A wave of heat hit her face, along with light and color.It was a cheery place, with all kinds of shelves and crockery in bright colors.There was an open hearth, plus two small ovens set in a brick wall.Dried herbs hung from the rafters and there were baskets of tubers and onions and bread stored all about.Sausages were strung in the chimney, curing in the smoke.
Beside the fire, in a large, padded chair, sat the Chosen, with a fluffy sheepskin, thick and warm, over her legs and pillows stuffed around her to cushion her ancient bones.She was smiling in her sleep.
“Here,” Latarie gestured to a stool by the kitchen table.“Aster, this child needs fed.”
“We’ve toasted bread and cheese and cold chicken,” One of the care-taking women bustled over, smiling.“The kavage is hot, if a bit strong.I’ll add some milk, if you like, else you won’t sleep a wink.”
“Yes, thank you,” Halithe said as she sat.
“Food, then a bath and bed,” Latarie said as she settled opposite Halithe.
A plate was placed before her.Halithe again offered thanks before diving in.The first bite of toast was wonderful.Warm and buttery, with sharp yellow cheese melted on top.She closed her eyes in appreciation.
“Better than trail rations, yes?”Latarie smiled, cradling a mug of kavage.Halithe nodded and kept eating.
The other women continued with their work as Halithe ate in warm, comfortable silence.The Chosen stirred slightly in her chair, then settled again.Aster refilled Halithe’s mug of kavage-and-milk.She nodded her thanks, her mouth too full to speak.
As she ate, Halithe couldn’t help but shoot glances at the Chosen.There were so many old stories of elves and the Elven Kingdom of Valltera.The ears, sure, but there was something else in the lines of her face.
Latarie caught her staring.Halithe flushed and looked away, cramming more bread in her mouth.
“It’s fine,” Latarie said softly.“The Chosen is special, not just because of her dagger-star birthmark.She is one of the last of the elves.I doubt you will ever see another.”
The door opened then, and the big vore came in, with a man in tow.The vore sat by the hearth, then looked at Latarie.
“The Packmoot is gathering,” Latarie put her mug down and rose.“I must go.Aster will see you to your chamber.”She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Halithe expected the vore to follow, but it sat, staring at her.
“A word,” the interpreter spoke.
Halithe froze, staring at the vore.
“I am known as Fog,” the vore said.“I am the leader of the Packmoot, the guardians of Athelbryght.”An ear flickered.“I do not know what the mage has told you of us.I suspect nothing good.”
Halithe shifted on her stool.
Fog cocked his head.“We have come to understand that magic is a tool, as are my fangs, or a sword or a hammer.They can be used for good and ill, although in our lives we have seen more ill than good come of magic.The Mage Wars, as one example.”
“The Mage Wars were hundreds of years ago,” Halithe blurted out.
Fog nodded.“Yes,” he said, as if it was of no importance.“We have also learned that those that have the ability to use a tool rarely forsake it.Be it fang, sword, hammer,” Fog’s ruff swelled, “or magic.”
“I don’t understand,” Halithe pushed a bit of bread around on her plate.
“We offer a choice,” the vore said.“If you would wish it, you would be welcome within Athelbryght.A choice to leave your apprenticeship and find another path.Here, with us.”
Halithe jerked upright, clutching at her bracelet.
The vore shook his head in a very human gesture.“No.”He was emphatic.“We would not force a choice on you.We have learned that lesson well.We but offer…” the vore tilted his head.“We offer the freedom of true choice.”His ears perked toward the door.“The Packmoot gathers, and I must go.Sleep well, yearling.And in the morning, choose wisely.”
With that, the vore was gone, his interpreter following.
Halithe sat in the warm silence, staring at her plate.
“Chosen, you can’t sleep in that chair all night,” Aster scolded.“Let’s get you to bed.”She looked over at Halithe and smiled.“I’ll see to her, and then we will get you settled.Finish your meal, and there’s more kavage in the pot.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Halithe watched as the Chosen roused and yawned and rose from her chair, trailing her blanket behind her.Aster was already holding the door for her.
