1st Draft Fridays - A Fistful of Air: Book #5, Chronicles of Marsdenfel

Year 232 of the Bynding - The Realm of Salles, around Summer Solstice - post 9

A/N:

Sorry for how short this one is, but I'm trying to get back in the habit of regular updates, and that means posting what I can. I'm also in the middle of an allergic reaction, at the moment (hibiscus; neighbor two doors down has one on her porch), so beg pardon if this is less coherent than usual.

I hope you're doing well!

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My brother's realm, Grehafen, is far larger than my native Marsdenfel. Even if you ignore the other realms that my brother puppeteers in some fashion or other, Grehafen has more land, more trade, more people than Marsdenfel did even when I was a girl, before we were destroyed.

Salles is bigger. That's evident even before Lallie leads me into the capital city.

The castle's front gate opens to a bridge across the large river that guards the castle along one side. On the other side of the bridge is both a road that heads west, towards the Dwaline Mountains, and another gate—this one to enter the city of Saf.

"Careful, H'ness," Lallie murmurs, her shoulders hunched as she scuttles through the travelers and guards who are out even at this time in the afternoon.

I slip through the crowd, keeping my feet steady on the paved walkway and feeling rueful that Marsdenfel couldn't be this crowded and bustling, even if we weren't enslaved. Our geography doesn't allow it.

But a city with buildings stretching out into the skyline for as far as I can see... Darnell will take time to find me, in this city, even assuming he knows on the morrow.

Time is precisely what my daughter needs, for her to escape the curse he's placed on all our children.

Speaking of children, Lallie moves with the quickness and surety of someone who knows her way—around this part of the city, at least. The streets and buildings and vendors, open to the air, feel odd. I'd think it a human style of archetecture, but when we were children, my cousin Tully told me stories of others who live in such structures. She had traveled much, even then, whereas traveling from Grehafen to here is as far as I've been, myself.

We step to the side and pause as some people in carts and bearing packages pass us by.

"How far is Saf from Marsdenfel?" I ask.

Lallie blinks at me. "H'ness? Um... A day or so through the marsh. Be n't that how you came?"

The portals that Marsdenfel has, to tie it to the other elven realms, are still secret, then. I shrug.

"More like three days if you go round the marsh." She shivers. "But there be wards, either way."

I catch her forearm before she can continue on. "You've seen the wards?"

The girl looks away, bites her lip, and shakes her head.

A lie. Why would a montai girl feel a need to lie about that?

I reconsider that question. Why would a montai girl be hiding as a human among people who are likely to lynch her if it becomes known what she is?

Lallie doesn't want to be montai—her reasons don't matter. She's afraid of what she is, maybe ashamed. There's a human taboo there, something I'm not quite grasping. Perhaps because the humans I've known have been so eager to lose themselves in magic.

The girl darts into the crowd again, and I nearly slip as I hurry to keep up.

I rub my stomach and wonder if perhaps Mataine would be willing to loan me a few books. My daughter is more human than elfin. I need to be able to tell her something about her father's people.