Chương 305: 3.6

Alder did not return the first day after they departed Juhvizvah. Nor the second or third. Four days they marched along the southern bank of the Vah's bend to the east and no sign was seen of the elf. And it was not for lack of solitude from traders. Even with the traffic along the river the south banks of the Vah before it left Viznove at Light's End were sparsely traveled. What villages there were mostly stuck to the banks for fishing and perhaps a few small animal holds.

The mountains of the Vault wall rose perilously swiftly to the south. Making the terrain rough and poor for anything but the most adventurous grazing herds. Those that braved the cliffs favored goats over sheep. And most of the southern pastures were not clear enough even for those. The woods were wild and the cliffs, ravines and sudden drops made it perilous to travel too high into the walls of this southernmost extent of the Ridgetail's vault.

It made the land south of the great river sparsely populated compared to the hills north. And as such the trail they took was one rarely touched by traders or caravans. Jewel read that the sunless waters were much more direct routes to reach Light's End from any of the vaults which connected to Juhvizvah and its underway. The lightless rivers and lakes fed by the Vah and other vaults were a preferable and safer route of approach to Viznove from the south for most trade.

Assuming you had a trustworthy cave sloop captain. And if you were arriving at Juhvizvah by a route not easily connected to the port town of Light's End? Then your road after was certainly to take a mule pulled barge north to Kaeketeh or a simple barge downriver to Light's End. It was a curious thing. All of the twisting coiled connections between the vaults of the world beyond meant that the road between two of Jewel's southernmost vassals were in danger of nearly being overgrown.

So there was hardly any traffic to drive off Alder. Their campsites were more often in broken down way stations or simple clearings then villages or inns. Even the few villages they did pass lacked any building sufficient to house Jewel, let alone accommodate her entourage. One of the smaller little collections of fishermen huts and pig sheds had fewer men and beasts than her own party! So it was not for lack of privacy that Alder was avoiding them.

It made Jewel worry that for all the cordiality an insult had somehow been given to the elf. She almost found herself missing the elf. She wished for the distraction. The matter with March Lord Sergej weighed upon her. Hopefully he was to be the youngest of her vassals for many more years. A contingent offering of authority if war should come upon them quicker was still an offering of authority. Yet It was not precisely a poor thing to be prepared.

To have the obligations of Jewel's general upon land sorted beforehand. Hopefully it would never come to pass, Hopefully Kliatbatrn would finish recovering from his illness in full and could take up his position as general on land and commander of her cavalry? Hopefully. Hopefully the war would yet be delayed so Viznove could see its youthful heirs trained and bloodied against less costly trials? Hopefully, maybe, no war need ever come again with Magarska? Hope. Celsus, Bethicas White bull of a husband would say."

Hope is for the heavens, Action and deed is for the earth." Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Jewel found a snort of laughter forcing its way out both her snouts at the memory. How was it that speaking cows could get so wise so fast?! That bull and Bethica were hardly old enough to be considered adults for men. But they and the two daughters they had which could speak each reasoned and riddled circles around their elders among men.

Even the calves were far too wise for their few years. The thought reminded Jewel! Both of them were not much calves at all now, Bethica might see her first speaking granddaughter next year! The memory of Valasect and her friend's family stung briefly. She'd not been away for so long from her demesne in years. Not since the Countess Bathory was executed. She missed the village, her head man, the pair of far too wise cows and their precocious children. All those terribly wise words they always seemed to have.

Jewel suspected it was because they had to spend so long simply chewing and thinking up witful statements. Celsus would probably have a clever way to put that." When you can only speak clearly for two hours in ten, you make every word pay its due?" Paul looked up to her with confusion.

"What was that my wife?" Jewel laughed again.

"Oh, I was just trying to think of what Celsus would say about something." Paul's brows rose and he nodded in understanding. Her husband was not on 'bad' terms with the old cantor bull. But his grasp of the preferred language was shockingly awful. Paul could read and write the script of Old Cantor well enough for a lord and count's duties. But he'd put years of effort to it and still struggled to utter even close to competent verse in the spoken form.

Something Celsus teased her husband in hilariously clever ways over.

"He's a kind bull Paul, can you deny the wordplay has not helped you some?" Her husband in his traditional Viznove colors of deep black with crimson and gold accents huffed heavily. The sweat on his nose gave a particularly bright shine to it. But before he could speak there was a gentle interruption.

"Your Lady and Wife speaks true I think." Alder's voice cut into the conversation clean and sweet with every fae lilt and all the slight and nuanced accent of Rochford. Jewel did not flinch, Muriel had to seize to avoid reaching for her sword. But Paul jolted a bit. The elf was standing on her husband's opposite side, ambling easily with sweeping strides that easily matched the pace of the horses. Jewel leaned a little forward to peer around and get a look at Alder.

"Greetings, Alder, we were growing worried we had maybe offered offense when last we spoke." The elf laughed and shook its head. Joy and carefree delight dancing in the wind around it.

"Not at all, not at all, only sorrowful memories and conviction drew my step away and ahead of you. The speaking of gifts brought me to mind that I would indeed like to offer one to you and yours oh Jewel, Countess of Men. A gift freely offered with no binding between us of course." Well that was something.

"You left for nearly twenty days to make us a gift?" The elf laughed again and shook its head.

"No fair Jewel, who shines with a glimmer of the beauty of now long lost times. I went to prepare and restore a place where my gift could be performed. If it pleases you and yours to accept I will guide you there where we may rest for this night." Jewel looked at the elf, it was not as bad as Fizzbunches but she was starting to see how someone could be intentionally rude with one of these fae creatures. Despite all the warnings the way it simply would appear and disappear at a whim?

She could definitely appreciate how it would get frustrating enough to perhaps push less well held tempers to their doom.

"Just what precisely would this gift be, oh fair Alder?" The elf dipped its head. Then spoke with a soft and rich tone that was legible but for once entirely unlike any word spoken in Rochford." I would sing you and yours a song of this land and of my people, as sung to me by my mothers and fathers. As was sung to them by their's. A proper song, not the simple distractions to sooth the trials of the weary." Jewel stiffened, there were stories. But the warnings were two fold. To insult the fae was certain ruin.

But their gifts were also thick with danger. Not out of malice. But the power of their beauty. Wars had been fought over possession of fae gifts. But a song? Even whatever Alder thought was a proper song? Surely such an ephemeral thing could not be stolen. Could not be fought over. That would be safe right? Jewel spoke.

"We accept your gift, Fair Alder. Lead the way."