Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [50]
Danilo reached into his bag and removed a small silver flask. "Elverquisst," he said quietly, and handed it to the elf. Elaith looked sharply at the Harper, as if wondering how well the human understood his own gesture. The rare elven spirits formed a part of many an elven ritual and celebration, and the offer of it now, after the elven dance, was a tribute as well as a gift. This Danilo had learned from Arilyn, for she had shared with him the ritual farewell to sum mer and described some of the other rites that made the elverquisst a celebration as well as a libation. Elaith accepted the flask with a nod. He poured a few drops onto theearth and then drank slowly, savoring the distilled essence of summer fruit and elven magic. "Fancy footwork, elf," Morgalla complimented him. The dwarf's words seemed to pop the aura of contentment and mystery that surrounded the moon elf. He sat down across from Morgalla and studied her as one would a strange animal that had mysteriously appeared in one's back yard.
"How does it happen that you venture so far from clan and hearth?" he asked. "With your numbers dwindling and dwarven females so few, I would think you'd be home doing your duty by breeding little miners."
"Have a care how you speak," Danilo said in a low voice. "The lady dwarf is not some dairy animal."
Morgalla leveled her brown eyes at Elaith. "Elves don't seem to be doing so good in that regard, neither. Lotta half-elves around, but I notice most of 'em got elf dames and human sires. Ain't nothing wrong with your women, that much we know." Something flickered in Elaith's eyes in response to the insult, and the battle-savvy dwarf saw this and went in for the kill. "Yer a fine one to talk. I don't see no pointy-eared brats followin' you around."
"Actually," Elaith said mildly, "the People keep their children away from dwarves and goblins until such time as they learn to tell these creatures apart. Elves being a highly intelligent race, we're able to discern these minor differences after, say, twenty or thirty years of practice."
Morgalla rose slowly to her feet. Firelight gleamed off the two-edged blade and polished wood handle of the axe prominently displayed on her belt. "Yer pushin' me, elf, and you shouldn't ought to do that. We who mine the earth have a saying: 'Be careful what you take for granite.'"
"Or ye shale regret it," Danilo murmured, hoping to break the tension building between the two fighters. Neither Morgalla nor Elaith paid him any heed.
"Very pretty," Elaith said, nodding at Morgalla's axe. His tone dismissed both the weapon and the wielder.
The dwarfs eyes hardened. "First and last pretty thing a lot o' ores ever seed, if'n you get my meaning."
"Actually, I find that dwarven subtlety usually eludes me," the erf returned with knife-edged sarcasm.
Danilo dropped a hand on the angry woman's shoulder. "Chopping the elf into fish bait is a tempting notion-I'd be the first to admit that. Here's a better idea: draw his picture, instead."
Morgalla nodded slowly, staring at Elaith for a long moment. A glint entered her brown eyes, and she reached for her other weapon: her charcoal pencils. The dwarf plunked herself down on a log several paces away and began to sketch.
"Becoming quite the diplomat aren't you?" Elaith said coldly. "If you're waiting for me to thank you for diverting a fight, you're in for a long, quiet evening. I need no protection from a mere dwarf."
Danilo's answering smile held a touch of irony. "Morgalla is more than mere, but we'll let that slide for the moment. Your fighting prowess is legendary; I have too much regard for you to see you waste your talents against such an unworthy weapon as Morgalla's axe." After a few moments, the Harper walked over to Morgalla and extended his hand. She gave him the paper.
On it was a quickly sketched design that suggested the art of an ancient Moonshae people, in which circles were entwined in such a way that no beginning or end could be discerned. Morgalla's design, however, was different