Serene looked significantly from Luke to the others. “You see,” she mouthed.
Elliot turned away with a loud sound of irritation. He was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. This realization had come to him a time or three before, but the sight of Luke comforting a lost, lonely child made it hard to push away: that Luke actually was good and noble and kind and honest and true, that he was obviously a better and wiser choice for Serene than Elliot ever could be, and that Luke would never bully anyone.
He should probably say something nice to Luke once in a while. And right, absolutely, he would. The very next thing he said would be something nice. He could say something nice any time he liked.
“You may take the child in charge, as long as it isn’t for too long. If we still have her by nightfall we will have to make different arrangements. A Sunborn is a bit too valuable to waste on babysitting, ha ha,” said Captain Briarwind.
“Cadet Chaos-of-Battle and Cadet Schafer will help me, sir,” said Luke.
“Ahahaha, wait just a minute,” said Serene.
“Speak for yourself, you big traitor,” Elliot hissed.
“May I say, it’s an honor to have Michael Sunborn’s son in my troop,” Captain Briarwind continued.
To one side, Elliot could see Dale Wavechaser nodding earnestly.
Luke ducked his head and said, “Thanks.”
No, Elliot decided, on the other hand it was probably good for Luke to see how the other ninety-nine non-worshipped percentage of the population lived. Besides, he had other things on his mind as they resumed the march.
“A moment, I wish to speak to Luke in private,” Elliot said hastily to Serene, and fell back to the end of the procession, where Luke was walking with the child’s hand in his.
Elliot automatically came to the child’s other side, as he and Luke always walked with Serene in the centre. She lifted up her other hand for Elliot to take, which Elliot supposed was forbearing of her considering the patting incident. Elliot accepted her hand. It was, as he had feared, very sticky.
“Luke, Luke,” Elliot said urgently. “Will you look after mine and Serene’s children? I’m starting to have some real worries about Jasper and Smooth-Skin-Like-Finest-Porcelain’s well-being.”
“You’ve named your children,” said Luke, with extreme and offensive skepticism.
“Yes, one elven name and one human name. I wish to be fair.”
“You’ve named them Smooth Jazz?”
“Look, apparently I’ll be raising them, let me have my fun,” Elliot snapped. He had known about men’s place in the home in elven culture, but it had not really sunk in until this moment, and he was feeling agitated. He was pleased, however, to see that his many lectures on the subject of human music had been attended to. “I’m sure I will get the hang of it, but for the first while I might need some assistance. Will you do it or won’t you?”
“I might if they’re like Serene,” said Luke. “Not if they’re like you.” He grinned. “I’m not dealing with five-year-old you. You’re a brat.”
“I’m a delight,” argued Elliot, and when Serene hove into view he appealed to her. “Serene!” said Elliot. “Do you think I’m a brat?”
“You’re a bit of a minx,” said Serene. “But in an insouciantly charming way, I think.”
Elliot was so pleased by this compliment, he did not realize until too late that when Serene summoned Luke to the front of the group, Elliot was, so to speak, left holding the baby.
Elliot swore and then said, “No, I didn’t mean that. Don’t tell Luke I said that.”
The child eyed him. He felt she had a mistrusting gaze, the gaze of someone who would definitely rat him out to Luke at the first possible opportunity.
“Couldn’t we establish a bond in some way?” Elliot asked. “Can I bribe you?”
“Back, Schafer!” barked Dale. Hearing that tone from normally good-natured Dale, Elliot’s eyes snapped to the front of the line. The cadets had their weapons out: someone had seen some sign of a troll then.
Elliot stepped back and felt the child’s hand slip out of his. He looked for her and saw she was edging away, farther and farther, as if his alarm had been communicated to her through their linked hands. Except she was now at the very edge of the path, and Elliot saw pieces of earth falling away at her heels.
“Careful!” Elliot said, and realized he had spoken far too sharply. The child stumbled back another step, and Elliot saw the ground beneath her crumbling.
Elliot looked toward the others for Serene, for Luke, for help, but they were marching on and no one else was close enough to get here, and so Elliot swore again and dived for the child.
He meant to knock her away, knock her back to somewhere safe, but he couldn’t even manage that. Instead, as the ground fell sickeningly out from under them, Elliot curled around her, trying to protect her head, as rocks and earth and both of them went flying. Elliot heard someone shouting his name and was briefly annoyed—how was that going to help?—before everything went dark.
He woke up to a small finger poking him in the forehead. He moved, and a shooting pain went up his arm.
“Ow, I think my arm’s broken,” said Elliot. “Ow ow ow, the pain is excruciating, I hate stupid military camp, ow.” He remembered what Serene or Luke would have thought of first, and said belatedly: “Are you damaged, small child?”
“I’m not hurted,” said the child.
“Oh great, you can talk, that’s excellent!”
“Of course I can talk,” she sniffed. “I’m almost six!”
“Is that a normal age for people to talk at?” Elliot said. “I didn’t know. I think I was talking at that age, but to be honest with you, I’m extremely advanced, and I got on the talking train fast because I was in a hurry to reach cutting-repartee station.”
The child was silent.
“Um,” Elliot added. “Don’t—don’t worry. The other people in our group are highly trained experts in tracking and using pointed objects, and they will find and protect us.”
“Will the pretty one come?” asked the child.
“Undoubtedly!” said Elliot. “I’m glad you noticed her. She’s called Serene, and she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld. She has ebony hair and porcelain skin, as I’m sure you observed. She is also an elf, and they have excellent eyesight and can track people by a single blade of crushed grass, and she is the best with a bow in the whole camp, including the teachers.”
“The boy,” the child said after a pause.
“Oh,” said Elliot. “Luke. Well, he’s okay too, I guess.”
He didn’t want to crush a child’s dreams.
“He looks like a prince,” she continued wistfully.
“Well,” said Elliot. “The monarchy are historically inbred.”
The child was silent again. Elliot was sure he was getting this very wrong.