Iylaine is reassured

“Iylaina?”

Iylaine lifted her head from her knees and stared. For the briefest moment she believed it was Vash who kneeled before her and smiled tenderly at her. But it was only Kiv.

“You were sleeping,” he murmured.

“Where’s Vash?” she cried.

She could tell by the sudden sorrow on his face that he did not know, or if he did then the news was not good.

“How could you leave him?” she sobbed and scrambled to her feet. “Why didn’t you fight? Why didn’t you help him?”

“Iylaina, Iylaina…” he soothed.

“I hate you!”

“Iylaina, hush.” He caught her arm with one hand, and the other he stroked down her cheek. Iylaine calmed immediately and leaned her face against his fingers. His hand was as warm and as comforting as a curl of bright flame.

“You’re very cold,” he said. “It was not wise to fall asleep here without a fire.”

“I was so tired…” she mumbled.

“How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“At night. But the rest of the time?”

“Tired all the time. Sick all the time. I never got better after I… came out of there…”

“Let’s have a fire and a short chat before I take you home.”

“What happened to Vash?”

“Fire first, chat second, home third,” he said, and he went to get some wood.

“What happened to Vash?” she repeated after he had helped her sit beside the fire he had made.

Kiv sighed. “I don’t know.”

“How could you leave him?” she whimpered.

“It is what he wanted,” he said slowly. “If there was trouble, we were to leave him and take you to safety. And when Shus had left with you, and Nush and I went back, they were already gone.”

“Is he dead?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” He reached out a long arm and stroked her cheek again. “I don’t think so. Do you?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they only have him locked up as they had me.”

“What did they do to you there?” he asked gently.

“Nothing. Only locked me up. And their food was bad, and they only gave me a few candles sometimes.”

“Poor girl,” he murmured. “But Vash will do better without fire. And he can eat anything. Even butter.”

“Butter?” she giggled.

Kiv smiled sadly and shook his head. “He swears it’s good with bread, but I would never try. One taste was enough for me.”

She tried to smile with him, but neither could hold it long.

“Why did they let us go?” she asked softly.

“It was a trap, Iylaina,” he sighed. “I think they never wanted you. They knew that if they had you, Vash would come for you. I simply can’t believe we were so – so stupid!” he said bitterly. “Such beetleheads, as you say.”

“You didn’t know…”

“I’m beginning to wonder whether Vash did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps he knew all along.”

Iylaine considered this for a moment. “I wish you hadn’t told me.”

“Why not? You ought to be told he would do that for you. I only wish he had told us! We might have done some things differently.”

“You shouldn’t have come at all,” she muttered.

“Why not?” he smiled. “And leave you down there?”

“Now I’m up here and I have to know that Vash is… not here. Because of me.”

“And if he hadn’t gone, he would have told himself the same thing about you, beetlehead.”

“But why should it be Vash and not I?”

“Because he’s a bigger beetlehead than you?”

“You like that word now,” she smiled painfully.

“Vash is the one who likes that word now! I wish you have never taught it to him. I don’t think he’s called any of us by our names in a year and a half.”

She laughed, and so did he, but neither could hold it long. Kiv stopped abruptly with his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Iylaine murmured and took his hands in hers. She realized it had been very selfish of her to not think of how Kiv felt, and how wrong she had been to be angry at him for leaving Vash behind.

And the thought made her all the more sorry that it was Vash beneath the earth and not she. No one would miss her much: only her father and Malcolm, and Gunnilda and Bertie, and perhaps the Duke and his children. Vash had many cousins.

“We all miss Vash,” he smiled sadly. “I more than most, perhaps. He was my dearest friend. More than that: my daughter should have married his son. Now I don’t know what will happen,” he muttered. “No one knows. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps nothing matters now.”

Iylaine had not heard the last few phrases. “Vash has a son?” she whispered.

“No, you beetlehead!” he laughed. “Have you ever seen Vash with a beard?”

“A beard?”

“Didn’t he ever tell you? What did he tell you? Simply how clever he is, and how magnificent and how wonderful? Elves grow beards when they are married, and shave until they are.” He rubbed his own beardless chin. “But I don’t think Vash ever will, because I always tell him he’ll look like a goat when he does. Don’t you think?”

“I think you would look goatier than he!”

“That may be. Perhaps I shan’t either. Perhaps I shan’t… anyway…” he mumbled and passed his hand over his face again. “Don’t you ever have the feeling that he’s near?” he asked plaintively. “When you’re out walking?”

“I don’t go out walking very often. I don’t feel well enough.”

He touched her face again, and she felt a firelike heat go between her and him. “If you ever do have such a feeling, you should tell me. Leave a stone here for me. A gray stone,” he added when he saw the look of hesitation on her face. “There aren’t any gray stones in the story.”

“What story? He never told me the story.”

“He didn’t?” Kiv laughed. “He could at least tell you something amusing, rather than simply telling you how handsome and splendid he is. Ah, but I see that amuses you too,” he said when he saw her smile. “It’s true his praises of himself are among the funniest jokes he tells.”

This time it was Iylaine whose laugh broke off into a sob. “Don’t you think he’s alive?”

He took her hand and held it so the fire could flow between them. “I’m certain of it. Now we only need to find him.”

“Who were those elves?”

“Those elves? I don’t know. No – the one is only Lar. The father of your father’s little boy. He is only kisór. Vash told you about that, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“But he has made himself a sort of leader over them. And we didn’t know how he could hide from us, but it seems he has help from the other elf. Who is not an elf,” he added bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw how we couldn’t hurt him. I don’t know what he is. He said he was… Did Vash tell you about lasúlím and ísúlím and so forth?”

“No…”

“So, lasúlím means ‘people of the moon’ – that is, elves and faeries and so forth – and ísúlím means ‘people of the sun,’ or men. Because elves live by the seasons of the moon and men by the seasons of the sun. And one can also say dalas, which means ‘belonging to the moon,’ or dalís, which means ‘belonging to the sun.’ Now, Nush said ‘Ní dalas,’ which means, ‘He is not an elf.’ And this stranger said, ‘Pú dalash,’ which means he is belonging either to lash, which is the moon when it is eclipsed, or ash, which is the Dark Place. Something like Hell, for the men. But we don’t know of any such people: lashúlím or ashúlím. Perhaps it was only a riddle. Or perhaps he was only making poetry,” Kiv sighed. “Perhaps Vash would know.”

“He speaks good English,” Iylaine said hesitantly. “I wish I had asked him.”

“Who does? Vash?”

“No, the bad elf who isn’t an elf. He speaks better than Vash.”

“Oh! Don’t tell Vash that. He’ll cry. He thinks his English is perfect, like everything else he does.”

“It is almost perfect. He has an accent, like yours. But I like it.”

“Don’t tell him that either. It will make him even more insufferable.”

“I wish I had the possibility,” she whimpered.

“You shall,” he promised and held her wrist tightly in his hand. “I am certain of it. But please don’t tell that beetlehead he is ‘almost perfect’ when you do, or I shall never hear the end of it.”