The Eighth Warden Book 3Chapter 16
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Shavala and Katrin rode Socks and Flower to the elven quarter, since Katrin had suggested it was too far away to walk.
After two hours, Katrin finally said, “We’re getting close. I think.”
Shavala glanced back at the way they’d come, confused. She didn’t know her way around the city, but she had a good sense of direction, and it felt like they’d taken a roundabout route. “Couldn’t we have just come through there?” she asked, pointing.
“I led us around some bad neighborhoods,” Katrin said. “At least I did once we were close enough for me to remember where they were.”
“Bad neighborhoods?”
“Slums—where people live who don’t have much money. Like the spot where I grew up, though that’s on the other side of town. If Corec was with us, we could have ridden straight through, but with just the two of us, the gangs might have tried to steal the animals.”
“Gangs?”
“Gangs of thieves. I don’t know who runs this part of town, so I don’t know what they’re like.”
“The elves live in bad neighborhoods?”
“No, we’re out of the old part of the city now. Once we’re past these warehouses, we’ll reach the newer areas that have sprung up in the last hundred years or so. The elves live in one of those.”
The way Katrin spoke of Tyrsall sometimes made it sound alive, growing and changing over time. Terrillia changed, too, but only in small ways—a new home might be built, attached to the side of one of the giant tershaya trees, or an old one might be rebuilt, or even torn down if it was no longer needed. Once, before Shavala had begun her training as a druid, a lightning strike had caused enough damage to one of the trees that they had to cut it down, first moving the three homes that had been attached to it and the shop that had been constructed at its base. But there were never any big changes. Terrillia only had a tenth as many people as Tyrsall, and it was spread out across a much larger area. It never got bigger, and groups of people never moved to the forest, needing more space. As far as Shavala knew, Terrillia hadn’t changed size for as long as her people had lived there.
Before she could think about it any further, they turned a corner and were past the large industrial buildings they’d been riding through. Directly ahead of them was a street that was anchored on either side by taverns. The customers going in, or standing in groups near the entrances, were a mix of humans, silver elves, and wood elves, all talking together. More elves could be seen walking farther down the street. Even though Katrin had told her about the elven quarter, it was still a shock to see so many of her own people here in the city.
The two women continued riding. They passed the groups standing outside the taverns, some of the elves staring at Katrin while others watched Shavala. Beyond the taverns, the homes and shops they could see were built in the human style, though there were few humans to be seen as the two made their way farther in.
There were children, though—silver elf and wood elf children playing together in the street. Shavala moved Socks to the side to give them some room as they ran past, but that took her near a rug shop, too close to where a nilvasta woman was pulling a skein of dyed wool out of a large kettle to hang it up to dry. Shavala grimaced at the caustic odor of the dye, but nodded to the woman as she rode past, not wanting to seem rude.
The shops near the entrance to the quarter seemed designed to draw in visitors from elsewhere in the city, but Shavala didn’t see what she needed. She continued on, hoping that the shops for other elves were farther in. While the buildings were still human in design, they all had elven wind chimes or sun catchers hanging from their eaves. Windows displayed curtains with elven patterns, and once Shavala was past the kettle of dye, she could smell the sweet scent of a cinnamon bread she’d grown up with.
“Why do so many of them live here?” she asked as they rode. It wasn’t a surprise to find nilvasta living in a city, but they were outnumbered by the dorvasta, and Shavala had never seen any of these dorvasta before.
“You said you always wanted to see the city,” Katrin replied. “Maybe they did, too, and then they stayed.”
“They dress like humans, and I don’t recognize any of them. I don’t think they came from Terrillia.”
“You don’t know every elf in the forest, do you?”
“No, of course not, but I spent the last eight years in the border camp closest to Tyrsall. If they came from the forest, I should have seen some of them, unless they’ve been here a long time. And I never heard of this many people leaving—just a few, like me, going on their travels.”
“Then maybe they grew up here.”
“Meritia always said there were some of us living away from the forest, but she never mentioned this many. Why have we seen so few of them in other parts of the city?”
“There aren’t actually that many here,” Katrin pointed out. “Not compared to how big the city is. I’ve heard it’s less than two thousand, and they keep to themselves most of the time.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“I walked past a couple of times, but we didn’t work this part of the city—we were farther south. And we left the elves alone even when they were outside their quarter, but nobody ever told me why.”
Shavala nodded, then rode closer to a passing dorvasta man, who was also riding. “Excuse me,” she said to him, “is there a fletcher’s shop here, or maybe a leatherworker? Someone that sells quivers?”
He stopped his horse near them and looked over her clothing. “I don’t speak Elven,” he said in Eastern.
How could an elf not speak Elven? She didn’t know Eastern very well, so she repeated her question in trade tongue.
“There’s no fletcher here,” he replied in the same language, “but Lorvalla is a leatherworker. She works out of her home. It’s two blocks down, the second door on the right.”
They followed his directions to a building that was similar to many others around the city—two stories and made of wood, it extended the full length of the block but was divided into multiple homes, each with its own separate door. The front windows were too small to serve as storefronts, but there was a sign on the door marking the leatherworker’s home.
Unsure whether to treat it as a home or a shop, Shavala knocked and waited. The door was opened by an elderly elven woman, wearing a dorvasta-style tunic and skirt, and with her pure white hair tied back in an intricate braid. She looked to be at least five hundred years old, though she still moved easily.
The woman looked at Shavala, then Katrin, then back at Shavala again. “I don’t recognize you. Your clothing looks Terrillian.” Unlike the man from the street, the woman spoke Elven.
“Yes, I’m from the forest. Are you Lorvalla? My name is Shavala, and my friend is Katrin. Someone told me you work leather.”
“I am Lorvalla, and yes, I do.” She switched to trade tongue. “Come in, both of you. What brings a Terrillian to Tyrsall?”
Shavala had never heard herself called Terrillian before. Her people referred to themselves as dorvasta, but apparently the dorvasta in the city needed some way to distinguish themselves from those who dwelled in the forest.
“I’m on my travels,” she said, looking around the front room, which was a mix between a living space and a display for ornamental leatherwork.
“A druid? Or do others still undertake the travels?”
“I’m a druid, but I would have gone anyway. I wanted to see the world. Are you from Terrillia?”
“I am, but that was a very long time ago. I met a human boy on my own travels, and we settled down here.”
Shavala shied away from asking about that. It didn’t seem like it could have ended happily, given how short lived humans were. Instead, she said, “What about the others? There can’t have been this many that left the forest. I’ve never even heard of someone leaving and not coming back.”
“There have always been dorvasta outside the forest. Most of those in the city were born here, but there are others from Terrillia or elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?”
“Most human cities have some elves, and there are a few dorvasta villages outside the forest.”
Shavala blinked in surprise. There were entire villages? “Why don’t they visit our home?”
“For the ones who were born here, this place is more their home than a forest would be. Some do visit Terrillia, but not very many. Being constantly surrounded by tall trees isn’t for everyone. Now, what sort of work do you need?”
Shavala slid her two quivers off her shoulder. “I was hoping you could help me with this...”
Rallus looked more the way Corec had expected a wizard to look than Deshin had. He was elderly, with a balding head and a long white beard, and he wore a black robe. He also wasn’t pleased to see them.
“I don’t sell my services anymore,” he said flatly, after his footman had kept them waiting for twenty minutes in a sitting room in the palatial estate.
“Deshin thought you might, for the right price,” Corec said. “He was the first wizard we spoke to.”
“Deshin? Never heard of him. Mr. Larkin will show you out.”
“Wait!” Treya said. “Please, we need your help. Bishop Lastal thought you might be able to do something.”
“Lastal? The priest of Allosur? Why would he send you to me?”
“Nobody else has been able to help us,” Corec said. “Deshin said we should try a major banishing spell, and he said you might know more about binding runes.”
“Binding runes?”
They once again told the story and showed their runes.
Rallus looked impatient the whole time they were speaking. When they were done, he said, “Those aren’t binding runes.”
Corec exchanged a glance with Katrin.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Deshin and the elven woman both thought they were.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Rallus said testily. “I’ve cast enough binding spells in my time.” He pulled the left sleeve of his robe up, showing two small, purple circles glowing faintly on his wrist. “My spectacles and my spell book. I’m forever forgetting where I left them.”
“How are they different?” Corec asked. They looked the same to him, other than the color and the location.
“Look with your arcane sight,” the wizard said to him.
“I ... don’t know what you mean.”
Rallus grunted. “You really haven’t had any training? Have you ever cast a spell the normal way?”
“No. I can summon a mage light easily, but Deshin gave me the spell for it, and no matter how many times I try, I can’t cast it that way.”
“Arcane sight is what a wizard—a real wizard—uses to see the underlying magic within something. Did this wizard of yours cast a spell that made his eyes change? Made them glow or turn white?”
“Yes.”
“He was using arcane sight, but he didn’t know what to look for. I do. A binding spell links two things together, and that’s it. Yours are more complicated than that. Tiny tendrils leading off into nothingness. I can’t see what they’re connected to. Besides, the itching isn’t part of a binding spell.”
The old man hadn’t cast any spells, and his eyes hadn’t changed, but perhaps the rules were different for some wizards.
“Then what is it?” Treya asked.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, a major banishing might still work, if you can find someone to cast it for you.”
“Could you do it? We can offer fifty gold.”
Valentina
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