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Okay, so he's an actor, at least. Pretty good one, too.
"I am Korendil, warrior and mage, second to Prince Terenil, leader of the elves of this
region."
"Uh huh," Eric replied dryly. "I'm Eric Banyon, street busker. What the hell are you doing in
my apartment?"
The hair could be his, could be a wig. Ears are latex. Eyes contact lenses. You could even
do the funny pupils that way; that's what they did in "Thriller." Korendil, Terenil, they sound
like somebody lifted those names right out of Tolkien. And yeah. He didn't read my mind,
he read my eyes. I looked at his ears he's gotta know that the first thing anybody would
think is, "Are they real?" And he's too smart not to figure I'd try to yank on them.
"I followed you here," Korendil said, some of the pride draining out of his stance. "I followed
you from the place-of-festival."
Cute. "Place-of-festival" instead of "Fairesite." Oh, you're good, fella. But I'm not that stoned,
no matter what Maureen told you about my habits.
"You followed me, huh?" Eric sat back and rubbed the sore side of his face. "Why?"
"I was trapped in the Node-Grove, the magic nexus at the place-of-festival, trapped by our
enemy, Terenil's and mine, the traitor we once harbored in our midst."
"You expect me to believe elves have traitors?" Eric laughed. "Come on! You'll have to do
better than that."
Korendil glared. "You, who play 'Sheebeg Sheemore' with such feeling, how can you be
such a great fool as that?"
"Watch who you're calling a fool, buddy," Eric growled.
He's got the script down good, that's for sure. "Just what is this guy supposed to have done
to you?"
"He caught me unawares and bound me in sleep in the oaken grove. Until you Awakened
me."
"Say what?" Whoever wrote this script sure has a weird imagination. And Maureen sure
gave him a lot to work with.
Korendil leaned forward, earnestly. "You Awakened me, Bard. With your song, two nights
ago. And you freed me from imprisonment in the grove."
Music, wild and fey, the trees bending closer to listen, then that moment when everything had
clicked, that moment . . .
And how the hell did he know that? Maureen wasn't there. There's no way he could know
what happened Saturday night.
Okay, wait a minute. He was at the Fairesite, he stole my cloak. He probably talked to
people who know me, knew I tend to slink off to that grove to be alone. Hell, he probably was
hiding in the trees and listening to me!
Bastard. You almost had me falling for it.
But I didn't hear or see anyone, and I would have. Wouldn't I?
"You're stoned, mister," Eric said slowly. "Yeah, I played in that grove on Saturday night, but I
didn't do any more than that."
"But you are a Bard and Bards are the greatest of mages. Bards control the magic of
creation, the magic only the most skillful of High Adepts can use. Even untutored, you are a
greater mage than I or even the Prince. Untutored, you can break the spells of lock and ward
simply by wishing for freedom as you play."
I wanted freedom and
Damn, he's good. He almost suckered me in. I wonder where Maureen found this guy? The
annual Screen Actors Guild Christmas party? "You still haven't said why you followed me
home."
"It is a long tale " Korendil looked at him doubtfully.
Eric spread his hands wide. "I've got nothing but time. Humor me."
The elf cleared his throat, and took on that proud posture again. "Once we lived freely in this
land," he said, his words sounding as if he was reciting some chronicle. "We came here
from across the sea, seeking freedom from fear even as your kind sought it. We spread
farther and faster than your kind, and were well settled by the time they came upon us again.
We welcomed them. Our groves were scattered among the humans' dwellings, and we lived
in peace with them. That changed; in the way of humans, so swiftly that we were taken
unawares. You humans began to build with cold iron in this valley, more and more as the
years went past, and slowly our people were cut off from each other."
Eric shrugged. "So? What's that got to do with anything?" Logic; let's have some logic here.
How'd he do what he did to me? How would you fake magic?
"We have been cut off from the Node-Grove, the nexus, the source of all our magic, by the
walls of cold iron you humans have built. That has weakened our power, and "
"So move," Eric interrupted. "Do what everybody else does. Head for the suburbs." He's
SAG, I bet Using some kind of special effects. Bet Maureen can just wiggle her hips and
have forty techies begging to do her favors.
"We are tied to our groves," Korendil explained, as if to a particularly stupid child.
Eric bristled a little, and Korendil continued, apparently not noticing. "Without the magic of
the Node-Grove, most of us are bound to the groves where we anchored ourselves in your
world. We cannot travel far from the home-trees without much pain and further weakening.
Only those of the High Court, who need no anchoring to dwell on this side of the Hill,
remained free to move. They could not, and would not, leave the others."
Eric was only half-listening, sizing the guy up. He could be a martial artist. He's got the build
for it. That would sure account for him being able to toss me across the room. And if
Maureen gave him her key, he could have been in and out of here all he wanted.
"Uh huh," Eric said vaguely, shifting his weight so that the couch creaked. "So, they're stuck.
What's so bad about that?"
"What's 'so bad,' " Korendil said acidly, "is that when elves are cut off from each other and
the source of their magic, they fall into Dreaming."
The capital "D" was as plain as if Korendil had written the word.
"Dreaming what?" Eric replied, interested in spite of his anger at the trick being played on
him. Whoever came up with this should write a book. It's better than half the fantasy schlock
I've picked up lately like telepathic horses, or ancient Aztec gods invading Dallas.
"Dreaming ... it is a " Korendil groped for words.
This part must not have been in the script.
"It is a state," he said, finally. "A state in which only 'now' is important. There is no memory of
the past, or thought of the future. All that matters is existence and amusement."
"Sounds like half the kids hanging out at the malls," Eric replied, uncomfortably aware that
Korendil was describing something very like his own life. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]