“The elves won’t arrive for at least another hour,” he told them. “Miranda, swear by the magic of the truce circle not to leave until I give you permission.” He guided her through the oath. “And you two swear by the magic of the truce circle to remain in it with Miranda.” They did so. “Now, Miranda, see if you can leave.”
Miranda walked to the outer line of trees and stopped, unable to go farther. She glanced down at the stars at her wrists, but they were dark. “I thought force was forbidden in the circle,” she said, rejoining her companions.
“It is,” answered Seylin, “except what you force upon yourself. What you swear here you have to honor here. Now I’ll conceal you again. Please trust me and stay concealed until the two lords enter the circle. After that, you’re free to be as conspicuous as you like.”
He changed them back into shadows again, and they sat down under the trees. Twilight deepened into night, and the stars came out. They heard a crowd approaching and Richard issuing orders. Seventy-five of the King’s Guard filed through the trees and formed ranks. The rising full moon began to light the interior of the circle.
“The elves are coming,” whispered the shadowed Hunter to Tattoo.
“I don’t hear anything,” murmured the goblin.
“I know,” replied Hunter proudly.
“Elf lord!” came Catspaw’s shout from outside the circle. “You may have broken the treaty, but I stand by my promise. I mean to do what is best for the elves.”
“You stole Sika from my camp through lies and threats,” called the elf lord’s clear voice. “In doing that, you have already destroyed the future of the elves.”
The shadow that was Miranda leaned toward Seylin. “Is that true?” she whispered, dumbfounded.
“I’m almost positive it is,” answered Seylin. “Except for the lies, of course.”
“I encouraged my subject to flee a murderer and return to safety,” responded the goblin King. “I and my goblins remain the friends of the elves. We refuse to attack your warriors, and we will disarm them if they attack. If you wish to fight, send your people into the circle and face me alone.”
“Very well,” replied the elf lord, and the warriors began to file into the circle.
“But Seylin, he can’t do that!” whispered Miranda to the shadow next to her. “Nir has absolutely no chance of winning!”
“True,” answered Seylin, moving away. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t think the elf lord expects to win.”
She followed the sound of his voice to the outer circle of trees and looked out between the great oaks. Lit by the full moon, goblin and elf stood face-to-face not ten feet apart. Catspaw was a little taller and heavier. He held his great paw outstretched, his lion claws bared. Nir held his own right hand up, his cloak thrown back from his shoulders.
“Seylin, you’re going to do something, aren’t you?” she whispered to the shadow beside her.
“Of course,” he answered. “In a minute.”
“In a minute?” she echoed frantically. “Seylin, you have to do something now!”
As the last elf man reached the circle, the two leaders sprang at each other. A blast of wind tore the branches around them, and they disappeared behind a sheet of white flame.
The howling wind drowned out all other sounds, and the sheet ,of flame became a fiery ball. Crackling and arcing, it rolled across the ground, its brilliant glare now purple, now golden. Trees split and splintered as it rolled by, and the wind whipped leaves and twigs into a whirling column. Dimly, within the glowing heart of the flame, moved the black forms of the magical warriors.
Inside the truce circle, the assembled men broke ranks and scattered, crowding to the gaps between the trees. Elves and goblins jostled together, unheeding, intent on watching the combat. But no one set foot outside the great trunks, no matter how advantageous a view this might offer. Torn tree limbs, caught on the spiraling wind, crashed into one another, and flames ran along the ground and licked the very edge of the enchanted ring. No one inside it dared to leave its safety.
The flaming sphere, spinning and flashing, rose high into the air. The wind whirled into a scream. With a crash like a thunderclap, the heaven-bound globe split open in a shower of sparks. Stark against the bright light, two dark figures plunged to earth. They landed with twin thuds a few feet apart on the ground outside the truce circle.
Seylin walked out and stood between the prone leaders, his hands behind his back.
“And did you enjoy your refreshing combat, my lords?” he asked. “I trust that you’re both well.”
The men looking up at him appeared not to know whether they were alive or dead. He smiled reassuringly at their stunned expressions.
“In fact, I’m sure you’re both well,” he concluded. “And since each of you firebrands has failed to annihilate the other, perhaps you’ll come into the circle now and look for a less drastic approach.”
They climbed shakily to their feet, gazing around in amazement. The scorched earth smoked, and shattered tree limbs littered the ground. They studied their own hands, their clothes. They watched each other out of the corners of their eyes. Not a scratch, not a bruise, not a rip in a cloak. Their clothes weren’t even dirty. Avoiding each other’s gaze, they followed Seylin into the circle.
A shadow flung itself at the elf lord. “Nir!” cried Miranda, the spell falling from her as she reached him. Nir put his arms around her and stood still, holding her tightly, his head bowed over her bright hair. He had fully expected to be dead this minute. He had never expected to see her again.
Catspaw turned at Miranda’s cry. Then he examined his adviser’s careful expression. “Seylin,” growled the King, flexing his claws, and it was fortunate for the handsome goblin that they both stood inside the truce circle.
“A good subject anticipates his monarch’s wishes,” remarked Seylin smoothly.
“And what does that have to do with you?” roared the King.
“Thank you, friend goblin,” said the elf lord with dignity, “for doing what you knew was right.”
“Well, he didn’t do what I know is right!” snapped the infuriated Catspaw. “I hope you don’t think I’m letting Miranda leave here with you. She’s not tagging after some itinerant, half-mad, flute-playing elf and living the rest of her life on deer meat and rainwater!”
`And the life you have planned for Sika is better, is it?” replied Nir hotly. “Living in some airless hole among malformed people who can’t even touch her, with no possibility of the marriage she wanted or the children she’s been worrying about.”
“Children? Don’t be ridiculous,” declared the goblin King. “She’s not having children with you.”
“That’s a lie!” asserted Nir.
Marak Catspaw stared in surprise. “It is not, you crazy elf! Goblins don’t lie.”
“Tell him how you know it’s a lie,” Seylin prompted the elf lord.
“How he knows?” cried the goblin King. “Seylin, you taught me that law yourself!”
“Not exactly,” observed his adviser. “Co ahead, elf lord, tell him how you know.”
To Miranda’s surprise, Nir stiffened and carefully pushed her away. Then he stood, head high, glaring at the goblins as if he were back in combat again.
“Just as I thought,” mused Seylin. “He won’t tell you because it’s a secret. A dark, shameful, terrible secret that he hasn’t told a single elf. You see, goblin King, the elf lord knows that Miranda can have his son. He knows it because his own mother was a human, and she had his father’s son.”
A murmur arose at this from the assembled men, amazement from the goblins, dismay and disappointment from the elves. The elf lord stood perfectly still, ignoring them all, and stared at the rising moon.
“An elf-human cross?” growled the puzzled goblin King. “With that kind of magic? Seylin, it’s not possible!”
“He’d tell you if I lied,” observed Seylin. “But I didn’t. And that isn’t the only secret th
is elf has been keeping. Miranda thought that he would give up on his lost human sweetheart and marry some elf girl, but I knew he would fight to recover her with every warrior he has. Because Miranda isn’t his sweetheart. She’s his wife. And she’s been his wife from the very first night they met.”
The murmuring grew louder. Miranda stared at the elf in confusion. Married from the first night they met?
Nir looked at her, at the shock and bewilderment in her eyes. “I’m not a monster like you are,” he said angrily to Marak Catspaw, “to drag home a young girl and announce that she has no choice in such a personal matter.”
“Oh, no,” retorted Catspaw sarcastically. “You’re so much more noble than I am. You dragged her home, gave her no choice, and then didn’t bother to tell her.”
“I don’t think a single elf knew what he’d done,” Seylin remarked to the King. “There was none of the customary dancing or the presents of flowers for the new bride. I suspect that when he swore to give Miranda all that his world had to offer, he did it very quietly.”
Catspaw frowned. “Seylin, you’re talking about the Seven Stars Spell,” he observed. “In its original form, it is a marriage vow, yes, but you can’t pretend that it applies to him.”
“Doesn’t it?” asked Seylin in excitement. “Look at this elf, not as an opponent you personally despise, but as an academic puzzle instead. He marries a human using the Seven Stars, and she’s so well protected that she can’t even run her finger along the edge of a knife. He heals without spells, which not even a strong healer can do, or Sable would have managed to save her friend Laurel. He knows by magic the location of every elf and collects them by twos and threes, and they obey him so completely that Arianna couldn’t even drag her feet when he sent her off to become your wife. He faces you in single combat and emerges without a scratch. But all you really need to know is that he is the son of a full elf man and a full human woman. Answer the riddle, goblin King. Do you know who he is?”
Marak Catspaw walked around the elf lord, studying him. He was beginning to enjoy the situation hugely. Nir ignored him, staring at the full moon. He obviously was not.
“The real question is,” mused Catspaw, “does he know, himself?”
“No,” answered Seylin. “He knows everything he needs to know, and not one thing more. But we should have known sooner, and would have, if we’d listened to Miranda.”
“By the Sword!” exclaimed Catspaw. “Seylin, you’re right! Tell us, Miranda, what did Father raise you to be?”
The girl looked at him and then at the silent Nir. She was angry that they were laughing over him and puzzled that he wouldn’t defend himself.
“Marak raised me to be a King’s Wife,” she snapped.
“Well, you’re a wife now,” observed Catspaw, “so that means your husband must be a king. You’re married to the prettiest elf there is, Miranda. You’re the wife of the elf King.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dead silence reigned in the truce circle. No one moved. Then Nir dropped his contemptuous gaze to Marak Catspaw’s face. “Don’t mock me,” he said coldly.
“Mock you, brother?” said the goblin. “There’s nothing I’d love better. Unfortunately, I’m not mocking you.”
“The elf King is dead,” declared Nir. “He died hundreds of years ago, and he left no Heir.”
“We know that’s not true, or you wouldn’t be here,” observed Catspaw. “I don’t know how you happen to be his Heir, but I do have a chief adviser who generally knows this sort of thing. Adviser!”
“Goblin King?” responded Seylin.
“Can you tell us how this upstart elf-human cross came to be a King?”
“I can do better than that. I can read it to you,” answered Seylin. “Dentwood, did you bring the books?”
“Yes, Father.”
A young man came forward through the assembled goblin Guard. He looked like an ordinary human, with thick brown hair and brown eyes, but when he turned to hand Seylin two books, Nir saw that he had pointed elf ears. “Thanks, son,” said Seylin absently, and the human-elf-goblin walked back into the ranks.
“This is the last of the elvish Kings’ Chronicles,” announced Seylin, holding up one of the books so that they could see the markings on the spine. “I’ll read you part of the story of the last elf King’s father, Aganir Melim-bar, the elf King named Saturn’s Ascent. But in English, because I think it’s only fair that Miranda be able to understand it.
“‘The King’s Wife of Saturn’s Ascent,”’ he began, “‘was much praised by the advisers because she was a strong and gifted woman. She studied her new people, mastered their language, and won their hearts. But her vain and weak husband did not love his human wife because she was not beautiful. Having enslaved her heart through the amnesia drink that destroyed her memory of her world, the elf King treated her devotion to him with disdain, and when at last she was pregnant with the Heir, he put her aside altogether. His wife confronted him about his cruelty, and words passed between them which neither would forgive. He gave her the choice of living in any other camp she wished, but he would keep her in the King’s Camp no longer.
“‘The King’s Wife toured the camps, and the elves mourned her disgrace. At last, she settled in the Camp of the Bright Shoulder Star because the lord of this camp had died and his lady also waited to bear a son. The two bereaved women, one human, one elf, took each other to their hearts, and they comforted each other through the long months of their pregnancy. And so strong and brave was the King’s Wife that she delivered the Heir alone and then rose from her bed to help her friend through her difficult labor. At the end of the night, the two women lay side by side in the midwife’s tent, and their two new sons lay with them.
“‘But here is a strange thing, for as noble and as good as this King’s Wife was, she hated her own son. She sent him next evening to his father’s camp without shedding a single tear. But she begged the right to name the son of the lady of the camp, and because of their love, the lady gave her consent.
“‘When the full moon came, the King’s Wife held her friend’s son, and she kissed him and cried over him. She said that here would be no cruel elf King who would bring torment to a human girl, and she named the baby Ash, which means “unique,” or “alone.”
“‘The King’s Wife ceased to eat from the night of her delivery. The people lamented, and the advisers were angry because the King would not save his wife. But the elf King himself was pleased because he had never cared for the sight of her. She died two nights after the naming of Lord Ash, and only the elf King did not mourn her passing-”’
“She switched the babies!” exclaimed Marak Catspaw in amazement. “She sent the lady’s son to the King. She kept the Heir in camp and named him Lord Ash!”
`And there, goblin King, stands the heir of Lord Ash,” said his adviser. ‘Ash is his proper name, the name he received from his father and his father’s father.”
Nir stared at the book in Seylin’s hands, pondering the story. “They were wrong,” he said quietly. “The King’s Wife did love her son.”
“But she hated her husband enough to destroy his entire people,” countered Seylin. “The recognized Aganir U-Sakar, the elf King named New Moon, was an unwitting impostor, the son of a camp lord. His advisers were astounded at the weakness of his magic. They couldn’t persuade him to marry for years because the elf King is the only elf man capable of feeling an interest in a human woman. The impostor found the thought of marrying a human revolting. When he finally did marry, he had enough magic to place the Seven Stars, but the stars were always dark. His human wife didn’t bear a child because their marriage was sterile, and when she killed herself, the stars couldn’t stop her.
“By this time, the impostor King must have been assailed by terrible doubts. He took to dangerous amusements, in which the King’s defense magic should have kept him safe, but New Moon had no defense magic. Changed into the form of a white fox, he jumped into a trap, and the tra
p broke his neck. The master of Hallow Hill displayed the beautiful fox pelt on his wall until the elves stole it back, and the despairing elves set fire to the Hall as a revenge. Fire isn’t a normal elf weapon, but it was the worst thing they knew, and that’s why Hallow Hill has one wing that has been completely rebuilt.”
“Why didn’t the true elf King step forward to lead his people once the impostor was dead?” demanded Catspaw. “He would have had the magic to know he should do it.”
“He couldn’t because Lord Ash, the true King, was dead long before the impostor,” said Seylin. “He died before New Moon even married. Clear signs of his real identity were present in his life. He married three different elf women, and the first two died childless. That’s because the elf King, like the goblin King, can’t have a child until his magic matures, some time past the age of forty. Lord Ash’s magic doubtless got rid of the first two wives, just as this elf King’s first wife, Kara, knew that his magic was getting rid of her, and as Arianna was instinctively afraid that his magic would do to her, too.
“Then Lord Ash’s niece was stolen by the goblins, and he was determined to rescue her. Because he was really the elf King, no member of the Guard could withstand him, and he fought all the way to the iron door, destroying every goblin in his path. Then the iron door called on the goblin King to save it. If the Kings had fought together as you two did, the goblin King would have recognized his opponent, but he brought down the ceiling on Lord Ash instead, and that killed the last true elf King. His young elf wife bore her dead husband a son, but the child was a great disappointment. He had almost no magic at all.
“What happens next is lost in the confusion of the elf harrowing, but it’s easy enough to guess. One Lord Ash followed another: plain, unremarkable elves. The powerful magic of the elf Kings stayed dormant because they were the sons of elf women. At last one final Lord Ash came along: lonely, the last of his band. He fell in love with a human girl, and he lured her away from home. She longed for her own world, but her husband loved her ardently, and so, two hundred and fifty years after the death of the last true King, another elf King was born.”