The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22

A shocked look crossed the faces of all the huntsmen. "Only during time of war," countered Tammer.

"Yes, yes," said Anasper. "Only during time of war. Still, I can require up to one tenth of you at any time, even in peace, to drill alongside my troops. And I will. Master Tammer and my commanders will work out the details, I am sure. Now, if you will excuse me, I have construction to oversee."

With that, the huntsmen all knelt again and Duke Anasper turned and reentered the pavilion.

The huntsmen all looked at Tammer. "What is that about?" asked Harlen.

"Just what he said," replied Tammer with a sour tone. "We rejoined the armies when we formed into a company again. I will work out a favorable arrangement with the commanders for the service periods. There is a simple solution for any man seeking to avoid the service, though. They have to but turn in their uniform and swear never to don it again."

A murmur arose among the senior huntsmen, and they reached a consensus that none of them would do so. They doubted that many other men would do so, either. The horsemen moved off and the huntsmen walked back to the waiting company.

As Harlen approached, Hyandai and Wendy stood from beneath the shade of a low, ruined wall.

"What happened?" asked Wendy.

"It seems we've been levied," replied Harlen as he watched Tammer mount upon another section of ruined wall and begin to speak.

The men listened, and then they held a long discussion between various groups of men. After much discussion and debate they achieved another consensus. A few of the men would not serve in the army, and would relinquish their uniforms and arms. However, the number was less than ten. They thrust no shame upon these men, as it was their right, and military service, even as an attached ranger, was not to everyone's liking. Tammer spoke with the little knot of men for a few moments, instructing them of the procedure they should follow when they get to Morrovale. Of course, they could remain huntsmen, he assured them.

Wendy looked at Harlen with accusing eyes. "I have to call you sir now?" she asked.

"Only on duty," replied Harlen. "Still, according to Tammer, I will be an officer, or the equivalent of one, anyway," he kissed her brow, "but you CAN call me sir, if you like, anytime."

She nudged him in the ribs, giggling. "That will happen when frogs leap from my arse," said Wendy, giggling.

Tammer called camp, and ordered the huntsmen to go and help with the construction work for a few hours. Half the company set up camp while the other half went into the ruins and volunteered their assistance to the work crews.

Captain Farridin, after an hour came forth from the ruined village and spoke to Tammer for long hours. They hammered out an agreement between them how the rangers would serve with the army. It came down to each ranger would serve three weeks one period and two weeks another. They would draw lots during the new year's festivities to discover their service periods.

It seemed an equitable arrangement, most of the rangers decided. The treasury would pay them for the period they served, and not a paltry sum, either. Captain Farridin valued scouts and compensated them well.

---

The Rangers of Morrovale were welcomed home with some measure of celebration. Most of Morrovale turned out to meet their approach, and there was much cheering and waving at the returning huntsmen.

To Tammer fell the undesirable duty of telling folk of dead loved ones. Harlen, Hyandai, and Rigilus went with him to each home during the first week after their return. Widows were to be paid a stipend from the moneys that huntsmen paid as part of their allotments. It was a trial for all of them, dealing with the grief of parents and wives and children. Nevertheless, they worked through it, and offered what comfort they could. One widow wished to relocate to Embalis, to live among those whom her husband died to protect. A week later, a half dozen elves appeared at her doorstep with a wagon and horses, and they took her in honor to Embalis, to live among them. Her husband had paid the price for that honor, in the minds of the elves.

Things in Wendy, Harlen, and Hyandai's life settled into a comfortable and soothing routine.

---

Wendy, Harlen, and Hyandai plaited again a few days later, weaving their hair and performing the little miracle that allowed each to carry the other's tresses as their own. The three separate locks intermingled in the braids, dark brown, lighter brown, and red.

"So, we have to wait a year and a day from today for Wendy to be wed to us?" asked Harlen.

"It is the way of it," replied Hyandai. "Though it is ultimately Wendy's choice, she is not an elf, and not bound to the year and a day, and I am free of it the day we can marry."

Wendy shook her head. "Elves and ceremonies," she muttered. "Do you ever just do something?"

"Not if we can help it," Hyandai said, kissing her. "We have much time to fill," she added, with eyes glinting.

---

Winter was settling in soon after, and the pace of Morrovale slowed to a bare crawl. Harlen hunted for the needs of the household, and even he always returned before dark settled in, riding N'umessa to his allotment and returning with all the haste that he could. Morrovale had cold, snowy winters, and the landscape was covered in a light white dusting most of the time.

It fascinated Hyandai, and, as an elf, not very discomfitted by the cold. She would go forth to the market each day wearing just her skirt and half-top, much to Wendy's alarm.

When Wendy caught her making snow angels in the back courtyard with Trevir one morning after a new snow, she was beside herself. She fretted and fussed until both Hyandai and Trevir were ensconced at the table with hot soup in their hands, despite their protests of not being cold or chilled.

The winter passed at a languid pace. Harlen found himself expecting another child three months later. The healers of Embalis had given Hyandai the recipe for a concoction that would calm the stomach of a pregnant woman. It served just as well for Wendy as it had Hyandai.

When a party of elves braved the cold to visit Morrovale for a few days, and conduct some trading, Harlen managed to speak to one of them. He sent him off with a letter to Hyandai's father and a small package.

Spring came about in time, as it always does. This time found the people preparing for the new year's celebration. Hyandai and Wendy were caught up in the preparations, and soon were gone much of the day at other people's homes, planning and preparing things.

The villagers accepted Wendy's status as 'handmaiden', as they did her upcoming birth. Harlen enjoyed a small measure of status from this at the Boar, but it was kept rather quiet, as to not upset Tammer.

Harlen began making longer hunting trips, taking the weed like Trevir with him now. Trevir was quite good, Harlen discovered, and the trips were pleasurable and profitable, with the lad's company and help.

Rigilus spent his time between Morrovale and the duke's palace outside town. He was welcomed into the village, being both personable and quite entertaining when he told stories of the Windy Isles. He was soon courting a woman of Morrovale and there was talk of impending nuptials.

Spring gave way to summer. An elf appeared at Harlen's door one summer morning, with a package and a short letter from Hyandai's father.

Hyandai was now great with child, and due any time. Wendy's belly was growing with notable speed, but not due for some months yet. Harlen's grandmother fussed over the two young women, and browbeat Harlen for putting the poor lasses in such a state.

"I taught him better than to do something like this," fussed Gramma, "To put both of you in such a state simultaneously. He should be ashamed."

"It was not as if we were helping not to get pregnant," confided Hyandai, defending her man, even if in jest.

Gramma looked at her, smiling. "I know that dearie," she said. "But you can't let that man know it," she added in a low whisper.

At midmorning of the eighteenth day of Fervamens, in late summer, Tammer Disharlen of Clan Yavanaur was born. Wendy sat beside Hyandai upon the bed and leaned inward, admiring the baby.

Gramma washed her hands in a basin on the nightstand as Harlen came in. Hyandai had the newborn pressed to her bosom, and he was feeding, his eyes closed.

"Our child is a boy," said Hyandai, pride filling her voice. Harlen suspected she would have said it the same way, were their baby a girl.

Harlen sat upon the side of the bed and peered over at the newborn, suckling upon his mother's breast. He smiled as he traced a finger along the point of his tiny ear.

"He's got your ears," he said in the reverential tone fathers have when speaking in the presence of new mothers.

Hyandai giggled. "He has your eyes, though, beloved," she said. "And your voice, should you try to deny him his want, trust me."

Harlen reached out and stroked Hyandai's hair, then bent forward and kissed her. "Thank you, beloved," he said.

Wendy and Harlen left the room at the goading of Gramma, who went across the hall to the spare bedroom, where she had stayed for a week, waiting for the birth.

Harlen and Wendy went downstairs. "Harlen," began Wendy, "do you regret having me into your relationship with Hyandai?" A moment passed while Harlen thought. Wendy liked this about him. He almost never answered without thought. "It has crossed my mind that you may not feel loved in equal measure," said Harlen. "I fear you feeling that way, anyway."

"Should I?" asked Wendy, sitting with great care in one of the rocking chairs, her round belly making it a bit of a challenge, despite Harlen's quick assistance.

Harlen again thought for a bit. "No," he said after the pause. "I don't think now that I could say I love her more than you. I am not even sure if I know how to love only one of you, anymore. You are part of us, and we a part of you, I should think."

Nodding, Wendy smiled. "I feel the same way," she said. "I don't know how I would feel with just one of you two. I don't wish to find out, either."

Harlen knelt before her and kissed her hand. "I love you, Wendy," he said, his eyes filled with reverence. "As much as I love life."

Taking his hand from beneath hers, Wendy placed it upon her belly, where he could feel the movements of the unborn child within. "I am glad of that," she said. "Immensely."

Harlen rose from his knees and kissed Wendy. Trevir came into the room. "One protect me, don't you lot ever stop?" he exclaimed as they parted lips to look at him. The lad had a wide smile, though. "Miss Hyandai's does well then?" he asked.

"Indeed," answered Wendy. "She is a mother now."

Trevir smiled at that. "Great, it was a boy, wasn't it?"

Harlen nodded. "Yes," he said.

"I knew it, pay up!" exclaimed Trevir, holding out a hand to Harlen.

Wendy had a look of playful dismay on her face. "You bet on the birth?" she asked.

Harlen dug into his belt pouch and produced a half mark coin. "Um. Well, yeah, I guess I did," he said looking sheepish.

"Bet and lost," said Trevir, gloating as he pocketing the coin and grinning at Harlen and Wendy.

In an attempt to sound offended, Wendy asked, "Is this child under such a bet?" She rubbed her belly as she raised an eyebrow at the father of the unborn child.

Harlen again looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. Wendy looked up at him with an open-mouthed smile of shock. "You villain!" she said, giggling. "What did you bet the child to be?" "A girl." Harlen muttered.

"Right then. Put me down for ten marks that it is a boy, Book-Maker Harlen of Morrovale," Wendy said, putting her hand out to be shaken.

He took it, but did not look pleased. "Very well, but you will lose," said Harlen.

Wendy scoffed at him. "Yes, you've made a great prediction so far," she said. "You wait until I tell Hyandai of this!"

"She'll probably put another ten marks against me," said Harlen, shaking his head.

Giggling, Wendy said, "Hyandai has made some real money scribing records, Master Harlen. Do not be surprised if she makes a fifty-mark wager."

Harlen kissed her for a moment, then escorted young Master Tammer toward the kitchen for a beer and to discuss the proper etiquette for settling wagers.

---

The chill wind blew stiff in the morning air. Ceriandel stood before the altar in the back courtyard. Trevir had rebuilt it several times, refined, and was quite a fair approximation of an altar in Embalis. He watched as Harlen shifted from foot to foot. He was wearing the green silken tunic the elves had given him after the battle.

Wendy and Hyandai came out of the house, and both were wearing the blue silken gowns from the same day. Each had flowers woven into their tresses and walked slowly to the altar.

Ceriandel grinned widely at the nervous man. "You are really done for now, Harlen," he said in a hushed tone. "Having experienced the affections of two women, I envy you not committing to a lifetime of it."

Harlen smiled back. "It is a risk I face willingly," he said.

The two women stood before the altar now and the three turned to face each other.

"Elven life is full of ceremony," said Ceriandel standing before the trio. "But you three now engage in one of the simplest of them. The one that leads to one of the most complex of futures." He stopped for a moment. "Marriage," he concluded.

"You three have decided to make it complex indeed. I warn you that you will be forever working out the intricacies of the delicate balance you must maintain. There is no elven word that sunders a marriage, and there is no ending one, save by death.

Harlen's eyes flicked from Hyandai to Wendy and back. He saw that their eyes did the same.

"Harlen, are you sure of the path you walk?" asked Ceriandel.

Harlen looked toward him. "I am sure," he said.

"Hyandai, are you sure of the path you walk?" he repeated the question to his sister.

Hyandai nodded and said, "I am sure."

Ceriandel looked at Wendy. "Wendy, are you sure of the path you walk?" he asked.

"I am sure," replied Wendy.

"You three are now committing your lives to one another. You will forever place the needs of the other two before your own, and will forever be at their service," said Ceriandel. "If you are ready for that, then speak so."

"I am ready," all three said in unison.

Ceriandel walked around them, handing each a ring, the one to be worn by their betrothed on their right. Harlen had sent off to Embalis for that, a third ring, one that matched the other two. He refused to reveal its cost to anyone, as did Hyandai's father, who had arranged to have jewelry smiths in Embalis craft it.

They glowed with a faint light of their own, and they glittered as if tiny lakes reflecting sunlight. The mithril alloy they were crafted in had a slight blueish tint to it.

Harlen placed the ring upon Hyandai's finger, then Hyandai slipped the ring she held onto Wendy's finger. Wendy turned to Harlen, to complete the circle by sliding the larger ring over his finger.

"It is that simple," intoned Ceriandel. "Hope that your lives have such simplicity again, Harlen, Wendy, and Hyandai of Clan Yavanaur. You are wed."

He bowed and then hugged his sister who was beaming. There were no witnesses for the ceremony, save the conductor. Elven marriages were not public events, even if the result was a public change. It was a covenant between the people getting married, and no one else. Society had to accept it.

Inside the house, however, were guests aplenty.

Tammer was there, smiling and speaking with Emorianel, Hyandai's father. Harlen's Gramma was there, as were Tessa and Maegan. More than two dozen huntsmen, the best acquainted with Harlen, were attending, one with a soon-to-be elven bride of his own with him. Rigilus and his new bride were there as well. Her own rounded belly, alone outmatched by the nearly absurdly large one that Wendy was now forced to endure.

The celebration went late into the night, and much happiness filled the little house, and around it. More elves were, this day, in Morrovale than at any time that anyone knew of, for the wedding, and to accompany those who came for the wedding. It seemed that half if Embalis was in Morrovale, and the Morrovalians welcomed the company of their neighbors.

Wendy gave birth on the thirty-second of Comamens, as winter was fast approaching. Morlani Disharlen of Clan Yavanaur was a healthy and happy girl, and Harlen made sixty and a half marks. Morlani had been Hyandai's mother's name.

---

Harlen was sitting in the Pierced Boar, enjoying a rum with a beer for a chaser. He had one every Brimdor, just before the day of rest after he came back into town from hunting. Someone cleared their throat from behind him.

Turning, Harlen saw a man wearing the Livery of the duke. "Yes?" he asked.

The page held out a scroll to Harlen. "Duke Anasper requests your presence at the soonest opportunity, Ambassador Harlen," he said.

THE END

Epilogue ---

Ryssa sat upon the old foundation's edge, peering at her palmset as it displayed the images that the chronothaumic recorder saw. She heard the crunch of macadam under tires coming from the road. Looking up, she saw Danis parking his carraige and emerging with the solid thunk of the door.

"Have you found what you sought?" he asked as he walked with care over the grids of the excavation.

Nodding, Ryssa Yanour stood and brushed her auburn hair back behind her elegant, pointed ear. "I have, beloved, though you may grow alarmed at my discovery."

Danis smiled at her, taking her in his arms, after giving her time to set down the expensive palmset. "I don't know how anything about you and your lineage will dismay me," he said, kissing her.

She responded as she always did to his kiss, forming herself to his body and accepting him and his touch. As the kiss ended, she turned to the palmset again and picked it up. "Oh, I don't know this time, dear. It may shock you."

He looked over her shoulder at the tiny illusographic display, as he peered at it, it grew to fill his vision. Thaumic electronics always gave him the willies, though he was never sure why.

Around him, an old house formed, and in it were people, frozen in place. They were dressed in leathers and homespun cloth, except three of them. Those three were dressed in silk that would not look out of place at a high-society party today. Two pretty women in long gowns, matching blue with silver piping. And a huge man, wearing a green tunic and matching silken pants piped in silver. One of the women was great with child, the other holding a infant in her arms.

Ryssa guided him through the illusory room, past an old man who was holding up a wine glass, as if to toast. "These fine folk here," she said, pointing at the trio in silk.

"What of them, angel?" asked Danis.

"That man," said Ryssa, "is my great grandsire, six times over. His name was Harlen." Then she turned to the woman in a gown with flaming red hair and remarkable emerald eyes. "This is my great granddame, Hyandai."

Ryssa then adopted a wicked grin. "And this lovely woman, with the dark brown hair, is Wendy, your great granddame, Danis Disarlen," she pronounced.

"Where's my great grandsire, then?" he asked, peering about the illusory room. The smile finished growing upon Ryssa's lips, and she turned back toward the massive man who stood between the two attractive, petite women. "Here," she said, "Harlen."

"The same man sired both our bloodlines?" said Danis, incredulity clouding his voice. "How do they justify that arrangement, as Oneians?"

Ryssa shrugged. "They were never married in a Oneian ceremony. They married under an elven ceremony, and elves accepted mutual polygamy," she said.