In The Coils Of The Snake (9 page)

“Well,
elf lord, are you content?” asked Marak Catspaw, gestur
ing at the line of
captured elves.

“Content?
No,” sighed Nir, still looking down at the bright little
face. “But I can see that the women are treated
humanely,” he added
with an effort,
glancing up. “At least they seem well fed.”

“You’ll
honor the terms of the treaty, then?” Catspaw continued,
and
the elf lord nodded.

He
walked over to his band of elves, the goblin King beside him.
Nir
brought the five unmarried women forward with a gesture, but
they wouldn’t have been hard to pick out anyway.
All five were sob
bing in terror.

“They speak
only elvish,” he noted. “Shall I translate?”

“I speak
elvish,” responded the goblin King, annoyed.

Catspaw
surveyed their frightened faces. They were pretty enough,
he thought moodily; for pity’s sake, all elf women were
pretty. There
was a sameness
about these five that prevented any one from attract
ing attention. He thought of Miranda’s auburn hair and
warm
smile. It would take an amazing elf, he
decided wrathfully, to make him give her up.

But Marak Catspaw
was a King who had trained his whole life
for
kingship, and he gave no sign of his feelings toward them. With
great
courtesy, he coaxed a name out of each sobbing girl. They wailed and turned
away from the touch of that horrible paw, but he managed to test them for magic
without provoking too much of an
outburst.
Nothing but a few sparks rewarded his patient efforts.
They weren’t a very distinguished group. Not one
was from the high
families, and not one was worth his Miranda, he
decided in relief.

But the goblin King
couldn’t give up so easily. He owed his people an elf bride if possible.
Frowning, he walked down the line
of elves,
watching as they stepped back, shuddering, or closed their
eyes in horror.
Nir walked with him, his heart sinking. He knew what would happen next.

The goblin King
reached the children. Horrified, they were also
fascinated,
as curious children of any race are likely to be. Among
them were two young girls with black eyes, he noted; perhaps one of
them would do. Then he stopped in surprise.
Standing with the
older children was
a young woman with the black eyes he had been
seeking. He turned to the
elf lord, angry and suspicious.

“Why
wasn’t she with the other unmarried women?” he
demanded.

“She
isn’t old enough to be married,” the elf replied evenly. “She
doesn’t
reach her marriage moon until almost a year from now.”

“Then
she’s seventeen,” concluded the goblin. “That’s old enough
to
be married.”

“That is
not
old enough,” answered the elf lord with some heat.
“She won’t be a woman until the third spring
moon. She’s still
a child.”

“That’s just
custom,” scoffed Marak Catspaw. “Many goblin
women marry at seventeen, and humans, too. My grandmother mar
ried
at sixteen,” he added coolly.

“Monster!”
snarled the elf lord in revulsion, and he turned his back on the goblin,
glaring out at the stars. No elf man, no matter
how immoral or depraved, could even imagine marrying a girl
before the full moon of the month she reached
eighteen. To elf men,
she didn’t seem like a woman at all before that
date. Nir was aware
that humans and goblins
didn’t honor this law, and he found it
almost unbearable to consider.

Marak Catspaw turned
back to the elf girl, perfectly serene.
Coming
from this nauseating elf lord, he felt that
monster
had the
ring of a compliment. He studied the girl
admiringly. By the Sword,
she was a pretty little thing, he thought,
forgetting that he had just concluded in annoyance that all elf women were
pretty. Masses of
silky black hair fell in
soft waves down her back, and her small oval
face was almost
heartbreakingly lovely. She was standing perfectly
still, staring
through his chest at some point far away. She wasn’t sniffling like the others,
and he warmed to her for that.

“What’s your
name, little elf?” he asked her.

“Arianna, she
answered in a whisper so faint that the furious
Nir couldn’t even hear it. But standing so close, Catspaw could
make
it out.

“Arianna, is
it?” he replied. ‘Arianna, hold out your hand.”

The young woman
extended her shaking hand, but when the
goblin
King reached out to lay his lion’s paw over it, she jerked back
with a little cry of disgust. Nir flinched at the
sound and set his teeth.
He had known what would happen for months now,
but that didn’t make it easier to accept.

Marak Catspaw sighed
in exasperation. It was just a big paw; it
didn’t
drip slime or glow green, and now she was going to burst out
crying. But
Arianna didn’t cry. She stood exactly as before, eyes wide and solemn. Oh,
well, considered Catspaw, warming to her
again,
the poor, deprived girl wasn’t accustomed to meeting goblins.
He reached out his normal hand and took her by the
wrist. This
time he held her hand in place as he laid the heavy paw over
it.

The
truce circle filled with a soft light as golden sparks formed all
over
the small hand. They glittered like stars as they grew in size, shaping
themselves into delicate golden lilies, and dripped off the hand in a gentle
shower, replaced by new sparks. The silent rain of
radiant blossoms continued for an entire minute as the elves and
goblins
murmured in wonder. Only two
people in the truce circle didn’t
watch the charming spectacle. Arianna
still stared straight ahead, petrified by the unwelcome attention, and Nir
still stood glaring at the stars. He didn’t need to watch. He had tested her
years ago and knew perfectly well how magical she was.

Marak Catspaw looked
at her for some time after the sparks faded away. He knew what he had to do
now, but he hesitated, studying that solemn face. He frowned as he thought of
Miranda’s
smile. This girl probably wouldn’t
smile at him for months — maybe
not ever. He did wish that she would at
least look at him, though.
Putting his hand
under her chin, he tilted her face, and Arianna
lifted her large dark
eyes to his.

She
had been watching the goblin King curiously before he had
come close, so she did have some idea what to expect,
but she stared
in
horrified bewilderment at the face looking down into hers. Every
thing
about elf beauty was harmonious, but everything about this
creature was discordant. His eyes, blue and green,
made no sense to
her. They weren’t a pair of eyes; they didn’t belong
together. His short hair didn’t belong together, either, the golden and pale
locks
swirling in violent disarray as if
they were fighting a battle. Used to
the faces of sensitive elves, she
found nothing in his expression for her to read beyond a kind of complacent
cruelty. Arianna was ren
dered incapable of
thought by that strange face. She simply stared at
him without moving a
muscle, her eyes huge.

Elf beauty had its
degrees, and black eyes were the limit of that beauty. They appeared only in
the nobility and in the elf Kings.
Gazing
into Arianna’s eyes, Catspaw felt their powerful allure. He
still
preferred Miranda’s brown eyes, he thought loyally. Then he wondered if this
were really true.

“Arianna,”
he asked in a low voice, “would you like to be a King’s Wife?”

Even on the brink of
disaster, Arianna didn’t cry. She stared up at those eyes that didn’t belong
together, and felt in confusion that
two
people were looking at her instead of one. She looked from one
eye to the other, baffled and repelled. Blue to
green and back to blue again.
“I’m
promised to Nir,”
she
whispered faintly.

“Oh,
are you?” remarked Catspaw, and that settled something in his mind with a
neat finality. He dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Elf
lord,” he said in a loud voice, “I’ll sign the treaty for this one.”

Released
from the terrifying force of those eyes, Arianna finally
understood
what was happening. A wave of icy dread poured over her. She turned her head
and looked in mute appeal toward her fiance, but he still had his back to her.
She tried to call out to him, but no sound came. “Agreed,” she heard
Nir say, and Arianna’s
world shattered. When
she opened her eyes again, that thing had her
around the waist.

The elf woman who
had been crying before was crying again,
coming
to take her in her arms. The goblin said, “Mother, stand
back. You
know how dangerous desperate magic can be.” But Arianna used none of her
quiet, prodigious magic. She couldn’t. She didn’t have the right. She wasn’t a
stolen bride who could fight her way back to her people. Nir had said she had
to go and so she had no choice. On the verge of unconsciousness, Arianna gasped
in a breath. She wondered how many more breaths she would have to take before
she could finally die. There would be so many, she thought in despair. Millions
and millions. She closed her eyes and began drearily to count them.

Seylin
spread the treaty out on a stand, and Marak Catspaw
came to sign it, his human arm around his drooping bride.
He
dipped his paw into the bowl of golden ink
and put his print on the treaty, holding out the paw for Seylin to wipe clean.
The elf lord
came up then, eyes averted from
the horrible sight as the goblin King
guided
the faltering Arianna away. Dipping his fingertips quickly in
the ink,
he signed in a sideways W Then he jerked the towel away
from Seylin and rubbed the ink from his fingers, turning to the stars
again.
He wouldn’t watch the goblins leave the truce circle.

“Elf
lord,” asked Seylin with interest, “why did you sign like that?”

Motionless,
face still, Nir glared at the stars. “Why?” he murmured
absently.
“Because it makes it binding.” He thought about what it had bound him
to do and felt a rising sickness.

“But why didn’t
you sign your name?” persisted Seylin.

Nir continued to
gaze at the stars, ignoring the goblin completely. He was bound by the treaty.
He
wasn’t bound. Arianna was the one bound now, bound, shackled, and enslaved.
He had
known her fate months ago as soon as
he had known what he had
to do. He had warned his elves that the goblins
might take any unmarried girl, even a small child. He had given them the chance
to leave, but he had known that they couldn’t leave him, and he had
known, too, that Arianna hadn’t paid any
attention. She had been
his responsibility since she was thirteen, and
she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t protect her.

For
all those months, he had eaten with her and slept by her side, and he had never
once told her of her danger. He might as well have
wrapped that horrible snake around her himself. He had
betrayed
her into hell. His magic had told him to do
it, and his magic was always right. It was the best thing for his people, he
had always
known that. But he had destroyed
a sweet elvish life because it was
the best thing for his people. He
only wished that he could have destroyed himself.

“Seylin,”
he heard the little goblin girl say as they walked off, “I
don’t
want to go back. I want to be an elf.”

“I know just
how you feel” was Seylin’s reply. And then they were gone.

“Goblin King,”
said Seylin, catching up to Catspaw, “let me tell
Miranda.” He glanced down at the silent elf bride. She had her eyes
tightly shut, and she kept stumbling.
After a minute, Catspaw
picked her up and continued walking. Her head
dropped onto his shoulder as if she were asleep.

“No,”
replied Marak Catspaw in a low voice. “Seylin, I’ll tell
her
myself It’s only fair,” he added bleakly.