A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [101]
Evandar grabbed her elbow. When she swung round to face him he grinned in smug triumph.
“You say it’s fair that you have a prize, and so our laws run. But would it be fair, my sweet, my darling, to trap and keep a soul that never took a thing from you, that never saw Elessario before, that never, indeed, saw you or me before?”
“What? Of course it wouldn’t be fair, and never would I do such a thing. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything, my sweet, my darling. Dallandra carries a child under her heart, an innocent child that never took a thing from us, that’s yet to see any of us.”
With a shriek, a scream, a howl of sheer agony Alshandra swelled up huge, towering over them like storm clouds. When she cried out again her voice was a wail of mourning.
“Unfair!”
“No.” Evandar’s voice was cool and calm. “Very fair.”
She stretched out, as thin as clouds dissolving under a hot sun, then all at once snapped back, standing before them as an old, withered woman, dressed all in black, with tears running down her wrinkled cheeks.
“Clever,” Evandar remarked. “But somehow my heart doesn’t ache for you the way it should.”
With a snarl she stood before them, herself again, in her hunting tunic and boots, her bow slack in one hand.
“Oh, very well, show her the road home, but you’re a stupid wretched beast and I hate you.”
She was gone. Dallandra caught her breath in a convulsive sob.
“And what do you want from me, Evandar, in return for all of this?”
“Only one thing. After your babe is born, and if you’re not happy anymore, come back.” He caught her by the shoulders, but gently. “But only if you’re not happy. Do you understand? Come back only if your heart aches to come back.”
“I do understand, but I fear me you’ll never see me again.”
“No doubt. Well, I can hope—no, I’m fairly sure—that Elessario will find her way to you and to your world, sooner or later. As for the rest of us, our fate is no concern of yours. I’ll take it up in my hands, the fate of us all, and see what I can do about it. Farewell.” He bent his head and kissed her, a soft, brotherly brush of his mouth on hers.
The kiss seemed to wipe away the landscape around her. She blinked, staggered, then found herself standing on the edge of a shallow cliff. When she automatically clutched at her throat, she found the amethyst figurine gone. Down below in a brushy canyon stood the painted tents of her people. Off to one side she could see the big tent, painted with looping vines of roses, that belonged to her and Aderyn, but all the designs were oddly faded and weathered. Hasn’t he kept it up? she thought. Well, that hardly matters now—I’m home. Half laughing, half weeping, she ran along the clifftop until she found the path, then scrambled down, sliding a ways in her eagerness. As she got to her feet on the level ground, she heard shouts, and some of the People began running toward her, Enabrilia in the lead.
“Dalla, Dalla!” As Enabrilia threw her arms around her, she was weeping hysterically. “Oh, thank every god, thank every god! Farendar, don’t stand there gaping! Go get Aderyn!”
A tall young man, fully grown and a strong-muscled warrior, ran off at her bidding. Dallandra grabbed her friend by the shoulders while the other elves stood around in dead silence and merely stared. Half of them she didn’t even recognize.
“That can’t be Faro!” But even as she spoke, she felt unwelcome knowledge creeping into her mind like dread. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You’ve been gone so long.” Enabrilia began repeating the same thing over and over. “You’ve been gone so long.”
Dallandra hugged her, shook her, yelled at her, until at last she fell quiet. When the other elves moved back to let someone through, Dallandra looked up to see Aderyn. For a moment she felt as if she would faint. He was so old, so thin, his hair dead white, his hands thin, too, like sticks or claws, and his face was so wrinkled, like ancient leather left out too long in the sun, that she sobbed aloud on a note that was close to a keen.
“Oh, ye gods!