Chương 8: Learning Human Emotions

The pointy-eared men scrambled toward the one on the floor.

"Lord Torven, are you all right?" Torven raised a hand, palm out. He pressed his other hand to his knee and pushed himself upright, straightening his coat with two sharp tugs, as if dignity were something that could be smoothed out like fabric. He raised his hand again, this time at chest height, fingers open. One of the pointy ears stepped forward with a pouch. Similar to the one Zebron had received earlier, except bigger. He placed it in Torven's palm.

Torven weighed it once, twice, tossing it a short distance into the air and catching it without looking.

"Accept this and don't get involved. This is an elven matter." Zebron clicked his tongue — and charged. He punched Torven again. The other pointy ears closed in around him from three directions, throwing fists. Zebron kept his focus on Torven, landing blow after blow like a mad dog… like a mad zebra. Behind him, Norman also joined. The pointy ears ignored him. The humans in the guild hall cheered. Someone raised a mug. Someone else raised two. Should I join them? I took small steps forward.

When I reached the back of the nearest pointy ear, I slammed my fists into his back. I was hoping he would also ignore me like Norman. He did not ignore me. He turned with a scary expression and kicked me directly back to Aria. I sat up, put the rock back on my head, and surveyed the room. The humans around us were still cheering. I looked at Aria since my contribution was done. She had done nothing this entire time except stand very still with both hands pressed over her mouth.

I found this unfair and decided that cheering like the other humans was also a valid form of participation. One of the pointy ears came skidding across the floor and landed in front of me. He pushed himself up, spat, and muttered, "Fucking beastkin." His hand went to his side and pulled a sword free. Hands shot out from the crowd behind me: grabbing his mouth, his arms, his legs, all at once, hauling him backward. Then came the sound of fists landing, one after another, fast enough to blur together.

"No weapons in a brawl, dumbass!"

"Are you even a man?!"

"Get a grip and fight fair!" The pointy ear was shoved back in front of me a moment later, twitching faintly on the floor. He didn't stand up again. I fought the urge to look back. Humans were scary. The fight was going well, by which I meant everyone involved looked equally battered, except Norman. I wondered when someone would notice him. The fight went on for a while. Fists connected, mugs were raised and occasionally thrown, and at some point a chair became involved in a manner it had not consented to.

Eventually, breathing hard, blood at the corner of his mouth, Torven leaned against the wall to keep himself upright.

"Aria is the Princess of the elven kingdom. She has a responsibility to fulfill. Just accept the money."

"I refuse." Zebron spat blood onto the floorboards.

"You refuse? On what grounds? You aren't even related to her." Zebron straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Then what if I marry her?" Torven blinked, then laughed.

"Are you out of your mind? An elf and a beastkin? No sane priest would dare officiate that." The crowd laughed too. But it was a different kind of laugh. Warmer. Some of them whistled. A few clapped.

"Finally! Finally you said it, you absolute bastard!"

"Don't you dare forget to buy us all a round!"

"When's the honeymoon?!" Torven looked around the room. His eyes widened.

"What are you — what is wrong with you stupid humans?! This is not — it isn't possible!"

"Shut your mouth, elf. You're in human territory now." A tall man sitting in the corner set his mug down with care and looked into Torven's eyes without blinking. Torven flinched the way I imagined a beetle might flinch if it discovered the thing chasing it was larger than expected.

"Yikes," a human near me whispered to no one in particular.

"He just pissed off Bartt." Bartt turned his head toward the man beside him. Someone in a black robe with a plain wooden cross hanging from his neck.

"Marry them, drunkard priest. You're not sane so you're qualified." The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Give me a moment, asshole. I'm still drinking." The man in black raised his mug and drained it in one long pull, then set it down with a satisfied phwa.

"Also, you're one to talk. You're as drunk as I am." He picked up a thick, worn book from the table beside him and stood. He swayed like a tree deciding whether the wind was worth responding to. He crossed to Zebron, still swaying, and squinted at him.

"Hey, kiddo. Do you accept this gal as your wife?"

"I do," Zebron said, without a single second of hesitation. Aria's face went the color of fire. The priest turned toward her, book still tucked under one arm.

"And you, gal?"

"Drop this ridiculous farce! You stupid hu—" Torven never finished the word. Bartt was suddenly in front of him. I did not see him move. I was becoming aware that several humans in this world had a particular skill that involved simply no longer being where they had been a moment ago. I resented not having it, given how often I needed to run from things. He slammed a hand flat against the wall beside Torven's head. Hard enough that dust drifted down from the beam above.

He tilted Torven's chin up with two fingers, forcing eye contact.

"You've got a nice face. That's an elf for ya."

"I'm adding the wall repair to your tab, Bartt." Behind the counter, Eris smiled without looking up from whatever she was writing.

"Fuck." Bartt released Torven and returned to his table.

"Right, well." The priest scratched the back of his head, glancing between the wall, Bartt, and Torven. Then back to Aria.

"That was a bit of a detour. Where was I? Ah — do you—" He didn't get to finish.

"Yes," Aria answered immediately. Then tears welled up in her eyes. I wondered if she was hurt somewhere, but she was smiling, which contradicted that theory. I filed it as another item on the growing list of things about humans that made no sense. She said it again, louder.

"Yes!" She crossed the space between her and Zebron. He averted his gaze and scratched his cheek. Aria kissed him. His eyes widened. The human brain watched with excitement, yelling Yes! for reasons I didn't share. I found it baffling. Everyone else seemed certain this was correct. I filed my own confusion as a minority opinion and looked around instead. Someone was already banging two mugs together like bells.

"Don't forget you owe me a drink," the priest said, grinning, before wandering back to his seat and picking up where he'd left off with his own mug.

"Congratulations." Norman appeared beside them.

"Thanks, man. And stop popping up like a mushroom." Zebron grabbed Aria's hand.

"This is messed up. You humans have strange customs." Torven gritted his teeth.

"It is indeed messed up." The priest put his empty mug back on the table and picked another one.

"But they love each other, so why care, kiddo? They can always have a proper wedding later." He raised his new mug, then put it down.

"Wait — elves have a longer lifespan." He started flicking up one finger at a time with his free hand, counting.

"Should I call you gramps instead?" The room filled with laughter.

"Fine!" Torven's voice cut through it, sharp enough to make several people stop mid-cheer. He pointed at Zebron.

"Then you're coming with us as well. Try your luck with the queen and see if your head remains on your shoulders." He grinned.

"Or are you afraid?"

"Why should he—" Norman started. Zebron raised a hand in front of him before he could finish.

"It's fine, Norman. I should at least show my face to her parents." He turned to Aria.

"And also to give you a proper wedding." Aria nodded. She smiled.

"Yes!" Somehow, I realized Aria's entire vocabulary had ended up being just "yes." Zebron and Aria moved toward the pointy ears. I followed. Norman followed. Torven's glare landed on me.

"Why are you humans still trailing after us? The elven kingdom does not permit humans within its borders. The last time we allowed one, the holy tree nearly withered from your race's stupidity alone." I opened my mouth to point out that I was not entirely certain what I was, but the moment passed before I could decide whether it was worth the effort. Zebron turned.

"We'll be fine, Norman." He stepped close, raised his fist. Norman looked at it for a long moment.

"Is this goodbye?" Zebron grinned.

"I'll make you their godfather. The whole dozen of them."

"We're not having more than three, okay?!" Aria pouted beside them. Norman made a small smile and raised his own fist, bumping it against Zebron's.

"Sure." Zebron turned to me next.

"Sorry this is sudden. I wanted to teach you more about adventuring, but this is where I have to go." I didn't understand what he meant by that, so I simply looked at him. Then Aria ran to me and wrapped both arms around me. Something warm and wet landed on my back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She pulled away, wiped at her face with the back of her wrist. She smiled, then walked backward toward the pointy ears with Zebron, waving at me the entire way. They went out through the door with Torven's group. I watched it swing shut behind them, the hinges groaning. I turned to where I remembered Norman had been. There he was, gritting his teeth. I wondered why. He was smiling earlier. Then he disappeared as well. The door kept on swaying. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I could hear my own heartbeat for some reason. Then, without deciding to, my legs started moving toward the door. They managed three steps before I stopped them. I stood in the middle of the guild hall, which was still loud, still warm, still full of large unpredictable things. The group has dispersed. Find new territory. This is normal… So why does it hurt? Salamanders did not, as a rule, feel the departure of other salamanders. You shared a log, or you didn't.

You occupied adjacent rocks, or you found other rocks. The group was not a thing you belonged to. It was just a temporary arrangement of creatures who happened to be in the same place, and when the arrangement ended, you moved on. This felt different. It felt like the rock not being damp enough — except this time, there was no rock I could adjust to fix it. I stood very still and let the noise of the guild hall wash over me. And somewhere underneath all of it, I discovered something.

That belonging to things, and then losing them, hurt in a way that had nothing to do with injuries. The human brain stirred, working up to say something. The voice got there first. [Give her space. She'll need to find the word for it herself.] I didn't ask what word it meant. I adjusted the rock on my head, squared my shoulders, and turned to face the guild's quest board instead. I stared at it for a long time.