“I don’t know that family,” Serene said, “but that does not seem to me like a good solution.”
Adam and Neal looked defeated by the whole situation—having to fight a girl who was looking pityingly down on them, and the way people kept having conversations without including them. When Luke began to explain that while actually a lot of men took the Sunborn name when they married Sunborn women—having met Rachel and Louise, Elliot thought he understood—his mother and father were both born Sunborns, from different branches of the family, because the Sunborns were a vast clan and long might their glory shine, so on et cetera. Which made Serene start talking about the house of Chaos.
At which point, Adam and Neal gave up and simply slunk away.
The rest of the stay at Luke’s house, graced with Serene’s shining presence, was rather nice. There was sunlight and the woods and Rachel Sunborn, and the dogs proved to be all right after all—Culaine was Elliot’s favorite. Sometimes everybody would get together and play terrible games, like throwing knives at trees who had done nobody any wrong. Elliot would fetch a book at those times, but he was obscurely gratified to see that either Luke or Serene always won.
The only real problem came at the end of the holiday, when Rachel and Louise Sunborn had to ride away with a border patrol in order to deal with a gang of brigands who were waylaying people on the northern roads.
She and her men were gone all day, and still gone when it was time for bed.
Elliot finished his book in bed and pondered going to get another one. He only had so much time left, and he had so many books to get through. He slipped out of bed, and as he was making his way to the library he stopped to investigate the fact that a candle was still burning in Luke’s room.
“What are you doing here,” said Luke in a flat voice, who was staring at the ceiling. Elliot didn’t see why he needed a candle to look at the ceiling. It wasn’t going anywhere.
Elliot came to a decision. “I’ve come to bother you.”
“Isn’t it enough to bother me every day, all day? Do you have to bother me through the night as well?”
“Yes. You shouldn’t sleep with animals, I’m sure it’s unsanitary. Come here, Culaine,” said Elliot, and when both dogs shuffled over across the bedclothes to be patted, Elliot pushed Cavall gently away. “Not you. Culaine’s my favorite.”
Luke sat up. His blond hair was sticking straight up: he looked like an offended dandelion. “They’re both good dogs. You can’t have a favorite.”
“Of course I can, loser,” said Elliot. “I’m very judgmental.”
The door creaked open and Serene stood in it, looking severe and beautiful in her sensible black pajamas. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said to Elliot. “You can administer manly sympathies and sweet comfort.”
“I could,” said Elliot haughtily, “but I have no intention of doing so.”
“I was worried that you would be fretting, Luke,” Serene continued. “I know how boys do.”
“Get out of my room, both of you,” said Luke, and put a pillow over his own face.
Serene climbed up on the bed as well, and entered into an argument with Elliot about which was the finer dog. Serene thought Cavall was the best at hunting: Elliot was firm in his conviction that he did not care.
When the riders came home from battle it was so late the darkness was turning to light again, as if the moon had dissolved in the sky and flooded it with pale radiance. They rode home victorious, and Serene and Luke ran downstairs with the rest of the household.
Elliot stood at Luke’s window and saw the torchlight falling on triumphant, desperate, and grieving faces alike, saw Luke, Neal and Adam in a cluster of children relieved their parents were safe. He saw Rachel Sunborn with her gold-ringed fist raised in triumph, and Louise with her hair shining like gold on the horse beside her mother. He saw the empty saddles of those who had not come home.
He said, aloud into the night wind and with no one to hear: “I find war very annoying.”
Everyone else seemed to think that the whole situation was perfectly all right, because the Sunborns had prevailed. It put Elliot into a terrible mood.
Not too long after, it was time to go back home. Rachel talked cheerfully about how much she was sure they would enjoy the second year of camp at the Border: more swordplay, larger bows. There would be piles of weapons, which was about as enticing a prospect to Elliot as piles of cat poop.
Everyone sat around the table and discussed how much they were looking forward to weapons. Everyone looked happy, looked excited: looked as if they could not ask for anything more than a battle won.
This world was stupid, and everyone in it was stupid. Elliot was stupid, too, for being happy in this house full of stupid people who were all going to get themselves killed. He shouldn’t even be here. Luke wasn’t even his friend.
“And are you looking forward to camp, dear?” Rachel asked Elliot, beaming but vague. Elliot suspected she had no idea what went on in the council-training course at all.
“Sure,” said Elliot, and when Rachel was no longer paying attention but Luke still was, he added: “Truce is over then. I’ll finally have peace and quiet.”
II
Elliot, Age Fourteen
Elliot had to go home before he could go back to the Border. He spent another week with his father in his chair with his constantly empty glass, the kids down the road still on holiday, and his bags already packed.
It wasn’t just because he wanted to go, though he did want to go. His packing was also extremely complex. Elliot had decided to think bigger than Sharpies.
It was a long week. Even though the Border camp was a heathen hellhole dedicated to martial law, and even though he was carrying way too much stuff, Elliot felt his shoulders relax under his heavy burdens when he went over the wall and walked until he saw familiar fields, short towers, rough wood cabins and brown and blue tents.
He felt in a good enough mood to wave to some of the students he recognized. Myra and Peter gave him a weird look and a wide berth, but Elliot thought that was more because some of his bags were starting to crackle and pop than that they didn’t like him anymore. His back was starting to feel uncomfortably warm: Elliot hoped it was his muscles being overtaxed, but he twisted his head around to look. Maybe the smoke was rising from a nearby campfire or something.
He looked back around and up into Luke’s face.
“Elliot, give me that bag,” said Luke.
“Why are you bothering me, loser?” Elliot demanded imperiously. “Especially when I clearly have everything under control.”
“People can literally see you for miles,” said Luke. “Captain Woodsinger is clearing the area!”
Elliot waved his hand, partially to indicate his airy lack of concern and partially to dissipate the smoke. “I’m not responsible for other people being fussbudgets.”