“We have to do something about Findas,” said Elrion. “You know, it’s odd that we have had kings and emperors for so long when there used to only be the parliaments, the senates in the ancient world, you know? We should have something like that again. And there should be term limits.”
“Limits?” she said.
“Yes, you only serve on the parliament for a time, maybe fifteen years, and then someone else must.”
“But it is the envivtains who serve in the parliament,” she said. “Who else would do it?”
“We’d have elections,” he said. “Just as the ancients did.”
She had not heard of such things.
“Whatever it is we do, we must get rid of him. Even if someone simply managed to hide somewhere and shoot off his head—”
“You are speaking of assassinating the High King?”
“He is destroying this country,” said Elrion. “Now, I’m not saying I entirely hold with this, but what he doesn’t understand is that the orcs are willing to do jobs that elves won’t do. And that orcs are bigger and stronger than us, well suited to dangerous tasks. If we drive them all back across that pass, will our country really be better off?”
“Obviously not,” she said. “Obviously, I have never liked it.”
“Yes,” said Flaihir, “but there are many who do think that orcs should be driven away. Especially here in the Silvarenna. It is quite the popular opinion. Orcs should not have opportunities better offered to elves, that is what they say.”
“I have heard it, of course,” said Elrion.
She had some idea of him at that point, some romantic idea of him as a fearless revolutionary, ready to fight and topple Findas and his followers. She was a bit starry-eyed, she supposed.
“It’s such a lovely afternoon,” said Flaihir, right on cue. “We should go on a walk together, perhaps.”
“How about a ride?” said Elrion. “You’ve brought your horses, have you not?”
“A marvelous idea,” said Flaihir.
But it was not a marvelous idea, because how was she to hurt her ankle on a horse. She attempted it on the way out to the stables, but she did a terrible job of it.
Elrion knelt down and examined her ankle. “You’re fine, I think. Let me help you to your feet,” he said.
She and Flaihir exchanged a glance.
Flaihir shook her head, indicating they must give up on the entire scheme.
Aerhril was disappointed, but she did not think she could hurt her ankle again, after all, so she nodded.
They stepped inside the stable.
There was a frantic neigh, a dark shadow rising in front of her, a flash of pain, and then—
Nothing.
22
“YOU DIDWHAT?” Dathor was in the sitting room at Foxglove Peak and he likely should not have been. “You left her there after she had been kicked in the head by a horse?”
“Well, it didn’t seem wise to move her,” said Flaihir, who looked pale and panicked. “He has sent for a doctor. She will be well cared for, I think, and I certainly could not drape her over a horse and bring her back here.”
“I will go and carry her,” said Dathor. “I can bear her without any trouble, I am sure of it.”
“You most certainly will not,” said the steward. “We are not sending an orc to collect the future stewardess.”
“Well, who else can you send to collect her?” said Dathor.
