Diamond Cut Diamond
Chapter Thirteen: How Much?
Arya was nowhere to be found outside in the Hall. Murtagh searched the gardens and then realized she had probably gone to her own rooms.
"You could probably find them," said Thorn.
"I've pushed my luck too far already today."
"Look for her mind."
"Someone would notice. I'm trying to be inconspicuous."
Slight disbelief emanated from Thorn.
"I can be inconspicuous. It's not my fault the world has an interest in me."
"I think it's me they're interested in. I am a dragon."
"Well, there is that."
Murtagh wondered what kind of objections could be raised if he wandered around the city.
"As long as we don't destroy anything, we should be fine."
"You never know," thought Murtagh, wryly. "Don't step on any flowers."
In all fairness, Murtagh had thought he was walking into a grove of trees not someone's house. The elf, who was sitting in what was either very chairlike tree or a very treelike chair by the stream, looked up.
"May the stars watch over you," he said. You could almost have said his voice had a drawl.
Murtagh jumped. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.
"May good fortune rule over you," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought this was part of the forest."
"It is," replied the elf. "Everything is 'part of the forest' here."
Annoyance coursed through Murtagh. "I'll leave you—my apologies for breaking and entering."
The elf smiled. "There is no need to apologize. You couldn't have known."
Murtagh didn't like the elf's tone, he didn't like what the elf was insinuating, and he didn't like the sardonic smile the elf wore.
But he knew enough to nod courteously.
"Of course, our city is not anything you could be used to," the elf added.
"Indeed it is not," said Murtagh. He considered adding something about how pleasant he found it, but he didn't think he could stomach flattery. Civility was hard enough.
"Are you as arrogant as your half-brother?" asked Vanir. "And will I be forced to train you too?"
"I have no need of training," said Murtagh. "And I do not think myself arrogant. But I think myself your equal."
The elf's lips curved again. "That makes you both arrogant and delusional."
Murtagh turned to leave.
"Wise."
Murtagh had long ago learned that the way to insult someone was not with words, but with a lack of attention. He mastered his temper—which was also something he had learned at a young age, and walked out of the elf's "front door" as he now recognized two trees to be.
The elf did not pursue him, but Murtagh felt sure that that conflict was not over yet.
He walked, trying to calm himself. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't leave, not ever, because of Arya. All of this, all of the condescending looks, the smooth elven voices with laughter barely concealed behind them, it was all worth it because she was here.
There were paths, and lack of paths that eventfully became paths again, and Murtagh soon found himself lost.
Thorn sent him rough images of where he was.
"Thanks. And how long, exactly…"
"You've got about an hour to think of her before you have to go to the election."
"Right. What if she doesn't win?"
"Nasuada said to speak your piece, but there wasn't much you could do if she lost."
"I'm sure if there was she would have made me swear to do it…Nasuada's a consummate leader; she'll do whatever it takes to win."
"She's done much good."
"Indeed she has…much good, with a ruthless hand. Oh, but the legends that will be sung. And how odd, I will be here to hear them."
"Of course you will be," said Thorn. "Why wouldn't you?"
Murtagh walked on, mindful only enough to keep form walking into trees.
And then there was a grove, in which there was a fountain, beside which there was a bench, on which there was Arya.
She was barefoot and wore loose, light green trousers and a white shirt that flowed over her frame. He hair was loose. He hadn't often seen it that way, he supposed it wasn't practical. But now, it flowed over her shoulders and down her back, and hung over the water that she was bending over.
She realized he was there immediately, of course. She was an elf, with supernatural senses. But when she looked up, surprise was written all over her face, and he realized that for once, she had no idea what to say.
What she did end up saying was simply, "Murtagh."
"Your mother isn't very happy with me," said Murtagh, sitting next to her.
"She is never happy," said Arya. "Not, I think, since I took up the duties of egg-courier. Or perhaps it was even longer ago she became as hard as stone, perhaps it was with my father's death."
Murtagh shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps—"
"But why should I trouble you with any of it?" asked Arya.
She looked at him, her head cocked to the side, her mouth slightly open, and then bit her lip.
"Murtagh, what do you want from me?"
Murtagh frowned. "Do you honestly think I am that low?"
Arya shook her head. "I should not have said that."
"But you did. And I—" he stopped, frustrated. "I don't want you for anything other than yourself—do Elves understand the concept of love?"
"I shouldn't have, oh by the gods, I don't care, I love her, there's nothing wrong with loving her."
Arya opened her mouth slightly. "You love me? You honestly love me?"
And in her eyes, there was a longing.
"Yes," said Murtagh taking her hand in his. "Yes. I do."
Arya was silent for a moment and then said softly. "How much of me do you love, though?"
Murtagh opened his mouth to ask why she would ask such a nonsensical question, but she plowed onward.
"Do you love my pretty face, my body, the satisfaction I would give you, the prestige of having conquered an elf? But not, perhaps, the nightmares I would scream myself awake from every night, my fear of being touched or held, my past, my shame, my family, my race! How much of me do you 'love,' dragon rider?"
Murtagh drew back from her voice, which was laden with venom. Her hand now held his in a vice, and when he met her eyes, they were wide and seemed full of fear.
"Arya—Arya, whatever your past is, I don't care—would I have any room to complain?"
"But would you tire of me, of my psychosis, of my mother, of everything that comes back to me in dreams?"
Arya seemed unable to stop.
"No," said Murtagh. "No, damn it! I want you, and phantoms from the past aren't going to change that. Look at my past! Look at my family! Do you hate me for it?"
"No," said Arya, and her voices had the choked quality of held-back tears, "No, I could never hate you. I—I love you. Oh, Murtagh, it's been so long since I've said those words. I nearly forgot what they meant."
Murtagh reached to embrace her, and only when she exhaled after a few seconds in his arms, did he realize she'd been holding her breath.
They returned to Tialdari Hall together, not speaking. Only at the doors did Murtagh turned to Arya and say, "The best of luck," which he knew was feeble.
Arya smiled, then pushed open the door.
Islanzadi was waiting for them the great hall, which was what everyone called the room where all the most important meetings were held. The council of twelve elves who functioned as a congress was there as well. When Arya and Murtagh entered, everyone rose.
"Welcome," she said. "To the council, I would like to introduce Arya Drottingu, ambassador to Nasuada, and Murtagh Morzansson, Dragon Rider. To you," she nodded to Murtagh and Arya, "I would like to introduce the Council of Elves, Vaerna, the current Head, Glendar, his Second in Command, Ayala, the Minister of Defense—"
Murtagh felt his attention slipping back to Arya, how she had felt, her eyes, her lips against his, the scent of her hair…
"Faevern, Minister of Magical Affairs—"
The shape of her body, how he had never wanted to let her go, to simply sit in the grove forever, Arya in his arms…
"And Arad, Secretary."
As one, the council and Islanzadi twisted their hands at their chests, and Murtagh and Arya responded in kind.
"Sit, please," said Islanzadi.
The entire conversation had gone on in the Ancient Language. Murtagh wished he was more proficient at it. He assumed Islanzadi would be glad he was uncomfortable.
"Let it be recorded that the meeting has come to order, and let the names of those present be laid down," said Arad.
A quill scratched across parchment laid out on the table.
"What magic is this?" thought Murtagh. He began mentally composing a spell that would accomplish the recording, but was distracted by Islanzadi.
"Murtagh has been sent by Nasuada to oversee our election and to speak on Arya's behalf," said Islanzadi.
All eyes in the room turned to Murtagh. Carefully avoiding Arya's gaze, he nodded. He stood up, feeling clumsy as his chair scraped the floor. The speech he gave was Nasuada's, memorized word for word. He attempted to keep his voice calm and friendly, and make eye contact with all of the Elves assembled.
"I've been ordered here by Nasuada, who is now acting leader of Alagaesia. As a nation, the representatives for each region, along with the representatives for the Dwarven and Urgal nations support Arya Drottingu as the Elven Representative to Nasuada's council. The decision was based on several facts.
"Firstly, Arya has much experience with other races, due to her activities with the Varden. She understands their culture, and because of her presence during the reforming of Alagaesian government, she understands the new system of legislation. Secondly, she is a well-known figure in the Elven world and as such, would understand the needs of her home nation well. This would allow her to communicate said needs to the council. Thirdly, she has proved herself many times during the war. She was a steadfast ally of the Varden and we hope she will be a valuable addition to our government. Does anyone," He paused and looked around the room, "have any questions?"
Murtagh winced as he delivered the last line. It seemed condescending, and he realized Nasuada had forgotten to pander to the gigantic superiority complex most Elves seemed to have. He would have to do so in his answers.
Arya said: "I thank Nasuada for her support. I will try my best to live up to her expectations, if I am elected."
An elf with silver hair asked, "Does Nasuada know any of the other candidates?"
"Yes, she reviewed a list sent to her by the Elven Council at length," said Murtagh.
"Did she have a second choice?" asked the elf.
Murtagh considered for a split second. "No, though she did state that any of the candidates would perform admirably."
He attempted to gauge the Elf's reactions, but was, as usual, unable.
"And does Nasuada know much of our politics?" asked a female elf. "Such as the consequences of a drottingu holding another position of authority?"
"Nasuada has a fairly in depth understanding for your system of government," said Murtagh. "She has taken into consideration such conflicts as might occur and believes Arya able to overcome them and make the choices best for both parties."
There was silence, and Murtagh waited, counting to ten mentally. If someone didn't ask him anything else by then—
Islanzadi broke in at five. "If no one else has any questions, we can continue."
There were noises of assent, and Islanzadi said, "Now, I present our first candidate, Livaren, who is…"
And thus the meeting continued. Each candidate spoke for themselves, with speeches that were far too long for Murtagh's liking. The common thread, he noticed, was proclaiming an ability to communicate with humans, and very thinly veiled assertions of being more intelligent and thus able to manipulate them. He began to realize exactly how many problems there would be if Arya's victory was not secure.
Not the least of which would be his lack of excuses to see her.
After four elves had presented themselves, Arya rose. Murtagh glanced at Islanzadi, but the queen showed no sign of displeasure at her daughter.
"I stand before the Council. In the hopes of being elected as representative to Nasuada's court," said Arya. He voice was steady and calm, and unlike Murtagh, she met his eyes during her scan of the room. "I believe, in unvarnished honesty, that I am the best for the task. I understand what it entails, and believe it to be work that I can excel at. The main reason for my belief is simple: I do not consider myself superior to humans. I acknowledge and accept the differences between races, but I do not consider one superior to the other. This, I believe, is my strength. Because I do not hold myself above humans, I will be compassionate to their affairs. Because of my loyalty to my own race, I will look out for Elven interests.
"I understand the horrors of war, and am thus prepared to defend our land form it. I am skilled at negotiations between many races, illustrated by my presence during the reforming of the government of Alagaesia. I am the desired choice of the humans, and of the Dwarves, and of the Urgals. I could do much good, if chosen. Thus, my plea to you. If I am elected, I will preserve peace through equality. I will give my best effort to my task, and I ask for it in good faith."
She twisted her wrist at her chest, as all the other had done, and sat down.
Two more elves followed, and then Islanzadi said, "All candidates may leave, and the voting will commence. In an hour, we will have results."
Murtagh followed the elves out the door, and when he turned down the path that would lead him to the dragonhold, Arya followed.
I'm very proud of this chapter, dry Elven politics included. Give me brutal feedback, please and thanks. I wuv you all.
