Lemon Blossom was happy to see Zelli, happier still to sniff at the food that Tahlen took from Zelli the moment Zelli was close enough. Starfall, Tahlen’s horse, had also been readied, with a short staff strapped to the saddle alongside the bags that must have held Tahlen’s things and where he stashed the extra bundles of food.
Tahlen had armed himself in the meantime as well. Zelli did not comment on the sword across his back or his own lack of one. He went to get the mounting block for himself only to stop when Tahlen knelt down to offer his help before Zelli could take more than a step.
Tahlen had taken no oath to do that. But the stables at night were no place to argue about it, especially since they were trying not to attract attention. Once seated on Lemon Blossom, Zelli nodded his thanks and held his tongue while Tahlen checked things one final time, then mounted Starfall.
Dark Starfall nearly blended into the night. Lemon Blossom, glossy and bright, would not. But Zelli let Tahlen take the lead as they went out of the stables and began the ride out of the hold, first through the large gate at the entrance and past the heavy stone walls draped with falls of nasturtium, a plant the fae favored, then down the winding paths through the homes and buildings of the village. The torches that lined the road to the land below the fortress and some of the lanes in the village were still burning, and would continue to for a few hours yet.
The air grew colder, although it did not carry the chill of true autumn. Most in the village were sleeping. Only one or two buildings showed signs of lights within. The fires in the guard towers on either side of the smaller gate that closed off the village from the fields around them were visible some distance away, even through the fog.
Tahlen turned once, glancing to Zelli, but when Zelli only stared back, he rode on. He did not even stop when those in one of the towers called to him, although he did answer when they asked what he was doing at that hour.
“We’ve a long way to travel,” Tahlen told them, unreadable as ever. Ivey and Forna’s commiserating jokes ended abruptly when they noticed Zelli behind Tahlen.
“Zelli.” Their greeting to him was more cautious. Zelli gave them both a friendly, if anxious, nod, and rode on as if he expected the gate to open for him. Uncle Rou often said the only people to demand explanations from a beat-of-four were other beat-of-fours.
Whether or not Uncle Rou was right, the gears for the gate mechanisms turned and the doors opened enough for Tahlen and then Zelli to ride through. Tahlen called out something else to Forna that made him laugh, but Zelli’s attention was fixed on the rowan trees in front of each guard tower.
In daylight, the ribbons and trinkets hanging from their branches would glitter and flutter. With little wind and no light, the trees seemed unnaturally still. Zelli left the road to reach one of them, aware of the doors of the gate shutting behind them and Tahlen and probably the other guards in both towers watching him approach the tree.
Some places had statues, or niches in their walls for people to place offerings to the fae. The fae in the other world could be anywhere in this one, though humans did not often see them. But places for offerings were marked and it was felt that the fae were present there.
It must be true, for offerings had a habit of vanishing in the blink of an eye. Someone could leave a bit of fruit or seed cake out for the fae and stare at it for hours, but the moment they glanced away, the offering would disappear.
Zelli pulled Esrin’s lock of hair from his sleeve and secreted it in the crook of two branches, hopefully where Tahlen could not see.
He kept his voice down. “We ask that you keep him safe, if you can. Thank you.”
It was polite to thank them, whether or not they answered. Getting a response might depend on the mood of whoever listened, or the offering itself. Zelli’s family had always insisted that it was the sentiment attached to the offering that was of interest to the fae. Allegedly, in ancient times, a thimble full of honey had won an Earl a crown, but Zelli suspected there was more to the story than the honey. If it was just a matter of sweets, then a dollop of cream would grant anyone the riches of the wealthiest old family and it clearly did not.
But that might also have been a question of intent, which perhaps the fae could sense. If the fae responded, it would be howtheyfelt the wish should be answered, which was not always how the people asking had expected or hoped for.
Zelli did not question how his family knew this any more than he questioned how fae traits carried through generations without affecting everyone in the same ways.
He looked away and then back to make sure the lock of hair was gone.
“Thank you,” he said again not to be heard by anyone else in this world, and turned Lemon Blossom back toward Tahlen, who had kept his gaze turned politely away.
Together, they rode out into the fog.
Three
Zelli’s nerves settled after several hours of riding through the dark, enough for him to yawn more than once, although he wouldn’t allow himself to drift off. If Tahlen wouldn’t, then he wouldn’t. Of course, at times, he thought Tahlenwasasleep, since Tahlen said not a word except to occasionally whisper to Starfall.
They rode slower than they might have because of the thickness of the fog. Zelli watched Tahlen’s unbending figure for a while when peering through the clouds grew dull, then tried to turn his mind to other things. The other things promptly made him anxious again, but he did need to consider what he was going to tell people and also how he would explain himself to Grandmother when he returned. He was hoping his trip would go well enough that Grandmother would not be too angry.
The fog lingered, densest along the river, although they veered away before they could reach the quay where shipments to the capital and other territories came and went. There were places along the river in the holdings of other families that had been destroyed or fought over as the warring went on. That was another problem to eventually contend with; how the winemakers of the valley should export their wines and other goods if the rivers and the countryside were no longer safe. It did no good to grow and make wine if they could not sell it, and the mountains on either side of the valley kept the valley fairly protected but also made transporting large shipments tricky.
Tahlen would no doubt say that Zelli was thinking of things he should not yet, and could not help, in any event.
If the family were stronger, Zelli would not need to worry so much. But he could not make them stronger by force of will. The family would need others to respect them, and if necessary, fear them. They would need guards, and everyone united in obeying The Tialttyrin. And, in addition to the revenue to benefit the valley that renewed wine sales would bring, they needed the rest of the country to remember their reputation.
Reputation meant a lot. The Arlylian had kept themselves out of the conflict because they were a family famously known to not take sides or to act rashly. They might be drawn in, but the day the Arlylian were finally pulled into the chaos would be calamitous.
Zelli did wonder about the consequence of angering such a family, even if he did not voice his musings aloud. The Arlylian had an iris owl on their crest—dignified, yes, but still a bird that would kill other birds, pretty feathers and venomous talons.
Zelli worried about a lot. He couldn’t help it. Some in his family were content to live only in the day-to-day, but Zelli managed the household when Nya couldn’t, and the accounts too, and that meant looking to the future. His grandmother said that was what all wise people ought to do. But Zelli thought it didn’t mean much if the future was not something he was allowed to change. It meant all hecoulddo was worry.
Until this, anyway. If he didn’t fuck it up.
