I don’t know. I would think they do.
Most cultures have some variation of these symbols.
Is that all they are? Symbols?
Symbols have power. Don’t underestimate that.
I’d finished slicing the last pear. I tossed it into the bowl with the rest, added one more splash of lemon juice and gave them a stir, then cleaned up all the cores and washed my knife and the cutting board. Madóran looked at the pears and smiled approval.
Put them in the refrigerator, please.
That was easier said than done. The fridge was crammed with food. I covered the bowl and rearranged a couple of things to make room for it.
“We’re going to have to start eating soon,” I said. “There’s no more room to store stuff in here.”
Would you put these bowls of nuts on the dining table, Steven?
Sure thing.
There were four small bowls—beautifully carved with intricate knotwork designs and glazed in deep blue-green—filled with mixed nuts. I grabbed two of them and Lomen brought the other two. We crossed the entryway to the greatroom.
Someone had cleared away the remains of the previous night’s dinner that we had so shamelessly abandoned. The table now had a green cloth over it, and was set for ten, with a wooden cradle at the west end. No chairs for Savhoran and Pirian; they would not join us until after the meal, for the ceremony.
The table was large for that number, so every place had plenty of elbow room. Multiple wine glasses stood at each setting, and little bowls of fresh wildflowers—blanketflowers and purple asters—sat between each pair of facing seats. Lomen and I set the nut bowls at intervals, spacing them around the three silver candelabra that I hadn’t seen before. I picked one up and looked at it. Solid silver, looked like. I wondered how old it was.
I need to shower and change.
I turned to Lomen and smiled.
I won’t distract you. This time.
He made a disappointed face, but his eyes were laughing. He went out through the door to the
plazuela
.
Madóran came in with a handful of beeswax tapers. I helped him set them in the candelabra.
“Beautiful table,” I said.
Thank you.
Going to be a wonderful gathering.
I hope so.
He sounded as if he had doubts.
Mirali’s coming. That’s good, it’ll give her a chance to see that Savhoran and Pirian aren’t a danger to her.
Hm. I suspect it will decide her, one way or the other.
I didn’t like the trouble in his face. I wanted to lift his worries from him.
If she leaves, with her family, then we’ll find others. For both Greystone and Ebonwatch.
He looked skeptical, and slightly amused.
How?
Send a recruiting party to Europe, to reconnect with friends there. I’ve already mentioned the idea to Savhoran, and I think he would go.
This didn’t erase the trouble from his face. If anything, it deepened.
I know you treasure your privacy. You won’t lose it, Madóran. The compound Ebonwatch is building will have room. Caeran’s buying a mess of land for it.
And I have a mess of land, as you say, here in Guadalupita. Others could build here without disturbing me, as Nathrin and Mirali have done.
As Ebonwatch gets bigger, it will probably keep more separate. They need to be near a larger population so they can hunt, so they’ll want to stay close to Albuquerque.
That might comfort Mirali. I will mention it to her this evening, if I have the opportunity.
This will work.
He smiled.
You do not have to convince me, Steven.
I want you to be OK with it.
He walked over to a window overlooking the front
portal
. I couldn’t help wondering how often he had stood gazing out that way, over the centuries he had been here.
It does represent a change for me. I had given up hope. Now you have restored it, and that is painful.
He’d given up hope? Holy crap! A shiver went through me as I remembered what Manda had told me about the ælven and suicide. I buried that thought under a heap of white light.
I never want to cause you pain.
He turned to me with a soft smile.
I know.
In that moment, he looked more weary than I’d ever seen him. It frightened me; I suddenly understood how the weight of years, of memory, could become such a burden that an ælven might choose to yield his immortality. I couldn’t bear to think that might happen to Madóran.
I want to give you joy.
Joy might erase the pain, or at least ease the burden.
You do.
He came over to me and kissed my forehead.
Now go and dress for the evening. Everything is ready.
He left the room, unhurried. I followed him out to the
plazuela
and along the
portal
, but didn’t try to catch up with him. Had a feeling he wanted to be alone.
When I got to my room I stopped and stood watching until Madóran disappeared into his own room. It occurred to me that Lomen and I would be leaving soon—we both needed to be in Albuquerque—so the mindspeech practice would be on hold until we saw Madóran again. I doubted he would be willing to relocate. It would take longer, then, for him to build a connection with Lomen.
I would miss him. I’d be just like Len and Manda, always wanting to drive up to Guadalupita. Laughing at myself, I went into my room to change.
Madóran had brought me a robe—that’s what he called the caftans he liked to wear—but I’d decided I wanted to look like Ebonwatch. Savhoran always wore a plain, long-sleeved tunic and pants. I picked the most similar clothes I had with me, a white long-sleeved tee and faded jeans. Kind of casual for the fancy dinner, but I figured the ælven had different standards anyway. There weren’t going to be any suits at the feast.
There was, it turned out, a long dress. Len was in the greatroom when I reached it, wearing floor-length dark blue velvet and a purple ribbon in her hair. She was sitting by the kiva fireplace, which had a fire laid ready.
“You look nice,” I told her.
“Thanks. It was a gift from Caeran.”
“It suits you.” I joined her on the banco. “Shall we light the fire?”
“Caeran will do it. He’s on his way, he just stopped for a word with Savhoran.”
“We could light it, if there are matches.”
“There aren’t.”
“What is it these guys have against matches? I can never find any.”
“They don’t need them.”
I was about to say something sarcastic about rubbing sticks together, but Caeran came in and Len’s attention was gone. She hopped up to meet him, running over for a hug.
Caeran was dressed in a robe, also blue, with violet embroidery around the neck and sleeves. I’d never seen him like that before. He seemed more ælven, if that was possible, and also older. The robe lent a grace to his movements, or rather accentuated his natural grace. I found myself bowing in response to his greeting.
“Could you light the fire?” Len said. “It’s a little chilly.”
Caeran gave her a look of slight surprise, but stepped to the fireplace. He held out his hand toward the wood, and flames started licking around the logs.
My stomach tried to drop out of my gut.
Len glanced sidelong at me and smiled. “Thanks,” she said to Caeran.
What else could they do that I didn’t know about? I shielded, hastily.
Holy crap.
Bironan and Faranin came in, followed shortly by Lomen. He came straight over to me.
What happened?
Uh—nothing. Tell you later.
Trouble?
No.
I could feel myself blushing. I walked over to the table and picked up a few nuts from one of the bowls. Lomen followed me. I looked him up and down.
You’re not wearing a robe?
I am demonstrating my solidarity with you.
His tunic and pants were simple, but they were also a rich blue and I realized the fabric was finer than the cottons he and the others usually wore. The color made his skin glow and his hair look tinged with fire.
You look good. I’m sorry I don’t have anything a little fancier.
You made a good choice.
A bell rang nearby, loud enough to startle me. Caeran hurried to the entranceway and I heard voices speaking in ælven. Mirali and family had arrived.
The next few minutes were spent bringing them into the great room, finding a seat for Mirali, and settling her and Nathrali comfortably, with accompanying praise for the baby and mother. About half of it was in ælven. Caeran and Lomen spoke exclusively in English, which was kind of them.
Len oohed and aahed over Nathrali and even said something short in ælven that made Mirali smile. I waited until most of the fuss was over to greet Mirali and tell her I was glad she had come. She gave me a polite smile, and I couldn’t help thinking of duchesses.
Madóran came in and added his compliments to Mirali. She was gracious, and they chatted briefly, then Madóran gave a nod to Manda, who was waiting by the door. Manda disappeared toward the kitchen.
I decided I’d rather carry plates of food than listen to small-talk in ælven, so I followed her. Lomen came with me and paused in the entryway to bar the front door, dropping a heavy beam into brackets—fifteenth century technology. I raised my eyebrows as he joined me.
We are all inside. No one else is invited.
I wondered how often Madóran’s neighbors dropped by. Not often, I suspected, but there was no harm in being cautious.
We presented ourselves to Manda, who told us which plates and bowls to carry out first. Everything went onto a smaller table against the wall that served as a sideboard.
When I say smaller, I don’t mean small. It was at least ten feet long and plenty wide, and by the time we’d brought out all the food, it was covered.
The others moved to the feast table, with Mirali at the west end and the baby settled in the cradle next to her, a little toy dangling overhead to amuse her. As we brought the last of the food out, Madóran stepped to the east end of the table and waved a hand toward the candlabra. The candles all lit, flickering briefly before settling into a steady glow.
“Welcome. May this Evennight be a celebration of gratitude and hope.”
He filled his first glass with wine—a white, with a hint of sparkle—and passed the bottle along. It was a beautiful sight, the ælven all in their fine clothes around the sumptuous table. I wished I had a camera. I’d left my phone in my room.
The food followed the wine around the table. The meal was wonderful, but I kind of picked at my share. I was nervous about the ceremony, which surprised me. I kept thinking of Savhoran and Pirian, shut away in their rooms, waiting for sunset.
No feast for them. I wondered if they were hungry.
Manda, sitting to my left, nudged me. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
I applied myself to my turkey so as not to be obliged to talk. Despite my efforts to make sure everyone attended, I’d be glad when the evening was over.
The second wine was a red, and from the compliments directed to Madóran I deduced that he had made it. So he had a vineyard, too. I wondered how old the grapes were. Had he brought them from Spain?
It was good wine. I drank more.
I was glad to see Mirali loosening up. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe the company, but she started smiling more and looking relaxed.
So, good. If she was happy, maybe she’d stay.
Steven?
I looked up at Lomen.
Something is troubling you. Can I help?
It’s not any one thing. It’s a bunch of little things. I’m OK, really. Thanks.
He looked concerned. Madóran, too, gazed at me for a moment with his healer face on. Not wanting to worry them, I tried to think of something to add to the conversation.
“I got caught up on my homework, finally. How about you?” Inane, but it proved I wasn’t completely withdrawn.
Lomen smiled. “I’ve read all my texts.”
“All of them? Finished them?”
“Yes.”
“Aw, he—heck. I thought I was ahead of you.”
“Well, you’re ahead of me,” said Manda. “I just can’t get into the French Lit class, and the instructor is a huge bore.”
“Too late to switch. Can you put up with it enough to pull a decent grade?”
“Yeah, it just won’t be fun.” She stabbed a carrot. “How about you, Len?”
“I’m holding my own.”
We drifted from school to talking about the new Ebonwatch complex. Caeran had a date to sign papers for the land purchase the following week. He was already looking for an architect.
Manda got up and fetched two platters from the sideboard, starting one at each end of the table. Dessert: cheese, fruit, nuts, tiny two-bite cakes perfectly decorated with buttercream aspen leaves, and crumbled dark chocolate. Madóran passed around a third wine, this one strong and sweet. I was full, but I nibbled a dried apricot and sipped some of the wine, which wasn’t really to my taste.
Finally Madóran rose and invited everyone to adjourn to the
plazuela.
As I stood, I realized the light coming through the windows was twilight. The sun had set while we were feasting.
I helped clear dishes. Moving Mirali and Nathrali to the
plazuela
was again a production, but I left it to Nathrin and the other ælven who seemed happy to fuss over them. Me, I was glad we were moving on, though a small knot had formed in the pit of my stomach.
I told myself it would be fine, that Mirali was comfortable now and Savhoran and Pirian would be far away from her and everything would be fine.
If it wasn’t fine, it would be a huge honking mess.
Mirali and family were settled at the west side of the circle, Mirali in a chair with the cradle beside her, Nathrin standing nearby. I glanced at the east side. No one there, yet. I supposed I could stand there until Savhoran and Pirian came out.
Manda and I finished tidying the kitchen. She was dressed in an ælven tunic and her jeans, also a nod to Ebonwatch, I assumed. Fashion-wise, Greystone had us beat hands down, but then we weren’t about fashion.
“So, you’re going to be my clan-sister.”
She looked up at me, surprised. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Kinda nice. My real sister doesn’t get me at all.”