Chapter 31 A very strange world

They moved quickly, at least a quickly as the thickening vegetation allowed, both of them on the alert for any sign of real, or imagined, danger.

Elanor found herself wondering what it was that Jack had seen back there, for she was sure he had seen something more than the danger in front of them, just as she had. For the first time she doubted whether this place was real at all, everywhere she looked she seemed to see, or hear, or smell things that echoed of the past. But her wondering didn't last long, as she watched Jack halt for a moment to mop the sweat from his neck and check the compass she realised that real or not it had to be dealt with, just as he and the rest of this world did.

But that didn't alter the fact that she would like to know exactly what he had seen and if his experience had been comparable to her own. Now, however, was not the time to press the matter.

The trees were getting thicker and taller and there were vines strung between them like fairy lights at a summer ball, the feathered leaves bright as tinsel in greens and blues and purple, their trumpet flowers screaming for attention in hot orange and deep reds. They had now reached the edge of the canopy they had seen from above and the gentle slope was leading them inexorably down into its depths and towards that shimmering cloud. Every step took them further into the unknown and away from the ropes and their hope of escape back above.

For all the heat and uncertainty Jack still moved with confidence. She watched him as he tracked between two trees, swaying slightly to avoid the lower branches and then striding forwards with a bouncy, swaggering walk of the kind she thought he might use to unsettle opponents, but by accident or design he stayed slightly ahead of her and she couldn't see his face. She realised that despiote the swagger he was also walking carefully, on the balls of his feet and with a slight forward stoop that spoke of a readiness for flight. His pistol was in his hand now, not pushed into his sash.

The moss that had clothed the upper slope was gone and the ground was covered with a springy shrub with clover shaped leaves, knee high in places and stippled with small clusters of lily like plants. Not lilies as she knew them though for these had wide platter shaped leaves and a heady scent that caught on the back of the throat. Pollen and spores from flowers on all sides drifted on the air, more of it rising in clouds as they brushed the odd petal or leaf, but it was impossible to avoid doing so as the vegetation got thicker and more densely packed. The dust was like the glitter powder she had used to decorate the Christmas tree when she was a child and the world was a safer and simpler place, red, yellow, blue, silver and even gold motes danced on the hot air. It powdered their legs and shoulders with a multicoloured mist that dissolved in their sweat and stained the fabric of their shirts, turning the white to a tiedied patchwork. It irritated their eyes and clogged their lungs, making their breath come in short fast gasps and slowing their progress to a stroll.

It was not the only irritant either for the rising humidity made the air oppressive, and she knew that there was a significant body of water somewhere close. Though whether it was the one they were seeking was anyone's guess. The thickening undergrowth seemed to trap the heat too, wrapping the air around them like a wet blanket. Jack's shirtsleeves were pushed up his forearms and his skin was filmed with sweat and with more of the dust trapped in the fine dark hairs of his arm. Even the brand and tattoo on his forearm were softened by a layer of it, and more was clinging to his beard and braids. Occasionally he would stop and wrinkle his nose as if to sneeze, before raising his arm and wiping the thickening pollen layer from his face with his sleeve.

Though plant life teemed all around them they saw no animal life, no insect or reptile or mammal crossed their path. In places there were signs that there might be other life, a fallen tree splattered with bore holes, the cast of something that might be a much smaller cousin of the worms they had left behind them, and the occasional leaf that looked to be chewed by tiny jaws; but nothing stirred beneath them or around them either on the floor or in the canopy.

The whispering noise was getting louder, but though the leaves moved with their passing there seemed to be no wind.

For more than half an hour they walked in growing discomfort before they stopped again, both in need of water. In that time neither of them had spoken, both tuning every sense to the possibility of danger. The light was still strong yet Elanor had the feeling that it was not as bright as it had been, and not only because of the thickening canopy above them.

As they collapsed against a tree Jack spared a glance for his companion, seeing his own unspoken anxiety reflected in her eyes, for all the calm of her face. The heat was showing in her too, for the faint tinge of pink in her skin had darkened to crimson on her cheekbones and the skin of her throat above her shirt was flushed. Her pale hair was drenched in sweat, damp tendrils escaping from her braid to curl in shivering spirals about her wide brow. Both her hair and brow were tinted in bright parrot colours by the clouds of pollen; even the diamonds in her ears were dulled by it

For a moment doubt flickered, and he wondered if she would be willing to go on; even, treacherous thought, whether it was wise to do so. He was in no better state and he knew it, for his shirt was plastered to his chest and shoulders and his hair likewise to his neck. Sweat was running between his shoulder blades and down his brow, his scarf was already soaked with it. Even his sash was damp, and his hand on the pistol was so slippery that he'd not be sure his grip would prove good enough to fire straight. 'Which in this place might not be good', he told himself. How much did he really want to go on?

But memory of a distant desert stirred and he banished the very idea of giving up.

With a sigh he drew his sword and slashed two large leaves from a nearby vine, fanning himself with one and handing her the other. She took it with a silent nod, pulling the hem of her shirt from her belt and wiping her face. Tired she might be but the way she looked around her suggested that she was far from spent. Not for the first time he wondered what world it was that had bred her, for though she had the look and speech of a lady it also seemed that she had the endurance of a seasoned campaigner. He hid his smile as she carefully tucked her shirt back into her breeches and resettled her belt, accepting the water back with a slight nod of thanks. She was used to being around men too he'd bet, and not in the drawing room sense of around either. He had to admit that his curiosity about her, and the things she didn't tell him, grew by the day, but curiosity, though a fine thing in its place, was not for now. When they had the fountain there would be plenty of time to persuade her to divulge her fascinating secrets.

"It looks like some form of rain forest." Elanor said as she pushed the canteen back into her pack.
"A what?" Jack stared at her with raised brows.
"A tropical forest, like the Amazon."
"Oh." He looked around him with renewed curiosity, "Well I've seen that and I can't say this looks familiar. Seen a swamp or two as well, but not one like this."
She nodded as she looked around,
"I know what you mean, it's familiar and then again it's not."
Jack leaned back against the tree and tilted his head up to stare into the branches above them, the movement brushed his shoulder another raceme of bell like flowers, blue this time, sending more of its seed billowing into the air. He grimaced as it layered itself on his hair and tickled at his nose,
"Profligate place this, greenery everywhere, flowers larger than they ought to be and as for this..." he flicked some grains from a braid close to his face, "bloody stuff seems never ending. Much more of it and we'll suffocate on this spot."
She shrugged and brushed the fairy dust pollen, if that's what it was, from her brow,
"I don't think I've ever seen anything like this." Wiping her fingers on her breeches, she frowned, "the way it clings you'd think it sticky but it's not."
Jack was silent for a moment as he rubbed the leaf over his forearms, it did little to absorb the sweat or the pollen and he primped his mouth in a moue of distaste as the gaudy colours spread and merged like a badly executed oil painting.
"Looks like someone let off a firework in a spice market." he said eventually.

Elanor turned and stared at him wide-eyed,
"Have you ever seen one? A spice market I mean," there was a faint hint of wistfulness in her voice.
Jack, still occupied in scrubbing at his arms, shrugged casually,
"Aye. A few, why d'you ask?"
She sighed, and not in a manner he'd heard her do before.
"This world of yours must be a very colourful place. Mine is not."
Her tone caused him to look at her with surprise, and that became concern as he detected an unusual pensiveness in her face. He straightened and dropped the leaf, wagging a warning, if dust stained, finger at her.
"Now don't you be goin' and doin' that to me," he rasped. " Not here and not now."
"Doing what?" she seemed puzzled but she did not look at him and her expression was still far away,
He edged closer to her and narrowed his eyes in a stern look,
"Goin' all soft eyed and romantic on me. I've had my fill of that, and I'd thought better of you Captain. Sensible woman I'd got you marked as, not some flighty girl with a head stuffed full of romantic stories. Colourful it maybe, but life ain't easy and mostly the colour comes from dirt and blood. Not much romantic about those."
He tilted his head and stared at her with a prickling of unease for she had a strange and unfocussed look, she turned back to look at him but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Jack swallowed uncertainly,
"Oh, there are those high toned ladies and gentlemen in their bright silks and feathers and all, but that's not most people's lot," he went on, more to say something and give her an opportunity to banish that worrying look. "Those silks though, better not ask how they got them. Though most neither know or care."

Elanor continued to gaze at him but the strange look on her face didn't fade and it occurred to him that her eyes had never seemed so dark, nor so mesmerising.
'They are not like you' he thought, 'not clean and bright and savvy; not even the fine ones. Most are twisted and stunted, mired by their own desires and imprisoned by their lack of thinking. Slave to the necessities of life, or dull as a poorly executed water colour most of them. While you.. well you're a bolt of Chinese silk, or a ream of Brussels lace. Or a fine tempered blade, a beautiful piece of art with a hard and sharp edge. Like the Pearl you are, perfectly balanced and right for your purpose.'
She was still looking back at him with that strange soft focus look and he moved closer to her, staring into eyes that suddenly seemed to fill the world.
'Once I would have done anything for a lass like you,' he thought, the memory, coming from a place he thought he'd barred. 'I'd have battled sea and wind without complaint if there had been such as you at the end of the voyage. I'd have brought you that silk and lace just to see the pleasure in your eyes, aye, and to hear the whisper of it when they fell to your feet. Scented oils from India too, and soft leather for your shoes and fine linen to lie on. I'd have fought the world if you had asked it and thought of no reward other than you. Just like William.' That realisation brought some surprise and a sudden shock of grief, 'Just like Will. Where did the dream of you go? When was it lost? Did Beckett steal it, or Jones? Or did I just put it down to drink the rum in some tavern then forget to pick it up again?'

"Jack? What is it?"
Her voice, so unlike the one he had somehow expected to hear, cut through his thoughts. He blinked, sending a drift of pollen dust from his eyelashes down his cheek, and then stiffened as he realised that she was no more than a few inches away from him and that his hand was on her arm. She was still looking dazed but the soft and unfocussed look was gone.

For a moment there was silence and then he shook himself slightly and took a pace backwards, wondering what it was he had been thinking about tp go so close all uninvited when she had that lightening on her belt. He swallowed hard again, pushing himself back into the present, trying to remember what it was they had been speaking of.
"Remember Tortuga," he told her with another flicker of his finger and a toss of his head as he turned away.
"Tortuga. Yes." She said with resignation.
Where ever she had been a moment ago she was back in the here and now, the disturbing expression was gone and she was all brisk sense again,
"You are right, I know you are. But just for a moment there..." her words trailed away.
Jack turned back towards her seeing the confusion return to her face for a moment, knowing only too well how she felt but not knowing why, or how he knew it.
"Yes, luv, I know what you mean. Just for a moment things were.. Different."

Elanor looked around her with a frown,
"This place is dangerous Jack, the sooner we are away from here the better."
Jack smiled, but uncertainly,
"Aye, agreed. But not without what we came for. Eh? To come so far and then leave empty handed makes no sense at all. We go on, but carefully."
She stared at him for a long moment seeing something almost desperate in his eyes, she sighed and pushed strands of escaping hair back from her face,
"Very well. But let's move quickly, I have a feeling that the sooner we are away from these, " she flicked a finger towards the arches of flowers, "the better it will be for us."
Jack just nodded, he'd come to the same conclusion.

In unspoken agreement they set off down the slope.

***

"We are to return to Tortuga sir?"
There was dismay in Groves voice and Hathaway repressed a smile, for he knew very well how the man must feel. To be a navy man in Tortuga would be as uncomfortable as to be a pirate in Port Royale.
"Yes. Not a place I wish to frequent I assure you, but the trail of Sparrow and the Black Pearl has gone cold and we must try and pick up the thread of it again. The ship at least must be somewhere, they will need to provision and where else would they go but there?"
He would not mention the rumours that the Spanish were returning to search there again. Nor the governors concern's about the slow pace of progress, or his own worries and suspicions.
"You and I will go ashore and see if there are any new rumours."
"Yes sir."

Hathaway looked at Groves seeing the concern in his face, he'd do as ordered but it was too much to expect him to do it willingly. But it was a natural enough fear, a navy man couldn't expect anything other than a knife in the ribs in Toruga, and Groves had sailed with Beckett, so he could expect even less mercy, nor a quick death, if he were caught and that fact became known. Which was one reason why he had decided to go ashore himself this time, that and a deepening desire to meet Jack Sparrow.
"When, sir?"
"We sail on the next tide."
"Yes sir."

Groves turned away but stopped, hovering in the doorway. Hathaway knew something else was bothering the man and so he bided his time. But he seemed uncertain about whether to speak or not, even when Hathaway adopted his most reassuring face.
"Something concerns you?" Hathaway asked eventually as Groves continued to hover,
"Yes sir." he turned back to face his captain, "Admiral Norrington sir. Admiral James Norrington, I mean."
"What about him?"
"Tortuga is where he met Sparrow, and joined his crew. If we were to hear word of him and his doing there..." the words faded away but his unhappiness was clearly written in his face
Hathaway smiled gently,
"There is no purpose to be gained by repeating any rumours we might hear." He paused for a moment watching the man opposite with friendly eyes, "to any one Mr Groves. He was a fine officer and a loyal servant of the king, and he was deceived by Beckett just as Governor Swann was, that is all anyone needs to know."
Relief washed across the younger man's face.
"Yes sir, thank you."
Then he turned on his heel and left.

Hathaway leaned back in his chair and wondered how much James Norrington had known. His letter to his uncle suggested that he had had no real suspicions of Beckett when they set sail to find the pirates, but then his resentment of Sparrow might have blinded him to the truth. Certainly it would have predisposed him to believe Beckett's claims. Or had Beckett truly started this venture in honesty only to become corrupted as the power Jones had offered became clear to him? There was no way of knowing but the very possibility warned of the dangers that might await them all if any one found the heart. Empire depended upon the seas, and as Beckett had realised controlling them offered the possibility of power and riches beyond a man's dreams. Who then could be trusted with such a thing? He had seen the same thought in Governor Thynne's eyes, that and the other one that troubled Hathaway's sleep, could even a king be trusted with such a thing? The Governor was an experienced diplomat and an intelligent man, and he knew too much of the follies of power to be sure. Hathaway knew it too, though neither of them would ever speak such a doubt.

But what of Sparrow? Who and what was he? The stories painted a romantic picture, unlikely in many ways but they couldn't be entirely wrong, Hathaway himself had a fair idea how the sacking of Nassau had been achieved and he had raised a glass to the pirate when he had first heard of it. The man seemed to have a reputation as both a rake and a drunkard, and yet he had never been drunk enough to be easily caught, or held for long, nor had he ever been cock led enough to be trapped by the whiles of a whore. What their lordships had told him of the pirate spoke of a man both clever and sophisticated of thought. Devious to some perhaps, but not to one in his own position, who would often have given much for a company of men of similar talents.

As would their lordships, though it had taken them some time to come to this view. The pirate seemed to be a strategist rather than a thug, and a man with a surprising streak of honesty or honour, Hathaway wasn't sure which. He, being a sophisticated thinker, did not confuse the two qualities as James Norrington seemed to have done. Whatever else Sparrow might have been, or could have been, he was now thief who could not be trusted alone with your plate. But perhaps you could trust him with your life and liberty, even your daughter, and maybe even with something as powerful as the heart of Davy Jones. If that was the case, and if it was not then why had he not made his play or stated his demands already, was it really in any one's interests to find him?

Hathaway sighed, maybe it wasn't, but that would not stop the Spanish or anyone else who saw it as a route to power. Sparrow was a great prize, perhaps the greatest on the seas at present, and sooner or later someone would find him, and then there would be the devil to pay. Therefore it behoved him to find Sparrow first.

But he wished he could be sure of what he would do when he did.

***

The ground was dipping more steeply now and the spaces between the trees were smaller than before. Noises around them suggested that there were insects and birds hidden by the rampant plant life, and once or twice Elanor thought she had caught sight of small mammals scurrying for cover as the approached. The whistling sound was louder too; though the air was still, almost pressing on them, wet and heavy and without a sign of a breeze. Above was a roof of green, more shades of green than she had ever imagined, layer upon layer of them. Water dripped from every leaf and vine but the flamboyant racemes of flowers of the higher slopes were disappearing, their arching sprays replaced by trumpet and star shaped blooms sprouting from barbed stems or erupting from spreading bunches of leaves. The heavy pollen dust had thinned but the perfume of flower and leaf was as thick and heady as before, and it was hotter still, the cloying air now soaking their clothes and strangling sweat. The humidity was their biggest enemy, for their rising body heat meant that frequent stops became unavoidable if they were not to keel over with exhaustion.

Even Jack's enthusiasm was dimmed, his earlier swagger had been replaced by a weary sway and he'd removed his sash, belts and waistcoat and stuffed them into his pack, but his sword still sat on his hip and his pistol never left his hand. Even so his shirt was plastered to his torso and his breeches clung damply to his hip and thigh; whether it was that, or the dripping hair, he looked as close to uncomfortable as Elanor had seen him. 'Not that I can be looking any better' she thought. Her hair was no less soaked and her own shirt stuck damply to her ribs, she'd retained her belt and it's weapons and it chafed against the wet skin, as Jack's baldric must do. She could only be glad that her breeches were not worsted, and wondered if Jack was too used to it to notice or if he was now regretting his insistence on wearing his own clothes.

Then suddenly the path stopped, disappearing over a ledge with little warning. Jack sidled carefully up to the edge and peered over.
"Is a fair drop," he said.
Elanor frowned,
"Can you see how far?"
"No, nor what it drops into. Just a lot of treetops, no sayin' how tall the trees are. Ropes might reach, then again they might not, and there is nothing I can see to drive a grapple into. But I think I can see water down there."
He turned to look at her,
"So what now? Do we climb or do we try to walk around it and find another way down?"
Elanor grimaced and chewed at her lip for a moment,
"I feel like I've been walking forever as it is. Time for a little advice I think. Assuming Ariadne can still hear us that is."

She flicked the toggle on the communicator,
"Can you hear us."
"The signal is weak," came a faint voice, "but for the moment I can hear you."
"Glad to hear it." Jack's voice suggested that he wasn't too sure about that.
Elanor sent him a hard look and he folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes but said nothing more.
"Can you judge the drop?" Elanor asked.
"Not with certainty. The scanners are giving readings now that you are boosting the signal but the calibrations are still uncertain. Indications are that it is no less than thirty feet and no more than seventy."
"A pretty wide margin." Jack protested.
Elanor nodded,
"Yes. I don't know what's going on, this should not be beyond Ariadne's abilities. Something about this place is very strange."
"The scanners are being interfered with by some form of field effect." The voice came back, "but I cannot judge whether it is a natural effect or an artificial one."

Jack glared,
"What does she mean, artificial?"
Elanor shrugged,
"Its not clear whether is a by product of the rock or if someone has made it that way, if someone at sometime shielded this place."
"Shielded? What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed, "I wish the pair of you would speak the King's English. 'Tis impolite to be so bafflin' in your speech."
"Why?" Elanor looked at him with a broad smile, "you do it all the time. Don't you?"
Jack frowned for a moment, then a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth,
"Well... mebbe..a little... sometimes." The glare returned and he raised a protesting finger at her, "but only when...," he caught her eyes and the words trailed away as he shot her a narrow eyed look, "but this is not the same at all."
"Of course not," she soothed with a smile, and then she became serious, "though to be fair it probably isn't."

Jack goggled at her in mock surprise,
"Fair! A woman being fair! Well there's a novelty."
"When have I not been fair to you?" Elanor shot back suddenly both angry and upset. "I've been nothing but bloody fair to you since the day I pulled you out of the sea."
"Have you now?" Jack tilted his head feeling a strange annoyance take hold of him, "and who was it that put me in the bloody sea in the first place? Answer me that!"
"Well it was hardly my fault you took to sea in a dingy now was it! I didn't get drunk and let.. Whatissname run off with your ship."
"No. It was you who sailed over the top of me." Jack clenched his fists as the anger mounted. "It was you who didn't look where you were bloody goin', even with your ghost to help you."
"Don't you bring Ariadne into this," Elanor spat back, "it's not her fault you were in the way."
"Not her fault! Then whose fault was it? Eh? There I was mindin' me own business and suddenly there's this ship mowing me down!"
"Well if you hadn't been drunk you might have seen us coming and got out of the way!"
"I was not drunk! One bottle was all I had with me, one bottle. That's not goin' to keep a man drunk for three days and more! When have you seen me drunk enough not to get out of the way." He put his hands on his hips and looked down his nose at her, "WELL?"

Elanor felt the sudden frustration boil over,
"Only because you don't trust me. I mean what is it with you? I pulled you out when I could have left you to drown, I've fed you, looked after you when you were sick, put up with the sly remarks and innuendo and without complaint. Why? Because I know that this is a different world, that I can't expect you to be like anyone I knew in my own world. Because I am a rational, intelligent, human being."
Jack stared at her in surprise, which only made the pent up feeling worse,
" And what do I get for it?" her voice was rising, "Dragged out on a wild goose chase that might kills us, taunted, lied to...,"
"Lied to!" Jack was shouting now too, "When have I bloody lied to you. My whole life has been laid before you." He pointed at her and gave a bitter laugh, "You are the closed mouthed one, the one that keeps secrets! What do I know of you? Eh? You are the one that hides behind a ....a.....ghost!"

Elanor almost ground her teeth,
"Well if you would stop playing the drunken fool every time I try to talk to you maybe I wouldn't."
"I do not play the drunken fool." Jack was passing though the heat of anger to the cold side of fury.
"Oh yes you do." Elanor countered, " Half the time I don't know if it's aimed at me or just so much of a habit when you are threatened that you don't know you are doing it. But it makes talking to you very hard work. Let me tell you."
"Talking to me?" Jack was speaking through clenched teeth now. "When do you ever talk to me, other than to try and find out things that are no business of yours?" He took a step back from her, cocked his head and glared at her, "I treat you like the Captain you are but I'd be very much obliged if you would stop behaving like a. ......woman."
"What do you mean by that?"
"What I said!"
"Which was nothing! Or rather nothing that makes any sense. Why wouldn't I want to know about you? You're on my ship and you are a pirate by your own admission, you even seem proud of it! By my reckoning that makes you a threat! Why wouldn't I want to know how much of one? I mean, how do I know how close to madness you are?"

Rage flared hot again and Jack took a step forward catching her arm in a hard grip,,
"Threat? When have offered you any harm? Threat! Ha! To you with lightening on your belt and your fire throwing ghost?"
Elanor pointed a shaking finger at him,
"You said you'd kill me if I had Ariadne hit the Pearl!"
"So I did and so I would. And you, missy, would expect nothing less. Why should...."
"Don't you missy me," she hissed.
Jack ignored her, tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her against him
"Why should I not defend the Pearl from you? She's my ship. It was a fine lady like yourself that sent her to the bottom and me to be ripped apart alive in the jaws of a monster."

Elanor stared at him aghast, barely able to get the words out for the outrage that engulfed her.
"Are you comparing me to Elizabeth Swann?" Her voice was suddenly low and dangerous, and her fingers gripped his arm like slim steel bands, "Are you daring to compare me to a spoilt, self righteous, finicky little miss who'd never done a day's work in her life? Never as much as drawn her own washing water? A daddy's girl with delusions of grandeur who thinks that the world revolves around her and her lovesick boy? Are you daring to suggest that I would chain a man and leave him to die in such a way, unable to defend himself? That I lack the guts to face him down and tell him I'm not dying for his choices?"
She let go of him and shook off his hand without even noticing it,
"I'll have you know that I earned what I am Captain Sparrow. I was an officer in the navy at an age when Miss bloody Swann was sewing samplers and learning to flirt with her fan!"

Jack glared at her and spoke from between clenched teeth,
"Oh fine! A naval officer and a woman!"
"What's wrong with that?" her glare matched his own.
At that he span away from her his wet hair flying and dust painted hands whirling,
"What's bloody right with it? " he demanded, "Navy want to hang me out of hands and I've never met a woman yet who didn't want something, nor one who knew what she wanted. Tell them what they want to hear and they slap you, tell them the truth and they slap you, treat them like you care about them and they slap you, treat them like you don't care and they slap you, want to spend time with them, they slap you, don't want to spend time with them, they slap you." He was bouncing with rage now, "And when they don't slap you they bloody kill you!"
"Well you must do something to deserve it." Elanor snapped.
He came close again, grabbing her wrists and pulling her against his chest, his eyes blazing as she met his look with her own angry fire,
"Deserve it?" he hissed, "Deserve it? Well maybe I do, and I'll thank you for the elucidation if you can tell me what it was that earned it. I've never struck a woman in me life Captain Cavendish, and I've never taken one who was not more than willing. But I must have done something powerfully bad somewhere because a woman sold me to Beckett, though I'd never done her wrong, a woman thrust Barbossa on to me, though she had no score to settle with me, and a would be woman killed me!"

"Well who said life would be fair," Elanor drawled, "because I'd certainly done nothing to harm the man who killed me."