“Will you duel him by magic?” the voice asked.
“Perhaps some other time. Now I am at meat. And you grow tedious.”
The voice changed. It deepened and became louder. “GIVE THEM TO US,” it roared. “GIVE THEM OR WE SHALL KICK THIS HILL DOWN ABOUT YOUR EARS.”
Aelric yawned elaborately. “Tedious indeed,” he said. “Now be off with you.” He lifted a hand languidly and gestured.
“GIVE US the mortaaalllls. . . .” The voice lessened and died like a train whistle down a tunnel.
Aelric turned to Wiz and Moira and smiled sweetly. “Uncouth creatures. Now, you were saying?”
“Forgive me, Lord,” Wiz broke in, “but aren’t you afraid he will do something?”
Aelric gave Wiz a look that froze his bones and cleaved his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“Forgive him, Lord,” said Moira quickly. “He is from far away and is unused to our ways. Please forgive him,” she begged. “Please.”
Aelric cocked his head and stared at Wiz. “Far away indeed, Lady. Very well, but teach him manners.” Then his expression softened.
“Know, infant, that this place has stood for aeons and on. It was builded by magic on a foundation of magic and it would take more magic than a mortal could learn in a puny lifetime to touch it or any of mine.”
“Yes, Lord,” said Wiz, very subdued.
The rest of dinner passed off without incident. Aelric was again the gracious host, diverting and ever attentive to his guests’ needs. By the time the last sweets had been removed with nuts in golden bowls and the wine brought forth in crystal flagons, Wiz was almost relaxed.
Almost. He regarded the elf prince in the same light as a friendly lion—magnificent, unsettling and not at all someone you wanted to spend time with.
At last Moira yawned delicately behind her hand and Aelric took that as a sign that the dinner was over.
“I should not keep you,” he said with a charming smile. “You have had a long day already and several—interesting—days before that. May you rest well.”
“Thank you, Lord.” Moira returned the smile. “And thank you again for your hospitality.” She extended her hand and the elf lord raised it to his lips.
“You are more than welcome. Thank you for gracing my table.” He turned to Wiz. “And thank you, Lord. It was a privilege to meet someone from so far away.”
Wiz bowed as best he could.
“You do not know why you were Summoned then?” Aelric said suddenly.
“Beg pardon?” Wiz asked, confused by this turn of the conversation. “Ah, no Lord.”
“Well then,” said Duke Aelric with an odd, cold smile. “It will be interesting to see what becomes of you, Sparrow.”
“Thank you, Lord,” Wiz replied, not sure whether he should be thanking the elf or not.
“Then will we see you again, Lord?” Moira asked.
“I doubt it,” Duke Aelric said. “But it will be interesting nonetheless.” Again the alien smile, like a rather sleepy cat examining a newly discovered plaything.
“Lady, do you suppose he knows something about me?” Wiz asked as soon as they were back in their rooms.
“He knew who we were,” Moira said, yawning and stretching in a way that made her dress swell alarmingly and Wiz’s heart nearly stop.
“I mean do you think he knows why Patrius brought me here?”
“Who knows what an elf knows?”
“Shouldn’t we ask him?”
“Sparrow, if he knew and if he wanted us to know, he would tell us. It might be he was making sport of us. Elves are prone to such tricks. But I do know this. If he did not tell us there is no point in asking him.”
“But . . .”
“But I am going to bed,” Moira said firmly. “You may sit up and attempt to fathom the unfathomable if you wish.”
Wiz watched the door to Moira’s room close after her and then turned toward his room. He dropped his clothes on a chair in the corner and headed groggily for his own bed.
I wonder if he really does know. Or if he’s just playing head games, Wiz thought dreamily as he drifted off to sleep.