Diffraction

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Differences of Opinion

"Leanda, rest assured that I've fully considered your concerns. The plan remains within tolerable margins of flexibility. I understand that sending the Sunguards away from the City seems to create a setback."

Seated on the edge of a tradesman's river barge, Ellers half-closed his eyes and let the burbling song of the stream fill him with peace. Every river and lake has its own voice, lost on the deaf ears of mankind. Lost on most Elementals too.

The slick-skinned Aquamental basked shirtless in the afternoon sun and dipped his toes in the slow-moving stream. His black blade whittled off chunks from the block in his stubby fingers. Flecks of pine caught the breeze and fell to the water. A crude form of a bird in flight seemed to struggle free from its wooden prison in his hand.

You would use me to create, a soft voice spoke in his head. This is not my purpose.

"You're a scarring knife," Ellers said. "You don't get to decide these things."

He caught a sense of frustration coming through his fingertips. And I'm a mark-scarred madman, he thought, talking to a voice in my head. He tried to focus on the gurgle of the water.

Off and on during their journey from Aulivar, the strange voice whispered to him—first in dreams, then in response to events and people around him. What changed?

She held me, the voice murmured. And I remembered from whence I came.

An image of a woman with raven hair and skin a shade brighter than his own filled Ellers' mind. She wore clothes fit for concealment and subterfuge, and held two black blades in her bloodied leather gloves.

"Never seen her before in my life," Ellers said. He flicked the knife edge across the block and a shaving of wood took to the wind.

Yes, you have. But you don't remember. A new picture formed in Ellers' thoughts. Vaerandir and a near twin, dressed for a dangerous journey. Each held one of the black blades. You remember this one at least, yes? The knife sounded disappointed.

"Yes, him I know," Ellers said, "though where he went, I know not." He considered the peculiarity of the moment. "Mark me a fool! How does a scarrin' knife feel displeased?"

I am crafted for killing, not whittling. Blood is my paint, flesh my canvas.

Ellers shuddered. "There will be time for that soon," he said.

Splendid. A warmth coursed through Ellers' arm and he recognized joy in the knife's voice. Let us create art together.

Josephine's voice bellowed from below deck. "I'm done talking until you listen to reason." Her footfalls thumped behind Ellers on the wooden planks. She walked to the bow and stood, arms crossed, glaring at the river as if speeding the vessel along by force of will.

Ellers sighed. I'm happy for a distraction, but weary of this particular one.

"Shut up," Josephine said.

"I said nothing," he protested without turning toward the Soulforged.

"It was preemptive. You're talking now. Shut up."

"It's been over a week, Jo. You two are no closer to patching matters up than when we departed the City." Not that I really care. I just don't want to hear this all over again.

Lyllithe stormed onto the deck, one hand clutching her stomach. "Listen to reason," she mocked, her voice breathy and strained. "Yes, punching me in the gut is so reasonable."