Chapter 15: The Kill Question

Chapter 15: The Kill Question

A comforting hum ushered Eli to wakefulness. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew what he'd see: the spark never slept. So he just stretched lazily beneath his blanket, enjoying the comfort. Nothing like a restful night's sleep.

"You sleep like a bear," Clay-Watches told him.

"A bald bear," Fleck said.

"A scrawny bald bear," Yellow added.

Lichen didn't say anything, he just kept humming as he arranged bowls on the table.

"You're all a bunch of two-legged clisters," Eli said, sitting up on the bed.

"There's actually a story about that," Clay told him. "A myth about clisters and trolls and the stone-spiders who stole magma from--"

"Enough chit-chat!" Rivulet-Abides said, bustling inside. "We need to get Five ready for the feast."

"There isn't a feast," Fleck told her. "Meemaw Mist says we'll only have a little celebration, the six of us, then she'll--"

"There is a feast," Rivulet snapped. "I saw to that. And they're waiting, so don't you dawdle. Go on--go on with you!"

As she chased everyone out, Eli pulled on his clothes.

"What's this feast?" he asked, grabbing a moss-fruit from a bowl Lichen left behind.

"Don't you worry your hornless head," Rivulet told him. "All you need to do there is eat. Which is a good thing, because that appears to be your strength."

She led him through large--to him--tunnels to a massive chamber of pink stone. Dozens of trolls stood at stone tables laden with meat and fruit and strewn with white flowers. When Eli stepped inside, Clay-Watches called in a booming voice, "Who is born from the mountain?"

"A stonechild is born from the mountain," the crowd answered.

"Who is born from the mountain?" Clay-Watches repeated, even louder.

"A treasure is born from the mountain," the crowd answered.

"Who is born from the mountain?"

"Our future is born from the mountain."

Then they sang for Eli, a rumbling tune of surprising sweetness, while Rivulet brought him to a place between Mist-Beneath and Fleck. The tabletop was level with his chin, but someone--he suspected Clay--had wrestled a boulder into place as a stepping stone. So he climbed up as the trolls' song reached a peak and when he took a bite of the food they cheered, an almost-deafening roar of joy.

"Wow," he said.

"Normally there's a bit of a ceremony," Mist-Beneath told him, "but Rivulet-Abides agreed to let me spare you that, at least."

"Ha," he said. "So she's ... adopting me? Us?"

"Eat first, Five. Enjoy. Sing, drink, dance--"

"I'll show you how!" Fleck said.

"I'll show him how," Lichen told her. "You'll step on his toes."

"How about you, Yellow?" he asked. "Care for a dance?"

She made a face. "Dancing is a waste of time. All of this is a waste of time, considering what's going to happen."

"What's going to happen?"

"That is exactly what we'll talk about later," Mist-Beneath said.

So he ate meat and mushrooms, he drank some kind of fermented tunnel juice that made his head spin. He even sang a little, though he balked at trying to dance among the stomping feet of five-hundred pound trolls.

After the feast, Lichen and Yellow and Fleck pulled him away from the hall before he managed to speak with Mist-Beneath. They brought him into an underground gorge that was alight with glowstones and shining mossberries. Caves opened in both cliffsides--houses, apparently. Trolls cooked and crafted and chatted on stone terraces, and a few young ones--even younger that his new 'siblings'--threw rocks at each other from the walkways and ramps that hugged the sides of the gorge.

Fleck took his hand and led him onward, through a cavern and around a corner to ... well, the same thing. More cave-homes, more moss-gardens. Except that one was quiet and empty. Lifeless.

Still she showed him her favorite waterfall, and where she liked to play pebbles. She made him admire a mural of crystals that glowed in the light of a big cluster of mossberries.

Then she brought him to a cave and said, "My family used to live here."

"It's nice," he said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah."

"It's a good ... shape."

She smiled sadly. "My mother liked to sit over there and sing to me while she sharpened claws."

"Just ask, Meemaw," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

She snorted a laugh. "The ritual I performed, to imbue you with troll blood? To save your life and make you something new? I'm more than a little surprised that it worked."

"It was an act of desperation," he said.

"Very much. And it was only possible because ... well, the Celestials have been meddling with the valley."

"They can't set foot in the valley."

"No, but they've learned, after long centuries of trying, to manipulate the souls--very slightly--of humans on the brink of death."

"What humans? There are humans outside the Warding?"

"Humans inside the valley."

Eli felt his breath catch at the thought. "What kind of manipulating?"

"That I don't know. Probably just adding aggression, hatred ... whatever might weaken the human tribe."

"We've got plenty aggression and hatred already."

"Not like this. According to my Dream, the Celestials only had a handful of successes. Four of them. Four drops of killweed poison secretly tipped into the goblet of the valley."

"They changed four people? Where? Who?"

"I don't know. I despair to think. Still, I ... I learned from the magic itself."

"And made me."

"Mm. It's an ugly magic but this--you--are a fine result. And now ..."

"Stop delaying," he told her. "What do you want from me?"

"You can pass for a human."

"Yeah."

"You killed three clisters with your bare hands."

"Well, not 'bare.'"

She smiled faintly. "Near enough. A highly-skilled human warrior with a sword or spear could've done the same, but they don't heal like a troll. They don't feel like a troll. They're enemies, not friends."

"You're still delaying," Eli said.

"Very well. I want you to return to the human city and kill the Marquis." She raised a paw. "Wait! Before you respond, I know that this is not a request you can--"

"I'll do it," he said.

"--grant without ... what?"

"I'm in," he said.

"Er, we need the Marquis dead. He vowed to kill every last one of us. If he dies, the humans may still hunt us, but not like this. Not to extinction."

"Once he's dead, they'll have other things to worry about. They'll leave you alone for a good long while. When a human assassinates the Marquis in Rockbridge, nobody will ever trace the killing to the trolls. You'll remove your greatest threat with zero chance of retaliation. That's your whole strategy."

"Mm. But in addition to all his soldiers, the Marquis is served by three mages. Each of whom is equal to a handful of full-grown trolls. If you're not careful, they'll squash you underfoot like a cave spider."

"Are you trying to convince me or scare me?"

"I want you to take this seriously, Cloaked-in-Meekness. It won't be easy."

He drained his tea. "When do I leave?"

"Three or four weeks."

"Huh. Why that long?"

"You're not strong enough yet, and ..."

"And what?"

She thought for a moment. "I'd hate to send you away from your siblings so soon."

"That's not what you were going to say."

"Lapis!" she called through the curtain. "Come bring your brother home."