In Other Lands

  “I think you are much improved, my sweet,” Serene told him encouragingly.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore!” Elliot wailed. “Can’t I do yoga instead? I could be good at that. I could take deep breaths and find my centre and achieve ultimate zen.”

  “Serene’s right. You’re getting a little faster,” Luke conceded.

  Elliot laid his arm over his face. “I wish only for death.”

  It was pathetic, that he would actually participate in boring terrible physical activity in order to spend some time with Luke.

  “Oh, hey guys,” said Dale Wavechaser, coming in through the gate in exercise clothes, looking fresh and fit and ready for anything. His hair was awesome. Elliot hated him too.

  “Hello, Dale,” Serene said pleasantly. Elliot waved feebly. Luke went red and mumbled something.

  Dale looked mildly puzzled. “I would’ve thought you guys would be with the commander and, uh, Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle. Did I get that right?”

  “What?” Serene snapped.

  “Uh, they arrived about an hour ago,” said Dale. “Expect the commander wants permission to foray into the elven territories to deal with the bandits. It’d be great to get chosen to go, wouldn’t it? Well, you have no worries there obviously, Sunborn.”

  “Mmm,” said Luke, still red and looking away.

  “I bet you get picked,” Elliot said helpfully, because Luke was hopeless. “You’re so great at . . . stuff, Dale.”

  Dale winked. “Aw. Thanks, man.”

  “My mother is here?” Serene asked. She was standing very straight, her face a shade paler than usual.

  “Er. I guess you didn’t know,” said Dale.

  He looked alarmed at this suddenly awkward situation. He stared wistfully at the track and the prospect of physical exercise. He and Elliot were just extremely different people.

  Serene began to move, and when Serene moved, she moved like a storm: unstoppable and so fast you barely saw her until she was upon you. She went over the fence and not through the gate, and Luke went after her.

  “Yes, ‘sweaty and disgusting’ was exactly the look I was hoping for when I met my future mother-in-law,” Elliot muttered, scrambling to his feet and following them.

  They were drawing near the commander’s tower when the door was flung open, and the commander’s voice heard at rather a higher volume than normal.

  “—it is the duty of the Border guard to protect the Borderlands, and where we are not granted entry, we cannot protect!”

  It did not seem like negotiations for a foray into elven territory were going all that smoothly.

  “It is my duty to inform you, Commander,” said a tall woman in a black cloak whose back was turned then, “that the elves can protect themselves very well. Any who doubt it can come and try us.”

  She must have heard the sound of their running footsteps, her ears elven-keen, for she turned before Serene had a chance to call out.

  Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle’s cloak flared as she turned, and her hair flared too, dark as Serene’s but shot through with silver. She had a face like a judge’s commemorated in marble, beautiful but above all things stern. The very sky seemed to shine brighter behind her than anyone else, as if she were etched on crystal.

  “Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle,” she said. “Greetings, kinswoman of my house and daughter of my heart. You look well. I trust you are training hard, despite the soft ease of your surroundings and studies.”

  “Cadet Chaos-of-Battle is an exemplary student,” said Commander Woodsinger unexpectedly. “Nobody expected her to be able to bear the double workload of both council and war training.”

  “And yet my daughter is excelling, are you not?” inquired Sure in elvish, deliberately cutting the commander out of the conversation. Her lip curled in satisfaction as Serene nodded. “I would expect no less.”

  It did not seem like much, but Serene glowed.

  “May I have the honor of introducing my comrades to my revered mother,” said Serene, recalling herself after a moment. She gestured to Elliot and Luke, and Elliot now saw where she had learned her graceful dignity from. “This is my swordsister Luke Sunborn, and my boyfriend Elliot Sch—”

  “I don’t particularly care about the redheaded slut you’re amusing yourself with,” said Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle. Her eyes were gray pools like her daughter’s, but Serene’s were the pools in spring and in Sure’s winter had come.

  “Mother, how dare you!” exclaimed Serene.

  Sure’s icy eyes slid over Elliot as if he was not worth bothering with. They fixed on Luke.

  “But claiming that a boy is—that a boy could be—your swordsister? That is obscene. That is spitting on the traditions of our house and our people. I wish to hear no more of that nonsense.”

  Serene put a protective, possessive hand on Luke’s arm. “It’s not nonsense. And the traditions of my people are wrong. He is my swordsister. As soon as we saw each other, we both knew it.”

  Sure made a noise that in a less poised and commanding person might have been called a snort. “What does a human know? Look at his pretty dimwitted face. He does not even know what we are saying.”

  Everyone looked at Luke, who tilted his golden head and looked down at Sure for a moment with his arms folded.

  In faltering, rough elvish, Luke said: “I got it, actually.”

  Serene broke into a torrent of elvish so furious and rapid that Elliot had trouble following it himself, and Luke looked completely confused. Sure eyed Commander Woodsinger with an air that suggested the commander was intruding on a private family moment.

  Commander Woodsinger eyed Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle with an air that suggested that moment was happening directly outside her office. Then she rolled her eyes, went back into her office, and slammed the tower door, just as Sure walked a few steps away, summoning Serene with a peremptory nod of her head. Serene came to her mother’s side, and because she still had hold of Luke, Luke had to go with her.

  Elliot and Sure’s bodyguard, Swift-Arrows-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, were left staring awkwardly at each other. Swift was just as beautiful as ever, tranquil-eyed and chestnut-haired, but after Serene’s mother she looked totally normal and comforting. She also looked somewhat abashed.

  “Nice to see you again,” Elliot said, smiling and looking up—no, actually, across, when had that happened?—at Swift through his eyelashes. “Thank you for all your letters. Elvish life is so fascinating.”

  “I am glad to amuse you, my dear, though I am but a rough soldier who has no great readiness with a pen,” Swift said heartily. “Your dear prattling and jesting missives in return have cheered me on many a lonely night out on patrol.”

  “Heh, really? Um . . . cool,” said Elliot, and looked around for help.

  Serene had Luke’s arm in a death grip and was now screaming in elvish while her mother bellowed cutting remarks. No help there, then.

  “I was saddened to hear Serene had launched a successful attack on the citadel of your virtue,” Swift said.

  She sounded genuinely grieved. Elliot was grieved to be having this discussion.

  “The citadel was totally into surrendering. Also I personally would not have referred to it as a citadel,” Elliot observed. “Like, ever.”

  “No doubt you tempted her. Ah, a man’s morals are frail as they are, sweet silly creatures,” Swift said. “I do think it was up to Serene to control herself, though. She must have known I was considering you as a bride. Your humanity would not have mattered so very much, up in the wild north where I am stationed, but now you have been sullied, of course it is out of the question.”

  Elliot gave a shriek that wavered between hysterical alarm and hysterical laughter, and tried to turn it into a coy giggle with very limited success.

  “I’m very flattered!” he said. “And taken all unawares by this token of your esteem! But I think you might be a little old for me! No offence meant.”

  Swift
did not look offended, but she did look rather puzzled.

  “The woman should really have an advantage when it comes to age in marriage,” said Swift. “So that she may guide and educate her blushing bride in the ways of the world. Besides which, men are at their most attractive in the first blush of youth, whereas women only grow more distinguished as the years pass.”

  “Ha,” said Elliot, not terribly amused. “That’s so funny, because humans think the exact opposite thing.”

  Swift chuckled. “I don’t see how humans can argue with facts? Do women get—” She used a word Elliot did not quite understand.

  “Tureen . . . stomachs?” he said. “Oh! Pot bellies? Well, some women kind of have them. Less than men, I guess.”

  Swift nodded triumphantly, her point made. “And men go”—she almost whispered the word—“bald.” She shook her head sadly. “The beauty of men is a sweet soft thing that passes all too soon, like a bird across the sky.”

  “Um,” said Elliot. “Maybe both our societies are messed up, and they each only think one type of person is really a person. And the type of person they think is really a person is allowed to show imperfections and age . . . whereas the type of person they think is an object should show no signs of being a person. We’re socialized to see the imperfections in those objects.”

  Swift chuckled. “You’re still a funny, taking little thing. I think it’s a shame of Serene. I hope she treats you well when you’re under her protection. I’ll ask her permission to continue writing to you.”

  “Except I don’t need her permission to do anything!”

  Swift continued blithely, as if Elliot’s opinion on the subject did not count, and Elliot knew that no matter what he said Serene was getting asked, as if Elliot were a book to be borrowed or a child taken out for an ice cream. “And if she leaves you forlorn and weeping, remember you can trust me. These young rogues can be heedless, but I’d treat you well.”

  Elliot stared. “I will remember that. In fact, I have a feeling this scene will come back to me again and again. And again and again and again.”

  Swift reached out and touched Elliot’s cheek. “Ah, sweet soiled dove,” she murmured.

  “I . . . actually don’t have a response to that remark,” Elliot said.

  “Come on, Elliot!” Serene shouted. “I will not stand here and have my comrades insulted by a small-minded provincial tyrant! I would rather be cut to pieces!”

  “We are two souls with but a single thought, baby,” said Elliot, and ran after her and Luke as they stormed away.

  Serene’s mother was the one who got the last word. Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle did not run after her errant heir, or raise her voice. She stood with her guard at her back, her arms casually crossed, her silver-and-shadow hair streaming, and she spoke clearly and calmly.

  “Go and play with your humans, child. When the time for child’s play is past, I know you down to bones and blood. When the time comes, you will leave all this and come to my call. You will ride into battle at my side.”

  The elves might have forbidden them entrance to their territory, but that did not mean the commander was going to give up. One day Serene and Luke arrived at their lunch table looking very pleased with themselves indeed.

  “What’s the good news?” asked Elliot, reaching for Serene’s hand.

  “Commander Woodsinger is sending out a personally selected troop which she will lead herself to make a sweep of all the non-elven territory where the bandits have been spotted, hoping to catch a few,” said Serene. “And we’re in the troop.”

  “Congratulations, my pearl, my diamond, my tiara of assorted gemstones,” said Elliot.

  Serene took his hand and squeezed it. “We’re even going near the Forest of the Suicides, which is harpy territory.”

  “Now that’s neat,” said Elliot, with actual interest.

  “It’s not,” said Luke. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Who, me?” Elliot asked innocently. “I never think about anything.” He changed the subject to avoid discussion, and scowled at his reflection in his fork. “Is it crazy that I keep worrying about losing my hair?”

  “You’d have to lose about half of it before anyone noticed,” said Luke.

  “Age but shows the marks of character being displayed and life being lived,” Serene told him. “You live well, and I like your character. So there’s no need to worry.”

  It was adorable how hard she was trying to be sensitive for her human boyfriend. Elliot raised Serene’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Richard Plantgrown, passing by, made the sound of a whip cracking: Elliot did not know if it was for Elliot, because of the kiss, or for Serene because of what she’d said. He hoped it was for him. Serene bore enough, and he hated seeing her, proud and not quite untouchable, bear more for his sake.

  Elliot had taken much worse than this for no reason at all, and this was for her, for the best reason he knew. He didn’t care what anyone did to him.

  Luke turned on the bench and looked at Richard. That was all he did. Richard put his full tray down on a random table and fled out of the door.

  Serene had not deigned to look at Richard while he could see her, but she watched his retreating back with an expression that boded ill for Richard next time he entered the practice grounds.

  “Yes,” Elliot said to Serene, electing to ignore the problem. “But how do you explain the baldness issue? Swift made an excellent point about the baldness issue!”

  Elliot did not want to be left behind thinking about what could be happening to Serene and Luke out among the bandits. So he stole a warrior-training cloak and accompanied them, slinking in the back so that he could say honestly that neither of them had any idea he was there.

  “Honestly, Serene and Luke had no idea I was here,” he said when he was discovered and dragged in front of the commander. “You can’t punish them, because they had no idea I was here!”

  Commander Woodsinger sat on a tree stump in the clearing where the cadets were putting up their tents, and stared at Elliot. Her eyes said that she was considering awful things like execution or more tutoring.

  “So I have just one cadet flagrantly disobeying my orders and in urgent need of discipline,” said the commander. “Wonderful.” She held up a hand to forestall Elliot’s protestations. “I believe that Cadet Chaos-of-Battle and Cadet Sunborn are not aware of your presence. I believe this since they are not currently in your presence.”

  Elliot was about to protest—he was in a protesting mood—but at that point Serene and Luke arrived, looking windblown and worried.

  “Right on cue!” said the commander. “I do not have the time to discipline you, Cadet Schafer, but for the entirety of this mission you will be under my eye.”

  “No problem, Commander!” said Elliot.

  The commander’s order became a problem the very next day.

  That night, though, Serene and Elliot had a tent to themselves, which they moved a little farther away from the other tents, into the trees. Elliot had brought what papers he could on the reported sightings and robberies, and they went over them and whispered secrets in between discussing the movement of bandit groups.

  “I don’t know why the commander thinks we can get the bandits when the group obviously moves from the elven to the human territories to escape justice from both. The only way to defeat them is to unite our forces.”

  Except your mum is being a jerk, Elliot did not say.

  “I don’t know why you came if you think this expedition won’t be any use,” Serene remarked.

  Elliot pulled off his shirt. Once he had the hair under enough control that Serene could see his face, he winked. “Don’t you?”

  “Don’t think you can get around me with your newly improved physique,” said Serene, and Elliot was torn between being flattered, surprised, and wondering how much improvement it had required. Serene kissed him, so he settled on flattered, leaning into her and feeling her warm fingers tracing the lines of his abd
omen. “Beauty is a delusion and a snare.”

  She pushed him backward, and he fell laughing in firelight and tangled bedrolls. “Consider yourself snared,” he told her.

  “It was very wrong of you to come,” Serene said later. Elliot’s head was resting on her stomach as he read. He heard the smile in her voice as she continued: “But I’m glad to have you here.”

  Elliot smiled. He was still smiling as he pressed a kiss against her soft skin, then another, in a trail from her belly button and heading down.

  Serene was sent up with all the best archers into the trees, where they could surprise bandits from above. Elliot’s amazing grace, or lack thereof, meant he stayed on the ground with those best suited to swordwork and lurked behind Luke.

  Luke, as usual these days, was in a bad mood.

  “—cannot believe you would be such a reckless idiot,” he said as they walked through the green hush of the forest. “I mean, I can, because it’s you, but—”

  “Aw, someone’s cranky!” said Elliot. “Did someone not enjoy sharing a tent with the commander? I think she’s charming, personally.”

  “Someone is only cranky because someone else is so full of—” Luke broke off, made one of his incomprehensible military gestures that sent cadets and the commander alike scurrying for cover, and with his free hand grabbed Elliot by the back of his tunic and bore him down into the undergrowth.

  Elliot spat out leaves and dirt, lifted his head and glared reproachfully at Luke, who was lying on his front with his eyes scanning the skies.

  “Quiet,” Luke whispered. “I think it’s harpies.”

  Elliot propped himself up on one elbow in the dirt. “Harpies? Cool!”

  Luke shoved his face back into the grass. “Not cool! Harpies are monsters, do you hear me? They are not like dwarves or even dryads: they are death with wings. They are the owls to your mice. They rip with their claws, they swoop, and they kill, and once you are dead they rend the body until it is stinking offal, because mutilation of corpses is their beast’s idea of sport. And your dumb hair is a beacon. So don’t move a muscle, and don’t you dare even think of doing something stupid.”