Elfhome

“They said Earth Son needed clan members to build our presence in the Westernlands. Most people wouldn’t dream of coming so far into the wilderness, but Earth Son was going to sponsor anyone that made their way to Pittsburgh. It was a chance in a lifetime for anyone that wanted to set up their own enclave.”

“I don’t know.” Oilcan said. “That will be up to the Stone Clan.”

Thorne Scratch had said that Jewel Tear couldn’t take in any more people, and that Forest Moss couldn’t be trusted. What did the Stone Clan think was going to happen to the people they were sending to Pittsburgh? Were they actually just dropping them into the city and hope they survive?

“Come on,” he said.

“Where we going?”

“To the train station.”

#

Oilcan always loved watching the train coming into the station. The big diesel train rumbled up to buffers with a growl that could be felt the whole way into his bones. The brakes hissed and cars lurched to a stop. For a moment, he was back in Boston, holding his mother’s hand, waiting to go on some special adventure. Down to the harbor to watch the tall ships unfurl their bright sails. To Boston Commons to feed the mallards gliding beside the swan boats. Out to the windswept bay islands to fly kites. Anywhere his father wasn’t drinking himself into a murderous rage.

Sometimes, his mother talked about getting on the train and just keep on going. She kept their immigration papers for Elfhome in the zippered compartment of her purse; just in case they would ever need to flee to another world to be safe. Their ancestor had come from Elfhome, once upon a time, and they could always run back. They were both fluent in Elvish; it had been handed down through the family for generations. They used it as their secret language as they tiptoed around his drunken father. She’d get work translating and they’d live with the grandfather he’d never met.

But they always went back home. Despite all his father’s weaknesses, she loved him and that love killed her. Only after she was dead did Oilcan take the train to Elfhome.

And it was Merry holding his hand tightly. “It makes the most marvelous sounds.” She was nearly vibrating in place with her excitement over all the sights and sounds of the city. Her hands twitched as if she wanted to translate it all to music on her olianuni.

Laedin-caste royal marines in scarlet uniforms spilled out of the passenger cars like school kids on a field trip. They pointed up through the glass ceiling at the buildings that towered over Pittsburgh. They pointed out onto the street where a hoverbike was passing a slow moving van. They pointed at him.

“It’s a human. Look, Blaze, your first human.”

The soldiers gathered around Oilcan, creating a tall wall of red, to study him closely. In amazed exclamations, innocent of any contempt, they made comments on his short hair, his rounded eyes and ears, his t-shirt and blue jeans, and his obvious lack of any weapons. Perhaps because of their school children exuberance, Merry showed no signs of being afraid of the laedin-caste warriors.

“I thought they would all have guns.” A female lifted her shoulder to indicate the rifle slung over it. The rifles were fairly standard issue, not the magic-insulated ones that the sekasha carried.

“Are you sure it’s not an oni?” A male that seemed barely out of his doubles asked. “They said that the oni are disguising themselves as humans.”

“He is not an oni!” Merry gave the young soldier a slight shove, which made all the soldiers laugh and push the soldier themselves.

“Oni are tall, Blaze.” One of the officers stated. “And they tend to smell of vinegar.”

“I didn’t realize humans were so small,” Blaze said.

“Forgiveness, I’m considered fairly short for a human male.” Oilcan said in High Elvish. He didn’t want the incoming troops to think all tall humans were oni. He raised a hand over his head to indicate several inches taller. “Most human males are taller. Some are as tall as you are.”

“I’m still growing.” Blaze snarled in Low Elvish.

The young elf male got smacked in the back of his head by his officer.

“You speak the high tongue very well, child.” The officer gave Oilcan a slight bow that begged forgiveness.

Oilcan ignored the mistaken about his maturity. He knew from experience that his height misled elves, but his true age would only reinforce the impression. “Thank you. Were there any Stone Clan on the train?”

There was a rattle of a drum toward the back of the train.

“Fall in!” The officer shouted and the troops dutifully shuffled into formation. “No, child, there were no Stone Clan with us.”

The drum rattled again and they marched out, shouting excitedly and pointing at the new wonders of the human city.

#