Page 45 of Elvenbred

What? He had been there for more than an entire day! My wife has certainly reported me missing. I’ve missed reports to the king. I’ve missed meals. I never miss meals. I’ve probably been declared a criminal by this point. Someone has certainly interrogated the girl in my absence. And the physician is gone, and that will be noticed too, probably by that too-sharp translator. If I set one foot outside this door, I’ll be arrested by my own guards …. I might as well find out the worst.

He looked at the candle, and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the fatigue and think clearly. Had he been gone that long the candle would surely have burned down, yet it had hardly changed. No one else had access to the lab due to the spell-locks, so no one had replaced it. It had to be the same candle.

He went to the water clock and looked at the reservoir. No noticeable change. He checked the time, looking at the water levels in the different glass tubes that showed the marks of the day and night. It showed a time that was almost the third mark of the morning. But it took him a moment to register that the date was … wait. Today? I mean, the same as when I opened the Gate?

I left at three-quarters past the first mark ….

A peculiar stillness came over him, and he turned slowly to look at the wine bottle. The wine bottle that he had knocked over just before opening the Gate. A drop trembled on its lip, then fell into the puddle on the floor. This is impossible. I spent hours there. Past two mealtimes at the very least. At least a half-day gone!

But the evidence was irrefutable. He had gone and returned and the time spent seemed to be about as long as it took to eat a leisurely meal.

The panic ebbed completely, and exhaustion came over him like a weighted blanket. I’m … safe. I’m safe. That was all he could think. His brain was too fogged with fatigue to think any further.

The mage-lights started to flicker and illuminate as the ambient magic returned. He made certain the Gate had fully powered down, and replaced the barrier that kept it from being easily seen from the door. The Probe had gone back to its squatting position. He looked at the wine bottle. I’ll get that in the morning. All that mattered right now was that he was safe. Time for bed.

He was so tired he barely remembered the walk back to his living quarters. In fact, he blanked out a couple of times, and only really revived when he felt his hand on the door handle. A few moments later, he crossed from his tiring room to his sleeping-chambers. He now felt grateful that the arguments and tension with Andaleisia had caused her to move into her own chambers on the other side of their sitting room. No need to explain a midnight excursion.

Right now, his vision literally narrowed to his bed. He managed to get across the room and into it—but just barely. He didn’t so much “fall asleep” as “fall unconscious” as soon as he was in it.

He whistled tunelessly as he drank his morning tea, taking a lord’s privilege of having his meal brought to him. The deep sleep had left him refreshed, and he’d sent the early servant away to go back to sleep. He’d been pushing hard these last few weeks, and the late sleep left him feeling better than he had in weeks. He looked over at the pot and lifted the lid … something fragrant and not grown by his wife. He hummed a bit, then poured out the tea. He normally limited himself to one, so having a second cup felt a bit like an indulgence. A celebration. A victory! He would have to dance a complicated dance with the king today—and he still had not sorted through the implications of everything he’d learned last night—

The tea-set had been his mother’s, an ancient thing with two cups shaped like flying serpents. One cup held the dregs of his first portion, now bitter and cold. He poured from the pot into the clean second cup, and froze. He looked at the teapot, and then the cup. He felt the slow smile spread across his face. He’d solved his time problem!

He wasn’t certain how long he had been in the cave in Triana’s world, but it had certainly been hours. He could go into his lab, lock himself in, pass through the Gate, and work for hours … possibly days … resting as he needed to, and returning in time to sleep and keep his regular schedule. Even if it only doubled his time, it would double his speed. He started working through what he would need. Tools for the experiments. Light to see by. A cot to sleep on. Rations. The spider legs … big spiders … so a way to make a little fort to sleep in.

He hummed some more. Things felt as though they were starting to fall into place. The physician had been sorted out, so knowledge about Triana would be contained just himself, the king, and whomever the king had told. The rations would keep her silent for now, and the gold and transfer to a different city would make her wealthy and sated. He rather doubted she was the sort to take his rations and then tell, so for now, he should be in the clear. Perhaps some messy details remained, but the hard part lay behind him. The ability to work in the Cave required additional thought, but gave him a way out to take the time he needed to figure out the solution. And he thought in high good humor if I need to bolt, I just go through.

He took his time dressing, selecting his robes carefully, taking more care than he usually did about his appearance. He’d been pushing hard, so a light day seemed a fair reward. Go down to his office, go through his correspondence, perhaps use the Farspeaker to chat with … well, he didn’t really have any friends … but he did have colleagues. He’d chat with a few of them.

He rang the bell for the chambermaids, and slid his half-boots on. They came quickly, aware that he expected no more than a few heartbeats to pass between bell-pull and eager, scrubbed faces. He glanced at the two of them, amused as always at Andaleisia’s priorities. His chambermaids always fell on the “crone” end of the beauty standard, as it was the wife’s privilege to hire the staff. He’d never been the sort to tumble the staff, but his ladywife was taking no chances.

He turned his mind to the practical problems of working in the Cave. I need to figure out exactly how much time passes there, compared to here. He might have to spend a lot more time there than he had thought. No telling what that was going to do to him. An even more chilling thought. Passing time was passing time. He was going to age at the same relative rate in both places. True, elves lived an incredibly long time … but they were not immortal. If he started to age visibly, people were going to talk.

Not to mention … how was he going to get the extra food to carry with him? The New High Lord Provisioner tracked every morsel now, so going down and simply drawing out unexplained ration bricks would cause questions, even if he was the lord of the estate. Should he buy it on the black market? He vaguely knew such a thing existed, but had no idea how to find it, nor how one went about making purchases that way.

He descended the stairs to the main floor of the hall … and heard the unexpected chatter. Staff members typically confined their conversations to belowstairs. Something had happened.

He let the slip in the servants’ protocol pass. For now. “What news?” he said to the nearest, a guard in his off-duty tunic.

The elf looked at him, did a double take and snapped to a stiff brace. “One of the Jeweled cities … Citrine, I think. Lost almost all of its arable land, m’lor. Word is an attack of some kind.”

Haldeen furrowed his brow. Citrine was far from the city here, far enough for news to pass slowly. Rumor?

“How did you hear?” he said.

“It’s all over the city m’lor. I heard from the guards on the wall. They’re on double watch. Rumors there was maybe an attack there. Some kind of weakening of the Wall. A new Predator thing, they’re saying? Mebbee digging under the Wall to bring it down?”

Haldeen puffed out his cheeks, his warm and happy feelings melting away like ice in the sun. Perhaps he was going to have even less time than he thought. “We’re built on bedrock here. Nothing they can dig under. As for the rest, you shouldn’t listen to street gossip.”

The guard bobbed his head. Haldeen made a “go-away” gesture with his fingers and the guard fled. He crossed to his courtyard office, deep in thought, and only distantly aware of the talk and chatter around him. Citrine wasn’t one of the outlying places, the ones far from the Gate networks and built on soft rock. Citrine held pride of place as one of the oldest and largest, built on bedrock, and while its farms were … or had been … relatively exposed, it certainly had the wealth and power to protect them.

Don’t borrow trouble. He admonished himself. So far, it’s just a rumor.

He entered his office, and went to his desk. He opened it to get a pen and fresh nib, and heard the Farspeaker’s chime. He closed the desk drawer and went into the secret room.

He had barely seated himself in front of it when the Farspeaker came to life. “Pelias! What news?”

The Lord High Provisioner looked tired, even in the shimmering and unsteady image of the Farspeaker. “Citrine. You heard?”