Once A Hero (28 page)

Lomthelgar started me learning by using the Dreel as my partner. Shijef seemed as enamored of the pairing as I was, which provided me the perverse delight in commanding him to follow Lomthelgar's orders. There were one or two moves—the low sweeping ones—which the Dreel performed with more skill than I did. This made Shijef happy and, therefore, intolerable at certain points.

After only two days Lomthelgar pressed Shijef into other duties. Given two sticks, the Dreel was to beat out a consistent rhythm. This he did without fail, which allowed me to get down the timing for the steps. Lomthelgar also had me count to myself in sets of six, so I found myself hitting my steps correctly even when Shijef sped up or slowed down to confuse me.

By the final day Lomthelgar brought Larissa and me together to dance, but he did not allow us to see each other. First I performed blindfolded, and then she did. Lomthelgar hemmed and hawed, picking out little problems in our performances, but I knew from his criticisms that we had succeeded in learning apart how to dance together. And the next day we would each see the other dancing, and that, in and of itself, would make the dance more special than even I dared imagine.

My duties as vindicator were not limited to learning how to dance. Aside from being fitted for appropriate clothing and taking meals with various kin and allies of Aarundel's family, I had to assist him in the forging of the insignii nuptialis he would give Marta during the ceremony. Marta's brother would forge the wedding token for Aarundel, but both Marta and Larissa would help him, and both of them had a far better idea of what they were going to do than I did.

The process began at a forge set back in a rocky cavern on the eastern side of the Cygestolia valley. A smith smelted down silver-bearing ore and poured it into a baked-clay mold that made two silver bars, and two rings, with a long strand of threadlike silver twisting between them. We watched him fill the molds one day, then returned the next when he shattered the mold and severed the two sets of silver pieces.

Aarundel and I, because we were to work on the gift being given to Marta, obtained the smaller of the two sets and only a third of the silver thread. The piece we would create for her would be more delicate than the piece being given to Aarundel, which did not mean it would be any less work. Had the task of creating the item been left to me, I would not have known where to begin, but my friend did. As he noted, one nice thing about being so long-lived was that each elf-child had the chance to study different trades for years, obtaining a level of expertise a Man could only get over a lifetime, just to choose yet another career to make his life's work.

The first thing he set me to doing was making a short length of silver chain. Aarundel handed me an iron pipe roughly a quarter of an inch in diameter. Fixed to one end was a cross bar and running perpendicular to it was a groove cut through the top of the pipe. Viewing the pipe from the end made it appear to be a broken circle. The gap between the two sides of the circle ran straight down the cylinder and the edge appeared to be slightly worn.

As instructed, I coiled the silver thread around the pipe and wound it tightly. Satisfied with my work when I showed it to him, Aarundel handed me a device that looked akin to an arrow with onty half a broadhead on it. I inserted the broken arrow into the pipe, fitting the triangular blade into the slot. With a hammer I gently tapped it down, and the blade cut each turn of the thread. Once through, I turned the whole assembly upside down, and two dozen links of silver poured into my left hand.

These I linked together, closing them with a very small set of tongs. By the time I had all that done, which shouldn't have taken so long except that it required more delicacy than my normal work, Aarundel had sized, filed, and set the ring with two small lapis ovals. He drilled a small hole between them and linked the chain in there at that point.

"Half-done," he announced proudly.

I had my doubts, because we had the armlet yet to finish. I assisted him in working it by holding the bar of silver in place while he hammered it into a sheet, and by positioning the crimp-molds correctly while he raised an edge around the whole armlet. He decorated the armlet with four oval gemstones: opal north and south, lapis east and west. The drill produced a hole near the cuff, into which we ran the chain's last link.

Aarundel smiled as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Drawn from the same metal, yet shaped by different hands and forces, they are just like Marta and me. We come from one people, yet we have been hammered into who we are by all manner of forces. In the wedding we shall be magically bound together, and our marriage will last as long as it takes for the metal to wear away to nothing on our flesh."

I tapped the bracelet at the end opposite the cuff, where the edge came to a gentle point. "Good thing the metal is thick, for a love like yours should take forever to die,"

"Spoken truly as a vindicator"—he smiled—"and as a friend."

"My honor." I nodded and slapped him on the back. "Are we done?"

"One more thing." Aarundel turned the piece over and, using a small gouge, worked his mark into the metal. "There, I have signed it. Now you must."

I worked carefully and inscribed the six-line symbol for the Roclaws, then added my initial in the heart of the mountain. "Satisfactory?"

Aarundel looked at it and laughed. "When my grandfather was young, the mark of the Roclawzi was one that inspired terror and hatred. I am glad it now betokens a friend."

"A friend to the death, Aarundel. No one and no thing will stand between us."

"Agreed, unless," he smiled slyly, "you fail at the torris. In that case, I will have to kill you."

"Do not worry on that account." I quickly ran my right hand through one of the complex twitch-jerks that made the dance difficult. "If I fail, I will kill myself—if embarrassment does not kill me first."

Elven wedding traditions are different from those of Men in a number of ways that I found annoying. The bride and groom spend the week before the ceremony apart, except for when they meet to see the silver poured for their wedding tokens. Aarundel and I attended a number of functions with his in-laws, to the point of all but living with them. From what Aarundel told me, a great deal of the conversations involved politics and other things of concern to the Elves.

My job during these gatherings was to stand around and look the part of the vindicator. This meant I ate a lot because I could not understand what was being said. I also needed a lot of energy for my dancing lessons, and it would have been rude of me to refuse food. In fact, the various hosts and hostesses seemed to be relieved to be able to deal with me as easily as setting a bowl of something in front of me.

Sylvan cuisine is not bad, but it's not Man-food. Because they view fire as that which makes metal malleable, and because cookfires would use up an incredible amount of wood. Elves prepare food in an unusual way—though the results are quite remarkable and very edible. They combine all sorts of vegetables and herbs and spices together in huge cauldrons, pour over them juices and vinegars and let them marinate. Things added to this plant-mash right before serving are crispy, and meat soaked in it becomes tender and delicious without firing.

Breads and the like were also available, and quite good, but I understand less about their preparation. All I know about cooking bread involves mixing up a dough, scraping as much as possible off my fingers onto a flat rock, and trying to keep the fire around the rock going without getting too much charcoal in the bread. I think the Elves steam a lot of their bread, and I've heard talk of silver sun-ovens, but I was not overmuch concerned with pursuing more information about bread. Aarundel might have lived long enough to learn how to be a silversmith and a warrior, but I was too old to become a cook.

The night before the wedding, Aarundel and Marta were brought together in seclusion within a new chamber in Woodspire. As they contemplated their lives together, I was taken by Lomthelgar to the grassy, bowllike depression where the ceremony would take place the next day. Trees gave way above it, allowing me a clear view of the starry sky. Without realizing I had been uncomfortable, I found seeing the sky set me more at ease. Being trapped within so many trees is difficult for someone raised in the mountains, where trees are sparse and summer is the season when mud lakes cloak themselves with a grass thatch.

The elder Elf sank down on his haunches, and Shijef huddled behind him like a swollen shadow. "Vindicators guard this ground against violators."

I nodded. "Tomorrow, I know, I dance. What else?" Lomthelgar gave me a lopsided grin. "Vindicate." I frowned as the Elf and the Dreel shared a chuckle. "I should have known you two would become allies. You are united by a common enemy—me."

Both of them sobered. "Master you are, enemy you were."

Lomthelgar patted the Dreel on the shoulder. "And you are my vindicator as well."

"What?"

The Elf stood and shook his head. "You are to be left alone here. Good evening, Custos Sylvanii."

Lomthelgar led the Dreel from the circle, abandoning me at its heart. I dismissed their comments as mischief and nonsense and began to see to my duties as vindicator. I looked the area over by first walking the perimeter of the heart, then working my way up along the edge of the amphitheatre. It might have started as a natural formation, but the Elves had clearly worked on it and had shaped it. From a military standpoint it was a disaster to defend, but in the heart of Cygestolia the likelihood of an invasion approached the likelihood of my ever setting foot again in Cygestolia after the wedding.

Once I had satisfied myself with the military details of the situation, I sat at the upper edge of the amphitheatre, with my back to the woods, and other thoughts began to come to me. Because Larissa was for Marta what I was for Aarundel, we had been kept apart except for the pouring of the silver and the dancing. She had sent me flowers once by her grandfather, and I sent her back a garland I'd woven, using Shijef as my envoy, but that summed the total of our contact over that week.

I did not know where she would be stationed as part of her duties, but I dearly wished she could be here with me. It was not that I felt lonely without her, but that I felt so much more complete in her presence.

I began to wonder why Lomthelgar had brought us together to dance, yet kept one or the other of us blindfolded while we did so. I understood parts of it, of course. By seeing her I became used to the distraction of someone moving opposite me. Larissa's grace and elegance came as a marked contrast to the Dreel's shaggy, brutish movements, and in watching her I knew we would be very good at the ceremony.

In dancing opposite her while blindfolded, I learned two things. The first was that I had to concentrate on the timing and remain locked in thrall to the rhythms. The torris, for me, was more deadly a game than even the visit to Jammaq. One slip, one accident, one gust of wind blowing one strand of her hair against the back of my hand, and I would be slain outright. Never before had I placed myself in a situation where the most innocent of errors could kill me. Any wavering from the discipline that Lomthelgar had taught me would doom me and the sylvanesti I loved.

Blinded, I learned one other thing, and that realization made me wonder how much Lomthelgar knew about me and about his granddaughter. In challenging fate and death I was not alone, and in that most dangerous contest I had to trust absolutely and completely in my partner. Had I been asked if I would trust Larissa, if I could trust Larissa, I would have shouted my willingness to do so from Jammaq to the heart of the Haladin Outlands and back again. After the dance, though, I did not have to take her trustworthyness on faith; I knew, I had proof, that she would perform her part in our lethal dance perfectly.

I am not normally a daydreamer, walking about all moon-eyed. It's not said to be good for one born under the Triangle, for the moons will stare back at such, but the rest of the night passed in contemplation of things past and present. I found myself wandering through memories that I would have liked to have shared with Larissa, and in their remembering I wondered if I hadn't already told her of them. If the feeling of contentment I experienced thinking about her approached what Aarundel knew when thinking of Marta, then I envied my friend even more than I had imagined.

The night passed quickly and with the dawn's light Lomthelgar came and fetched me back to Woodspire. I ate a breakfast of pure water and plain bread, then slept a bit. After two or three hours of peace, the Dreel awakened me so I could wash. By the time I had cleansed myself and dried off, Lomthelgar finished laying out the clothes I would wear for the ceremony.

My tunic and hose had been cut from soft, shiny silk and dyed the iridescent color of emeralds. The fabric's light weight made me think it would be cold, but the silk warmed against my flesh quite quickly. My leather jerkin, gloves, and boots had all been dyed a light grey, lighter than dusk but darker than curing-smoke. The boots came to my knee and the tops flopped down; the gloves came to midforearm. The leather garments had been a bit large, but sized themselves instantly, as had Aarundef's glove during my fight with Tashayul.

Because I would be asked to dance, I removed Cleaveheart's scabbard from the belt I normally wore and affixed it to a longer belt that I looped diagonally over my torso. A second, more narrow belt threaded through the first at my left hip and buckled around my waist. The grand result of all this fussing was that Cleaveheart hung across my back, with the hilt jutting up above my right shoulder. Drawing it would be difficult, but I anticipated no trouble, so that did not concern me very much.

The other reason I was not concerned about my ability to draw Cleaveheart was that in my role as vindicator I was to bear Aarundel's favorite weapon. The Dwarven battle-ax rose to the height of my shoulder when I placed the butt end on the ground, and the broad curved blade all but eclipsed my chest. The wickedly hooked raven's-beak on the opposite side of the head actually looked more cruel than the ax blade itself, but I knew the blade's razor edge could chop through armor and warrior easily and efficiently. The spike at the top of the weapon might have been considered overkill, but it made the ax also function as a lance, which was important in a cavalry company.