“For you,” Varen repeated, smirking. “I expect having a horse for the trip back will be necessary, don’t you? I can take any horse from Castle Aefraya’s stables, but King Zorvut only lived there a short time, so I doubt they’ve got much in the way of orc-sized horses available. Come take a look at both of them and pick out which you’d prefer.”
Varen started to turn to go, but Korik’s mind was swimming. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “These elves—they won’t—that is, I won’t—I won’t be a problem to them?”
Varen paused, though he didn’t look surprised at the question. “I don’t expect it will be a problem. You may be the first orc to take shelter in their home or their barn, but you’ll be with us. Withme. And as a commander, I do hold a bit of sway, believe it or not.”
In truth, Korik had little insight as to the chain of command within the elven army, so whether or not Varen’s position as a commander was particularly remarkable was entirely unknown to him.
“How much sway?” Korik asked, frowning, and Varen let out a bark of laugh.
“Gods,” he chuckled. “Enough, I can tell you that. I have a little piece of paper signed by Prince Taegan saying I’m away from my post with his permission, which probably has more sway than any title I could swing around. But it will befine, healer. I’m more concerned that they won’t have room, but if some of us have to sleep in a barn… Well, it won’t be the first hayloft I’ve spent the night in. You won’t be alone, is what I’m saying.”
Korik nodded silently, only somewhat convinced.
“What did you call Alwyn? High Sorcerer? Does he have a higher rank than you?” he asked, and Varen snorted with laughter again.
“High Sorcerer, yes; but no, he does not outrank me. Technically, he’s not part of the militia, though there’s some overlap between combat sorcerers and—you know, this is entirely off topic. Will you please just come with me to look at these horses, and I can tell you more about the intricacies of elven military rank later tonight?”
They had been traveling together long enough now that Korik could tell that the exasperation in his voice was mostly fake, exaggerated to be humorous. He did not really think Varen was funny; but the elf had a grin playing at his lips that suggested he was quite amused at his own sense of humor, so Korik forced a small, amused smile in return.
“Yes,” he said, then gestured for Varen to continue. “Show me to these horses. I’m following you.”
Chapter Nine
Varen
Theyarrivedattheestate an hour past nightfall, just as he had predicted.
The guard standing at the gate of the Trisfiel estate greeted them as they approached, though her eyes lingered on Korik at the rear of the group.
“Commander Varen Petkas,” he said, identifying himself. “Is Lady Trisfiel available? I have a group of refugees and would ask for shelter tonight as we guide them back to Castle Aefraya.”
The guard straightened, looking back at the group with alarm. “Yes, of course, Commander. Please come with me. I’ll take you to Lady Trisfiel.”
“Perfect,” Varen said, then turned to Enriel behind him. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”
She nodded, and Varen followed the guard, who led him through the gate and into the courtyard. They hurried along a garden path, then up into the manor itself. The foyer led directly into a parlor; the guard knocked at the closed door. After a beat, a voice from within called out, “Enter.”
The guard opened the door to reveal two women sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, each in their own plush-looking armchair. Varen had visited the Trisfiel estate a few times, due to its location near the northern border; it had been many years, but he still recognized both women. The first, a willowy lady with long, curly brown hair that cascaded nearly to her waist, wore a simple, pale purple dress beneath a light pink robe. She had a look of surprise on her face as she turned to the door and spied Varen entering behind the guard.
The other was a more androgynous woman with narrow features and short-cropped black hair, whose eyes flicked between the guard and Varen with a cool expression. If his memory could be trusted, the more severe-looking elf was Lady Trisfiel, and the other was her wife.
“Lady Trisfiel,” the guard intoned, bowing her head to the short-haired woman. “Forgive my intrusion. I present to you Commander Varen Petkas. He brings a small entourage of elves with him and requests your aid.”
The woman stood. She too was wearing a leisure robe, but beneath was a plain, finely made tunic over soft, loose trousers, all in more neutral colors.
“Commander Petkas,” she said, sounding as regal as any lady of Castle Afreya holding court. “I am Indrin Trisfiel, and this is my wife, Nedralie. You are welcome here. Please, tell me what assistance you need.”
Varen gave a low bow at the waist. “Thank you, Lady Trisfiel.” It would be best to play the part and show her every courtesy, stifling the smirk that threatened to overtake him—after all, they were in her parlor, and she was dressed only a step up from a set of pajamas. “I wish I brought more glad tidings, but unfortunately, this has been a challenging week. I have with me seven refugee elves who had been kidnapped by orc rebels, who we encountered on the road. There are ten of us in all.”
“We?” she asked.
“Myself, my sister, and a healer from Drol Kuggradh,” he said. Feeling uncomfortable at how her gaze did not move or even seem to react, after a beat he added, “My sister is with child, and Healer Korik tended to the prince himself, and so came with us as a precaution. I’m accompanying her back to my family home in the south. She was taken by the orcs. When we pursued, we found the other elves at their camp, captured in a similar fashion.”
Lady Trisfiel’s wife, Nedralie, made a soft sound of sympathy from where she remained sitting, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. She closed the book that had been open in her lap and set it down in the chair as she stood up.
“Of course we’ll help,” she said. Lady Trisfiel looked at her with a softer expression, stifling a small smile.
“Of course we will,” she agreed, turning to Varen again. “I’ll have a meal prepared. A group of ten is a bit beyond our capabilities to keep comfortably, but we have two guest rooms you are welcome to use.”
