35
AERHRIL AND DATHOR locked gazes, and she could see his frustration that he could do absolutely nothing in this situation, that he had brought this down on them because he could not keep his head inside the carriage.
“Oh, fine,” she said, sighing heavily. She hopped down out of the carriage.
“I think they’re packed in my trunk. I did not think I would be stopped on the street and my word questioned.
” She glared at the soldier. “What do I look like to you, some sort of orc sympathizer? How many women my age do you know who are sneaking illegal orcs through the streets of Renegahan?” She walked around to the side of the carriage and looked around, but Gathren was gone from the top of the carriage. “Where is my driver?”
The soldiers looked around, but all of them shrugged, none of them answered.
“I don’t see how I’m to get into the trunk without help.” She gestured to her chest. “It’s far too heavy. Can my bodyguard assist me?”
The soldier eyed Dathor. “I think he should stay where he is.”
She turned to the soldier. “I know you’re just doing your job, and that you have to investigate anything that seems suspicious. You must wonder why I had him travel inside the carriage with me, is that it?”
The soldier considered, eyed the trunk, and then eyed Dathor. “Yes, actually.”
“It is foolish of me, truly foolish, but once, I traveled in a carriage and there was a snake in it. It must have crawled in somehow, I know not, but since then I have been too frightened to ride on my own. I imagine something crawling out and striking me, and so I have insisted, ever since, that my bodyguard travel with me, and if you but let him out, he can take out my trunk, and—”
“No, no, it’s all right,” said the soldier. “You can move along.”
Except Gathren was—
Oh, no, there was Gathren, coming along behind a blond elf who coming through the streets to them.
“Ah,” called the elf. “She’s here.”
The soldier turned to look at the approaching elf. “Lord Marthlis? Do you know this girl?”
“Of course I do. She is here to visit me, in fact. I have been wondering why she was late.”
“The orcs with her?”
“All legal, I assure you,” said Marthlis, smiling at the soldier. “You can say I vouched for them.”
The soldier nodded. “Well, it all seems in order anyway.”
“Good,” said Marthlis. “Glad to have cleared this up.” He nodded at her. “I’ll ride with you, my dear, the rest of the way to my house. After you?”
She climbed back into the carriage and Marthlis got in after her and shut the door.
Dathor’s eyes were wide and frightened. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“This is going so well already, I have to say,” said Marthlis sarcastically. He banged on the roof of the carriage.
It took off.
She tried to calm the beating of her heart for the rest of the ride, but she didn’t quite manage it.
When they arrived at Marthlis’s town house, however, she felt a bit of familiarity.
She had been in houses like this before.
It was set up very similarly to the house she’d grown up in.
This gave her a feeling of ease and readiness.
She stayed close to Dathor as they were taken into a sitting room on the first floor.
The sitting room was set up in the classical sort of style, minimalistic smooth lines on the doors and windows, and the furniture was similarly understated.
It was quite different from the ornate styles in the north and she noticed the way both of the orcs—Dathor and Gathren—looked around at it.
There were three other elves in the room.
All of them were blond. Two looked to be Marthlis’s age, but the other was younger, likely around Aerhril’s own age. He was in his early to mid twenties, she assumed. He was lounging against the wall, his pocket watch in hand. “Well, it’s about time,” he said.
“Iahir, calm yourself,” said Marthlis. “You said you had bought yourself the entire day.”
The young elf looked annoyed, but he put his pocket watch away. His gaze settled on Gathren. “Well. You never see the female ones, do you?” He looked her up and down, gaze skimming over her body.
Like most female orcs, Gathren was well-endowed.
The orc women were curvier than elf women.
Taller too, thicker, their skin gray-green.
Because Gathren was some kind of soldieress or something, though, she had bound her breasts tightly against her chest, but they were so ample that she still didn’t look flat.
In fact, Aerhril wasn’t certain that it didn’t make them appear even larger.
Gathren put her hand to her belt, where she had a knife.
Iahir met her gaze, and he suddenly smiled. When he did, Aerhril realized he was handsome in that sunny way of the fair elves.
Odd.
When had she begun to feel so distant from her own people?
Iahir ran his hand through his blond hair.
He kept it short. It waved and fell carelessly over his forehead.
He sat down and lifted his chin. “All right, orc. You say now’s the time we should strike against the High King.
I’m the one who’s in position to do it, and I’ve been itching for it for some time—”
“Shut your mouth, Iahir,” said Marthlis, sighing.
Iahir looked up at the ceiling, chuckling softly. “Typical,” he said.
Marthlis introduced the other two elves, but the names slipped into Aerhril’s head and back out again. He introduced Dathor, Gathren, and herself. And then he gestured to Iahir. “This is Iahir. He’s the son of the Envivtain nae Cirlahir.”
“Yes, and does anyone in this room ever address me with respect?” said Iahir.
“Yes, deeply sorry, my lord,” said Marthlis dryly. “He’s a rich brat of an elf who’s only here to make his father angry—”
“But I happen to be on the High King’s personal guard,” said Iahir, raising his eyebrows.
“So, if you ever want someone to kill him, I’m your man.
And it’s not about getting my father’s attention.
It’s really about hating the High King. If you were on his personal guard, you would also hate him.
” He smirked around at everyone in the room.
“We need him,” said Marthlis. “But he talks too much.”
Iahir’s nostrils flared.
“However,” said Marthlis, “we are grateful for your service, my lord.”
Iahir reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew a long, silver pipe. “Does anyone mind if I smoke?” he said, getting out a pinch of tobacco.
Marthlis sighed heavily again. “All right, let’s get down to this,” he said to Dathor.
“Elrion says you’re not to be trusted, but that you are intelligent, and that as an adversary, you would be something to watch out for.
If we share an enemy, that is, Findas, it seems wise to keep on the same side, not working against each other. ”
Aerhril wondered how Marthlis knew Elrion. Had they been at university together?
“Yes, that’s my thought as well,” said Dathor. “I don’t suppose the advancement of the orc race is high on your list of your priorities—”
“Well,” spoke up one of the elves whose name Aerhril could not remember, “we are in favor of a completely different sort of government.”
“Right,” said Aerhril. “Something democratic, or that’s what Elrion was always on about.”
“Different,” said Iahir. “He’s one of the Larhilists. They have this idea all property should be communal and that everyone will just wake up and work the fields out of the goodness of their hearts with no desire to get ahead over anyone else.”
“It’s only logical,” said the elf. “It is the best way to organize a—”
“All right, all right,” said Marthlis. He smiled thinly at them. “As you can see, we’re a bit, erm, divided as it is. But we all wish to get rid of the High King.”
“If it’s a revolution you want,” said Dathor, “regardless of what shape it takes, it can only be helped by the destabilizing efforts of the advancing orc army.”
“Yes, there are rumors,” said Marthlis. “Even a few of the fringe newsheets reporting things, but it’s all so sensational. Elf women being ravaged by orc men, things of that nature.”
“It’s true,” said Dathor.
Everyone in the room looked at Aerhril.
“I countenanced the strategy myself,” said Dathor. “Elves are always frightened of it. How many orc men are chased down and strung up for daring to look sideways at some elf woman or other? I thought it was the way to get them where we wanted them.”
“Yes, I see why it is that he says you are a formidable adversary, not to be trusted,” said Marthlis. “I see entirely.”
“It was your idea?” said Aerhril, gaping at him.
He turned to look at her, furrowing his brow.
“Oh, yes, it was all about psychology and not about your just wanting to get back at Celedin,” she said, annoyed.
“Later,” said Dathor to her firmly.
“Who’s Celedin?” said Iahir, puffing on his pipe, smiling.
“The point is, the orc army is coming,” said Dathor. “And if we can time the death of the High King with their attack, it could destabilize everything.”
“A perfect time to tear down the current government structure,” said one of the unnamed elves.
“So, when is it?” said Iahir, gesturing with his pipe.
“Not so fast,” said Dathor. “That information is all we have. We offer it up to you, and we lose all our leverage.”
Iahir smirked. “Well, anyone can make a good guess, I should think. If the reports are true, they’ve taken Bilkwood.
They won’t want to wait too long, so it will be before winter, so sometime within the next few months.
I can simply be at the ready, keep my ear to the ground, and when a report of an attack comes, I get him alone and stab him in the eye. ”
“So graphic,” muttered Marthlis. But he turned to Dathor. “Iahir has a point. What do we really need you for? Your presence here is all the confirmation we really need that an orc army is coming. What do you really have for us of value?”
Dathor glanced at her, and she bit down on her lower lip. This was not going well, was it?
Had her outburst caused the turn? She hoped not. But sometimes, Dathor’s cruelty made her feel frightened. She could no sooner deny him than the sunrise, but he was not an easy man to love.
“Can you coordinate with the orc army?” said Marthlis.
“We hoped to,” said Dathor.
“Yes,” said Gathren.
Dathor looked up at the female, furrowing his brow.
“Dathor does not know this about me,” said Gathren, “but I am not just some orc warrioress. I am the daughter of the orc High Chieftain.”
Dathor drew back, looking up at her. He shook his head. “No, because if you were, I would have seen you in Arzakh—”
“You’re an orc princess?” said Iahir.
“No,” said Gathren to Iahir. “No, I am not born of his official marriage. I am the product of a dalliance.”
“You’re the orc High Chieftain’s bastard daughter,” said Marthlis.
“Not the same concept in the orc world,” said Dathor. “But that would explain why you were born here, in Lothnehil.”
“He is fond of me,” said Gathren. “He was very fond of my mother. He will negotiate if he knows you have me.”
Iahir let out a wild laugh and sucked on his pipe. “Let me get this straight, orc warrior woman—”
“My name is Gathren,” she said, interrupting him.
“Gathren,” repeated Iahir. “You turned yourself over to the enemy in order to allow them to control your own father?”
Gathren held his gaze. “I am a daughter of Lothnehil. The orcs who invade are not. They would burn our country to the ground. I do not wish to see that. Neither does Dathor. When I spoke to him, and we agreed we want a world for elves and orcs together, that’s when I got the idea.”
“So, you’re volunteering to be a hostage?” said Marthlis.
Gathren took the knife out of her belt. She used it to clean her fingernails, shrugging. “You’ll find I can take care of myself.”
Iahir laughed again. “I like her.” He settled back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. “I like her a lot.”
Gathren raised her eyebrows. “You will provide safe passage for Dathor and Aerhril back to their home in the north. I know it is where they wish to be, not part of all of this.”
Dathor shook his head at her. “You can’t just cut me out of everything.”
“Apologies,” said Gathren. “You are very smart, Dathor, but sometimes you are so smart that you refuse to contemplate that you could be wrong. You are too good at talking other people into doing your bidding to be let loose on this. I cannot trust you to be part of this anymore. I needed your contacts. Thank you, but you should go home. Perhaps your inevitable love is enough to sustain you.”
Dathor’s expression was stony. “Just because I made one miscalculation—”
“Not just one,” said Gathren.
“You think you are smarter than me, then?”
“I do not, in fact,” said Gathren. “Your intelligence means you’re on no one’s side, only your own. As I say, I cannot trust you.”
“Well, here we are, then,” said Dathor. “I hope you can navigate all this by yourself.”
“So do I,” said the female orc.