Elfhome

That seemed too close. “In the house” seemed like it would lead directly to “in control.”

Oilcan shook his head. “We don’t have extra beds.”

“We don’t have any beds,” Cattail Reeds pointed out.

“We won’t be here long.” By “we” Forge probably meant himself, Oilcan and the children.

This was Oilcan’s life without brakes. “Wait here a minute.” Oilcan backpedaled into the kitchen. He was running by the time he hit the back door. He ran out the back gate and down the back alley, praying that Windwolf was at Poppymeadow’s.

He nearly careened into the male halfway down the road. “Windwolf!” He caught hold of the tall male.

“What is wrong cousin?”

“Forge of Stone is here. He is the father of Unbounded Brilliance — my ancestor. He is claiming me as his child and wants to take me to Easternlands.”

“I will not allow it.” Windwolf snapped.

Oilcan breathed out in relief. “So you can stop him?”

Windwolf looked angry. “I am not sure, but I intend to try.”

#

Apparently it was the arrival of the gossamer that triggered the gathering of domana. Prince True Flame was on the edge of the faire grounds, already exchanging introductions with Iron Mace. Forge’s First and Thorne Scratch weren’t with the knot of elves, apparently they’d gone on to Sacred Heart.

Oilcan was glad to note that Iron Mace introduced himself to Windwolf, meaning that he was lower ranked. Prince True Flame, though, in the end would be the one that decided Oilcan’s fate.

“Wolf Who Rules Wind.” Windwolf growled out his name and then turned to his cousin. “True, I will not have my territory plundered while I’m dealing with a common enemy. If they are not here to help, they are not welcomed.”

“They just arrived.” True Flame shifted the conversation to High Elvish and made a motion for Windwolf to stay calm.

For reasons that eluded Oilcan, the more polite the conversation, the faster the elves talked.

Windwolf’s response was machine gun fast but courteous. “I will not stand by and let them take what is mine. It was agreed that humans would be considered neutral but under Wind Clan rule.”

“What is this?” Iron Mace noticed Oilcan and frowned. “You would deny us our own blood?”

Windwolf nodded. “If he does not want to leave Pittsburgh, then yes, I would deny you. He is not yours to take.”

Iron Mace waved a hand toward Oilcan. “He is — what? Thirty? Forty years old? He is not old enough to choose his clan; he is the clan of his birth.”

“I was not born into a clan.” Oilcan pointed out as calmly as he could in High Elvish. “Nor was my mother or my grandfather or his father.”

True Flame looked at him with surprise clear on his face and then he glanced to Windwolf. “How is it that the one that is human speaks High Tongue better than the one that is an elf?”

Iron Mace plowed through any answer from Windwolf beyond a spreading of hands. “My sister’s son was lost to us. His children were born to the Stone Clan regardless if they knew it or not.”

Windwolf shook his head. “One’s clan is a personal choice. Loyalty must be freely given.”

“As I said,” Iron Mace raised his voice and talked faster. “He is not old enough to chose.”

None of the elves seem to be considering Oilcan as part of the conversation. They were like dogs fighting over a bone.

“Forgiveness,” Oilcan fought to stay civil. “I am a human, not an elf.”

Iron Mace didn’t even glance in Oilcan’s direction. “If he is domana enough to tap the stones, then he must be considered an elf.”

Oilcan shifted closer to Prince True Flame. He wasn’t sure what it said that none of the prince’s sekasha considered him threat enough to block his move. It did not help his cause that he only came up to mid-chest on them.

“Honorable one, the question is not how much an elf I am, but if I’m an adult and can determine my own fate. By human reckoning, I reached my adulthood years ago. My mother gave birth to me when she was only a few years older than I am now.” Actually, she had been over a decade older but it was close enough in elf years. “My grandfather died before he reached his triples. If you don’t consider me adult now, then I will never live long enough for you to see me as an adult.”

“Your grandfather died a double?” Forge joined the fray without bothering to introduce himself.

“He was ninety-eight,” Oilcan said. “His heart gave out.”

At least that was what the coroner ruled. His grandfather had been fighting pneumonia for a week before he died. It was possible that if he let them take him to the hospice and used magic to battle the illness, he would have survived.

“He was no taller than I am now. I am full grown.” Oilcan hammered home on the fact that he had a human lifespan. “I will not live to see my triples. The average lifespan of a human male is only mid-seventies.”

Only then did he see Thorne Scratch behind Forge. Her warrior’s mask slipped and her eyes filled with sorrow. He wished she was close enough to reach out and take her hand but he would have had to go through Forge’s Hand to get to her.