Read Online Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) by Klay Testamark - Free Book Online

I ran into the guards posted some distance away. They saluted and asked if I needed anything.
     
    “I’m going for a walk in the woods,” I said. “I feel like some fresh air.”
     
    One of them pointed. “There’s a tree bog over there. Will you need any toilet paper, Your Majesty?”
     
    Capran toilet paper, or at least the royal kind, comes in a small square package. Each quilted sheet was moistened with something that smelled like flowers and glowed in my Sight. Some sort of potion—it left me remarkably clean. The otherworldly wet wipes did their job, then crumbled to sawdust. Very tidy.
     
    I still clapped my hands out of habit, cleaning spells being one of the first things elven children learn. Then I remembered that the disguise ring was using up all my magic. I was closing the door behind me when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
     
    “Yaaugh! Dagonet, you scared the crap out of me! No… you waited till I was finished.”
     
    She looked haggard. Running to keep up with horses can do that.
    “Must’ve been a rough day for you.”
     
    She shrugged. “I was discharging my duty.”
     
    “Need some toilet paper?”
     
    She glared. “Do you know how long I’ve been here? Waiting for you?”
     
    “Long enough to report on troop movements?” I raised my hands. “Okay, I’ll be serious. You need horses and supplies. Steal them.”
     
    She raised an eyebrow. I brought out a purse. “This is enough for a good horse.” I counted out a few local coins. “And this should cover your supplies. Don’t get spotted, but try to pay for what you steal.”
     
    She took the purse. “Not getting spotted is what I do. I never leave any tracks.”
     
    “You must wipe very thoroughly.”
     
     

    The rest of the journey was uneventful. Tamril continued to try and get more intimate—carriage sex was one of her favourites. But telling her I had a headache usually worked. So did pretending to be asleep. What really fixed things (at least for the trip) was when I claimed travel sickness. Any more motion might make me vomit, I said.
     
    “Are you sure you won’t take a potion?” she asked.
     
    “Potion sounds too much like motion. Ugh, I’m nauseous, I’m nauseous, I’m nauseous…”
     
    Probably out of character for Arawn, but not once did anyone suspect. Even though I’d exchanged more than a few words with them.
     
    “What language am I speaking?” I asked Tamril after she’d given up renewing her membership in the Mile Post Club. “What language are you speaking?”
     
    “We’re both speaking Caprish. Are you all right?”
     
    “Fine.” I was speaking Caprish, a language I’d never learned. The disguise ring, of course. Its imprint of Arawn included not only his appearance but also some of his skills. I hadn’t forgotten to speak Elvish, but I had a compulsion to answer in whatever language I was spoken to. “Tell me what you think of this.” I recited a dwarven battle song.
     
    “What is a Worm of Dread?” she asked.
     
    “Hell on gardens, I think. What about this—”I recited a Northland limerick. Heronimo had taught it to me without bothering to translate. He told me it was incredibly filthy, enough to make any human woman blush.
     
    “No idea,” she said.
     
    So. The translation magic only worked with languages you understood.
     
    It was a long journey. I had plenty of time to examine the ring’s intricate enchantment. Since my Sight was a passive ability, it was the one kind of magic I could still use. The disguise didn’t change my appearance. I wasn’t any hairier. It only made people think I looked like the capran king. To do that took a great deal of magic. It even took over parts of my brain in order to broadcast suggestions. It sounded a bit like I am Arawn, I am Arawn, I am Arawn… From time to time even I would forget that I was not him, that I was an elf on a mission of honour. I found myself sitting closer and closer to Tamril.
     
    “I am