I poked Alake in the ribs. “I have things to do,” I said gruffly. “And there’s not much time.”
The seasun was drifting beyond the far shore into the night. Already, the sea was dimming into deep purple; the servants were flitting about the palace, lighting the lamps.
Sabia rose from her bed and started to pack her lute in its case. Obviously, our conversation was at an end.
“We’ll meet back here,” I said.
Sabia nodded cool agreement. I managed to get Alake, who still seemed inclined to want to stay and argue, out of the bedroom and into the hall. Through the closed door, I could hear Sabia begin to sing an elven song called “Lady Dark,” a song sad enough to break the heart.
“Devon will never let her go! He’ll tell our parents!” Alake hissed at me.
“We’ll come back early,” I whispered, “and keep an eye on them. If he starts to leave, we’ll stop him. You can do it with your magic, can’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” Alake’s dark eyes flashed. “Excellent idea, Grundle. I should have thought of it myself. What time should we return?”
“Dinner’s in a signe. [1] He’s staying here in the palace. He’ll be worried when she doesn’t appear, and he’ll come to see what’s wrong. That gives us time.”
“But what if she sends him a message to come earlier?”
“He can’t risk insulting her father by missing a meal.”
I knew quite a bit about elven etiquette, having been forced to endure it during my stay here. Alake had lived here, too, but—typical of humans—she’d always done exactly as she pleased. To give Alake her due, she probably would have starved to death before getting through one of the elven dinners, which could sometimes stretch into cycles, with several hours between courses. I figured that Eliason would have small appetite for his meal this day, however.
Alake and I separated, each returning to our own quarters. I bustled about, making up a small bundle of clothing, whisker brush, and other necessities, just as if I were packing to go visit Phondra on a holiday. The excitement and daring of our scheme kept me from thinking through to what must be its dreadful conclusion. It was only when it came time to write a farewell letter to my parents that my heart began to fail me.
Of course, my parents wouldn’t be able to read what I had written, but I planned to enclose a note to the elven king, asking him to read it to them. I tore up many sheets before I was able to say what I wanted, and then left it so covered with tears I’m not sure anyone could decipher it. I hope and pray it brought some comfort to my parents.
When I was finished, I stuffed the letter in my father’s beard-trimming kit, where he would find it in the morning and not before. I lingered, then, in my parent’s guest quarters, looking lovingly at each little thing belonging to them and wishing with all my heart that I could see them one last time. But I knew quite well that I could never deceive my mother and so I left hastily, while they were still at dinner, and returned to the part of the palace where Sabia lived.
Finding a quiet niche, needing to be alone, I settled myself in it and asked the One for strength and guidance and help. I was greatly comforted and a peaceful feeling came over me, giving me to know that I was doing the right thing.
The One meant us to overhear that conversation. The One will not forsake us. These dragon-snakes may be evil, but the One is good. The One will guard us and keep us. No matter how powerful these creatures are, they are not more powerful than the One who, so we believe, made this world and all in it.
I was feeling much better, and was just beginning to wonder what had happened to Alake when I saw Devon dash past me, heading for Sabia’s rooms. I crept out of my niche, hoping to see which antechamber he entered (for, of course, he wouldn’t be allowed into Sabia’s bedroom), and I bumped into Alake.