“And so I’m to let a man step in and take over and ruin what it’s cost me years to build just for the sake of seeing his face every morning whether I like it or not? No, thank you. There are worse things than being alone. Pet.”
Aleatha’s purple eyes darkened almost to wine. “Death, maybe.”
Her sister didn’t hear her.
The elfmaid shook back her hair, shaking off the gloomy shadow at the same time. “Shall I tell Paithan you’re wanting to see him?”
“Don’t bother. He must be near to running out of money by now. He’ll be around to see me in the toiltime.” Calandra marched toward the door. “I have the books to balance. Try to come home at a reasonable hour. Before tomorrow, at least.”
Aleatha smiled at her sister’s sarcasm and lowered the sleep-heavy eyelids modestly. “If you like, Callie, I won’t see Lord Kevanish anymore.”
Her sister paused, turned. Calandra’s stern face brightened, but she only said, “I should hope not!” Stalking out of the room, she slammed the door shut behind her.
“He’s getting to be a bore anyway,” remarked Aleatha to herself. She lounged back down at her dressing table and studied her flawless features in the effusive mirror.
CHAPTER 3
GRIFFITH, TERNCIA, THILLIA
CALANDRA RETURNED TO HER WORK ON THE ACCOUNT BOOKS AS A SOOTHING antidote to the wild vagaries of her family. The house was quiet. Her father and the astrologer puttered about in the cellar but, knowing that his daughter was more near exploding than his magical powder, Lenthan thought it wise to refrain from any further experiments along those lines.
After dinner, Calandra performed one more act related to the business. She sent a servant with a message for the birdman, addressed to Master Roland of Griffith, Jungleflower Tavern.
Shipment will arrive in early Fallow. [8] Payment expected on delivery.
Calandra Quindiniar.
The birdman attached the message to the foot of a faultless that had been trained to fly to Terncia and cast the brightly colored bird in the air.
The faultless glided effortlessly through the sky, riding the air currents that ebbed and flowed among the towering trees.
The bird had her mind strictly on her destination, where her mate, locked in a cage, awaited her. She kept no watch for predators, there was nothing living that wanted her for food. The faultless secretes an oil that keeps its feathers dry during the frequent rainstorms. This oil is deadly poison to all species of life except the faultless.
The faultless winged its way norinth-vars, a route that took it over the grounds and mansions of the elven peerage and across Lake Enthial.
The bird dipped low over the elven farmlands that grew in the upper moss beds, forming a patchwork of unnaturally straight lines. Human slaves toiled in the fields, tending the crops. The faultless wasn’t particularly hungry; she’d been fed before starting, but a mouse would top off her dinner nicely. She couldn’t see one, however, and continued on, disappointed.
The carefully cultivated elven lands soon disappeared into the jungle wild. Streams, fed by the daily rains, gathered into rivers atop the moss beds. Winding their way through the jungle, the rivers occasionally found a break in the upper layers of the moss and cascaded down into the dark depths below.
Wisps of clouds began to drift before the bird’s eyes, and she flew higher, gaining altitude, climbing above the storms of rain’s hour. Eventually the thick, black, lightning-shot mass completely blocked her view of the land. She knew where she was, however, instinct guiding her. The Lord Marcins Forests lay below her; they were named by the elves but claimed by neither elves nor human due to the fact that their jungle growth was impenetrable.
The storm came and went, as it had done time out of mind since the creation of the world. The sun shone brightly, and the bird could see settled lands-Thillia, realm of the humans. From her great height, the bird noted three of the sparkling, sunlit towers that marked the five divisions of the Thillian kingdom. The towers, ancient by human standards, were built of crystal bricks, the secret of whose making had been known to human wizards during the reign of King George the Only. The secret, as well as many of the wizards, had been lost in the devastating War for Love that followed the old king’s death.