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“So are you. So is Aric. So is strong mead, if you drink enough of it.”
You can’t know what will happen.
“No,” Em said, small and strong against grey stone and sharp rain. “But that’s being human. I’ll do what I can.”
One more pebble; that was a ring, a small one. Complete, if pressed into mud and dampness. Aric looked up. Em glanced over and down, and nodded a fraction.
What can you do?
You cannot unbreak what was broken.
You cannot silence us.
“No.” Em knelt, in the mud and the storm. Touched the nearest small pebble, turned it—Aric couldn’t see much of a difference, maybe more mud-flecked, more of an edge—and set a fingertip on it. “But I can give you someplace else to go.”
We will not go! This is our home!
But, for the first time, other voices rose, dissenting, stirring; Aric had the impression of discontent.
“I think,” Em said, “I can send you…somewhere. I don’t know where. I really don’t. It might be my father’s country. But it would be warmer. Different. New. When you’ve been here so long…long before all of us, isn’t that right…and then you were woken from sleep by those guard towers, those disturbances…”
Aric knelt [down] too. Not touching, in case that interfered. Waiting for something he could do; Em would tell him.
“I can try,” Em said. “If you want that.”
Trusting you?
Little elf-child, dangerous child…
Why would you do this?
We are older than your histories.
We hurt your friend.
We hurt humans.
Why would you care for us?
“Because someone should. Because someone saved me, once.”
The murmurs got louder. The cold got less, or maybe Aric was getting used to it. He breathed, “Em…”
“If they say yes, and I think they will, I’ll need you to touch me.” Em held out his other hand, ungloved. “Hold on. Tight.”
Aric promptly did. “Anything you need.”
Can you do this?
Can you do what you promise?
What if you cannot?
“Well,” Em said, “let’s find out.” And pressed his finger, abruptly, into a grey point of stone. Blood welled, staining rock.
Aric cursed under his breath. Tightened his grip on Em’s other hand. Warning would’ve been nice. “You—”
Something happened, then. Not visible, not entirely. A rush, a bending of the world, a wave racing out.
