But—things happen, sometimes…
Their felt-walled tent was surprisingly cool in the heat of midday; the sides rolled up to let in a cool breeze at floor level, and heated air rose to escape through the smoke hole. With no real duties to perform, they spent most of the time that they were not being questioned in the relative comfort of the tent. After all, where was there to go? How much interest was there in watching cattle graze? Kalamadea was margin ally interested in seeing how the young warriors fought in their practices, but those were always held in the cool of the morning. And whatever the magic was that held their own powers in abeyance, no one was practicing anything that looked or felt like magic near enough for any of them to detect it.
“Are you sure we should be talking with them around?” Mero whispered, nodding at the two elves drowsing on their side of the tent. Within two days of their capture, a peaceful accord had been reached between the newcomers and the original prisoners. The tent was divided down the middle by arranging the rugs to conform to that pattern. The elves stayed on their side, the wizards on the other. Haldor continued to ignore them; Kelyan, after questioning all of them about the particulars of the Wizard War and Lord Dyran’s demise, fell into a kind of apathetic stupor. He said he was meditating, but it looked to Shana like he was staring off into space just like Haldor.
She had to wonder if either of them was quite sane anymore, after being held like this for several decades. There was really nothing for them to do or to think about—and if boredom was a real problem for elves in their own lands and in control of their own lives, how much more so was it a problem for these two? As she had studied them, she had come to the tentative conclusion that they were hardly more than the shadow of real elves; Haldor in particular had retreated into himself until there was nothing showing of his personality anymore. It was rather horrible, really. Was this how they would act after being held captive for too long?
“I don’t think it matters,” she told Mero truthfully. “Neither of them seem particularly interested in getting free, and it isn’t as if we’re planning an escape. We are trying to figure out how we can get the Iron People to let us go with honor all the way around, and that isn’t going to get anyone in trouble. We’re not doing anything to violate our parole, so to speak.”
Mero shrugged then. “All right, I see your point. Even if either of them told tales on us, all the Iron People would hear would be—”
“What they already know,” Shana finished for him. “That we want to go back to our people, that we were here to find trade, and that we are not elves.”
Mero nodded. “Well, then, if we’re going to approach anyone, I think we ought to go with Jamal,” he told them. “He’s young, he’s in the process of changing their customs—if anyone can be persuaded that it would be better to turn us loose against the custom of holding captives, I think it’s likely him. And he’s very popular, popular enough that people won’t question it if he orders something that seems odd or unusual.”
But Kalamadea shook his head at that, emphatically. “He is also grasping, that one, and he will not let go of anything, once he has possession of it. We are his, so to speak, and he will not release a piece of booty on the promise of trade to come. And—I do not think he is interested in peace with anyone. I think if he learns of the existence of the Citadel, he will seek to conquer it, not to trade with it. I have seen nothing that makes me think otherwise.” He frowned. “And I do not like who he has garnered as his followers. They are warriors all, and when was a warrior interested in anything but war? No, I am for the Priest, Diric. He is one who thinks long and deeply, and he does not ponder war without also pondering the losses that war entails.”
It was Keman’s turn, and he shrugged, and looked confused. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Except that I don’t know how we’re going to convince either of them that we aren’t elves.” He looked back at Shana. “Diric spent more time with you than with the rest of us, and so did Jamal, especially after they let the elves give you their language. They’ve asked you more questions than they have all of the rest of us combined. So what do you think of them?”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Initially I thought we should try to concentrate on Jamal, mostly because of Jamal’s popularity, but also because I thought Diric would be like the old whiners. I thought that Diric would be very prejudiced against us just because we’re ‘green-eyed demons,’ and he’d be more in favor of loading us down with more chains than with setting us free. But—I don’t know if it was because I’m a female, or some other cause, but Jamal has been incredibly arrogant with me, and Diric has never been less than courteous. I think Diric already believes we are something other than elves. And I know he is far more interested in setting up trade with others than in going to war with them; he’s asked me any number of times about what, exactly, our people have to offer in trade. He was very specific in what he was interested in—grain and metals, for the most part, though he’ll take raw wool, linen, and ready-made goods. When Jamal wasn’t trying to browbeat me, he wanted to know about terrain, and where I was from, precisely—and what our people possess. That sounds like someone looking for booty and an easy target to conquer to me, too, Kalamadea. So, on the whole, I am inclined to concentrate on Diric myself.”
Kalamadea looked from her to Mero and back again. ‘Two for Diric, one for Jamal, and one undecided.” He turned to Mero. “Would you like to make further arguments to convince us, or have we convinced you?”
Mero rubbed the side of his nose with his finger. “I’m not really strongly in support of going to Jamal,” he said, finally. “If the two of you are strongly in favor of Diric, I’m willing to go along with that.” He made a disparaging face. “After all, even though I know more about life on an elven lord’s estate than either of you, both of you know more about how to read a person’s intentions from what he says and does—and doesn’t say.”
“I am quite strongly in favor of approaching Diric,” Shana replied firmly, as Kalamadea nodded agreement.
“Diric it is, then,” Mero agreed. “At least he isn’t as scary as Jamal. I always have the feeling Jamal is a hair away from doing something I hadn’t expected—and whatever it would be, it would probably be unpleasant.”
“That may be another sign he is not a man of peace,” Kalamadea observed.
Shana didn’t have anything to add to that—she would have said that Jamal didn’t feel “safe”; as if he could and would change his moods with lightning swiftness, even though she had never seen such a mood change. “Now, to change the subject, have any of you figured why neither elven magics nor human magics work on these folk?”
Kalamadea threw up his hands in despair. “I am baffled” he replied in disgust “I have never encountered anything like this, and I am older than the oldest elven lord on this world! I can speak mind to mind with you and Shadow, Shana, but I cannot touch the minds of any of the Iron People. I can mold a bit of rock to my will, but the collar remains stubbornly immutable. And I cannot shift. Now, speaking mind to mind if enough like human wizardry that I can see how, perhaps, they could block my ability to do the same—but not the purely draconic abilities of rock-shaping and shape-shifting! It is most vexing!”
Shana nodded ruefully; her own experiments had come to nothing as well, and so had Mero’s. “Kelyan has no clue how they do this, and I haven’t caught anyone actually working whatever magic they do that blocks ours. I’m baffled, too.”
“These collars are very old,” Keman said, softly.
Shana turned to him in surprise. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “They can’t be very new,” he said. “They’re iron, and I’ve overheard people complaining that they haven’t had fuel or metal for the forges for months. If you look at these collars, though, you can see that there is a great deal of wear on them, enough that they could have been around for hundreds of years. In fact, I don’t think they were ever intended for humans or elves at all. I think they were meant for animals; huge hounds, most likely. There may be some protection against control or against magic being used against the wearer in them, but I don’t think there’s much more than that. After all, we can speak mind to mind with each other, we just can’t read them. We haven’t tried anything else except shape-shifting and rock-shaping, and the rock-shaping works.”