Читать книгу Stolen Magic - Esri Rose - Страница 10

We went to the Trident for coffee. When it was my turn to order, I stepped aside and said, “Actually, I don’t want anything.”

“Eating disorder?” Mark asked.

“Stop trying to find things that are wrong with me! I’m perfectly normal.” I started to laugh. “Oh, that was funny.”

Mark paid for his drink. “No artist is normal.”

“I’m not an artist.”

“Sure you are. Your photography shows a lot of promise, you keep a journal, and you write poetry. What part of artist do you not understand?”

“The part where I’m good at any of them.”

He pointed his finger at me. “Low self-esteem.”

“Okay, you got me on that one, although I prefer to think of low self-esteem as just another term for modesty.”

Mark grated nutmeg onto his cappuccino at the condiment bar. “Did I mention that modesty is one of my many outstanding traits?”

I followed him to a table and sat. “Maybe not everyone is comfortable being as happy as you are. Have you ever thought of that?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I can honestly say that I haven’t. Why did you take a picture of those tree roots in the creek?”

“Because of the paradox. Trees want water, but the water is washing that tree away. It’s like a battle that can never be won.”

He leaned back, cupping both hands around his coffee cup. “And you don’t think you’re an artist.”

He smiled so sweetly at me, I wanted to touch him. Instead, I turned away and fiddled with the strap of my bag as it hung over my chair. “Besides pictures of Boulder, what else do you photograph? Wildlife?”

“God, no. Those guys are out in all weather, getting bighorn-sheep crap on their Patagonia jackets and picking up fleas from the prairie dogs. I’m a people person, so I do a lot of portraits.”

“Do you have any you can show me?”

He reached toward his camera bag, then stopped. “I would, but I cleared the card last night. Wait—I do have something.” He put a hand in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “This isn’t very big, but it’s one of my favorites.”

I took the dog-eared photo he handed me. It showed a lovely brunette, elbows propped on the floor and face cradled in her hands. Her dramatic brows arched slightly and one corner of her wide mouth curved up. “She looks—” It had to be said. “She looks kind of elfin.”

He nodded, smiling. “And she didn’t believe she was beautiful—can you believe it? That’s Faith. She’s the reason I came to Colorado.”

Of course she was. The picture didn’t show the woman’s ears, of course, but I would bet good money this was the source of Mark’s glamour traces. Actually, she looked a little familiar. “I think I’ve seen her around. Has she ever come to class?”

“No.”

We were interrupted by a blond bear of a man, who clapped Mark on the shoulder. “Mark! How’s it going, man?”

Mark made the introductions. “Adlia, this is Butch, whose only job appears to be beating me at pool. Butch, this is Adlia—one of my more promising photography students and a specialist in humorous gloom.” He winked at me.

Butch engulfed my hand with his and grinned. “Right on.”

“I’m not that gloomy,” I said.

“Why shouldn’t you be?” Butch’s grin was wide enough to show his molars. “The world’s going to hell, but we can have a good time on the way.” He turned to Mark. “Eight-ball tournament this Saturday night at ’Round Midnight. I’m spreading the word.”

“I’ll see if I can make it,” Mark said.

“You’d better.” Butch gave me a wave and left.

I pushed back my chair. “I should go. You know how it is—things to negate, people to depress.”

He looked sheepish. “I’m sorry I said that. Sometimes I try too hard to be funny.”

“Can I claim you were wrong? I don’t think so. Anyway, I have to go.” In truth, I was feeling pretty exhausted, and needed to get to my land.

“Okay. Listen, would you like to go to the pool tournament?”

“Um, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“All right. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

I went out the back, into the alley that ran between Pearl and Walnut. Two businesses down, I passed a Dumpster. Chunks of broken asphalt jutted from under one of the legs, where it had been set down repeatedly. A dandelion grew in the exposed patch of dirt. I put my foot down as if to crush it and instead disappeared with a shimmer that would have made George Lucas moan with envy.

I gave the metaphysical equivalent of a relieved sigh as I dissolved into the ground and focused on my destination. The molecules of my messenger bag dragged on me slightly, but everything I carried had originally come from the earth. It followed me like fog as I flowed through dirt and tree roots, dodging pipes, wires, and the occasional underground stream.

The sensation of living things—earthworms, fungus, bacteria—felt like an electric hum, with the occasional racketing buzz of larger animals, like the raccoons that ruled the storm sewers. You learned not to mess with raccoons. I was just glad they hadn’t figured out how to buy guns.

Was Faith Mark’s girlfriend? She’s the reason I came to Colorado. On the other hand, he’d also said, I like the color of your hair. Not her hair, mine. And he’d invited me to the pool tournament, whatever that was. I felt up on human culture most of the time, but less than a year of intensive study meant there were gaps in my knowledge.

Maybe Mark had asked only to be polite. Of course, it was unnecessary for me to feel all this uncertainty. Kutara would point out that elves could learn anything they wanted about a human, at any time. The only things that kept me from doing it were good manners and terror. Never eavesdrop. You might hear something about yourself.

I reached home and felt myself relax. Kutara was always telling me not to take my land for granted, but it was sort of like humans and their skin. They wouldn’t want to be without it, but they also didn’t run around yelling, “My skin, my skin! I’m so grateful for my skin!”

I let myself disperse fully, expanding out between the roots of the tall pines, taking time to tweak the course of an underground stream that might destabilize a slope, and buzzing a mountain-pine beetle with negative energy that sent it flying elsewhere. Of course I loved my land. It was the one thing that had always been there for me.

When I walked into Elf Ops that evening, I was surprised to see Fia still there, being examined by Galan’s human mate, Erin. Kutara solved most problems so quickly, I had assumed Fia would be fixed and home by now. I went to my desk, where the newly delivered Quicken program sat with awful precision in the exact center.

Kutara lounged in the chair across from me, watching Erin and stroking her jaw in a way that would look thoughtful to the outside observer but actually signaled unease. When Kutara was truly relaxed, she moved about as much as an Easter Island statue.

Across the room, Galan and Lenny also watched as Erin stood behind Fia with her eyes closed and her hands lightly cradling Fia’s temples.

Erin had short auburn hair and was almost as tall as an elf—certainly taller than me. She was usually so energetic and outspoken, her silent examination of Fia made the situation seem even more serious.

I spoke quietly to Kutara. “No luck finding out what’s wrong with Fia?”

Kutara kept her eyes on Erin as she spoke, forefinger tracing her chin over and over. “We got an e-mail today from someone who’s around eight hundred years old. He remembered an elf losing his memory. The affected elf wandered off and was found dead. They never found out what caused it.”

“What’s Erin doing? Trying to heal her?”

Kutara shook her head. “If I couldn’t heal her, Erin certainly won’t be able to. But she might be able to get a feel for Fia’s energy. I’d like a second opinion.”

Normally, Kutara getting an opinion from a human was like a neurosurgeon asking for tips from the aide who empties the bedpans, but Erin had learned to raise energy for elves through meditation, and had developed some healing abilities after bonding to Galan. As far as we could tell, she was unique in this, but she and Galan were the only bonded elf-human couple we knew, so it was hard to know for sure.

Elves had once had a tradition of oral history, but our reduced numbers and isolation from each other meant that much of our own past was lost to us.

Erin squeezed Fia’s shoulders and came over to Kutara’s desk. Lenny and Galan drifted over to join us. Lenny was dressed in his usual outfit of low-slung jeans, muscle shirt, and knit cap, which hid his ears and kept his dark, wavy hair out of his face.

“Well?” Kutara asked, still staring at Fia.

Erin shook her head. “It’s like she’s melting inside.”

Kutara’s shoulders lifted in a delicate shudder. “I felt the same thing.” She turned to Lenny, who had a real gift for tracking elf energy through Ma’Nah. “I assume there’s no way to trace her back to her source?”

He shook his head. “It’d be like trying to scent the absence of something. There’s a lot of absence around.”

“I see. We’ll have to hope that someone notices that she’s missing and eventually contacts us.” Kutara straightened and faced her desk, a signal for the rest of us to disperse.

I eyed the Quicken box in front of me. “Do you need me to take her out for some energy?”

“She’s just been.” Kutara stood, picked up a monster pile of files from her own desk and plopped it on mine. “These are some of the least complicated financial accounts. You can start by entering them.”

I’d gotten through the mind-numbing Quicken tutorial when Fia said, “I’m hungry,” as she wandered past my desk for the umpteenth time.

I almost leaped to my feet. “I’ll take her.”

Kutara looked at me from under her perfect eyebrows. “She says the same thing every seven minutes.”

“I know, but I could do with a snack myself. Come on, Fia. Let’s have a nosh.” I took her forearm to pull her along. Under her skin, her bones felt somehow insubstantial, even though she didn’t look particularly different. It was as though there was a hollowness where her personality used to be.

There were no humans in the lobby this evening, and I was relieved I didn’t have to glamour anyone. I led Fia outside into the glow of the security lights and locked the door behind me.

The building opened onto a concrete square containing planters and benches, with the creek path to our right. I was turning to go that way when I saw a shape rise from one of the benches.

“Vol’kellet!” the figure said.

“Vol’kellet hai!” I answered automatically. It was the formal greeting between elves, and one of the first things Kutara had drilled into me.

I stood still as the elf approached. It was a male, and he was a big ’un. My head went up and up as he came near, and I saw Fia do the same out of the corner of my eye. We must have looked like we were watching a hot-air balloon launch. A new elf in town was a rarity, but I had been one once. At least I knew he wasn’t a dark elf. You could sense those—something about taking in death energy changed them.

This elf looked like a Viking, with thick, wheat-colored hair, blue eyes, and one of those manly chins with a little pad of muscle on the front. And whereas the Boulder elves dressed blend in with humans, he wore a traditional elven outfit of close-fitting brown pants, boots, and a loose shirt.

“I’m looking for the headquarters of the Boulder elves.” His voice was so resonant, I could practically feel it in my feet.

I pointed at the building next to us. “You’ve found it.”

His mouth had been turned down, but now he smiled with such charm that I found myself smiling back. “Your ka’chil is named Kutara, right?” he asked.

Ka’chil meant hero but could also mean leader. The second meaning was less common, since elves were territorial and often didn’t play well with others. “Kutara heads up the office,” I said.

“Is there any possibility I could speak with her?”

“Unless she’s lost her voice in the last five minutes, I think you can hardly avoid it. I’m Adlia, by the way.”

“Dagovar.” He looked at Fia, but she didn’t say anything.

“This is Fia,” I offered. “She’s a little under the weather right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I led the way back to the door. “Do you live around here, Dagovar?”

“No, I’m from Texas.” He followed me inside the lobby, looking around with interest as we passed into the offices beyond. “I heard about the organization and came here hoping to help.”

That was a first. After Fellseth’s death, Kutara had traveled along the path he had taken, getting in touch with other elves and telling them how to get organized. Although one group had dealt with a dark elf since then, and a few had e-mailed to thank Kutara for getting rid of Fellseth, no one had shown up in person.

“Well, you are in luck, Dagovar, because we need all the help we can get.” I tugged a stapler out of Fia’s hand and returned it to the desk we had just passed.

Galan and Erin had gone, but Lenny and Kutara were still in the office. I pushed open the door and said, “Hey, guys, we have a fan! This is Dagovar.”

There were more vol’kellets, and Kutara came around her desk to greet the newcomer.

Dagovar inclined his head toward her. “Ka’chil. It’s an honor to finally meet you. You defeated Fellseth. He killed my mother.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dagovar.” Kutara pulled a desk chair out for him.

He sat, looking slightly less enormous. “I heard about your work. If you can use my services, I would like to help.”

Lenny raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged slightly. As eager as I was to have other people help with the drudgery, this put us in a slightly awkward position. We’d made it our business to understand humans and use their technology. Dagovar sounded a little provincial in his speech.

“Dagovar,” I said, “are you familiar with computers at all?”

He nodded. “I lived with a human woman for several months, to gain energy. She worked with computers, and I learned from her.”

Kutara looked interested. “What was her occupation?”

“She was an accountant.”

Ka-ching! I gave Dagovar my biggest, bestest smile ever. “Have you ever heard of Quicken Premier?”