Elfhome

Barley talked about the remote enclave where he grew up. “It’s perched on this mountain along side the silk road. We’re high up where no trees grow, so the land is all wind-swept bare. On clear days you can see far, far away far in the distance, to the next enclave. There’s a female there that is seven hundred and twelve years old; she’s the only person under a thousand years old for a hundred miles and she’s already in love.”

“There was no one our age in my village either,” Rustle said. “It was nice going to summer court to study and meeting Merry.”

Merry blushed.

Fields of Barley continued from his high perch. “I liked working at the enclave but no one would ever listen to me. My mother was the youngest before I was born; my father was a weaver that passed through once a year until he’d been killed in a landslide. My household taught me how to cook, but I could never choose what we would make. We would order a new set of dishes every fifty years, retiring the old dishes which were now chipped and worn. It showed how well-to-do we were to our returning clients to have an obviously new pattern. The salesman would bring books with the china patterns and everyone would sit and marvel over them. There was this one pattern that I loved. It was elegant in its simplicity; nothing about the dish called attention away from the food being served. Our sama, though, believed that the dish itself should be stunning, so when it sat empty after the meal and the bill came, the customer felt that the tab was justified. I realized as I sat looking at the patterns that we would never, never pick one that I wanted, not that day or all the years to come. I would never be able to decide what to cook or chose how we would serve it. The only way I’d have a say in anything would be if I started a new enclave.”

After years of trying to find a means to follow his dream, Barley had heard of Earth Son’s offer and immediately set out for the coast. “And that went so well.”

Baby Duck quacked nervously. She had little to offer as to why she’d traveled to Pittsburgh; her life prior to the whelping pen was still a complete mystery to her. “I remember we had big barns with kittens and chicks. I remember the smell of hay, like the barn was one big nest, and how safe it made me feel.”

Oilcan mentally added “hay” to the list of things to track down. There were farms in the south hills, source of most of the locally grown produce. They were going to need a shelter for the indi and find enough food to get the animals through the winter.

#

They were finishing the last classroom when Baby Duck suddenly pointed out the large window to the faire grounds and cried, “Gossamer!”

They paused to watch the great living airship glide in from the east. The sunlight gleamed thru the massive translucent body, rendering it into a moving cloud of cut diamonds.

“It’s one of the Stone Clans.” Thorne Scratch murmured as they watched ropes being thrown down to the ground crew to be tied off at the anchors.

The gossamer itself looked no different than those that Windwolf owned, but the teak gondola slung under the creature was painted black with accents of gold.

“You’ll need to go out and meet it,” Thorne said.

“Me?”

“You’re the senior Stone Clan domana in Westernlands.”

“How do I outrank Forest Moss when I’m human?”

“He does not have a household. Also currently he’s not lucid.”

“Fine.” He put down the paintbrush he’d been using and started out of the room.

“Do you really want to meet them dressed that way?” Thorne asked.

Oilcan glanced down at his painting clothes. His old blue jeans and black T-shirt were splattered with years of paint. “I look more human this way.”

Throne made a little noise of agreement with that and followed him down the stairs.

Who had the Stone Clan sent and how would they change things in Pittsburgh? They couldn’t take the children from him, but they certainly could offer them a more secure household. They couldn’t take Thorne Scratch from him, but they could offer her a true beholding.

It hurt to think of losing them. He knew he could fall back to how his life had been before he met Merry, but that life seemed achingly empty. He had grown to love this new pattern of his life.

He reached out and took Thorne’s left hand. She looked down in surprise at their finger intertwined.

“It’s something humans do,” he said.

She smiled slightly and tightened her hold on his hand. Together they strolled across the wide meadows toward the incoming Stone Clan domana who could steal all his newfound happiness away.

#

The first of the newcomers were landing from the gondola via a steel-caged elevator as Oilcan and Thorne strolled up to the anchors. Laedin warriors in black were securing the area. They gave Oilcan and Thorne surprised looks but moved off to establish a parameter.