The Coming Storm (105 page)

“You think he…,” Jareth started to say.

Eliade’s dark eyes cut to him, a clear warning to be silent.

Just the thought disturbed him in some way Jareth couldn’t understand.

“Some whisper it, a question only.”

Elon’s antipathy was clear. “Are you asking? For if you are, the answer is no.”

No, what he felt for Ailith was far away from that.

There was no indication whether she was relieved or not. Eliade merely nodded.

Confirmation or absolution? Jareth didn’t know.

“There are other rumors,” she said, “that some will find equally disturbing.”

Her eyes went from one to the other of them sharply.

“The decision has been made. The Will of the Council is known. Were you to interfere, some would see it as defiance, while others would see it as rejection of that Will. For others… Well, if you do what you consider you will only fan their suspicions. Have a care, Elon, or it will go ill for you. I wouldn’t see that. I have no love for this. There are others who would take your seat but none so suited as you. This day was proof of that in its own way, for good or ill. It’s to your credit that you defended her as you’d sworn to do so and so you’ve met your obligation. Go no further or the questions will grow darker.”

For the first time, she turned her eyes briefly to Jareth.

“Don’t think to send your wizard friend. He has enemies of his own who would see him fall. Some would know him for your emissary. It would only further fan the flames and lend an air of subterfuge to your actions that wouldn’t be to your credit. Leave it be, Elon. It’s done.”

Her eyes went across the dais, first to Goras, then to Lilianne and Avila.

“Elon, you’ve made no real enemies here. Not yet. Nevertheless, you tread a very thin line. Take heed of my words. Choose, because you must.”

“Choose what?” he asked.

He knew but he wanted her to say it.

She looked at him calmly. “At some point, and you know this well, for this Alliance we must now choose between that which our honor tells us to be true and right and what reason tells us must be. You know this, Elon, what need have I to tell you it? If you need it said then I’ve said it.”

“The Dwarves would have their blood. Their hate for Otherlings goes very deep. If we had judged differently here, they would have left the Alliance. Without them we would have no iron for the steel to make our swords and armor. Men would suffer as well, with neither iron nor coal for their fires. We would go back to the old ways, bartering with those clans who would be willing to defy the interdiction of those who lead. We would lose their strength of arms as well if history repeats itself or find it turned against us. It wouldn’t go well for us if they saw one of ours as having challenged them on this.”

“So,” Elon said, “we sacrifice one who’s done no wrong.”

“Yes. The deed is done, Elon. It was decided long before this day.”

Jareth heard a touch of impatience in her voice.

It shocked him that she would let him see so much.

For a moment Elon went still.

“Despite honor and justice?” Elon asked. Both of which Elves held dear. “And if Daran hadn’t set this in place? If I had been given the chance to sway them?”

“Perhaps you might have been able to do so. ‘Perhaps’ is the die upon which this was cast. We aren’t fond of chance, of luck, our people. Perhaps it might have gone differently. Chance only and that small. Perhaps wasn’t surety enough. The Dwarves were adamant. You should count yourself lucky she lives. It’s not only among those people that some wished her dead, but among some men as well. This wasn’t bought easily but took much persuasion. Perhaps was too great a chance to risk. We could not, would not, risk it. He did, we did, what we thought was right for all of our people. To continue this would have risked open conflict with the Dwarves. I did what was right for our people. We couldn’t risk it.”

“We should have,” Elon said.

“And lost all?”

“Or gained it,” Elon replied, “Now it’s done, without honor or justice, only the appearance of it. So. The common folk are fooled into thinking that justice has been done, where there was none. We sacrificed one who acted with nothing but honor and courage and have lost ours. I ask you, Eliade, where next do we draw the line? At what point do we lose all honor? Who next do we sacrifice?”

She looked at him flatly. “It might be you Elon if you continue on this path. It’s done, Elon. There’s no point in continuing. There’s nothing you can do to change it. It does you credit that you wish it so but it’s done.”

“Oh,” he said, “that I know. I tell you now, Eliade, we don’t know what may or may not have been. We never measured the power of her magic. We may never know what she might have been. As well, in that sacrifice we’ve lost something immeasurable. Our hope, our Honor, perhaps and the true meaning of this Alliance. With no honor and no true justice, what does this Alliance stand for?”

“If it had fallen, it wouldn’t matter.” For a moment, she hesitated. “Elon, I say again. Your defense does you credit. This whole affair has been distasteful. I agree, there was little honor and justice done here. Such is the result of dealing with Men and Dwarves. I admire your actions. They do you honor and show the integrity for which you are so known. However, you must let it go. You must if you wish this Alliance to survive. I warn you now. You will be watched. If you do aught to aid her, they will see you as defying the will of this Council, as subverting all you’ve worked so hard to achieve. They won’t know you do it for honor and justice. They will only see that you, a Councilor, defy the will of the representatives here. You swore to uphold the will of this Council. You will be forsworn.”

He had sworn, as had all the others. He’d sworn as well to uphold those virtues on which the Alliance was based. Either way, he betrayed something. It couldn’t matter. Elon’s eyes went to those exiting the dais, retreating up the stairs to their chambers within. He had a sense of being watched and it made him angry.

She started to turn then stopped. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

“I hadn’t known of the true-friend bond between you and Colath. For that I’m sorry. Consider him released from my train. You may tell him so if you see him.”

What then of the true-friend bond between Colath and Ailith? What of that? She wouldn’t consider it. To her Ailith wasn’t Elven, and so there could be no bond. Of his own bond, that ached so deeply, Elon couldn’t think.

Eliade glided gracefully away.

It was infuriating.

Jareth felt angry and helpless, bound up no matter which way he turned. All his magic and yet he was powerless.

“What now?” Jareth asked. “Do you have any ideas? I have none.”

Above them, the High King’s palace on the summit of the hill loomed darkly in the sun, the gray granite of its stones like a dark cloud.

Politics. Expediency.

Jareth hated it. When he ‘d first known he could do magic, he’d been honored and excited.

At last, the power and the opportunity to do right.

He couldn’t have been more mistaken. Oh, there had been cases and moments he was proud of but there had also been times like these when he was hampered and hamstrung by protocol and politics. He had to dance attendance on Avila, treading carefully lest she banish him to some back room of the Collegium to sit among the dusty tomes and molder, be forgotten. He’d walked very close to that line today.

He wanted to do something but knew Eliade’s warning to be true. Any move he made, even for his own satisfaction, would be tied to Elon. If what she said was true, anything that gave credence to that particular rumor would have dire consequences for Elon and give no aid to Ailith at all. Worse, if those whisperings ever reached Dwarven ears as anything more than mere gossip…

It didn’t bear thinking.

There was no truth to it but that didn’t matter. The very idea was ludicrous, if you knew the truth of their bond. The unfinished soul-bond.

Even so, he’d been there that day when Ailith had arrived at their camp. They hadn’t known each other. He would have seen it. He would have sworn to it.

Nor would anyone, being with them during these long days and months, give credence to such tales. Bound together, yes. The memory of them sparring haunted him. The music of the swords.

Which brought someone else to mind. Where was Colath anyway? He should have been here, must have been around somewhere, as part of Eliade’s train.

“No,” Elon said finally, in answer to Jareth’s question, casting his mind about for any solution.

It wasn’t his nature to tolerate this incapacity. If only it weren’t for that veil across his Sight where Ailith was concerned. That might have told him of their bond. A wild thing, that veil, like her magic. Unpredictable. He hadn’t foreseen it and so couldn’t take steps to forestall it. The vow had been made, her pledge given and her nature bound to it. Even if she could, to break it would render her foresworn unless the Council lifted its ban. That would take years of careful work and planning. Years Ailith might not have, alone in the Borderlands. There must be something he could do.

Must he, in the end, accept it?

For the moment, it seemed he must. No matter which way he turned he could only find another trap, each of which left Ailith no better off than she was now. Her act had been the only possible solution that kept Honor, his and hers, and Alliance, intact.

Standing here wasn’t resolving anything.

“Let’s leave this place,” Elon said. He couldn’t bear to look on it now.

They returned to the Jareth’s quarters to find Colath waiting. Along with some friends, some of the Hunters and Woodsmen.

“Ala,” Colath said as they entered.

His eyes went to Elon, knowing the depth of his pain through their bond.

It was some ease to Elon’s soul to find Colath there, knowing Colath shared the same sorrow and loss.

“Ala,” Jareth returned, “I was wondering where you were.”

“I was among those in the balconies.”

“You saw, then.”

“We all did,” one of the Hunters said, angrily.

“I saw,” Colath said. “I escorted her there, so she would have one known face as witness. So she wouldn’t be alone.”

For that alone, Elon clasped his arm. Held it. True-friend he was, to both himself and Ailith. What it had cost him to do that duty Elon could feel through their bond.

Knowing Elon’s pain even better than he in some ways and sharing it with him, Colath held on for a long moment.

Inside, no one sat.

“They’re watching us,” Colath warned.

“They asked among us to do it,” one of the Woodsmen said, “but none of us would.”

“They’ll find someone,” another said, darkly. “Is there nothing we can do?”

Elon felt their eyes on him.

“No,” he said. “I wish it weren’t so but it is. All we can do now is honor her choice.”

His eyes went to all those familiar faces.

“I would, though, if you see her – you who travel those distant  trails – bring me word. I would know how she fares.”

Some word, any.

All of them knew how unlikely it was. They were few in number. The borderlands were vast, encompassing the high cold lands to the north, the mountains to the west and those mountains to the east whose southern hills slid off into the desert from whence Mornith had come. South was the sea, on the edge of which stood the city. Ringed around were the borderlands of unclaimed lands between the Elven Enclaves, the mountain fastnesses of the Dwarves and the lands of Men. Wastelands and wilderness, barren and inhospitable, desolate.

It was no place for Elves or Dwarves and only the most desperate of men, thieves and murderers trying to escape the rightful justice of their people. Hunters and Woodsmen went there rarely and only for a short distance in pursuit of those fell things who passed into occupied lands to prey upon those who lived there.

He saw the looks on their faces. “I know it’s unlikely. If you do, though, remember she may not ask for aid but you can offer it. There was nothing in those vows that prevents it.”

A few looked thoughtful.

“Don’t risk yourselves,” Elon cautioned. “She wouldn’t thank you for it, nor would I.”