Pol confesses a crime
Saralla was finding that the older she became, the less sleep she needed. Many winter nights she would not take to her bed until stars had risen that those who had retired early would not see again until the summer.
She was aware that acting as her companion in the evenings was therefore not a duty the ladies looked forward to, and she did take a certain perverse pleasure in the fact.
Nevertheless, she always provided some special treat to eat or drink, according to the season, and if her companion pleased her, she would pretend to take to her bed early and rise again after her lady had gone.
Furthermore, it had been many years since a new bride had been obliged to attend the Shalla’s evening, though there was nothing in the laws that exempted them; and if the little girl who waited at the door below fell asleep at her post, nothing was ever said.
But there was little danger of the latter tonight, with bouncy little Iva guarding the door.
Iva was so full of energy that when she came bouncing up the stairs, Saralla was expecting some absurd excuse—an owl gliding past the window, perhaps—to justify the trip up to the Shalla’s bedchamber. Iva probably also knew she had a fair chance of being granted a piece of candy.
But Iva was straight-backed and still with self-importance when she reached the top.
“It is permitted for this elf to speak to the Shalla,” Saralla said, smiling slightly.
“The elf Pol wishes to speak to the Shalla,” Iva murmured.
“So late in the evening!” Saralla gasped. She turned to Dashela and said, “Now this is an interesting development. The last time a man came to my chambers so late in the evening, you were less than Iva’s age.”
“But—Pol!” Dashela laughed.
“What is wrong with Pol?”
“Nothing is wrong with Pol…”
“I don’t suppose you know that, Dashela, but I shall tell you in the morning whether anything is wrong with Pol.”
“Saralla!” Dashela laughed.
“You don’t suppose something is wrong with me?” Saralla asked as she rose.
“No…”
“Run and tell the elf Pol to meet me below by the fire,” she whispered to Iva, and then she said to Dashela, “Merely because I am old enough to be his mother? If not his grandmother?”
“I am certain nothing is wrong with either of you,” Dashela giggled.
“If you hear any further ‘interesting developments’ downstairs, you may excuse yourself and leave by the roof stairs.”
“You are joking, aren’t you?” Dashela asked.
“Wait and see.”
But Saralla was, of course, joking. Ninety-seven winters had passed her by, and no elf would come to her in the night again. The oldest living elf after her had seen only sixty-two winters—a boy, practically, next to her—and his wife still lived.
Pol himself had seen fifty-four, but it was rare for an elf whose wife had died violently ever to think of another lady again. Something inside them was said to shatter. There were too many shattered elves among them these days, and this thanks to the men.
Pol dropped to his knees before her when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“May the earth hold you, Pol,” she said to him.
“And you, Saralla,” he replied.
“It is permitted for this elf to stand in the presence of the Shalla. Indeed, this is such an unusual occasion,” she smiled, “that it is permitted for this elf to sit on the couch with the Shalla.”
“Saralla…” He rose stiffly to his feet again.
“Although… I see you are dressed to travel and not to visit a lady in her chambers. Do you mean to run away with me, Pol?”
She smiled, but Pol did not. It was clear he had come for a grave matter, though his mere presence was already proof of this.
“Sit with me, Pol.”
She led him around to the couch before the fire. They sat for a while in silence, and finally Saralla said, “It is permitted for this elf to speak in the presence of the Shalla,” thinking that perhaps he only awaited her permission.
“I have committed a crime,” he said in his deep voice that was heard so rarely these days.
“I do not know what crime a male could commit that would require confession to the Shalla.”
Saralla heard Dashela leaving by the door above. It was true that this was an interesting development, though not what she had had in mind with her joke.
“I do not come to confess to you,” Pol said. “I come to ask you a question.”
“Then why do you mention a crime?”
“You will wonder how I learned.”
“I await.”
Pol took a deep breath and confessed: “I have spoken to the man Egelric, father of Vin.”
“That is why you are dressed for travel,” she frowned.
“I have been to his castle above the lake on this evening.”
“And what damage has this conversation done?” she snapped. “If the elf Druze and the elf Vash and the elf Shosudin can fall under his spell, why do you believe the elf Pol exempt?”
“He will not attempt to charm me,” Pol said mournfully. “He hates me more than any creature under the sun.”
“Why did you go? Vin did not see him?”
“I did not take Vin.”
“That is some small comfort! Why, then?”
“I wished to see my daughter’s daughter.”
“Your—!” Saralla gasped. “So you committed a grave crime in an attempt to commit another still more grave?”
“I wished to see whether she had anything of Lira in her.”
“It is forbidden!”
“Only to see the baby!” he pleaded. “I would not ask to see the elf Iylaina! A baby is too young to know and to remember!”
“The child’s father is a man. It is no concern of ours. It is forbidden. My answer is No.”
“That is not my question.”
“What is your question?”
“The man Egelric told me my daughter did not have a daughter, but a son.” It was not a question either, but he pronounced the words as if they were a challenge.
Saralla cursed the man in her heart—the father of Vin and all the other men besides. “He lied to you,” she said. “He knew it would distress you. That is all.”
“I do not believe he lied.”
“Then you too have fallen under his spell. It must be a lie. The father is a man. It must be a girl child.”
“The father is not only a man,” he said. “It is a kind of man called a ‘Scot’.”
“What is a ‘Scot’?”
“I do not know. When I asked the man Egelric whether the father was an elf to be a father to a boy child, he said that he was a kind of man called a ‘Scot’.”
“Can a ‘Scot’ have a boy child with an elf?”
“This one did.”
“Did he tell you nothing more about this kind of man?”
“He did not. I think the man Egelric must be a ‘Scot’ as well, for I have seen his child, and it is a boy child.”
“Its mother was kisór,” Saralla sniffed.
“And Vin is his child, and Vin is a boy child.”
“That is because his mother was many generations removed from the elves.”
“His mother and all his mother’s mother’s mothers had only girl children,” Pol protested, “until the woman Elfleda, who was the wife of the man Egelric.”
“Vin was a boy because he had to be!” Saralla cried in exasperation. “Will you question everything, Pol, now that you have spoken to the man Egelric? Will you be like the elf Vash and the elf Shosudin because you have once spoken to this man? To this ‘Scot’?”
“No, Saralla. But perhaps the elf Vash will know more…”
“It is not permitted for this elf to speak with the Khir,” Saralla said coldly. “If there is something you wish to say to him and you dare admit your crime, you may speak to the Khor.”
“Will you ask, Saralla? About the ‘Scot’ men?”
“I shall ask, Pol, because I wish to know more. But you have asked enough. Do not commit any more such crimes. Son or daughter, the child of the elf Iylaina with this ‘Scot’ man is not for you. And, as we have so recently seen, there are some crimes that the Khor will not forgive.”
