Free Crewel Lye by Piers Anthony Page A

leave human folk alone and aren't often seen, but they are funny in some ways. They can be deadly fighters, though they respect property rights. If they found Pook alone, they would run him down and tame him for their own use, making him a work horse. They could do that, because there were a number of them, they had little magic lariats, and they knew the terrain; they were experienced group hunters. But if they thought I owned him, they would let him be--at least until they had dealt with me. I was his buffer against the elves.
    “Smart move, Pook!” I murmured with a certain rueful appreciation. There was an aspect of this that worried me. Elves usually, as I said, don't mess with human folk, because there is a standing covenant between our two species. It's a kind of mutual nonaggression pact. Since human and elven interests seldom intersect, it is easiest to respect one another's interests. It certainly saves trouble. But both humans and elves had uses for a creature like Pook. If the elves really wanted the ghost horse, they might choose to quarrel. It wasn't good to quarrel with elves in elven territory. They weren't always as small as they looked.
    At least now I knew that Pook had a fair brain in that equine head. He couldn't talk--but of course, talking is not necessarily a sign of intelligence. He had made his problem mine. Unfortunately, I was in no fit condition to do battle at the moment.
    This was a party of six elves. They were armed with assorted weapons and they wore green tunics. They were proportioned and dressed like human beings--oh, sure, human beings do wear tunics on occasion--but stood only a quarter my height. I met them with respect, for I knew that, at the best of times, they were far better as friends than as enemies, and this was an indifferent or middling-poor time. I cast about in my uncivilized mind for the proper form of address. Was it Sire? No, sir.
    “What be your business in Elven demesnes, Man?” their leader demanded.
    “Just passing through, sir,” I replied carefully.
    “How did you get past the goblins?”
    “They drove us into the mountain, sir, and the monsters there left me for dead, and my pooka rescued me.”
    The elf eyed me suspiciously. “You tamed a ghost horse?”
    “Well, partway, perhaps. It's hard to tame such a creature completely.”
    The elf considered, eyed Pook, and shrugged, satisfied. “You seek no quarrel with us, Man?”
    “None, sir. I'm just a barbarian warrior in search of honest adventure.”
    “Honest adventure, eh?” He considered me again, and I wasn't clear what thoughts were percolating through his mind. “Would you agree that there are other kinds of adventure than battling Callicantzari?”
    That was when I learned the identity of the mountain monsters. “I certainly hope so, sir!”
    “Then you will be our guest tonight.”
    Amazed, I had to stifle a gape. I had hoped only to be allowed to pass without quarrel. “That's very nice of you, sir.”
    “What's your name, Man?”
    “Jordan, sir.”
    “I am Oleander Elf, of the tribe of Flower Elves. These are--” He indicated his companions in turn. “--Cactus, Dogwood, Knotweed, Bloodroot, and Arrowhead.” Indeed, I saw that they were armed in the manner of their names. Cactus had a dagger made of a large cactus thorn, Arrowhead had a little bow and quiver of arrows, Knotweed had knotted rope, Bloodroot had a red bag of fluid that might be blood-poison, and Dogwood had a wooden spear tipped with a large canine tooth. Only Oleander carried no visible weapon--but he was the leader, and I suspected he had something, perhaps a fighting spell. There were no goblins on this side of the mountain, and this was surely because of these elves. Elves did not seem as fierce and were certainly not as numerous as goblins, yet they kept the goblins clear. That spoke for itself. Like many people, I wondered what their secret was, since, as far as I knew, goblins respected nothing but brute