The Lady's Man (23 page)

Ascollia gave a quick command in Elvish and immediately the wagon slowed and came to a stop. Yorik could guess why.

“Now if you two children have finished making puppy eyes at one another, we have business with Yorik.”

As if on cue, the shapes of several of the commanders and their clerics made their presence known in the canvas door behind Ascollia while he and Genivere both reddened some more. They quickly unlocked their hands.

Genivere at least though could escape, and she did so with almost indecent haste, leaving him to face the inquisition. These were no scribes surrounding him to ask the questions as he had expected, though he spied a pair standing behind them. At least five of the most respected commanders of the Order had chosen to interrogate him in person. That was unexpected. That two of them were elves was more so, though it shouldn't have been by then.

“Tell us of your memories of that day. Everything from the very beginning. Leave nothing out.”

It wasn't a request, and Yorik immediately began to tell them of how he'd first felt the enemy coming upon them, whereupon he was told to stop and start at the beginning from when he had first broken his fast, and from there to describe all of his thoughts on that morning before the battle. They weren't jesting he realised, when they'd asked him to tell them everything. But while it was difficult to remember some of it, it also gave him the chance to mention his doubts about their enemy. Doubts which he suspected they shared from the haunted looks in their eyes, even though they refused to discuss it. If he asked them a question they merely told him to continue, and he carried on.

It was a strange interrogation. They didn't mind if he rambled, veered off the topic, or even discussed things completely unrelated, as long as he kept talking. Meanwhile the scribes could be heard scribbling frantically in the background, and he guessed they would earn their coin this day as he tried and failed to collect his thoughts into a single cohesive telling.

An hour later, perhaps a little longer, he felt he'd told and retold them everything that had happened to him. Not just at the battle, but also in Myral's clearing, and Cross Roads Shire. There was nothing left to say. Which of course was when they started the interrogation in truth.

For another hour and then two the commanders and clerics peppered him with questions. How had he first known of the tunnel vipers? The Commanders were particularly interested in that as it seemed that he had been the first to have felt them even if he hadn't spotted them under his feet. Could he explain the feeling that had gone through his mind just then?

And from there the questions only became more demanding. What about the feelings that had run through him as he fought Mayfall? Bribak? They even asked him about his first meeting with Myral. If his story had rambled, so too did their questions seem to wander in strange places, most seemingly unconnected to the battle. But he did his best to answer them, conscious of the fact that these were the people who truly needed to understand everything that had happened. The fate of the Order itself lay in their hands.

And, though he didn't want to think about it, so too did his own.

Chapter Fifteen.

“Aaagh!”

Yorik cursed as he pulled back the string and loosed the arrow, knowing even as he watched it fly to its target a hundred paces away that the arrow would probably not stay fixed in it. He was simply too weak and too sore to use the double re-curved longbow as it was meant to be used. And with each shot, as his injury became more painful, his aim would slowly deteriorate. It was a completely predictable outcome, and one that was becoming only too familiar as he kept repeating it.

Time for a rest. Setting the bow down beside him on the soft grass, he collapsed backwards and spent some time simply enjoying the sight of the white whips of cloud as they blew gently overhead, while the sun warmed him with its delightful yellow light.

Against all his expectations he'd finally made it to the elven city.

Hammeral was exactly as Genivere had shown him in her fire and yet still as nothing he could have imagined.

With a total population of a hundred thousand elves or so, he'd expected it to be roughly half the size of Ender's Fall if a little more spread out. But if anything it seemed even busier. There were elves everywhere be they wandering the beautifully cobbled streets under the houses and businesses, or along the overhead walkways suspended between the trees.

One thing was strikingly different between the elves of Hammeral and the humans of Ender's Fall; the way they moved. The elves never ran, save for the children who skipped, jumped and played like any others. They walked gracefully, calmly, almost effortlessly as though the cobbles were air on which they glided. There was no jostling, no scurrying or unseemly haste, and yet despite that they made good time thanks to their long legs and practised strides.

No more did they raise their voices in excitement or anger. Everything, whether trading, casual conversation or even commanding horses, was spoken in respectful tones, with great restraint and politeness, exactly as the books had said. In Ender's Fall by contrast there would have been children running and screaming, vendors proclaiming the quality of their wares up and down the streets at the tops of their voices, soldiers marching or a thousand and one other noises to break the peace from dawn till dusk.

Yet it wasn't a quiet city for all that. The elves had replaced the noise of the human cities with their own sounds; those of music and nature. Everywhere he went he could find elves humming or singing as they worked – it seemed almost as much a habit to them as breathing – while the glades were filled with musicians playing their strangely shaped stringed harps. Added to that was the sound of birdsong and the tinkle of streams as they burbled their own sweet melody. And finally even where these sounds were quiet, the people had filled the branches of their trees with wind chimes, so that when the wind blew the city made its own music. It was a strange city.

The buildings that made up the city were vastly different from any he'd ever seen before. Whether they were houses, inns or markets – none of them complied with the rules of normal human structures. They weren't square or even necessarily straight sided. Instead they bent and flowed with the shape of the trees in which they nestled. Many of them stood three and four stories high as they scaled the gigantic trees that formed the backbone of the city. And for all that they refused to obey the dictates of normal engineering practice, there was nothing in them of poor construction. Instead they were well made; artistic and yet solid. Well designed and laid out, perfect for whatever use they had been built for.

Yorik's own quarters – and despite the smaller size of the city, and the large number of new soldiers apparently now going to be making their home in it, he and every other member of the Order had been found quarters – were typical. He had a smallish sitting room in which five or perhaps six people could sit with comfort, a bedroom perched directly on top of it which he climbed a ladder to reach, and a small kitchen and bathroom in the back. It was more space than he had ever known before. But best of all, the quarters came with a balcony on which he could sit in the evenings, and enjoy the beauty of the land. He loved doing that.

As a paladin he was usually given a small upstairs room in a chapter house, with a communal bathroom nearby and a dining hall on the ground floor. And while that might be humble, in truth he was satisfied with it. A paladin's life was not meant to be one of self-indulgence. Here he had an almost self contained house, next to hundreds of others, which together formed a chapter house, and some days he didn't quite believe it was his to live in. Other days he wondered if it was too much. If it might corrupt him. He was far from alone in that. All his brothers surely wondered the same thing. Just as they all surely wondered how the elves could have so many spare quarters available for them. Yorik suspected that that was in part due to the foretellers.

Training was held in the open area in the common in the centre of the city where everyone could watch, and at first that had come as a shock. Yorik was familiar with the Order’s courtyards where the only people watching them were the other members of the Order. But in time he had become used to it. The trainers after all didn't allow them the time to stand around and wonder who might be watching them or what they thought.

Meetings were held in either of the two public houses nearest their quarters, both of which were easily large enough to take a hundred men at arms. And of course the other chapters located throughout the city had their own halls to gather in.

The public houses also served as the equivalent of great rooms where normally after a day training or working the brothers would gather together and talk. Normally that would be around an open fire and after a full meal. Here the fires were more closed in – it mattered when the entire city was made of wood – and they were eating elven fare which was not nearly so heavy as what they were used to. Still it was much the same.

In the public houses they could do more than just sit and talk as they would have back in Ender's Fall. They might play a few games of hoops or darts which were set up in each of the halls. Bards often regaled them with tall tales and song. And then of course there were others to talk to outside of the Order. That never happened in a chapter house.

The halls were the elves' equivalent of taverns. Free of all ales and meads – the elves seemed to have a dislike of the common brews and stuck to their wines – but still a place where all might stay and have a good time. And a place where the younger people hung out and too often danced. Where couples danced.

Men and women dancing together! In public! That was unexpected. In fact the first time he had seen it Yorik hadn't been able to stop staring, rude as it surely was. But the elves seemed to consider it normal and Hammeral was their city. They simply had to adjust.

The amenities in their quarters were excellent too. Yorik had flowing water for cooking, bathing and the removal of night soil by a sewer system, an indoor fire for cooking and heating, genuine glass windows which gave him an expansive view of the forests, and even carpets, soft furnishings and a genuine feather mattress. But for the fact that he was still sore from his injuries, he could have forgotten there was a war on, and thought he was nobility on vacation in a strange city.

The same was true for all the other knights and paladins, and for their first week in Hammeral it had been their main topic of conversation. That and the basics of elven life. How should they address people? Where were the best places to eat? Why was there no stone about? They missed the stone.

Currency was also always an issue. Was a New Vineland copper with the king's head on it worth the same as an elven copper bit? How much should a meal cost?

And finally there was of course the question that was on everyone’s lips: Where to next?

Having realised that they weren't to be given any marching orders any time soon however, the following week the conversation had turned to exploring Hammeral and trying to find their way around the city. For just as the houses conformed to the shape of the trees in which they sat, so too did the city itself seem to conform to the nature of the land on which it was built. Thus the cobbled streets below were never straight. They bent and flowed around hillocks, trees and small rivers, almost as though they were reeds in the wind. The walkways high above twisted and turned in every direction as they rose ever higher and spanned the gaps between trees. Stables and farms were not made of square fenced paddocks and fields either. They too bent and twisted around the shape of the forest. And with the whole city laid out among tall trees and paths disappearing into them everywhere, there was no hope of simply seeing your destination ahead until you were almost on top of it.

Of course if any of them had learned to speak Elvish properly, it wouldn't have been such a problem. But even now, despite daily lessons for all the Order, or at least for the human half of it, they were still very limited in what they could say. The same was true for the elven half of the Order, who were being taught to speak with them as well and more often than not acting as guides. Between the two of them however, they were becoming better at communicating, with a form of pigeon developing.

The city was also a good place to become fit he'd discovered. The elves hardly ever rode anywhere within the city, and sprawled out as it was over at least a couple of leagues of forest, getting anywhere at all involved a lot of walking. Meanwhile ascending a hundred or more feet to reach his house at least twice a day, in full armour, left him short of breath and covered in sweat. He was beginning to understand why the elves were so thin and was even starting to envy them their svelte figures as they almost seemed to run up and down the walkways like children.

It was not the cold or passionless city Yorik would have expected to find had he relied only on his lessons. Its people were certainly more polite and considerate than elsewhere, and from time to time a little too formal. But they were also relaxed, warm and welcoming, something he would never have expected.

Genivere had explained it to him one evening as they had sat by the fire on their way to deliver the Lady's message to Myral, and though her words had made perfect sense at the time, they ran hard against everything he had ever understood of elves. But according to her the elves had never had any problem with humans, gnomes or the other peoples, or even dwarves living among them, as long as they lived according to their ways. It was just that few wanted to live as the elves did. And he knew she was right after having visited the markets and finding that there were some other unexpected strangers living among the elves. Mainly a few satyrs and dryads, but also the odd human, who no doubt had never mentioned their living among elves if and when they returned to human lands. But then they probably wouldn't have been believed if they had.

What the elves could not accept however, was the rape as they called it, of the natural world. The dwarves with their ever deepening mines smashing the very structure of the world and their tailings polluting the land were considered as almost evil, while the humans who tended to cut down the great forests of the world to grow crops or raise animals, were also clearly in the wrong. These were things that were unacceptable to the elves, and they would not tolerate people who could support such actions among them.

Thus, over the years the elves had formalised many of their customs for the outsiders as they were known, making traders and wanderers jump through hoops before allowing them to stay among them. It wasn't that they didn't consider those others worthy of their time and company; it was that they had to make sure they weren't the sort of people to defile the world of their Goddess.

The Order however, was seen as different. Because they followed the teachings of the Lady, they were already considered almost elven in their ways. The Lady after all was said to be either a dryad or an elemental. Members of the Order of course weren’t perfect, because they still chose to live in the great stone monoliths – Yorik wasn't quite sure whether Genivere had meant chapter houses or cities by that – and because they had such a fixation with armour and steel. Too much steel required great sacrifices of the land as it meant mines had to be dug, smithies had to burn wood and coal to forge it, while great clouds of smoke and lakes of dirty water were released to poison the world. And yet that same steel was being used to protect the people and the lands.

The elves had their own mines and smithies, but they were very different to those Yorik had seen before. They burnt only the highest quality coal from another mine which burnt almost without smoke, while the tailings were washed back into the mine shaft itself. And while it was true that they mined some steel, most of what they used was actually recycled steel from old weapons and implements. The elves were morally opposed to waste, which explained why all of the fallen weapons from the undead dwarves had been brought back with them, and now sat in great piles, waiting to be reforged. And once the mines had been depleted of the particular mineral sought, they were refilled with rock and good earth, and great forests planted over them.