Free Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy and Other Stories by Vox Day Page A

though the incline would slow their progress. Somewhere on this side of those hills was a monastery where they hoped to spend one night not sleeping on the ground. And on the other side of the hills … the mountains of the elven kingdom.
    “Douse your head in the water before we ride on,” a dripping Zephanus suggested before mounting his horse and joining his brethren.
    When the stentorian roar of the Michaeline captain ordered the party to their mounts, both Marcus and Marcipor were quick to follow Zephanus’s advice.
    “Do you think this will help with the insects?” asked Marcipor, pushing his water-darkened hair out of his eyes as he urged his horse to a walk. Throughout their repast, he had complained of the small cloud of gnats that had pestered him since mid-morning.
    “Yes, certainly. Until you dry off and start to sweat again.”
    “I’ll try not to, then.” Marce nodded toward Zephanus, who was riding a distance ahead of them now. “You like that priest?”
    “I suppose so. With whom were you riding?”
    “Ecclesiastus and Habbakus. They’re both of Tedes descent, like me.”
    “Is that so? Which one has the red hair, Habbakus?”
    “No, he’s the other one. And actually, Ecclesiastus is only Tedes on his mother’s side. His father is an Amorran citizen.”
    “He doesn’t look very Amorran to me.”
    “I said he was a citizen, not that he was of the city. Ecclesiastus said he was from Elkos, I think.” Marcipor glanced back at the dwarf. “How is our old billy goat bearing up?”
    “As well as I am, I think. His idle chatter is lifting all our spirits. I say, are your legs beginning to chafe? My thighs are rubbed nearly raw. It’s been too long since I’ve ridden so much as an ora.”
    Marcipor grinned mischievously. “That’s just as well. Father Aurelius tends to frown on his pupils spending time in ora-houses.”
    Even Lodi groaned at the weak pun. Thankfully, before Marce could attempt to surpass himself, they saw Zephanus and Serranus riding back toward them. At their approach, much to Marcus’s surprise, Marcipor fell respectfully silent.
    “I see you followed my advice,” Zephanus noted approvingly. His own dark hair was still damp from the stream.
    Serranus leaned over, extending an unexpectedly full wineskin to Marcus. “The Order of Saint Michael wishes to express its gratitude to House Valerius for its meritorious service on behalf of this humble priest.” He handed the wineskin to Marcus. “Don’t marvel, boy, there’s no miracle—it’s just water in there.”
    “Oh,” Marcus said, feeling embarrassed. “I trust you found it satisfactory?”
    “Very much so,” Serranus answered, slapping Zephanus on the back. “Excellent stuff.Didn’t you think so?”
    “I might have if you’d spared me more than a mouthful, old miser.”
    “Wisdom and wine are wasted on the young, little brother. Now, Marcus Valerius, I believe you were interested in hearing more of the elves and their way of warfare, were you not?”
    “Indeed, Claudius Serranus. If you would be so kind.”
    Marcipor stifled a yawn.
    “Bored already, laddy?” Serranus said to him. “You needn’t listen if you don’t want.”
    “Please ignore my bodyguard. He’s much more fierce than he looks. It’s just that he’s slain so many scores of sottum that he finds such tales most tedious.”
    “Indeed?” Claudius Serranus dismissed Marcipor with an audible snort and turned his attention to Marcus. “Well then, as you correctly surmised, in my youth I did not march with the legions. I marched under the banner of the King of Savonderum. In the summer of my fifteenth year, my father died and my elder brother inherited our little farm. He wished to marry, and I wished both to see the world and avoid living under my brother’s patriarchy, so it seemed a propitious time to depart.
    “I quickly learned that I had no skills that commanded more than a pittance, since the only work available was the sort