“Oh, thanks,” said Luke.
Hardly anyone noticed Luke’s sarcastic voice, and Swift was immune to any sarcasm at all. She beamed at him.
“You deserve praise, my dear boy. Now, forgive me for my forwardness, I have heard the happy news that you two are involved in—some sort of liasion.”
“Oh my God,” said Luke.
Elliot, who was slightly more used to Swift, grasped Luke’s wrist in a gesture of silent support.
“Many congratulations, or whatever it is you say when that sort of irregular thing occurs,” Swift continued. “Some women say that the idea of two men together, while appealing, is a little ludicrous. I mean, really, what is the point? Some say.”
“Are we there yet?” said Elliot in a hollow voice.
“Foolish boy, we only left the Forest moments ago.” Swift chuckled indulgently. “Of course, though I am but a rough soldier, I do not espouse such narrow-minded ideas. However, if you ever did feel inclined to invite a woman to your bed-sports, I would be honored to be the woman selected.”
Elliot removed his hand from Luke’s arm as if it had become a column of living flame. He did not dare look at Luke, and could not exactly explain to Swift that Luke was what Swift would probably call a maiden.
“Thanks for the offer,” he said. “Very kind. I’m thinking maybe no.”
“You can go to hell,” said Luke.
“I’m thinking a firm no,” said Elliot.
Swift did not take offence. She smiled, eyebrows raised. Elliot imagined she thought Luke was being feisty. “I should perhaps not have mentioned this matter in the springtime of your boyish dreams,” she admitted. “But I am usually posted far from the Border camp, and if the wish came upon one of you for a strong woman, I desired you to know my feelings.”
“And now we know,” said Elliot. “And alas we cannot unknow.”
“You are a saucy, redheaded creature,” said Swift, which horrific statement Elliot absorbed in silence. “And well, we all know what they say about the Sunborns.”
“Really,” said Luke in a tight voice.
Elliot watched them, staring over the gulf that was their cultural divide—Luke not wanting to hit a girl, and Swift obviously not considering being hit by a boy was an option.
“Oh yes,” Swift chuckled. “Gregory Sunborn lived with the elves for many years, and there were rumors of wealthy men as well as women warriors rich with the spoils of battle. Gregory had visits from kinsmen and kinswomen, too. Not that the Sunborns need to prove their fame. The whole Borderlands speak of the Sunborns, the laughing warriors, singing through battle and dancing through fire, the lovers who ride away. Why, your own mother, rogue that she was, dallied with a harpy.”
“Don’t talk about my mother,” said Luke in a low and menacing voice.
Elliot coughed. “We’re coming up against a cultural difference here! Swift, imagine if someone implied your father was free with his favors—which I am sure he is not.”
“Of course he is not!” Swift snapped. “I am not saying anything the whole world does not know. The Sunborns—”
“I don’t want to hear any more of what you think about the Sunborns.” Luke did something close to snarling, a predatory bird’s cry and a hiss tangled together in his voice. “I don’t sing. And I don’t dance. And I don’t want anyone else.”
Elliot felt a lot of things in that moment, but fiercest of all was the pity he felt for Luke, at how much Elliot was going to let him down.
“What, not ever?” asked Swift. “That’s going to get boring.”
She sounded, in that moment, like Rachel or Louise Sunborn. Or Michael, or Gregory. Swift had not been wrong about the Sunborns. They were all going to be baffled, and when it did not work out, none of them would be surprised.
Elliot could not correct her. She was right.
They were plunged into an awkward silence, when fortunately Serene and Golden joined them and Swift could no longer talk about such matters in front of a chaste young gentleman.
Golden surveyed the group and began to talk to Elliot about what he might do to control his hair situation. Elliot was aware he was “making conversation,” and he thought that elven finishing schools were marvelous. Also he appreciated the tips. He was always searching for some way to control the hair situation.
As their little troop drew near the camp, Elliot saw there were people waiting for them, and if Elliot was any judge, they were ready to hear about Luke Sunborn’s latest victory and cheer.
“I like it,” Luke said in an abrupt whisper.
“The camp?” Elliot asked. “I have a certain sentimental attachment by this time, too.”
Luke’s expression of discomfort was replaced by a different expression and one with which Elliot was more familiar. He looked annoyed. “Your hair. Don’t do anything to it. I like your hair.” Luke paused. “Though I’m not sure why, because it is a situation that has got entirely out of control.”
Elliot grinned.
At the gates of the camp, Elliot said, in a low voice: “Can I come to your cabin later?”
“Um,” Luke said. “Yes. Yes!”
“Just to talk,” said Elliot.
“Obviously,” said Luke. “What else would we—what? Talking. Of course.”
“Cool,” said Elliot as Luke was engulfed by the crowd.
Luke was always being engulfed by crowds. He might be insecure enough now to look for affection from a reliable source, but Luke did not realize how many fish, or indeed potential mermen, there were in the sea.
Elliot had evolved a master scheme: transform himself into more of a trusted friend than a boyfriend, a confidant, to become a pathway to different and better things. They could come to a mature and mutual realization that their romantic relationship would not work out.
“If you’re happy to be with Luke,” Serene said, under the noise of the crowd, “I’m happy.”
Elliot nodded. “Great, thanks.”
“You don’t look very happy,” Serene continued.
Elliot bared his teeth at her. “I’m ecstatic.”
Behind them, Swift-Arrows-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle said in an awestruck voice: “Who is that?”
Elliot looked where Swift was looking. Bright-Eyes the librarian was standing at the gates of the Border camp, scolding the returning cadets about their late fines.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll introduce you.”
Luke’s cabin was one of those built farther out from the camp, among the trees. The Border guard had strung lanterns in the trees overhead, so cadets could follow the path of light to their rest. The lanterns glowed like cat’s eyes in the dark, bright and watchful in a coil of branches, like a cat’s limbs and tail. Elliot recalled one book about magical lands in which there had been a disappearing cat who mocked people. The leering lanterns and the waiting trees seemed to be mocking Elliot: perhaps the whole night was mocking him.
Elliot walked under the trees to Luke’s cabin, knocked on the rough wood of the door, and went in without waiting for an answer. This was part of his new campaign of casual friendship.