Elfhome

The laughter drained out of his face. “They’re good kids. I know it’s part of the way elves think — that your household is your family — but they really bonded to each other. I wouldn’t blame them for being hysterical messes after all they been through, but it seems sometimes like they’ve pulled themselves together just so they can be strong for the others.”

She explained what Lain discovered. “So you haven’t noticed anything strange?”

“Rustle would lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on, but no, nothing else.”

“There’s some reason the Skin Clan wants these kids bad.”

Oilcan half-turned to stare back at the school building. “Tink, how am I going to keep them safe?”

She understood the feeling completely. “Here.” She reached out and caught his hand. “I’ll show you how to set up a shield. Just hold it until help comes.”

She explained setting up the resonance and calling the shield into existence. He had no problem getting his fingers into position, but then he played several musical instruments, so he was used to twisting his fingers into pretzels. It reminded her of the song he’d written for her. “I really like the song. The one with the domi and her First. That was cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Where did you get those words and hand gestures for Briar’s part?” Tinker asked. “Did Briar teach them to you? I’ve been going nuts trying to learn more of the Wind Clan esva.”

“My mom taught them to me.” He danced out of reach of her angry swing, laughing. “I thought they were just a kid’s game. I’d forgotten most of them, that’s why I never taught you. I didn’t even know what they were until I helped Windwolf with Malice.”

“Looks like you remember a lot to me.” Tinker grumbled.

“I just copied what was in the codex.”

The Dufae codex was her personal bible while she was growing up; she had nearly every page memorized. “They’re not in the codex.”

“Yes they are.” He let her smack him this time; he knew it only made her madder if he stayed out of reach indefinitely. “Some of the pages have little pictograms above a Elvish phoneme. Those are finger positions.”

She suddenly realized what “pictograms” he meant. Sprinkled through the codex was a set of diagrams that she had analyzed to death between the ages of eight to ten. They were two sets of five symbols. She felt stupid that she never realized that they represented the right or left hands. “Damn! I asked both Grandpa and Tooloo about those and they lied. Grandpa said he didn’t know what they were—”

“He might not have.” Oilcan allowed.

“—And Tooloo said that they were footprints of fairies.”

Oilcan snickered. “And you believed that?”

“No. I asked her again, and she said—” Tinker stopped, mouth open, startled.

“What?”

“She said they were notations for a song.”

Oilcan laughed. “They are now.”

“Yes, they are.” Tinker frowned, shaking her head. “This was years ago. Could she have really known you were going to write that song?”

“Who can tell with Tooloo?” Oilcan said.

Esme had said that Tooloo had taught her how to control her dreams. The damn half-elf had woven all sorts of lies trying to discourage Tinker from interacting with Windwolf. Somehow Tooloo knew that one day Windwolf would use a Skin Clan spell to change Tinker.

And Tooloo had known Tinker dating Nathan would end with him dead.

All this time, Tooloo was an intanyai seyosa?

Tinker blew out her breath and tugged at her hair in frustration. “Sometimes, I just want to beat that female.” She said low and quiet so only he could hear. Tooloo might not be on the Wind Clan side of this war, but she wasn’t on the Skin Clan’s side either, or the oni would have known exactly where to find Tinker.

Most annoying was the knowledge that trying to get any kind of answer out of Tooloo was probably hopeless. It may even prove deadly for the old half-elf — as the sekasha might not take well to her evasion.

31: Jewel Tear on Stone

Successful bookies did not gamble. They always set odds that benefit them and let other people take the risks. Tommy was no exception, thus he didn’t want to bet his life on the odds spread out before him. In the clearing below him were twelve oni warriors entrusted with dragging Jewel Tear through the wilderness to wherever Kajo’s new whelping pen lay. The warriors were the smart kind that needed face paint to make an impression on their more animalistic subordinates. They were so heavily armed it was a wonder that they could move; he had spotted everything from rocket launchers down to grenades hanging like unripe apples of pure evil. The sprawling encampment was miles behind them but there could be patrols within earshot. Tommy had one pistol with a silencer, eight clips of ammo, his limited ability to cloud minds, and his eight-year-old cousin.

No, he didn’t like the odds.

He was starting to wish he’d brought Bingo instead of Spot.