Read Online Elvenborn by Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton - Free Book Online Page A

field-workers, their dinners long over, slowly came by groups of two and three to join the fun. Festive torches burned brightly at ei¬ther end of each table, and a little band of musicians had set up at the far end and played raucous dancing-tunes that were un¬like anything ever heard at an Elven celebration. Kyrtian rather liked human music, himself, and he knew his mother was amused by it—but to compare human to Elven music would be like comparing a noisy forest stream to an illuminated water-sculpture. They were both made of moving water, but with that all resemblance ended.
    Gel and a dozen others had already finished their dinner and found themselves partners, and were dancing with great enthu¬siasm and abandon, if not skill. From the rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes of the girls, none of the partners were inclined to complain if their toes got trodden on, occasionally. Kyrtian fin¬ished his meal in silence, and settled back in his chair with a glass of wine, watching the swirl and chaos of the ever-increasing crowd of dancers.
    "About your obnoxious cousin—" Lydiell murmured unex¬pectedly, startling him.
    "What about him?" Kyrtian replied, glancing at her. "He
     
    doesn't want to visit again, does he? I thought we'd managed to cure him of that after the last time."
    Lydiell winced. "It almost cured me of wanting to stay here," she said, shuddering. "If I'd had to sit through one more eve¬ning of youJroning in that flat voice—! You'd have made erotic poetry unbearably dull with that voice!"
    Kyrtian grinned. "I thought the monotone went with the sub¬ject matter. You can thank Gel for that, by the way. I had no idea he knew so much about the tactical importance of camp supply and sanitation; by the time he was done filling my head with the information, I could have written a monograph on the subject."
    "Remind me to have him served a nice dish of live scorpi¬ons," she said, with a touch of exasperation. "He might have taken care to recall that I was going to have to endure that eve¬ning too! But, to go back to the subject—no, your cousin Ael-markin has no intention of visiting. Evidently, however, he does want to make up for trying to disinherit you."
    "Oh, really?" Kyrtian felt his eyebrows rising in an imitation of his mother's most sardonic expression. "How fraternal of him. What, exactly, does he want?"
    Lydiell's face gave no hint of her feelings. "He wants you to visit. He's invited you to a—a gathering, of sorts. Lord Marthien and Lord Wyvarna are settling their dispute at his estate."
    Kyrtian was unpleasantly surprised. "Two Great Lords are settling a feud and Aelmarkin wants me there? Whatever for?"
    Lydiell shook her head. "I don't know," she replied, sound¬ing honestly perplexed. "Perhaps he has decided he should change his behavior, in the hope you'll forget his petition. Or forgive it, at least."
    Kyrtian made a sour face. "Perhaps he just wants to show the Great Lords that I'm as crazed as my father. After all, I have the same obsession with the past that father did. He's probably hoping I'll start droning about Evelon history, or asking if any of them have ancient books in their libraries that I could have copied."
    "Darthenian wasn't crazed," Lydiell said softly. "And neither are you. It isn't madness to be concerned about the past—it's madness to try and pretend it never happened. Look at the situ-
     
    ation the Great Lords have created—at war with their own sons! If they had remembered the past, and the feuds that sent us fleeing Evelon in the first place, they might have avoided this tragedy."
    "I sometimes wonder if it isn't a little mad to pursue the past so relentlessly," Kyrtian replied, his mood suddenly shadowed. "Why else would father have disappeared?"
    Lydiell's cheeks flushed delicately with anger, but she did not give rein to it. "Why else?" she asked, and answered the question herself, forcefully. "A combination of dedication and bad luck—or, perhaps, the