Chapter 7 #2
“You do have a point, Mr. Kidderson,” Lady Narice said. She kept her pleasant facade, but the warmth bled from her expression when she eyed Vespan. “When I was your age, time seemed boundless, but even as long lived as we are, what we do with the little we have matters.”
“Agreed,” Kidd said cheerfully. “I always cherish what wisdom I can learn from others, especially those who must have seen many fantastic wonders across our continent, Lady Greenjaw. Would you think me too forward if I asked you to accompany me to the pavilion so we can procure our more sullen companions and ourselves another round of refreshments? After all, enough lubricant can get even the most cantankerous of gears moving in harmony with its fellows.”
“If nothing else, a little more lubricant might predispose us to overlook their churlishness,” Lady Narice replied.
Kidd nodded with a quick laugh. He offered his arm to her, and they headed into the pavilion.
“Your friend is slick,” Vespan muttered. “And I am grateful for that.”
Shit, I have to make small talk. Blaze shoved his hands into the pockets of his borrowed long vest. “I think the only thing Kidd likes more than travel is conversation.”
“I hate it. I’d rather be home.”
“Where is home?” Blaze asked.
“The ancient city of Emberleigh.” Vespan sighed. “I hate that I have to announce it that way here. But I’ve had half a dozen introductions ask whether I meant the nation or the city already. We may be the elves with more of nature’s magic, but I detest spending time outdoors.”
“Is there anything you do like?” Blaze said before he could stop his tongue.
But Vespan didn’t seem to mind his tone. “Our library. I have a little wind magic, and it’s a great help in lifting dust and bugs from our collection. You said practical mechanics earlier. Are you gifted with any magic? Or do you have to construct it?”
Blaze’s smile strained. Learning in Dun Steorra had meant having peers who had been casting magic all their lives, and most assumed that anyone from Gearwick was completely untalented.
They failed to see that finding the resonance when building a device could be accomplished with experience, but it wasn’t devoid of talent.
But saying “I can handle crystals and know whether they’ll sing with other crystals in the right frequency to create a magical artifact capable of, oh, I don’t know, lifting a ship into the air!
” wouldn’t convince Vespan that he possessed any magic.
Gearwick had been founded because the other elves didn’t appreciate that interaction with objects could hold as much magical potential as consulting the stars or causing plants to grow or the sky to rain.
Suddenly, Mack slipped through the crowd and latched onto Blaze’s wrist. They tugged sharply. “Come on. You’ll miss it!”
“Excuse me!” Blaze said cheerfully as he hurried after Mack.
They led the way to the edge of the crowd and wriggled through the gathered elves more easily than Blaze did.
In order to keep up, Blaze had to nudge and push his way through.
He was so concentrated on moving that he didn’t notice he had pushed through to the dancing area until one of the passing elves almost clocked him in the face.
The canopy overhead allowed a measure of sunlight to pass through, giving the area plenty of lighting without the overbearing brightness.
Between the enchantments of the elves and the one keeping the grass from being stamped into oblivion by so many feet, the electric tang of magic stung the air under the heavier notes of fresh foods and fruity drinks.
A group of a half dozen musicians played an unrecognizable song, but they sounded as if there were two dozen more of them.
And all the wonders dotting the landscape around Blaze were nothing compared to the sight of Durae at the center.
He wore a sheer tunic that had glimmers of metallic thread throughout it.
His leggings clung to his body and would have been indecent if not for the long skirts he wore.
They were gathered and darker at the top to give him a hint of modesty, but the fabric became translucent the longer it trailed down.
His skirts ended around his ankles, though he wore boots that made him taller.
Small symbols had been painted down his bare arms, some more expertly drawn than others.
The ones on his cheeks seemed made of crushed diamond because they glinted with rainbows as he moved.
Tiny gemstones adorned his white hair, which had small, intricate braids and sections that hung loose.
When he twirled, the light caught every gem, every piece of glitter and metallic thread, and he shone like a million stars had been given a body so they could dance among elfkind.
An old tale that Blaze’s fathers loved to tell him was about Yar, the wildest of the gods, and how he had been tamed by the beauty and gentleness of a mere scholar.
Though a humble elf, the scholar could ink a thousand poems and a thousand songs and a thousand truths, and he patiently sat and taught Yar about all that was good in the world.
When the scholar died after centuries, like all elves had to, Yar caused storm upon storm to wreak havoc on the continent until Ulenos, goddess of the moon, warned him that he was about to destroy the last of the scholar’s original works.
He ceased his destruction and cried for all he had ruined.
They said that out on the plains, the wild one’s lonely howls could still be heard, especially after a storm.
It was a tale of heartache that Blaze’s fathers claimed proved the enduring power of love.
Until Blaze saw Durae dance, he’d thought it was complete bullshit.
But he knew, like he had spent endless hours watching the fountain move in the Stelen complex, he could spend twice as many watching Durae. Unlike the fountain, Blaze had no hope of understanding every complexity of Durae.
My spirit is going to join Yar in his sobbing after I die. How could it do anything else? Blaze didn’t belong in the orbit of a noble beauty like Durae. One invention wouldn’t be enough to change his stars, no matter how brilliant it was. He took a step backward.
In mid-spin, Durae’s blue eyes caught on his. A smile brighter than a sudden light in the dark spread across his lips. He lunged out of the circle and clasped Blaze’s hand. “You came!”
An excuse rose to Blaze’s lips, but Durae’s happiness numbed his tongue.
He allowed himself to be pulled into a dance that he stumbled to participate in.
If his clumsiness bothered anyone, he wouldn’t have seen it.
Durae was in his arms, and he was absorbed into the whirlwind movement of his world.
No one else mattered. Even his ship could wait.
Durae had to be working an act of cosmomancy because for a moment, Blaze could believe he belonged with him, the shining jewel at the center of the universe.