Venick pulled Traegar’s book from his pocket. He fingered the binding, then held out the volume. “A trade. You’re free to borrow this for as long as I’m in town. Copy whatever you want, take notes. That, in exchange for the salve.”
Venick was fully prepared to explain what this book was and why it was worth borrowing, but Erol’s eyes had gone suddenly wide. He cradled the book between his palms. “How did you come uponthis?”
“You know it?”
“Know it? Hell. Iwroteit. Or,” he gave a smile, “half of it. But Traegar didn’t mention that, did he?”
Venick blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, that would be like him, taking all the credit. And it wouldn’t have been hard for him to—”
“No, I mean, how do you know Traegar?”
Erol’s smile twitched. “I spent some time in the elflands, in my youth.”
“But the border…”
“Did not always exist, as I’m sure you know. There was a time when humans lived among the elves. Our conjurors even helped build their cities.”
“Yes, but…” Venick’s mind was spinning. He stared at this strange man, with his spotless white clothes and neat hair and wrinkled hands. “That was, what? A century ago? You would have to be ancient to have lived…” He realized what he was saying and closed his mouth. “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, enough.” Erol waved a hand. “Iamold. But things didn’t happen as cleanly as the history books would have you believe.” Another smile. “Do they ever? The border took some years to—how should I say?—sink in. Humans and elves still mingled after it was drawn, at least for a time. And Rishi was not always so strict about her laws.”
“You knew Queen Rishiana too?” He didn’t know what made him add, “Ellina’s mother?”
Erol’s smile faltered. “That was all long ago.” He turned away, moving to examine the bottles on a nearby shelf, running his finger along their tops. Venick remembered Ellina once doing something similar to avoid meeting his eye.
He pulled a jar from the shelf. “You can have the salve.” He slid it across the counter. “And you can keep the book. Gods know I don’t need it.”
“You don’t want payment?”
“It would have been a good trade under different circumstances.” Erol shrugged in a way that seemed to avoid the moment. “I’ll consider that payment enough.”
Venick knew better than to press his luck. And anyway, he recognized a cue to leave when he saw one. But… “If you were friends with Traegar, does that mean you were friends with Dourin too?”
“Aye, I knew Dourin.”
“But he’s here.” Venick felt a flutter of excitement. “He’s back at camp. We’ve—well, he’s as infuriating as ever, but if you know Dourin, that should come as no surprise. I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”
Erol hesitated. There was uncertainty in his face, and discomfort, and also…remorse. Venick didn’t understand it. As he waited for the man’s answer, Venick realized that some furtive part of him was hoping thatthismight be enough to cement his place back in the city. Erol—established lowlander, respected healer, former friend of elves—could be the link the alliance needed. He knew that elves could be trusted. He could speak on Venick’s behalf.
“Well?” Venick prompted. “Do you want to see him?”
“No,” the healer finally replied. “I don’t.”
???
Venick found the highland woman sitting on a dry slab of tree bark at the edge of camp. He unstoppered the bottle and handed her the salve. “For your burns.” She took the small glass jar gingerly from his palm, brought it to her nose, and sniffed.
Venick crouched beside her. “I’d like to know your name.” When she gave no reply, he continued. “I want to help get you home, but I can’t do that if I don’t know anything about you. Who are you? What city are you from?”
The highlander’s gaze flicked to him, then away. Nervous, Venick had once thought, except they’d done this enough times now for Venick to notice that her eyes were too narrow to be nervous, her shoulders too rigid.
Not just nervous, he’d decided. Angry. Defiant.
Well, she had every right to be. She’d been imprisoned, beaten, burned. She’d watched her friends die at the hands of his people. And now here was Venick, asking for her secrets.
It wouldn’t be wise for her to share them. This woman wasn’t naive. She was a refugee in a foreign land, weaponless, defenseless. She knew better than to give away information that might put her fellow highlanders at risk. And Venick—despite having saved her life—was by no means a friend. As far as she knew, he was planning on taking her hostage himself. Maybe sending his army north to her homeland, finishing what his people had started.
