By Blade and Cloth

By Helen E Davis

David Lodger leaves his home in the backlands of New Cumberland to start his first year of college at Bhrama University. The first Freni he meets threatens him with a sword, then invites him to lunch. When he finds where David is from, the Freni tries to kill him again. David spends his year surrounded by political intrigue and the never-ending threat of the term project.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helen E Davis
• Release date: Jul 23, 2014

Helen E Davis

Helen E Davis lives in Ohio with her husband, twin daughters, and two cats. She has been writing Science Fiction and Fantasy as long as she remembers, and her fiction has appeared in Adventures in Sword and Sorcery and Sword and Sorceress. She enjoys knitting and theological discussions. For more information, go to www.sff.net/people/dragonwriter.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The book was old, with brittle paper, the ink faded to a brownish hue. Many of the pages were missing, and on others great pieces had broken loose. The leather cover was cracked, and most of the title had flaked away. He'd found it in a trunk in the attic, along with a pair of worn out boots and some battered camping gear. Diligently he studied it, for David Lodger of New Cumberland, speeding on the Northeast Express toward a year of studies at Bhrama University, desperately needed to know about Elves.

With a scream from the whistle, the train pulled into East Bhrama Station. David rose, stuffed his book into his leather traveling bag, and yanked down his battered trunk from the overhead bin. Along with everyone else he stepped off the train, then found himself lost in the confusion. Around him groups surged forward to engulf his fellow travelers, to greet them with cheers and hugs. Behind them came an army of uniformed men to snatch up the luggage piled beside the baggage car. By the dining car another army of men loaded and unloaded baskets of food. At the back of the train the box cars were opened by a crew of rough-dressed men who began wrestling out boxes and bags.

People, people everywhere. David had never felt so lonely.

He looked back at the train, a monstrous thing of metalwork and filigree. The porter had said that Lord Mantin had commissioned the Trolls to build it, and that they gave him an oversized replica of their own mining trains. The scowling face of a monster formed the front half of the engine, and cinder-filled smoke puffed from a smokestack fashioned into a tail. Steam hissed from the engine, and it screamed with a demonic wail.

Too many people here, too much strangeness. His stepfather's advice, stuffed into his ears even as sandwiches were pushed into his pockets, echoed in his mind. Be careful who you talk to, be careful who you touch. Don't show your money, don't let anyone knock against you. Don't trust anyone without reason.

So how do I get to the University? he asked himself.

Before he could take another step, a man in a ratty coat blocked his way. Give me some money.

What?

Money. The man stuck out his hand and repeated, Give me some money.

Why?

It's a tax. His hand stayed in front of David's face. Everybody who comes through the station has to pay a tax. So give me some money. Or else you'd better get right back on the train and go home.

No one else is paying your tax. David fingered the knife hidden in his pocket.

They've already paid it for the week. The man reached his other hand into his pocket. Hurry up, before someone gets hurt.

I'm sorry, David said. He clutched his luggage and turned aside—then dropped his shoulder and darted out of the man's reach. But the trunk over-weighted him, and he fell heavily on the platform, skinning his knuckle.

What is this? bellowed a gruff voice behind David. A squat old man, wearing a black patch over one eye and carrying a box in his thick arms, shoved in between them. Who're you pickin' on now, Goose? Get out of here!

The ragged man slipped off without argument.

You all right? the old man said to David

David picked himself up and wiped off his knuckle. The skin beneath was whole. I'm fine, thank you.

You look lost, the man observed, shifting the box in his arms. Where're you headed?

The University, David said, feeling the quiver in his voice.

It's on the other side of the river. You'll have a ways to walk, or for a coin I'll give you a ride. Name's Tinsel—I make a business of pickin' up goods from the train and deliverin' them to their owners.

Elijah's advice warred with David's need for direction. How can I trust you? he asked.

That's a hard one, Tinsel agreed, scratching his chin. Then he pointed to the box in his hands, on which was marked an address for a University building. Well, I'm deliverin' this to the University, so it stands to reason that I can deliver you as well. For a dollar, that is.

Dollar. The big silver one. The people of New Cumberland used barter tokens instead of money—to keep from being taxed. This trip was the first time that David had handled money. He fumbled out the coin and handed it over.

Right. Bring your things to the cart, then. Tinsel gestured toward a collection of boards and wheels held together by wire and a few odd nails, but the horse hitched to the front seemed well cared for. I'll see that you get to your house safe and sure.

My—house? David thought of the family inn, all the way back in New Cumberland.

Where it is you're sleepin'. The University told you that much, didn't they?

Oh yes. David patted his pocket where a piece of paper crackled reassuringly.

Then let's be goin'.

There were streets, and streets, and more streets, all lined with cobblestones. David had seen a cobblestone street only once before: the main street of Pavelgrad, where Elijah and his grandfather had put him on the train. He'd never ridden over one, and not in a rickety wagon that threatened to fall apart with every bump. But it was soon obvious, as the cart made yet another turn onto an even busier street, that he could not have made his way across the city without Tinsel's help.

Soon they came to a wide river, one with fishing boats and flat barges sailing up the middle. A palisade ran along the top of the levee, and every fifty paces a pair of archers in blue uniforms stood with idle crossbows. Every fifth pair was joined by a musketeer, his polished weapon gleaming as brightly as his buttons. Below the wall fishermen had their docks and sheds, and the thick stench of rotting fish rolled upwards. The cart rattled along the road, finally stopping in a line of other carts and carriages waiting to cross an arching stone bridge.

Damn Pointies, Tinsel snarled. They've got the thing blocked up again.

Is there another bridge? David asked.

Tinsel pulled a black plug of tobacco from his pocket and bit off a chunk. Naw. They all got burned down when the Pointies tried to invade. There's just this here bridge. The Pointies stand on the other side and pester everyone who comes by.

What are they looking for?

Different thing, every day. Tinsel aimed toward a battered spittoon sitting by his feet. Beside it lay a heavy staff, easily within reach. They're all crazy, you know. It's no wonder that one went beserkers up in New Cumberland.

David just shrugged, and absently ran his finger along the edge of the brown felt cap that covered most of his hair and his ears.

Slowly the cart drew even with a heavy canon at the foot of the bridge. A pair of soldiers leaned on it, a game of dice and pegs spread out on the barrel between them, paying no attention to the parade crawling past. There were two other light cannons mounted on the wall of the bridge itself, but no soldiers stood by them.

So where are ye sleepin'? Tinsel asked. In that big, new thing with all the glass windows? Too fancy for students, I say.

David pulled out the paper and stared at the words printed on it. He had been reading for only five years -- before that the letters and words had refused to make sense. Even now he sometimes had trouble with longer words. Elijah said that was normal, that David was merely younger than his years and that he'd catch up in time. Ay—ko- ent-cher Hall.

Tinsel snorted at that. Elf House. What are you doing sleepin' with the Pointies?

Elf House? There was a house just for Elves, and he was assigned to live there? The paper shook in his hands. That's what it says here.

Must be a mistake. The Registrar's office will straighten it out for you, in a week or so. He made the spittoon ring again.

David folded the paper carefully and put it back in his pocket.

Now that the cart had reached the hump of the bridge, David could see down the other side. There were no cannons here, but there were Elves. Two in fact, both dressed in dark leather vests over bright green uniforms. Arrows and unslung bows rested in the quivers at their back, and spears leaned against the wall behind them. They both wore short swords at their waist, but their hands were filled with papers and pencils.

David had never seen an Elf before, not a real one. Their hair, long except just above their prominently pointed ears, shimmered golden in the sun. Matching eyes gleamed gold where they should have been white, and large black pupils floated cat-like in the center. Hands, arms, and faces were colored like mountain honey. Except for the eyebrows that shot straight toward the pointed tips of their ears, they had no facial hair.

He continued to stare as the cart moved closer to them, afraid, yet excited. Real Elves.

Suddenly they were standing beside Tinsel's cart, looking over the goods in the back.

Greetings, Sirs, said the first one in a voice that was silken smooth and faintly musical. Have you come for business, pleasure, or family?

Who wants to know? Tinsel replied gruffly.

The Department of Statistics, stated the second Elf, who then held up his papers. David noticed a scar on his left cheek, one that cut straight across. Routine reports.

All right, then. Business. I'm bringin' in goods from the East Train.

What type of goods?

Tinsel rang the spittoon. Trollweed. Herbs. Packages. Look for your own selves.

Agricultural produce, muttered the second one as he scribbled.

The first Elf spoke again. Do you plan to partake of any amusements while you are here?

Lunch. I don't care to dawdle about, when I've got work to do.

If it's free, muttered the second Elf as he wrote.

Tinsel glared at him, but the Elf took no notice.

And where are you from?

I live in the town proper, like I always have. He spat again and turned to David. I come across the river twice a week. You think they'd know me.

David could see the faint smile on the first Elf's face.

And your companion, has he come for business, pleasure, or family?

He's a new student, Tinsel answered for him.

Business, muttered the second Elf, as he scribbled.

Pleasure, argued the first.

Neither, David thought desperately.

Then came the question he dreaded. And where are you from?

New Cumberland, he admitted quietly.

Two pairs of golden eyes turned bright as their pupils shrank to pinpoints, but the Elves made no move except to write on their papers. Then the first Elf, without smiling, waved them on.

Some fool assigned you to the Elf House, and you're from New Cumberland? Tinsel said incredulously when they were away from the bridge.

Yes, David said softly.

The old man whistled. Gonna be interestin'.

Between a rock and a hard place, Amartia Iclatiu thought as he stumbled against the wall of a building. His back, injured years before, protested with a twinge—it was still early in the day. Ahead of him were a pair of Peacekeepers, and while Amar's simple Senior Clerk's uniform proclaimed him an honest, hardworking citizen, his missing ear points suggested it had not always been so. If these soldiers were looking for a troublemaker, they wouldn't wait to listen to the true story of Amar's disgrace.

Yet coming up behind him was a gang of similarly marked Jayeks, and from their manner and dress Amar doubted that there was any confusion why they had lost their points. They were trouble, and Amar was about to be swept into it.

He has Trollweed, one of the Jayeks said. I heard him say it.

Amar felt the packet in his pocket. His was medicinal, to ease the spasms in his back. But would the Peacekeeper stop to listen? He pressed tightly against the building.

Forget the Trollweed. I want the Human, said another. The one from New Cumberland.

Someone from New Cumberland, here? Now?

Do you think he has money? asked the first.

They were abreast of Amar now, and their eyes glittered gold. Enough for our troubles. But what we're really going to do is send a message back. They kill our people, we kill theirs.

An arrest for starting a fight wouldn't be as bad as an arrest for murder, Amar thought suddenly. He shot out his hand to grab the Jayek's arm—and a muscle seizure pulled him short and threw him against the person behind him.

Watch where you're going, Elf, snarled a Human voice as he was shoved forward.

Freni, Amar said. I'm no figment from a child's story that your people brought from another land.

What's that? the Human snapped, as if he had been insulted. The Peacekeepers were looking in their direction, ignoring the gang which was pushing its way into the street.

I'm a Freni. Not an Elf, Amar stated clearly.

You look like a dirty Elf to me. The Human raised his fist.

Out in the street a cart rumbled up, and the Jayeks tensed. Blades flashed in the sun, and the leader stepped forward. Amar could see the driver reach down behind the buckboard, exposing the young man beside him. Strikingly large brown eyes in a pale face peered from beneath the rim of his shapeless cap, and his chin was narrow with the suggestion of a point. As he lifted his face, the odd curve of his eyebrows was revealed. They ran high, but not straight across like a Freni's.

The knives tilted higher.

The man's gaze swept over the Jayeks, and they stiffened. One by one their blades dipped.

Then the driver's hand came high enough to show a heavy, knobbed stick in his hand. Abruptly the Jayeks straightened, and their knives disappeared.

Suddenly the young man's eye brushed over Amar, and he felt a touch of magic, hesitant, and yet—something. A faint kiss of starlight.

What are you? Amar wondered as the cart rattled past.

A sudden grip on his arm broke the magic, and his back pain returned with a vengeance. Amar twisted as the Peacekeeper demanded, Is this Elf bothering you?

He's in my way, the Human growled.

I have a hurt back, Amar explained. I cannot move quickly.

The Peacekeeper looked him over critically Are you on your way to work?

Lunch. Amar straightened slowly, feeling the twinges of pain dart up and down his spine. And then back to work.

Walk carefully, the soldier said, more a warning than a well wishing.

In this city I have no choice, Amar thought to himself, but wisely kept his tongue.

The cart creaked and shook as it stopped before a wide, two-story building with round towers on each end. Three gables thrust up through the red tile roof, a dozen windows punctured the gray stone walls, and a porch ran across the front and down the right side. In the ground just beneath, mounds of flowers bloomed in bright confusion. All the windows stood open, their wooden shutters fastened to either side, their brightly colored curtains fluttering like flags in the breeze.

What'cha think? Tinsel asked.

I thought Elves lived in caves and rock gardens. That chapter of the old book had been relatively intact, and had described in detail ornate rooms carved into the mountainside, their walls and ceilings encrusted with jewels and painted coral. Often a river flowed through the cave-homes, coming in as a waterfall and flowing in cut channels through every room. This looked like an ordinary house.

Tinsel snorted strangely, and then David realized that he was laughing. Elves'll take any roof over their head, or any hole they'll dig in the ground. They ain't picky.

I see.

Course, some even like livin' in holes and such. Most people here, they rent their basements out to the Elves. And the rest live in regular old houses. Not that I'd like sleepin' with a Pointy under me, you understand. David touched the brim of his hat, and Tinsel apparently took that for approval. Anyhow, I'll be lettin' you off here. But you get in trouble, come lookin' for me, you understand? Someone at the train station always knows where I am.

Thanks, David said quietly as he turned to gather his things. He stepped off the cart.

One more thing, the old man said, then paused to ring the spittoon. When you're ready for a meal, go down to the Swords and Capes. They'll fix you up proper, if you drop my name.

David shifted the weight of his burden. Is it an Elf place?

Furthest thing from it, the old man said, grinning to show his two missing teeth. You won't be bothered there, I'm sure. Then he nodded a farewell, snapped the reins, and the cart rattled off down the street.

I'm sure, David replied softly, then turned to face the Elf House. His new home for the next long year.

One year, he thought grimly as he stepped toward the hulking gray building with all its strangeness inside. I only promised to stay for a year.

Two tall, ornate doors guarded the front entrance, and among the carved leaves and winding vines David could see Elves engaged in a number of activities. Some ate, some fought, and still others sat with books piled high around their feet. The bottommost panels showed scenes of war, with Elves filleting and dismembering a variety of other creatures. The polished brass doorknobs were fashioned into the heads of wild animals, and on the large plate windows to either side of the door forests and mountains had been etched into the glass. It was so elaborate, so rich -- neither welcoming nor comforting to a country boy.

The front hall was dark and silent. Against the far wall stood a fireplace large enough for three grown men to stand without touching. A staircase curled up against the right hand wall, and three scruffy chairs formed a circle with a couch in the center of the room. From the ceiling dangled a chandelier half-filled with candle stubs, and brass sconces dotted the wall. The rest of the walls were filled with book cases, even under the windows and beneath the stairs.

Books! More books than he had ever seen in his life. For a moment David forgot his misery as he reached out to one—then stopped when he saw unfamiliar letters slanting backwards on the spine. This book, perhaps all the books, were written in Elven. Nothing he could read. David bit his lip in disappointment.

A silky voice, echoing from the upper floor, drew David's attention to the stairs, where he noticed a list. Most of the writing was in the Elven script, but his own name was printed in block letters. And beside it the words, Room sixteen.

Where was room sixteen? He could still hear the unseen speaker above. Whoever he was, he would know. David lifted his baggage and started up the stairs.

A chair and a small couch filled most of the small second floor landing, and straight hallways stretched out to either side, ending in frosted glass windows. Room sixteen, and the speaker who sounded quite agitated, were off to his right. In fact, as David realized when he came up to the only open door on the hallway, they were the same. Peeking in, he saw the back of a broad-shouldered, muscular Elf who held a heavy crystal in his hand.

The room was colorful. Yellow and green curtains dangled at the window, and through them David could see a hint of greenery. In the wall beside the door stood a small marble fireplace, one barely large enough for a log and a tea kettle hung over a spit. The side closest to David had a bed made with a patchwork quilt, piles of paper covering the desk, books in the bookcase, and a long red cape with an embroidered golden rose on the back hanging from the side of the wardrobe. The other side stood bare, with an undressed bed and empty bookcase, as welcoming as a rock.

Yes, the Elf shouted at the crystal, startling David, "that is what you have been telling me. Because of the situation, he will room with me. Otherwise his presence will cause a potential problem. Potential, horse shit! Bastard horse shit! He will cause a problem here! But why is he here, tell me that! He is a Human! We are Frenis! He does not belong here!"

Suddenly the Elf paused and stared at crystal. David was faintly aware of a tinny voice coming from it, one that even he couldn't make out. A talking crystal? It had to be one of the Farcrystals that his book had mentioned, though the explanation of how it worked had been lost in a greenish stain. With the Elf's attention taken by it, David realized that he could slip unseen into the room.

Maybe he should just set down his things and quickly escape?

Mother-damned! the Elf cried out in a full, booming voice. What do you mean, you can't change the house assignment! If the Registrar's office can't do this one simple thing, what can you do?

So much for Tinsel's advice, David thought, his heart crawling into his boots.

The Elf turned slowly to his right. David scooted left to stay behind him.

So he made a mistake on his application and checked the wrong box -- it's still obvious he's a Human. He has a Human name. He comes from a place where there are no Freni. And he does not, I repeat, does not belong here! Not with what is happening in the city! Not with what is happening at the House! Not with the people who are here in this House! Not unless you want to see Frenin blood pouring through the streets!

By now the Elf had turned enough to face the other side of the room, and David was against the empty bed. He set down his bags, wincing at the slight creak of the floor -- though the Elf probably would not have noticed if everything had fallen with a loud crash.

"And what about my personal safety? How can I protect myself from this oversized brute who will probably murder me in my sleep? It is not a gossipy rumor, they do murder Elves up there!"

David sized up the Elf who was at least five inches taller and over a hundred pounds heavier -- all of it muscle. Quietly as he could, when the Elf began to turn again, David slipped from the room.

Now what? David thought as he stood in the downstairs parlor. Even though it was still late summer, the room seemed lifeless and cold. The fireplace held nothing but ashes, and shadows hung like cobwebs in the corner. He looked in the tarnished brass woodbin and found a few scraps of wood. These he placed onto the hearth and made a small fire.

Standing, David admired his handiwork. Slowly he turned -- and found himself looking into the gold and black eyes of a tall, slender Elf. His long blade of a nose jutted arrogantly from his narrow face, which was framed by shoulder-length straight hair. He wore a lightweight cape and a rather plain gray tunic over dark brown pants, but his sandals and the scabbard at his waist were fashioned from finely tooled leather. A faint smile just barely showed the sharp tips of his teeth. The naked sword in his hand, the point almost resting on David's chest, said so much more. Are you the Human who will be sleeping among us?

David swallowed. I am.

Then let me welcome you properly to Aykoentcher Hall. And the Elf smiled eagerly -- like a fox about to dine.

Spawn of a Gutch and a Prismal, Arga Vitrechalieht swore heartily, though he doubted that even the air folk or the sea folk, for all their deviousness, could have engineered such a disaster. Not even if they had the filthy, dirt-grubbing Erquoin with them, or the deceitful flesh-eating Ice Krobs of the north. He slammed the Farcrystal back on the shelf beside the door. It wouldn't break. Created for the fishermen to keep contact between their boats and the shore, they were nearly indestructible. This one Arga had found himself, wedged in the wreckage of a derelict trading ship which had snagged his family's fishing nets. He had kept it to call back to his family, but more often found himself dealing with petty bureaucrats and college officials.

Dragon's blood, he swore again, thinking of the conversation he had just had. How, under the wings of the Dragon, was he supposed to keep this monster of New Cumberland and the Warrior from spilling each other's entrails all over the floor of the house? He scratched his chin -- the prickly beard hairs just starting to grow in scratched him back -- and decided that he couldn't do this by himself. The school year hadn't yet started, and already the house Council faced its first crisis.

He turned to glare at the empty side of the room -- and saw the two bags neatly deposited on the floor. The monster had been here, even while he was talking. Worse, he had heard his words. Alarm and embarrassment clashed together as Arga strode out to the hall. No one there.

Natalal's door was closest. Arga banged on it.

Who's there? a languid feminine voice called out. It was Deymar, whose room Natalal had just moved into.

emergency House Council Meeting. Is Natalal with you?

Of course. And she giggled.

Arga's own mate was back in the fishing village. Two days they had been separated, and the pain was almost unbearable. Then get your clothes on and meet me downstairs.

Next he went to Grema's room. This time the door opened without a pause, revealing a Freni who had gained yet another twenty pounds over the summer -- as if he had any place to put it. emergency House Council Meeting, Arga growled.

But it's almost lunch time, Grema protested. Behind him Telbare, the younger of the two brothers, nodded enthusiastically.

This is a crisis, Arga insisted.

Grema crossed his arms and struck a solid stance. Does this have anything to do with your new Human roommate? Really, Arga, you should learn tolerance and generosity. We can't shut the Humans away -- not when we live in their cities.

Erquoin guts! It's more than that. He's... Arga suddenly stopped himself. Anyone, even the Human, could be listening. We've got to talk someplace else.

At lunch, Telbare said brightly. Rathskeller's.

Arga opened his mouth, then shut it. Expensive as the place was -- no hardship for these Freni, but quite so for a fisherman's youngest son -- it would give them the privacy they needed. All right. As soon as Deymar and Natalal are finished.

We're here, the Elf-maid said behind him. Arga turned around. Deymar stood there with her arms out in greeting, a slender-waisted Frenia with full hips and breasts. Like Arga, she was just reaching her fertility. Natalal stood behind her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder, a Freni with high cheekbones and a flat, wide jaw. Jeweled rings sparkled on his fingers, and his tunic was woven from soft, polished cotton.

Then let's go, Arga growled, and led the way to the stairs. He started down, looked over the rail to the parlor, and stopped. The Warrior and a Human -- it had to be the Human, despite his puny size -- stood with a blade between them.

Dragon guts.

The Elf raised the sword, then let the point drop abruptly toward David's feet. I am Galeena Riposchtiati, House of Hawk.

David Lodger, he blurted back, his eyes on the point of the sword.

This will be a good year, I think, the Elf announced, snapping the sword up and thrusting it into its scabbard. On to New Cumberland.

Yes, David said slowly, wishing there was way he could back up without running into the fire.

Galeena! called an Elf on the stairs, David's bulky roommate. Now David could see his square-chinned face, gold-dusted by the start of a beard. A scar ran across the bridge of his wide, flat nose, and he was missing the smallest finger on his right hand. His eyes gleamed like gold coins. Behind him stood several other Elves -- all shorter, most thinner -- and one lady Elf. The burly Elf spoke again in a melodic language dotted with clucks, then waved his hand curtly.

Galeena straightened, snapped his heels together, and bowed from the waist. Then he turned to David and announced with a wave toward the bigger Elf, Arga is taking us to lunch.

Arga folded his arms across his chest and glowered.

David's heart pounded in his throat. Thanks -- but I've got things to do. He pulled out a list his Grandfather had written for him, items easier bought in the city than carried all the way from New Cumberland. Shopping.

Do it after lunch, Arga growled, and stomped toward the door.

Arga mentally swept through his entire repertoire of phrases involving the entrails and mating patterns of every single creature in the world, and a few that existed only in legend. He commented on the paternity and scatology of various Freni, including the one sauntering with a smirk beside the little Human, and various Human bureaucrats. In short, he was not in a good mood.

His hope of salvaging the situation had been dashed when the two found each other. Now all that was left was to keep as close an eye on them as possible, and at the first sign of trouble set them far apart. If it could be done quickly enough.

Why had he been chosen to play nursemaid to this murderous pair? He had his own troubles to worry about, not the least of which was that his schooling was quickly coming to an end, and there was yet no offer of a Professorship from the University. And why not? Bigotry, that was why. Before the invasion of Bhrama, before Huranumanu went off and got himself killed, Freni were exotic but accepted members of the community. Humans wanted to be taught by scholarly Freni. Positions were here for the taking.

Then in marched the army, which at that time was more a demonstration than a show of force. Stopped at the bridge, they sat down to wait until King Josepher decided to let them through to seek justice. And waited. The King had yet to relent, the army had nothing to do but practice and train, and a flood of Freni families came from the mountains to be near sons, lovers, and brothers. All these extra people needed jobs and houses, and they pushed and shoved and overwhelmed the native Humans.

And then came the ones who always follow the others, the predators and scavengers. And when Humans discovered how dishonorable some Freni could be, all were tainted by association. Doors slammed shut while opportunities dried up. All because of a group of crazy Humans in the back country, Arga was losing his life's dream.

Although, it could have been that other incident...

You're not from the city, are you? the tall Elf observed as he walked with David through the crowded streets.

No. From what he had already seen and heard, David decided it was wisest not to say any more.

Don't worry. You'll get used to it.

How was that possible? There was so much going on, so many things to see, people everywhere. More people on one street than he had ever seen in life, street after street after street. So many tall buildings, one even five stories high! Noise everywhere! Never would he get used to this cacophony -- how was he going to manage a full year?

Suddenly the group plunged down a set of stone steps and through a pair of swinging doors. Instantly the world changed to one of peace and calm. They were in a restaurant, where dozens of small tables were covered with starched white cloths, vases of flowers, and baskets of dark bread. Elves in dark tunics passed silently between the tables, and a fountain gurgled against the far wall.

David looked to see if any streams ran through the floor, but saw none.

This way, the tall Elf said, nudging David to follow the group. They were led by a lean, bearded Elf toward a long table in the back. Soon David found himself seated between Galeena and the Elf lady, and across from his roommate. Arga glared at him, the scar across his face giving him an even more sinister appearance.

Hi, David said at last.

So you're David, the Elf replied, folding his thick arms across his chest.

Yes. I believe I'm your roommate.

Arga frowned heavily. I see. I am Arga, House of Rose, and the Senior Freni of the House. If you have any trouble, you'll come to me. Natalal, House of Eagle, Deymar, House of Antelope, and Grema, House of Firefly -- he pointed to the one wearing diamond rings, the female, and the wide-bodied one -- are all on the House Council with me. The words seemed friendly enough, but sounded like a warning.

He won't have any trouble, Galeena said. As long as he does things properly.

Just remember that he's only a Human, Arga growled back.

If he's going to live among us, he's going to live with us. And that means doing things our way. Galeena straightened and leaned forward.

You can only expect so much out of a Human, Arga growled back.

Then the last Elf, the one wearing a pair of thick glasses, spoke up. You could always let him try, he said brightly.

The others at the table turned to stare at the speaker, and he privilege busied himself with polishing a utensil with his napkin.

It's a good suggestion, Grema said politely.

Arga gestured towards the younger Elf. This is Telbare, House of Firefly, Kester to Grema—and thus has the privilege to join House Council Meetings. And you have met Galeena.

David noted that Arga had not said that either Galeena or himself had the right to join the House Council, even though they had been invited to lunch. He wondered if the invitation had not been stated, merely assumed.

Suddenly the waiters were all around them, setting down large bowls filled with strange foods and placing bowls and utensils beside each plate. David picked up his silverware and studied it. There was a knife, and something like a fork with two long, needle-like tines. The third piece looked like a pair of flat tongs. He turned to see how the others used theirs -- and abruptly the strange utensils were snatched out of his hand as a set of rather plain, very human silverware dropped beside him.

Arga smiled. It seems that the waiters here agree with me.

David picked up the fork, and his faced burned. Just one year.

At the end of the meal the waiter appeared with a woven basket in his hands. He set it down in front of Arga, who pulled out a gray and brown lump before throwing in a handful of coins. The basket passed to Natalal, who did the same. As it rounded the table, David pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. How much is it? he asked Deymar.

Five shellacks, give or take a drib.

Shellacks and dribs?

You have only Human money? Galeena said, peering over his shoulder. You'll need to get your money changed. But I'll pay for you today.

The quick little looks that the other Elves gave each other told David that this was not usual. Thank you. I'll pay you back.

No need. Here -- take the fat one. The Elf held out the basket to David.

Inside were a half-dozen dark gray or brown rocks, some streaked with crusty yellow stripes. No, not rocks, he found when he picked one up. It was much too light. What are these?

Friendship clams. Open them up and eat what's inside. They're delicious.

David tried to open the shell, but it was stuck fast. Then he saw how the others slipped in their knives and twisted, but his knife wouldn't fit into the tight crack that ran along the outer edge.

Not there, Galeena spoke over his shoulder. Setting down his own opened clam, he picked up David's. Here at the back, right at the hinge. So saying he thrust the knife in cleanly, twisted it, and the two halves of the shell fell apart. One held a soft white mass, the other a bit of white tissue. Galeena tapped the small bit. That's the muscle which holds the shell together. Strike there, and it cannot keep you out. Then, cut from the under side, and you're ready to eat. He handed the shell back.

Arga stood then, and lifted his shell. The others followed suit. Together they spoke in Elven, something like "Er agaun tik labon je veln," and tipped the shell.

"Er agaun tik labon je veln," David stated as best he could, and swallowed the clam. It went down thick and slimy.

The others laughed. Or perhaps they cheered. Had he passed some sort of initiation ritual, or made a fool of himself? He pondered the question as they left the restaurant, stepping out into the hot midday sun. On impulse he caught at Galeena's sleeve. What did we say back there?

To peace, trust, and unity, Galeena replied. Are you going to go shopping now?

If I can find my way around, David said uneasily. How do I get back to the Elf house?

I'll guide you, the Elf lady -- Deymar -- said brightly. She took David's arm and tucked it into the crook of her arm.

He caught the edge of Natalal's frown as the Elf turned away.

The others took their leave, disappearing into the crowd like raindrops in a pond. Deymar stared after them for a moment longer, then said absently, Galeena likes you.

David thought of the Elf's first greeting, with a sword pointed toward his chest. Maybe.

Oh, he does. And that's good. It will make things so much easier. She smiled brightly and pulled him off in a different direction.

Chapter 2

Askel slept. He had come from the early morning train in his usual state of post-travel wretchedness, and with a freshly emptied stomach had collapsed onto his bed. Now the the healing power of sleep had claimed him, and in another hour or two he would wake, ready for some Spineleaf tea and dry toast.

Kymer reached over and pulled the blanket a little higher over the Dark Freni's shoulders. He watched over Askel at these times because no one else would. The Freni was so large and strong that everyone else thought him invulnerable. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

But at the moment there was nothing more he could do for Askel, so he slipped quietly from the room. Out in the hallway he took a moment to look around at the familiar, comfortable features of the place that had been his winter home for the past ten years. Three month's absence let him see it with new sight, bringing out marks and stains that had become invisible with familiarity. It wasn't the same as seeing it all for the first time, however, for the scrapes and scars of the building brought forth memories as well.

That long scratch, for instance, had been made by Galeena's sword when Telbare had challenged him one night. There lay the flower-shaped stain where Arga had thrown a pot of boiling tea against the wall, rather than dump it on the Freni who had just rolled into his legs, a participant in an indoor wrestling match. Arga had grabbed both of the offending parties and dragged them outside, dropping them into the first mud puddle he found. And down on the baseboards, a whittled round plug closed the mousehole in the moldings where one of Natalal's jeweled beauties had rolled away one night, and only Kymer's hand had been small enough to reach in and retrieve it.

There were advantages to being the smallest Freni in the house, he mused with a smile. He could fit where the others could not, climb where the others were too heavy. If an arrow lodged in the roof gutter, he could clamber up to the roof. If a treasure slipped into a narrow crack beneath the floorboard, his tiny hands could fit into the hole. He was, he told himself, one of the most important Freni in the house.

Something the others only noticed when they needed him, unfortunately. He paused to straighten his rough, frequently mended clothes, which had not been new when they came into his possession. He wasn't even the second owner, as he was one of the youngest children of a very large family.

Voices -- one familiar, one strange -- interrupted his thoughts. Deymar was in Arga's room, talking to someone in Human. And the person responding sounded more Human than Freni, with a deeper tone and harsher accent. Was this Arga's new roommate, the one with the Human name? He couldn't be Human, a Human in the House would be absurd. He must be a Freni who had been adopted by a Human family—yet his voice belied that.

Overcome with curiosity, the small Freni slipped silently down the hall. Outside of Arga's room he paused. I am a flickering sunbeam, he thought as he wove a quick spell. Anyone who was not a seer would see just that, nothing more. Safely hidden, he spied around the corner.

Deymar and the stranger, who did indeed appear Human, were making his bed. Kymer quickly stifled a laugh that she was actually making the bed with him, instead of the opposite -- the cloak might fool the eyes but not the ears. Deymar was now jhaneer to Natalal, so she was dedicated to him and him alone, but still...

Old memories and new sight.

Suddenly the stranger turned to look at the doorway. Tuc-kak! Kymer thought, and nearly dropped his cloak. Reflex made him bolster it, pull it tighter about himself, though at the same time he wondered if it was any use at all. The stranger was looking right at him -- perhaps he was also a seer? But then his gaze slid right past and focused on Arga's bed.

Kymer slipped back around the doorpost and leaned against the wall, thinking on what he had just seen. The stranger's features had been covered with the haze of a heavy cloak -- to other's eyes he would seem completely Human. But Kymer saw through cloaks as easily as one could see through water, and he had seen what was underneath. And those features were eerily familiar.

His own gaze slipped back down the hall to his own room, the one he shared with Galeena. Then a wicked grin spread over his impish face. This is going to be very interesting.

David sat on the edge of his bed, now made with a newly-bought colorful blanket. Deymar had picked it out, along with the sheets and towels, a ceramic mug, and several others things that she had deemed necessities. Shopping with the Elf lady -- Frenia, David corrected himself, for she had given him an extensive lecture on respectful terms -- had been an experience. She would run in a shop, snatch up an item and dump it in his arms, then toss a few coins on the counter as she ran out. No haggling, no bargaining, no asking the price.

If all city people lived like this, he thought as he looked at his vastly reduced store of coins, he wouldn't be able to stay for the whole year. His tuition was taken care of, but other expenses still waited.

Lack of funds would be a good excuse for leaving.

He rose and went to the window that looked out over the back yard of the Elf-house. Wide, flat, and open, the lawn sloped down gently toward a thickly wooded copse. A dirt path led into the trees, then bent and disappeared. Just a few trees, barely more than an acre -- but enough to remind him of his home where the forests carpeted the hills. There he had run free and wild, hunting by himself or taking his little brother to the swimming hole. Sometimes they had gone to their private place, a clearing where the blackberry bushes grew thick and a spring ran cold, and they could spend all day talking about the forest. Life was simple, but comfortable.

Attending the University hadn't been his idea, but his stepfather's. Elijah had announced at dinner one night that he had saved up enough money to send David off in the fall, and no amount of protest, either about David's lack of scholarship or the distance he would be traveling, could sway him. It's the way his people do things, he had announced, reaching out to ladle up a serving of salt pork and corn mash with his large, burnt-copper hand. Part of growing up.

Already marked as the child of an outsider by his slight build and fair skin, David couldn't argue that the people of New Cumberland were his people. But this place, with its buildings and roads and crowds of people rushing in all directions, wasn't his home. He felt suspended between the two, a part of neither.

A year, he had promised Elijah. He would stay at the University for a year.

It was going to be a long year.

Someone was in the room with him, David sensed. He slowly turned around.

The Elf by the door wore a starched white tunic with black pants, and his hair and beard were trimmed quite short. Somber eyes set in a placid face appraised him.

Yes, David said. Can I help you?

The Elf raised his hand, showing David a silver butter knife, then in the same motion let the tip sag toward the floor. Except for the incongruity of the blade, it reminded David of Galeena's swordplay before lunch. I believe that you set the fire in the great fireplace this afternoon, he said, in a voice thickly accented with musical tones.

Was that wrong? I'm sorry.

The blade dipped lower. You noticed the neglect.

His heart beat nervously, and he could feel a dampness in his palms. What was the penalty for breaking a rule here? I thought that everyone must be busy, because school is just starting, and that no one had gotten to it yet. And I know how to build fires, and thought I could help out.

The Elf tilted his head slightly. Did you?

At home, the fires were my responsibility.

Yes. The knife was almost pointed straight down now, to David's relief. There are twenty-one fireplaces here that need tending: the ones in the bedrooms and the great one.

That's a lot, David agreed.

Usually, the residents care for their own fires, and we watch over the great fire, but they should all be checked each night and stoked each morning, to warm the rooms. He fell silent, then stared at David as if expecting a response.

That's a good idea, David finally said slowly.

And there is firewood to chop.

Fires do need firewood, David agreed. What was this Elf talking about?

Good. And for the first time the Elf smiled, as he flipped up the butter knife and dropped it into his pocket. The pay is five shellacks a week, plus room and board. You may collect the coins from me.

Oh. He'd just been given a job, or perhaps trapped into it. And now he wasn't going to run out of money, which meant he had to stay. His gaze strayed to the floor. Thank you.

Then the Elf lifted his left hand to his right shoulder, touching it briefly before extending it, palm outward, to David. Not knowing exactly what to do, David lifted his own hand, palm outward. The Elf stepped forward, touched palms, then curled his fingers between David's. His skin felt cool, like a spring breeze. Squeezing lightly, the Elf said, My name is Barlu, of the House of, as you would call it, Pine Tree.

David. David Lodger.

Another squeeze. This will be a good year, Dama David.

Yes, David replied without conviction.

The Elf nodded and released David's hand. Come to supper when you are ready, he said, then slipped soundlessly out the door.

The Great Fire needed tending, David found as he came down the staircase, but at least there was now fresh firewood stacked in the woodbin. He raked out the cold ashes and put in a fresh log, then adjusted the damper so that the fire would burn low and long. Music crept up behind him as he worked. Standing, David turned and looked.

No one there.

But the music persisted, a melancholy stream of notes that wandered aimlessly through out the room. David looked harder, and finally located a shape in dark clothes curled up in a shadowed corner nook. Hello, he called out.

No answer, save for the intermittent notes.

Who's there?

Askel. The speaker had an Elven accent, but his voice was extremely deep.

When is supper? David asked as he peered into the shadows.

Soon enough.

Would you like to come closer to the fire? He gestured to an empty chair.

No. I prefer my own place. The other lifted his head, startling David with a flash of pale white skin. His eyes were black, all the way from one edge to the other, as well as his hair. And he was large: at least as tall, if not taller, than David's grandfather. If not an Elf, then what? A Rock Ogre?

David took a step closer, trying to see more. A flicker of light caught his eye: the flames of the fireplace reflecting off a glassy black bowl in the other's lap. It was part of a musical instrument, he realized, for dozens of strings crossed over the bowl and fastened to the long neck that curved back and forth like a climbing snake. He stared at it until he could feel the hard gaze of the other person staring back at him.

That's an unusual instrument, David said at last

Not at all. His long, pale fingers continued to pluck the strings.

For a long moment David felt trapped. What should he say or do? Finally his attention wandered back to the instrument. What do you call it?

The Rock Ogre, or Elf, or whatever he was, dropped his gaze back to the instrument and his music, ignoring David.

And David went back to his fire.

The room filled with hungry Elves and Elf-maids. They came in groups, down the stairs or through the front door, chattering and singing and pushing each other. All of the Elves were beardless. A few pranced about, posturing and mimicking various animals. Two began to argue, then whipped out little blunt-tipped knives from their belts. They faced each other, circling as they jabbed at the empty air, just like a pair of strutting roosters. Suddenly one made to throw his knife to the floor, and the other followed suit. Then they put their weapons away, clasped hands in a friendly way, and laughed.

Children, David thought. Small children at play.

More Elves crowded into the room. A small group climbed up on the couch, perched on the back, and began pounding each other with soft pillows. The Elf with the thick glasses -- Telbare -- entered with his attention firmly fixed in a book. Deymar, arm in arm with Natalal, came in from the back door. Two red and yellow leaves tangled in her hair, hanging like ornaments, and stalks of dried grass hung to Natalal's arm. Arga strode heavily down the stairs, threw a grim frown at David, and joined the others. Together they stood in the center of the chaos, an island of maturity.

A sudden stillness fell over the room as a red curtain rattled open. David caught a glimpse of large round tables covered with white tablecloths and colorful dishes, and then the Elves pouring through the doorway blocked his sight.

Hurry, said a voice in his ear as a hand caught his arm. Galeena. The tall Elf moved confidently through the crowd, slipping past his slower housemates and dragging David in his wake.

Aren't there enough seats? David asked.

Today we choose our tables. The Elf led him to where Telbare, Natalal, Deymar, and Arga already sat. Arga frowned, but said nothing as Galeena claimed a chair and pushed David into the one beside it.

Now the stragglers dribbled in, and Grema waddled up, breathless, to take the seat beside Telbare, who immediately thrust his book beneath the other's nose. They promptly began to argue, one after the other slapping the book for emphasis. Another Elf wandered up and draped a black-grimed hand over the back of the chair. Grease smeared his shirt, and he whined a question in Elven.

Askel, Arga said quickly.

The standing Elf pouted, then walked off.

Askel? Natalal said, leaning