Mellary sighed, resting her chin on her crossed arms, glaring at the map beneath her nose. The distance between their present campsite, marked with a green dot, and the boldly crossed out region of Du Weldenvarden was far too short for her liking. The ground was cool under her belly, the tent arched above her head and shielded her from the stars. Mellary rolled over onto her back, glaring at the fabric roof, and wondered how the others would react if she set it on fire.
An unfamiliar mind brushed against hers. Mellary reacted instantly, slamming walls into place so fast that Embrald, sleeping outside her tent, snapped awake. She reached out and snared the intruder, prepared to crush whoever it was. The mind flared with power that burned through her hold, power that was horribly familiar. Mellary released Arya's mind instantly, withdrawing back behind her shields.
Follow me outside the camp, as quietly as you can. Arya instructed, then her presence vanished. Mellary scowled and sat up.
Not even as much as an apology. She grumbled.
Was that Arya? Embrald asked lazily. Her sudden reaction had woken him from his nap. He sounded relaxed, but she could feel tension rolling off of him.
The elf herself. Mellary replied. I better find out what she wants. She'll probably knock down my barriers next time.
Can she?
We never tried to find out. Mellary said shortly. She buckled on her twin swords, unwilling to wander off without them. She slid out of her tent, barely disturbing the folded fabric. The darkness swallowed her whole, letting her move through the camp unseen. She shadowed Arya and Eragon as they slipped out of earshot of the camp. Eragon jumped slightly when she seemed to materialize out of the darkness. Arya didn't even blink. The two locked gazes; Mellary's grey eyes were iron, Arya's impenetrable darkness.
"Don't do that again." Mellary growled.
"My apologies. It was rude of me to presume." Arya said gracefully. Mellary inclined her head, slightly mollified. Her shields were firmly locked into place; at Arya's words she let them soften slightly. The elf would be true to her word, and holding hard shields was strenuous at the best of times. After a long day, this was not the best of times.
"Where did you learn to shield your mind so effectively?" Arya asked with what sounded like mild curiosity.
"It was something I picked up at a young age. Why did you drag us out here?" Mellary said in a tone that forbade questioning. For a fragile moment, it looked like Arya wouldn't allow her to change the topic. Then the elf sank down onto a moss-covered log and curled up into a ball.
"There are things you must know before we reach Ceris and Ellesméra so that you do not shame yourselves or me through your ignorance."
Manners lessons. Mellary spat to Embrald.
You could use them. Ask Arya if she'll teach you some tact while she's at it. Embrald lazed back.
I didn't forget my manners. Mellary growled in response.
Right. You never had them in the first place.
I'll have you know it's not possible to forget customs after practicing them for a century. Her dark tone made Embrald pause. She sensed that he was going to say something, but elected to remain quiet. Mellary focused back on what Arya was saying, then mentally turned back to her dragon.
I have better things to do with my time. She grumbled, ignoring Arya's lecture on the differences between the races. She has had enough experience with that firsthand, all analyzed with her customary jaded cynicism.
Then leave.
I can't. She sighed. It would be suspicious if I didn't learn them now and was suddenly and expert later. Hiding is going to be hard enough as it is. The thought, said flippantly, made her pause. She listened to the endless stream of information with one ear, her mind whirling. Embrald must have picked up on her mental storm. She sensed his worry, but he remained quiet, obviously preferring to let her move through the maze of her thoughts on her own. Instead he listened through her ears, learning what she already knew.
Arya ended the lesson and stood to leave. Eragon stopped her.
"Are you well, Arya?" He asked, his tone pulling Mellary out of her thoughts. "You've seemed distracted and out of sorts ever since we left Hedarth."
Mellary couldn't contain her wince. After several hours of etiquette lessons, he still believed that question needed to be spoken? If he kept this up, their trip was going to be interesting. Arya's face shifted, and Mellary instantly felt sorry for the boy.
"When we are in Du Weldenvarden, I expect that you will not speak to me in such a familiar way, unless you wish to cause affront." Her tone would have brought frost to the desert.
The first rule of elven etiquette: If it sounds presumptuous, it probably is. Mellary commented dryly to Embrald, who was still borrowing her ears. And it is guaranteed to land you in a deep mess of trouble.
Is that the second rule?
No, that's the corollary to the first. The second rule is: if you're not sure if you should say it, don't.
Eragon hesitated, then rushed after Arya. Mellary shook her head. The boy was a glutton for punishment. Even she knew better than to bother a sulking elf.
Their muffled conversation drifted back to her, soft enough that a human would not have been able to distinguish it.
"You ask what troubles me, Eragon? Do you truly wish to know? Then I will tell you. I am afraid." Mellary stood and vanished into the shadows before either could return and find her eavesdropping.
Embrald found her pacing just outside of the circle of firelight. He curled up like a cat and settled his head on his paws, brilliant eyes tracking her as she moved back and forth.
This was a bad idea. Mellary began without prompting, thoughts spilling over. The more I consider it, the more certain I am. We should not have come.
Why would you believe that? The dragon asked curiously.
I can't hide. I was a fool to believe that I could. Everything about me could give me away. My ears. My swords. My words. I could easily forget that I'm not supposed to know of some custom or location and betray detailed knowledge of the city. And how can I hide the depth of my power, or my knowledge of the ancient language? I'm as fluent as any elf. Eventually someone is going to question my past. I can't tell them the truth and I can't lie. In fact, it's incredible that it hasn't happened already. The only reason it hasn't is our scarcity combined with the fast pace of events. The elves move slowly. There will be time for such considerations. And the sage… She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. A being of that power would discover her secret in an instant.
Embrald let her ramble. I can't appear human against the backdrop of elven society. I think Arya already suspects something. She said.
She said to you that she believed you were dead. She cannot lie.
No, she can't lie. But there is a difference between saying something that you believe to be true but is in fact false, and lying. She believes me to be dead, therefore when she says it she can say it as truth. Even though it is clearly not true to you and I. And this is all without getting into half-truths, which are not disallowed by the ancient language. She gestured wildly in despair.
You lived there before. You must have been versed in the art of half-truths yourself. Embrald pointed out.
Mellary shrugged. I might be a little rusty. She admitted grudgingly.
As half human, you can lie. You already have.
Not in the ancient language. There is not a being alive that can lie in the ancient language.
Well, dust off your creativity, because we are not going to be able to play hide and seek forever. You're going to have to say something at some point to someone.
I know. Mellary growled. But we still come back to the issue of how elven society will bring out my apparent inconsistencies.
It's happening already. Embrald commented quietly. Mellary stopped her furious pacing and turned to face him.
How? She asked softly.
Your movements. They changed. His green eyes bored into hers. You started to…. He paused, trying to find a way to describe it. Glide. To emphasize his point, he pushed a memory at her. Mellary felt the blood draining from her face as she watched herself move, her stride changing from the quick, erratic human quirks into smooth, liquid grace.
We're not even close. She whispered, shaken. She resumed pacing as panic edged into her emotions.
What happened?
I'm losing my conditioning.
I don't follow.
I grew up in Du Weldenvarden. I learned to walk from my mother, who was a full blooded elf. I learned to move with their grace. I learned to fight with their grace. When I… left… I realized that people notice the way someone moves. It isn't exactly conscious, but if they sense something different about the way you walk, the way you gesture, it puts them on edge. It took me a year to figure that out. After that, I trained myself to move like a human.
How long? Embrald asked quietly, his sorrow seeping down their tie to echo off Mellary.
I never stopped. She responded, just as quietly. It was an ongoing process. She shook her head. We haven't even entered the wards, and I'm already losing my edge.
Riders are expected to have inhuman grace.
Not this much. Not this quickly.
You are a seasoned fighter. You could try to explain it that way.
Even the best human warriors don't look like they have no joints to speak of. Mellary shot back.
I'm trying to help. Embrald rebuked her. Mellary flinched, suddenly guilty.
I know. I'm sorry. She moved until she was leaning back against his side, his warmth pushing back the slight chill in her bones.
Arya is not the only one who is afraid. She whispered.