Did you know that most dwarves are left-handed? It’s true, right-handed dwarves are the minority. In the undercities the tailors use left-handed scissors, the musicians strum left-handed guitars, and everybody writes from left to right.”

“That can’t be fun for the right-handed dwarves.”

She smirked. “They use the stuff we make for export. The point is, this is a basic fact about dwarves and you’ve never heard about it until I told you. Dwarves know a lot more about elves than the other way around. We need to. Our tailors and shoemakers know your sizes. There are craftsmen who have never seen the surface but could talk for hours about your fashions. You may say that my people make the best stuff, but our survival depends on elven customers.”

“We rely on you to produce quality stuff. Isn’t it an equitable arrangement?”

“Elves don’t kn

ow the first thing about dwarves, but every dwarf has to take classes. Does that sound equitable to you?”