The Coming Storm (101 page)

They had and did, clearly.

Foolish as it was, appearance mattered to some, especially to those of Jareth’s own race.

There had been instant respect the moment they stepped into the Square.

Elon was dressed as befitted his station among his people and on this Council. He wanted them to make no mistake on that. Among Elves, Eliade was only their representative, not a queen. A leader but not the leader. An Equal among Equals. There by the nature of her ability to lead. As was he. She didn’t speak for all of them, nor did he, but speak someone must.

For honor, as it should be. For justice, if for nothing else.

For Ailith, above all.

“Ailith of Riverford. Otherling. So called. Name me one person she has harmed,” Elon said.

His voice rang out over the Square.

Elon looked out over the crowd, all of them of the race of men.

“Name me one soul which by magic or sword she has damaged.”

He stood still, his eyes going over them, meeting theirs, challenging them. He didn’t look at those behind him.

“I am waiting. Name me that person.”

Silence swept the plaza, no one dared mutter, not in the face of that stern gaze.

“Name me then those lives she saved by her actions. Those who stood on the plain below and faced the horde. Those who stood beneath the fell gaze of the basilisks and lived to tell the tale. Brave warriors all.”

From deep within the crowd there was a crash of steel on steel.

A solitary voice shouted, “Aye. Name me.”

Another voice called and then another, from all around, a clattering of knife-hilts on sword hilts, an irregular and angry drumming. Hunters and Woodsmen. A few, not many. Most had returned to the lives they had known before the war.

There hadn’t been time for the others to come back. Some, certain that their voices would not be heard, hadn’t even tried.

“How many lives would have been lost had the tide of battle not turned?” Elon asked evenly. “Is this the thanks we give for courage? She had to have known that if she acted, she would reveal herself. And yet, she did it anyway.”

His eyes swept over her, over Ailith, her brilliant hair glowing in the sunlight, her beautiful eyes shadowed and he remembered her as she had stood in her shift in the sunlight to bid he and Jareth farewell. His soul shivered, need called to him. Ailith called to him, though she tried not.

He couldn’t think of it now. Dared not.

“A moment of choice, to save herself or to aid others. One second of hesitation would have made the difference between a chance of victory or near certain defeat. She made her choice. Wild magic. You want to speak of madness, that was madness.”

His words silenced the crowd.

“She’s Otherling and she knew it. By her act she made it unmistakably known. Would there be a penalty? It didn’t matter. Only lives mattered. So how do we reward her for such courage? With this?”

He gestured at the Council.

With an effort, Ailith drew her eyes from Elon and looked at those around them.

At those who had spoken and condemned her.

On the dais, each was still but not unmoved.

Goras was livid, his jaw working furiously. Eliade had moved not a fraction of an inch but her back was so rigid you could have laid an Elven sword along its length and not passed a hair between it and her robes. So expressionless was Daran’s face she knew how deeply he struggled against his rage.

Among the wizards Avila stood still but her lips moved, saying something to someone. Ailith saw Jareth’s eyes cut to his Master then look defiantly away.

“How can we condemn a person for what they may do? Is this the justice we seek from this place? Knowledge, justice, compassion and wisdom, the four pillars, all overseen by the light of reason. Is that what we seek here today? Where compassion? Where reason?”

Of the others who had spoken, Faran glared futilely but Lilianne’s brow creased.

Almost, Ailith could sense something pass between her and another.

“She’s Otherling,” Goras roared.

Elon turned. “What of it?”

“They go mad,” Goras shouted, rising to his feet. “All of them. It’s their nature.”

Although his tone was quiet, yet still Elon’s voice carried. “Is it? How do we know? Ailith has passed her majority, has lived far longer than any other and gives no sign of madness. How do we know?”

“Is it your risk to take?” Goras demanded. “Do you have the right to ask us to wait to see if she might? We waited with those others and our people died.”

There was a muttering, a small susurrus from the crowd at her heels.

“That’s right,” someone called. “Remember the tales…”

Ailith heard that voice clearly.

So did others.

“They all go mad,” someone cried. “It’s their nature.”

The crowd muttered uneasily.

His voice rising, Goras said, “There were those among us who cautioned, who pled for mercy. And hundreds died. Children. Mere babes in arms. Our children. Will you risk her among your own?”

His words cut deep among the Elves. Their children were too few, too precious. To lose one was to lose too many.

Ailith could see it in their eyes.

“You don’t know,” Elon said, calmly, in the face of it. “We can’t condemn her for what she might do, only what she has done. Sacrifice everything for this Alliance.”

“She isn’t one of us,” Faran shouted. “She isn’t one of any race. Not of the race of Man. Nor of Elves or Dwarves. She isn’t of us. She’s Other. She shares no blood of any race, or ties to any. She’s Otherling. Perhaps it was madness, not courage, the first stirrings of madness, that set a dragon where all could see. It had to be madness, or she wouldn’t have done it.”

Talesin’s words echoed in Elon’s mind, Faran’s that cut at his heart.

The muttering behind them grew. Faran’s tone had been so reasonable. Like Tolan in that. So reasonable, even in unreason.

Jareth’s eyes scanned the crowd.

They grew restive.

In Jareth’s look Ailith saw something she couldn’t deny, dismay and concern.

They were echoed in Elon’s eyes as well.

A voice whispered behind her. “Damn Elves. What right do they have to interfere in the business of men? They think they’re better than we are.”

Ailith heard it clearly.

From the dais, came another voice. Unexpected.

Eliade said, “Tell me, Elon. You have the Sight. What see you of her fate?”

There was a pause.

Elon had hoped no one would think to ask. He couldn’t lie, nor evade, it went against his honor. The truth was all that would convince them. But in this case, the truth would not set Ailith free.

“I can’t See it.”

That shocked Ailith to the core. She hadn’t thought he’d even tried.

As clearly, it startled the Elves. It had been the one certainty that they’d had, that Elon did what he did from his foresight, not merely his trust.

“So,” Eliade said, “even you don’t know what she may do. You offer us no surety, nothing from Sight or knowledge.”

Elon’s blood went cold. Yet he couldn’t in honor answer otherwise.

“No. Nor more than you. I only know, as all do, what she has done, not what she may do. As do any who have not the Sight.”

Ailith scanned the faces on the dais and those among the council. There was little welcome there. No friendly faces.

The growing murmur from among the crowd now sounded vaguely like a growl.

Perhaps Elon might continue, perhaps he might yet find the words to sway them.

But at what cost? Behind her she could feel the pulse of the crowd throb. They hadn’t come for this, they had come for something else.

They hadn’t come for justice, although they told themselves that, but retribution.

Before her was the Council and she could see Goras’s fury. What would happen to Elon, to Jareth, if this went on? If Goras and his people didn’t get their satisfaction?

The Alliance would fracture as Daran feared.

This defense would drive a further wedge between them. One they wouldn’t easily forgive. More so because they felt themselves inferior to their more magical cousins.

The Dwarves hated her for what she was while the Elves feared her for what she might become.

The unspoken enmity of Dwarves for Elves would grow.

If the speaker behind her was any example, the long resentment of men for Elves would also.

She had become the touchstone for it.

Among Men, only wizards were born with magic. For Dwarves, as with the Elves, there were ranges but most had very little save for the Lore Masters. Elves were magical in and of themselves. They simply were. It came as naturally to them as breathing, from the lights they used to illuminate the darkness to the breeding of their legendary horses. Their long lives, their strength, their ability to Heal. For some, their beauty as well.

Envy soured many, both Men and Dwarves alike.

Neither would be happy with the Elves interfering in what they saw as their affairs. Her resemblance to the race of men would make them see it so.

Particularly this Elf.

Old grievances would be resurrected.

Foresight. She had only a touch of that. A glimmering.

There would be retribution.

It chilled her.

Elon would pay the price. And Jareth.

No
.

Daran had been right, Elon and Jareth would pay for this.

She couldn’t allow it, both bond and vow tore at her, ripped her heart to ribbons.

“Enough,” she said, softly, and then added more strongly. “My Lord High King, you made me an offer.”

She took a breath and then said the word.

“Exile.”

It wasn’t death, although it would be like a death to leave Elon.

To leave Colath.

Never to see Jareth or Jalila again.

To be alone in the borderlands.

At that one word, so softly spoken, Elon went still.

He turned.

The bond thrummed.

He looked into her eyes, into her brilliant eyes, the color of good steel, and knew both her sorrow and a terrible grief.

Exile.

Daran had offered it.

Exile. Banishment.

The pain in his heart was sharp. Separated from her again but this time by her own choice.

No, Ailith
.

But he knew she would.

For he saw it, too.

The Alliance shattering. The Kingdoms divided, Elf, Dwarf and Man.

Startled, stunned by that unexpected betrayal, Jareth spun to stare at her, at Ailith.

Daran, too, turned to look and Ailith caught the quick glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze. And then it was gone. He’d won.

All eyes were on him, now, as he stood.

All except Elon’s. His eyes were on her.

She saw the pain in them, the heartache to match her own. He knew what it was she did and why she did it.

Of the others, those on the dais and spread in the wings around? Only a few seemed surprised.

In that Daran hadn’t lied.

Not Eliade. Her expression was as serene as any Elf. Goras looked at Daran sharply, suspicious, wary and angry.

“Exile.”

One word. It was all Daran said.

Ailith could see triumph glitter in his gaze.