"I've heard this theory of yours, Wolf."
"Have you? Have you really listened to my words and thought it through?"
"True, there were times of famine, and yes, we went to Earth and saw how to increase crop production and put those techniques to use. But we have lived in peace for thousands of years with all that we could want—why should we clutter up our lives with gadgets?"
Wolf sighed. "You never listened. Not to anything I ever said, did you? I told you over a hundred years ago that sooner or later, the humans would come to us. And I'm telling you now, it's only a matter of time before another race finds us."
One instructional conversation with Stormsong, one stiff drink, one mystery meal of panfried wild game (what in gods' name had drumsticks that size?), and one short nap, and Tinker was feeling much better.
According to Stormsong, her emotional swings were from exhaustion. It would be a year before Tinker would need to worry about a period. Nor, Stormsong said as she poured a generous round of ouzo, could Tinker be pregnant. "Drink, eat, sleep," Stormsong repeated Pony's advice, only more succinctly.
It was fairly clear that discussions had taken place while Tinker was asleep. There was an undercurrent running through the sekasha and they were metaphorically tiptoeing around her as if she would break. She wasn't sure which was more annoying: that they felt that they needed to tiptoe, or that they were doing such a horribly obvious job at it. At least it kept Bladebite from hounding her, although he was clearly sulking.
Much to Tinker's disgust, Stormsong coaxed her out to the enclave's bathhouse. She went only because the enclave had no showers and the last time she done more than wallow in a sink was at the hospice. She was starting to stink even to herself. She thought she hated elfin bathing—the cold water prescrub gave new meaning to the word unpleasant—but when she discovered that the bathhouse was both communal and mixed sex, she decided to loathe elfin bathing. As far as she was concerned, if the gods wanted them naked, they wouldn't have invented clothing.
The bath at least was stunning, done in jewel-toned mosaics with marble columns and a great skylight of beveled glass. Minerals had been added to the hot water, so it was hazy to the point that it gave a small level of privacy. And the sekasha seemed well-practiced in using the towels to keep themselves discreet until the water covered them. Thankfully Bladebite didn't join them, though, surprisingly, Pony did. The eye candy of Pony covered only by steaming water, however, didn't outweigh the negative of being the shortest, darkest, smallest-breasted female present.
"Relax." Stormsong had proved to be naturally a pale-white blond—a fact Tinker hadn't really wanted to know. "We won't eat you."
"At least we won't." Rainlily smiled with a glance toward Pony.
Tinker stood up, realized that she was flashing them all, and sat back down to hide in the hazy water. "I am not amused."
Stormsong splashed Rainlily. "Shush, you."
"If we don't tease her," Rainlily said, "she'll think elves are just as prudish as humans. I've never understood how they can be so blatant with their sexual imagery, and yet in relationships with one another, they are so narrow-minded. As if a heart can hold only one love at a time, and you have to empty out one before there's room for another."
"Let her cope with one thing at a time." Pony watched Tinker with a worried gaze.
"I'm fine," she told him and wondered why she had to say that so often lately.
"One lover gets boring after thirty or forty years," Rainlily said. "It's like peanut butter on a spoon, it's really good, but with chocolate sometimes, it's even better."
Tinker knew that elves loved peanut butter as much as they loved Juicy Fruit gum and ice cream. Considering her experience with the gum, she really had to track down a jar of peanut butter.
Stormsong moaned at the suggestion of peanut butter and chocolate. She added, "Or peanut butter and strawberry jam on fresh bread."
"Peanut butter on toast." Sun Lance held up her hand as if she held a piece of toasted bread by its crust. "Where the bread is crunchy and the peanut butter is all hot and runny."
"Raisin bread toast." Tinker modified Sun Lance's suggestion to her favorite way to eat peanut butter before she became an elf.
"Peanut butter, pretzels, chocolate," Rainlily listed out, "and that marshmallow fluff all mixed together."
"Oh, that explains Cloudwalker and Moonshadow at the same time," Stormsong murmured.
"Nyowr," Rainlily growled with a smile, which was the Elvish version of a cat's meow.
"Peanut butter on apple slices," Sun Lance said.
"On a banana," Tinker said.
"On Skybolt," Rainlily said knowingly.
"Oh yes, that's nice," Stormsong agreed.
Tinker was going to need a scorecard to track the sekasha's relationships.
"Peanut butter ice cream," Pony said.
"Peanut butter ice cream!" The females all sighed.
"Unless domi takes another sekasha, though, then her options are limited." Rainlily pointed out. "There's Pony, and then there's Pony."
"That's still peanut butter and—" Stormsong thought a moment, before finishing. "—virgin honey."
Rainlily eyed Pony and smiled. "Definitely virgin honey."
Pony blushed and looked down.
"And Wolf Who Rules is peanut butter ice cream," Sun Lance said.
That triggered a chorus of agreement from the females. Tinker had one moment of feeling pleased that she married the prize male and then realization hit her like a two-by-four to the head. She gasped out in shock.
"Domi?" All four sekasha instantly reacted, moving toward her as they scanned the building for enemies.
"Windwolf! You've all slept with him?"
The female warriors exchanged glances.
"Well?" she pressed.
"Yes, domi," Stormsong said quietly. "But not since he's met you."
Was that really supposed to make her feel better? Well, giving it a moment to sink in, yes it did. She knew that Windwolf had to have had lovers before her—she just didn't expect to be naked in a tub with them at any point. There were two other female sekasha. Tinker supposed they were ex-lovers too. Windwolf's household numbered seventy-five—she didn't even know how many were female, but most of the sizeable kitchen staff was. The possible number staggered her. "Any females from the rest of the household?"
The sekasha blinked at her in surprise.
"No, domi, that wouldn't be proper." Was it a good thing or a bad that Stormsong was keeping to Elvish?
"Only the sekasha are naekuna," Pony explained.
"You're what?"
"Naekuna." Pony sat up slightly in the water to point at a tattoo on his hipbone. She blushed and looked away. "We can turn on and off our fertility."
"It is considered best if a domi and domou chooses among their beholden sekasha for their lovers." Stormsong had a similar tattoo on her hip. "The security of the household is not compromised and we're naekuna."
Tinker had one moment of relief until she realized that she had to interact with the five female sekasha on a daily basis. She stared at Stormsong, Sun Lance, and Rainlily, unsure how to cope with the sudden knowledge that these females had slept with Windwolf. They knew what a good lover he was—had probably helped him perfect his technique. What if—as the whole peanut butter conversation had suggested—Windwolf wanted variety? How did one deal with that? The crushing weight of inevitability that you would have to share? With such drop-dead beautiful females no less?
Elves always were so focused on today. You couldn't get them to talk about the past. Nae hae, too many years to count, it happened long ago, why bother? The future was the future, why stress over it bearing down on you?
Given long enough time, the smallest probability became reality. Sooner or later, you would live through all the possible futures. Nor would the past really be a true indicator of the future as you worked through one unlikely chance to the next.
Did the elves wear blinders j
ust to keep sane?
"Are you all right?" Pony asked.
"Um, let me get back to you about that."
"Ze domou." Wraith Arrow was operating at maximum respect now that the Fire Clan had arrived. Or more specifically, since the Wyverns had arrived. Wolf found himself wondering if perhaps the sekasha had chosen their king based on his Hands rather than his clan. "Forest Moss is one of those who traveled to Onihida when the pathway was found. He and the sekasha, Silver Vein in Stone, were the only two who managed to survive their capture by the oni."
At one time, certain caves and rock formations had created pathways that let a person walk from one world to the next. Anyone without the ability to detect a ley line could search closely for the pathway, even to the point of stepping in and out of worlds, and never find it. The dangers of traveling to Earth were great. The pathways themselves came and went like the tides of the ocean, apparently affected by the orbit of the moon. Earth had no magic, leaving the domana powerless and the sekasha without their shields. Still, all the clans sent out domana and their sekasha to barter silk and spices for steel and technology. To circumvent the dangers, the pathways were mapped out carefully, and traders crossed back to the safety of Elfhome as often as possible. In one remote area on Earth, a new pathway was discovered, and eagerly explored.
Unfortunately it was a pathway that led to Onihida. Of the twenty that went on the expedition, only two returned to Elfhome.
Wolf considered what he knew of that doomed expedition, which was very little since it happened before he was born. Unlike humans who seemed to be driven to chronicle their life and make it public, elves kept such things private. Everything he knew about the oni and Onihida came from questioning his First Hand. He had selected Wraith Arrow and the others for their knowledge of the humans and Earth, not thinking he'd ever need their familiarity with the oni.
"So you've met him?" Wolf asked.
Wraith nodded. "They had tortured him, healed him, and then tortured him again. It broke his mind."
That was two hundred fifty years ago. Had Forest Moss recovered?
It made Wolf wonder about Tinker and her time with the oni. What had they done to her to change her so much? Wolf felt a wave of sadness and anger. His domi had been so brave, trusting, and strong.
Wraith continued his report. "Silver Vein did not look to Forest Moss. The Stone domou had a vanity Hand, which he lost. Last that I heard, he had not gained another Hand."
"He's coming here without sekasha?"
Wraith nodded.
What game was this? Why include someone who lacked the most basic abilities of building a household? Did this mean that the Stone Clan didn't intend to create holdings in Pittsburgh?
* * *
"I'm not sure you should be trying to call the spell stones." Stormsong was the only one who actually voiced the doubt all of them were clearly thinking as they followed her through the enclave's enclosed gardens.
"I'm fine," she said for what seemed the millionth time in the last three days.
"You spent a month working around the clock," Stormsong started. "And you haven't—"
"Shhh!" Tinker silenced her and worked to find her center. Getting her fingers into the full-suit position took a moment of concentration. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she vocalized the trigger word. The magic spilled around her, pulsing with potential. Carefully, she shifted her fingers to the shield position and spoke the trigger. The magic wrapped around her, distorting the air.
"Yes!" Without thinking, she threw up her hands in jubilation and the shield vanished. "Oops!"
The sekasha were too polite to comment. Finding her center was harder while burning with embarrassment. Her heart still leapt up when she called up her shield but she managed not to move this time. She held it for several minutes and then practiced at looking around, and then moving, without forgetting to maintain her hand positions.
"Okay," Tinker said. "Can I talk? Can you hear me?"
Pony grinned at her. "We can hear you. As long as you don't have your hands near your mouth, you can talk—but it's not always wise."
She dismissed the magic. Only after the power drained completely away did she celebrate. Laughing, she hugged Pony. "I did it!"
He surprised her by hugging her tightly back. "Yes, you did."
The walkie-talkie chirped and Stormsong answered with a "Yes? It is nothing—she is only practicing."
Tinker grimaced. She had forgotten Windwolf would notice her tapping the spell stones. "That's Wolf Who Rules?"
"Yes, ze domi," Stormsong said.
"Sorry, Windwolf!" Tinker called. "But I did it! I called the shields!"
Stormsong listened for a moment and then said, "He says, 'Very good,' and wants to know if you plan to continue practicing?"
"For a while." It occurred to her that the stones might only support one user. "That isn't a problem for him—is it?"
"No, domi." Pony answered the question. "Both of you can use the stones at the same time."
Stormsong listened and then said good-bye. "Wolf Who Rules merely wanted to be sure you were fine. Practice away, he said."
So she did until she momentarily forgot how to dispel the magic. When at last the magic washed away, Pony came and took her hands in his.
"Please, domi, go to bed. You can do more tomorrow."
Tinker woke from her nightmare to a dark bedroom. For a moment, she couldn't figure out where she was. She'd fallen asleep in so many places lately. She eyed the poster bed, wood paneling, and open window—oh yes—her bedroom at Poppymeadow's. Even awake, her dreams crowded in on her. She put out a hand and found Windwolf's comforting warmth. It was all she needed to push away the darkest memories.
Sighing, she snuggled up to her husband. This was one of the unexpected joys of being married, her secret treasure. She had never realized how lonely she was at night. Back in her loft, any light noise had her out of bed, and once awake, she often found herself getting dressed and wandering out into the sleeping city, in search of something she'd couldn't name or identify. Before Windwolf, if asked, she would have said she was perfectly happy—but if she had been, how could she be so much happier now?
She was just noticing something hard digging into her side, when she realized it was Pony beside her, not Windwolf. While Pony wore his loose pajamas, he slept on top of the blankets beside her, instead of under them with her. It was his sheathed ejae beneath her—she'd rolled on top of it when she cuddled up to him.
"Pony?" She tugged the sword out from under her, dropped it behind him. His presence confused her.
"What is it, domi?" he asked sleepily.
It took her another minute to sort through memories and dreams to know what reality should be. They weren't still prisoners of the oni and her husband really should be in bed with her. "Where's Windwolf?"
Pony rubbed at his face. "Hmmm? He's probably still with Prince True Flame. There was much to do before the troops arrived tomorrow."
"I had a bad dream about Windwolf. He couldn't see Lord Tomtom. I could but the black willows were holding me—I couldn't move—couldn't warn him."
"Hush." Pony hugged her loosely. "Tomtom is dead. Wolf Who Rules is safe. It was only a dream—nothing more. Go back to sleep."
"What if the oni attacked?" She started to get up but he tightened his hold.
"No, no, Wolf would want you to sleep. You're exhausted, domi. You're going to make yourself sick if you do not sleep."
She groaned because she was so very tired but the nightmare pressed in on her. "I can't go back to sleep. Windwolf could be in trouble."
"He's fine."
"How do you know? We were asleep. He could be fighting for his life right now." Oh gods, she was turning into such a drama queen. Go to bed, go to bed, go to bed, she told herself, but she couldn't banish the memories.
"Oh, domi," Pony crooned. "When I was little and my mother was out with Longwind—Windwolf's father—I'd be worried just like you are now. And my father would
say, 'Look at the clear sky, see the stars? If the Wind Clan fought tonight, the wind would throw clouds around, and lightning would be everywhere.'"
She relaxed onto his bare shoulder, gazing out the bedroom window at the peach trees beyond, standing still against a crystalline sky. "What did you do when it stormed?"
Pony chuckled, a good warm sound that did much to banish away her fears. "Ah, you've spotted the weakness in my father's ploy."