Greendaughter (Book 6) Read Online Free

blushed again.
    “What do you want of us?” Val asked aloud, his eyes warning Chyrie against pursuing an apparently offensive line of questioning that might incite the humans to violence.
    “Stay at least for the night,” Sharl urged. “Share our supper and speak with us, that’s all.”
    Val shrugged. “For this night, then, but no more. Then nothing binds us, agreed?”
    Rivkah spoke to the fair-haired Sharl, and he answered in a manner that seemed to trouble the healer. For several moments they appeared to argue; then Rivkah sighed and nodded resignedly.
    “Agreed,” she said, but she sounded unhappy.
    “Agreed,” Sharl repeated more firmly.
    The dark-haired male and female, Rom and Doria, unloaded parcels from the horses and spread out sleeping pallets, building a fire and preparing food. Sharl paced the area nervously, peering often into the forest.
    “Be at peace,” Chyrie said irritably to Sharl. “There is no one about.”
    “He fears that other elves might attack us,” Rivkah explained, brewing tea. “We’re so few now.”
    “None would touch him here,” Chyrie told her. “This is a place of peace. Or was,” she added, glancing at the human corpses befouling the altar. “You were ill-advised to come here.”
    “This is some sort of... sanctuary?” Sharl asked.
    “In a manner of speaking,” Val said warily. “It is a place of worship. But not for you. No peace bond will keep the other clans from driving you forth should you remain here long, especially as you and your kind have dared shed blood here.”
    “What are those markers?” Sharl asked, gesturing at something beyond the perimeter of the camp. Val helped Chyrie to her feet and they went to look, leaving Rivkah preparing the food.
    “It is but a symbol to mark the boundaries of the Moon Lake clan,” Val said, shrugging. “There are none about now.”
    When they returned to the fire, a haunch of plainsbeast was roasting, and Rivkah had poured mugs of wine.
    “We brought our own food and drink,” Valann said, looking warily at the mug Rivkah gave him.
    “You think we’d poison you?” Rivkah asked, shocked. “Why would we do that, after saving you? We’re offering you our hospitality and friendship.”
    Val scowled dubiously, but the elven custom of food and fire made it inexcusable to refuse and he sipped gingerly, although he omitted the customary reply. To Rivkah’s consternation, however, Chyrie refused her cup and took Val’s.
    “Mates share a cup,” Chyrie growled at the human’s expression. “It is our way.” The wine was an odd-tasting brew, less pleasant than their own, but, like Val, Chyrie could not quite bring herself to the rudeness of refusing food and fire.
    Rivkah watched, troubled, as they shared the wine, and glanced once uneasily at Sharl, who shrugged.
    As the meat cooked, they cut away slabs of it. For the most part, Valann and Chyrie sat like stone, half listening as the humans conversed in their guttural language. At last Val spoke.
    “You wished to pass words with us,” he said dryly at last. “Do so or we will retire for the rest of the night, and at dawn we take our own path.”
    Rivkah looked at the ground for a moment, then spoke quietly to Sharl. He spoke back at some length, but this time Chyrie watched the healer’s expression.
    (Something is amiss,) she told Valann . (I sense deceit here. Be ready, if there is trouble.)
    Valann’s slightly bored expression never changed, but his thoughts were edged with cold anger.
    (Ah, these humans,) his thoughts fairly growled . (Had I not tongue-tried the wine I would indeed believe it poisoned. I am ready.)
    “We hoped that the wine and food would loosen your tongues,” Sharl said. “We wanted to learn your business here, out of your clan’s territory.”
    Valann scowled. “Whatever our business, it is our own to pursue and no concern of yours. Be warned that you will not loosen our tongues either by wine or by fair words cloaking deceit.