“I thought there was just a lord left,” Kidd said.
“Lord Gustus is the only one who comes to town, and he has family in other cities.”
While watching Blaze closely, Kidd lost his good humor for a moment. “Let’s avoid them.”
Blaze wasn’t sure why Kidd was suddenly suggesting they stay away from one of the few Gearwickian families powerful enough to support him. Out of shame, he hadn’t mentioned Lord Gustus turning him away. Meeting Kidd was the only good thing that had come out of that awful morning.
An older elf with long gray hair smiled at Blaze. She nudged her companion, who was closer to Blaze’s age, and the two approached them. Her companion had an expression on his face so sour that Blaze wondered if he was trying to curse someone.
With a well-meaning laugh in her voice, she said to Kidd, “Your friend looks as distressed as my great-grandson!”
Kidd laughed softly and gently squeezed Blaze one more time before releasing him. “He’s a scholar and inventor. Give him an enchanter’s belt and a stocked workshop, and you wouldn’t see him for a month!”
“What kind of scholar?” the great-grandson asked.
“Mystical engineering, including the involvement of cosmomancy in the application of practical mechanics,” Blaze replied.
The great-grandson’s expression soured more.
The older elf patted Blaze’s arm. “He was hoping you’d say something along the lines of epic poetry of the pre-Gearwickian split or some other archaic literature like that. Don’t let him fool you. Vespan is a sweet boy.”
Vespan turned a bright shade of red. “I am too old to be a ‘sweet boy.’”
“Your manners with these two certainly speak to the truth of that.” The elf pinched his cheek. “Try for a smile. It’s a celebration.”
Vespan rolled his eyes. “I’ll smile when you convince Father and Grandmother that I don’t need to get married this season.”
The elf gave him a sharp glare that quickly eased into a noble’s fake amusement, but Blaze caught it. He saw in the corner of his eye that Kidd spotted it, too.
“Seems like we young are always bellyaching about what we don’t want to do,” Kidd said amicably toward the older elf. “Forgive our manners; let me introduce myself and my companion. I’m Kidd Kidderson of Kidd’s Killer Kart Kare, and this is my associate Blaze Levimist, who you will no doubt be telling all your friends you were lucky to meet after the Innovation Awards.”
“I’m Vespan Silvermeadow, and this is my great-grandmother, Lady Narice Greenjaw.” Though Vespan spoke the words, his attention was drifting elsewhere. “Good gods, what a hideous color.”
Blaze peeked over his shoulder. He wasn’t a fan of a shade of green that one of the elves was wearing, but it wasn’t worth commenting on. Or was Vespan noting that odd hue of red? It wasn’t quite purple but not a true red, either. Whatwasthat?
“You do have a point, Mr. Kidderson,” Lady Narice said. She kept her pleasant façade, but the warmth bled from her expression when she eyed Vespan. “When I was your age, time seemed boundless, but even as long lived as we are, what we do with the little we have matters.”
“Agreed,” Kidd said cheerfully. “I always cherish what wisdom I can learn from others, especially those who must have seen many fantastic wonders across our continent, Lady Greenjaw. Would you think me too forward if I asked you to accompany me to the pavilion so we can procure our more sullen companions and ourselves another round of refreshments? After all, enough lubricant can get even the most cantankerous of gears moving in harmony with its fellows.”
“If nothing else, a little more lubricant might predispose us to overlook their churlishness,” Lady Narice replied.
Kidd nodded with a quick laugh. He offered his arm to her, and they headed into the pavilion.
“Your friend is slick,” Vespan muttered. “And I am grateful for that.”
Shit, I have to make small talk.Blaze shoved his hands into the pockets of his borrowed long vest. “I think the only thing Kidd likes more than travel is conversation.”
“I hate it. I’d rather be home.”
“Where is home?” Blaze asked.
“The ancient city of Emberleigh.” Vespan sighed. “I hate that I have to announce it that way here. But I’ve had half a dozen introductions ask whether I meant the nation or the city already. We may be the elves with more of nature’s magic, but I detest spending time outdoors.”
“Is there anything you do like?” Blaze said before he could stop his tongue.
But Vespan didn’t seem to mind his tone. “Our library. I have a little wind magic, and it’s a great help in lifting dust and bugsfrom our collection. You said practical mechanics earlier. Are you gifted with any magic? Or do you have to construct it?”
Blaze’s smile strained. Learning in Dun Steorra had meant having peers who had been casting magic all their lives, and most assumed that anyone from Gearwick was completely untalented. They failed to see that finding the resonance when building a device could be accomplished with experience, but it wasn’t devoid of talent. But saying “I can handle crystals and know whether they’ll sing with other crystals in the right frequency to create a magical artifact capable of, oh, I don’t know, lifting a ship into the air!” wouldn’t convince Vespan that he possessed any magic. Gearwick had been founded because the other elves didn’t appreciate that interaction with objects could hold as much magical potential as consulting the stars or causing plants to grow or the sky to rain.
