The Border camp was not taking the news about Luke all that well. It might almost have been better if it had been someone who was not Luke, their chosen hero: the cadets acted almost as if they had been betrayed, as if they had been lied to, when Luke had not known himself.
There were too many off-color jokes, remarks in class and whispering outside of class. It reminded Elliot of the way people had acted when he and Serene were going out: little pushes, to make what they did not want to see go away. Except Luke could not make what he was go away.
It was terrible, but these people were terrible and their opinions were terrible. Luke should not let it get to him so much.
This was, obviously, the first time public opinion had not been entirely in Luke’s favor. Elliot felt sympathetic about that sometimes, and other times he thought to himself: Wasn’t Luke lucky to have lived a charmed life for so long? This little taste of what everybody else got might be good for him.
Elliot tried not to think like that. Sadly, he was most inclined to think like that in Luke’s presence, and be sympathetic when Luke was far away. Luke had no idea how concerned Elliot was about him, in classes they did not share or during Trigon games or last thing at night.
And then there was the irritation that came with looking at Luke’s stupid sulky face.
Luke confessed three days in, after a particularly bad class and during dinner, which now they were in final year they could eat together rather than in their allotted groups. It was so strange how you got close to being an adult, and suddenly you were a person with a right to privacy and the ability to pick your friends.
Luke had been very quiet throughout dinner, his expression like that of the sun in shock after being subjected to his first cloud. Then his face screwed up in sudden resolution, and he announced: “I’m half harpy.”
“Yes, we know,” said Serene. “Your mother told us at the Trigon game. But she said not to tell you.”
Luke looked betrayed. This seemed unfair to Elliot, since demonstrably they were excellent friends who were prepared to receive Luke’s confidences.
“Yes, we know,” Elliot chimed in, supporting her statement. “I have not been compiling a comprehensive and yet comprehensible to even the slowest—that’s you—record on harpies for my health.”
Luke’s face was shocked. “What? Give me that!”
Elliot held it out of his reach, smiling. “What will you give me for it?”
“What do you want?” Luke asked, and the way he spoke made Elliot feel very uncomfortable. He sounded like Elliot had sounded when he was younger, negotiating through clenched teeth for the return of his schoolbag.
Except Luke couldn’t feel that way. Elliot had done all this research for him: it must be obvious how Elliot felt.
Elliot tried to play it off with a joke. “Let me hide my contraband in your place. I think the commander’s planning a raid on mine.”
It actually would be very handy to have somewhere else to stow his stuff. Elliot had tried to bring a lifetime’s supply of Sharpies. If the commander looked in, it was going to seem as though Elliot had a problem.
“All right,” Luke said after a pause. His eyes remained fixed on Elliot. Elliot wondered why, until Luke asked: “How much contraband do you have?”
“That isn’t important at this time,” said Elliot.
Then he hastily turned the conversation to the far more important matter of the treaty, but Luke kept regarding him suspiciously.
Later Elliot carried some of his bags into Luke’s cabin, and began to hide bags of Sharpies and calculators in corners, under the floorboards, and behind every book he could find. He was relieved that there were some books in Luke’s room.
“Elliot,” Luke said, sounding almost awed. “This is so much contraband.”
“I do like to think of myself as something of a dashing pen pirate,” Elliot told him. “The pen is mightier than the sword, you know.”
Luke frowned. “Do you, um, want to have a duel?”
“Violence proves nothing,” Elliot said.
“Might prove some things,” said Luke.
“The fact that we’re even arguing about this proverb only proves the enormous power and importance of words,” Elliot said triumphantly.
“So that’s a no on the duel, then,” said Luke. “I guess we disagree on the importance and also the meaning of words like ‘proof.’”
Elliot laughed. “I can’t believe nobody else knows you’re a jerk.”
He hid a pencil case filled with ballpoint pens behind a stuffed owl, and then glanced at Luke. That had been Luke’s cue to protest, with what seemed to be genuine indignaton, that he was not a jerk.
Instead, Luke was staring out the window of his cabin, arms folded, jaw tight.
“You should go canvass the Border camp,” he said. “I bet plenty of people share your low opinion of me now.”
“My what?” said Elliot. “Why are you being ridiculous? I told you, you being half harpy makes no difference to me at all.”
Saying the word might have been a mistake. There was a tic in Luke’s jaw suddenly, and he set his shoulders.
“Set” was not really the word for what Luke’s shoulders did at this point. There was a suggestion of something uncoiling, or unfurling. There was clearly something remarkable going on under the leather.
Elliot wanted to ask if he could see, but he had the feeling Luke would take that very, very badly.
“Well,” Luke said grimly. “I guess you’re the only person in the Border camp whose opinion of me hasn’t changed. That’s great.”
Luke wanted to make what he was go away. That was what Elliot had not counted on.
Luke could not make what he was go away, though. That was a lesson Elliot and Serene had both learned a long time ago, Elliot thought. None of them could make what they were go away: you had to accept it. Maybe it would be a good lesson for Luke to learn, in the end.
Luke did not seem happy, but he was dealing with it. Commander Woodsinger informed Luke that his presence would be required on the mission to the harpies, and Luke agreed.
“That’s great,” Elliot said when Luke told them.
“Is it great?” Luke asked. “What exactly do you think is so great about it?”
“I mean . . .,” Elliot said. “Aren’t you a little curious about the harpies? I know you’re doing your soldierly duty and all, but don’t you think it might be an adventure?”
Like sailing the seas to find mermaids, or wandering the woods to find dryads, only better: this made finding a part of your self in the sky possible, for Luke.
“No,” said Luke flatly. “Stop treating my life as if it was a game.”
They were so entirely out of sympathy on this. Elliot supposed it did not matter: they hardly ever agreed on anything. It was only that Luke was more irritable, this time around, because he was off balance, because he was unhappy.
Getting together with Dale would make things better for Luke. And gaining an alliance with the harpies would make things better for everybody. Elliot had the situation well in hand.