Elfhome

Forge did not ask “how did my son die?” but clearly that was what he wanted to know.

Mace’s First, though, was asking Thorne Scratch what had happened to the domana and sekasha that came to Pittsburgh. His questions were in High Elvish, and polite, but implied “why are you still alive when you should be dead?”

Oilcan resisted Forge’s pull to look back at Thorne Scratch. She was squared off against Iron Mace’s First. He didn’t want to leave her having to face all the assembled alone, but he wouldn’t know what was safe to say. His defense might damn her in their eyes.

As Oilcan wavered, Forge’s First noticed him and his look softened. He minutely shook his head and gave one pushing motion with his hand.

Forge tugged again and this time Oilcan didn’t resist.

Still, it felt like he was betraying Thorne Scratch as he let Forge lead him away.

#

At first Oilcan was too distracted to panic.

It was one thing to tell someone that their son was dead and quite another to tell him that his son was beheaded in front of a jeering crowd. To be kind, Oilcan focused what little he knew of Unbounded Brilliance’s life at the French Court. His elfin beauty and knowledge of advanced biology had made him a favorite of the Queen. Unfortunately it also made him a target when the nobles fell. While other commoners were overlooked, the elf had been hunted down and put to death. Oilcan merely said “A civil war broke out and he was killed in the fighting.” Unbounded’s son, Etienne had been as slow to mature as Blue Sky and was still very young. “His wife brought their child to this continent to keep him safe. He became a jeweler and watchmaker.”

By then, they had reached Sacred Heart and Oilcan was beginning to realize that compressed down, his family history was one long tragedy. Unbounded Brilliance had died in the Reign of Terror. Etienne been killed by jewel thieves. Etienne’s son drowned in the Johnston Flood. Of all Unbounded Brilliance’s descendants, only Oilcan’s grandfather had died peacefully in bed.

A full Hand of sekasha swept into the school building ahead of them and all thoughts of past tragedies vanished.

“Wait!” Oilcan cried, dashing after them. “Forgiveness, but please wait.”

The children had gone back to painting. Still clutching dripping paintbrushes, they fled toward the safe room.

Oilcan managed to get between them and the sekasha. “Forgiveness, the children have been through much. They frighten easily.”

With smiles that seemed almost shy, the warriors backed off.

“Sama?” Merry tucked close to Oilcan, ignoring the fact that she was pressing a wet paintbrush into his side.

“This is Forge of Stone.” Oilcan pried the paintbrush out of her hands. “He is my ancestor.”

“Call me Grandfather.” Forge shook his head as he studied the five doubles. “I’ve have never seen so many children together in one place before. What are they doing in this war zone?”

Oilcan hoped that Forge wasn’t counting him as one of the children. “Earth Son offered sponsorship to anyone that came to Pittsburgh — but he’s — he’s dead.” Oilcan skirted around explaining how Earth Son ended up dead. “The children broke ties with their households — they can’t go back.”

Forge continued to shake his head. “I had not heard — but I’m not privy to most clan business. I work too closely with the Fire Clan to be trusted by most of our clan. Still — what was he thinking? Laedin I could understand in war zone, but naelinsanota?”

“Naelinsanota?” Oilcan had never heard the term before. If he was translating the word correctly, it meant “unclean blood.”

“Forgiveness, the habits of your youth are the deepest ingrained. It’s been nae hou, and yet the old words are the ones that come easiest. Our cruel overlord each had their own breeding projects. Just as my mother’s people were clever, the naelinsanota were just as gifted, although more artistically inclined. After the liberation, the naelinsanota were absorbed into the taunlae.”

“My parents were naelinsanota.” Merry whispered, blushing brightly. “But they tell people they’re taunlae.”

Rustle took her hand and squeezed it tight. “So were mine.”

“Mine too.” Cattail said.

“I’m not sure.” Barley said. “I think my father may have been. He wasn’t nivasa caste and that all my mother’s household talked about — like she’d lowered herself.”

“Quiee.” It clearly distressed Baby Duck that she didn’t know what she was.

Oilcan frowned. It was one thing if Earth Son had put out a general summons. If he had selectively tapped only the children of a certain caste, then the domana had definitely been working with the oni greater bloods. But to what means?

“Where will Grandfather be staying?” Barley reminded Oilcan that there was a more important problem at hand. “Grandfather” was here on a mission. The young male added with a mix of hope and dread. “With us?”