When they get out onto the street, Heppa says, “What happened? It seems like you got Damal in trouble.”
“I think Damal got himself in trouble,” Tric counters. “We just revealed his… I don’t know. Decade of deception?”
“But… what happened? We were just talking about paper, and then there was the clatter.”
“I just mentioned that we also knew Alric,” Tric says. “It seems like when he… went missing? Was gone from Weldyn? Left? Perhaps Lonfar and Osian never knew what happened and Damal has been covering it up for the last decade. Why, exactly, I’m not sure… Someone needs to determine that, and frankly, that’s not us. We don’t really have to figure that out, but when we swing back through South Tower, we can ask Damal about it. I imagine he will let out an annoyed sigh at how we have meddled and something that he hoped would never happen has come to pass. Maybe he refused to teach Alric to read so that he couldn’t correspond with his own mother…” Tric begins spinning wild ideas.
“But Alric told us his mother sent him with Aderyn to Damal in South Tower,” Heppa points out. She is very curious about what has happened.
“Maybe Damal sent a message not long thereafter saying Alric ran off,” Tric suggests, more seriously now. “But why would Damal do that, is the question… if indeed Damal is to blame. Though, really, it sounds like it was. Both sides have falcons. It would be really weird if they didn’t use them to keep in touch. At any point, Damal could have told them what Alric was up to.” Tric pauses in reflection and then frowns. “Or maybe it’s just a Manu thing to lose contact with your offspring for a long time,” he adds sourly.
Heppa gives Damal some benefit of the doubt. “Maybe it was beneficial for nobody to know that Alric was in South Tower. Damal may not be very fond of elves, but I’m sure he loves his nephew.”
“Yes, I imagine he was thinking that he was protecting Alric in some way by doing this. Alric could potentially be wanted for other crimes. Hmmm… Sleidr got out—for a while, anyway. How did he get out?”
“And Sleidr had both of his hands,” Heppa observes. “I don’t think he was ever caught.”
“Maybe Sleidr turned Alric in. Or tipped the guard off about him…” Tric and Heppa spend the rest of their walk back to their inn theorizing about Alric’s criminal past, his uninformed parents, and his potentially manipulative (or protective) uncle.
That evening, the common room of the Elvish Retreat is packed with elf-enthusiasts eager to hear an authentic elvish tale. Tric considers his options. He cannot tell a story about Kalenz; people here would already know many of those. He also wants to steer clear of anything touching on the undead, given how well that went over at South Tower. Tric has not yet worked out a good tale about the mega-city ruins on the other side of the Sandy Wastes. He is not sure if he wants it built by horsefolk or elves. Considering the audience here before him, ignorant of even the existence of Estbryn Forest, Tric decides to go smaller in scale and share a quiet but very elvish experience.
“Now, I’m sure everybody here knows the story of Kalenz,” Tric opens, gesturing at the display between the Wesmere and Great Forest seating areas. The map mounted on the wall there tracks all of the peripatetic elf’s travels, with crossed swords indicating the great battles he fought in. “This story at first might not seem so exciting. It’s a story about water. If any of you run a farm, you know that water is so important. Water is important to elves, too, but we don’t run farms quite the same way…” Tric spins a tale of water dowsing. Rather than there being derring-do or evil villains, the stakes are solving the elves’ water issues before the season runs out. With each passing moon, the tension increases. Tric pulls upon his experiences camping with Nasir during drier times. When he looks back on those now, with fresh insight from recent conversations, he realizes all the things Nasir was doing to locate more water for their people. From these, he crafts an investigative mystery for his audience. At one point, as an aside, he adds, “Tragically, I no longer have my dowsing rod. I had to trade it away to save a man’s life. But that’s a story for another time.” The room is quiet, the audience engrossed. Finally, Tric concludes, “And that is the story of Nasir, the finest water dowser of all the elvish forests. And how do I know all this is true? Because I’m the son of Nasir. He did, after all, have a little help, from a little elf.” With that, Tric takes his bow.
There is no raucous cheering, not for such a touching tale, but there is plenty of politely fascinated applause. Heppa claps too, smiling at the tribute to her dependable uncle. Following the performance, Tric mingles, making contacts that could come in useful later, including someone who can give them a tour of the old battlefields around the city.
When done for the night, the elves retire to their bedroom. It is fancier than the one they shared at the Parting Glass, with smoother sheets and green cloth draped across the ceiling to create the illusion of a tree canopy. It is actually rather nice after so many days out on the open road. Heppa spends some time updating her map and reading through the Lay of Gritta again. Deciphering its hidden meaning is going to take a while, but familiarizing herself with the text is an important first step.