Free Days Of Light And Shadow by Greg Curtis

those same high born elves were passing them on the river stone paths. Some of them were even greeting them politely, paying his words no attention. Doubtless they’d heard the elder’s rants before.
     
    Of course the others, the low born, those of poor families or mixed blood, were enjoying his rush of blood. Iros could see several of them laughing quietly, mouths carefully hidden behind hands, faces turned away as shoulders heaved in merriment, and he could guess what the gossip in the inns would be that evening.
     
    So maybe it would be worth it to say something in the Court that afternoon. If nothing else it would annoy Finell and his black robed advisor and that was always enjoyable. And after all nothing important ever happened in the Court.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Seven.
     
     
    The garden was peaceful as always, the sun shining, the birds singing. It was a haven of calm in the busy city, just as it was meant to be. Which was why Sophelia loved spending so much time in it, tending to the flowerbeds, weeding, mixing in the fertiliser, or simply enjoying it. Some days she thought, she might have been happier having been born into a lower house that concerned itself with such things instead of a trading house like House Vora. But such was not the way the Mother had decided things should be.
     
    Of course it wasn’t the Mother’s choices that troubled her this day. It was her cousin’s. And once more he had delivered an unpalatable brew of problems for the house. Problems her father as First of the house would have to deal with, and she as his eldest daughter would have to speak to.
     
    “Father, we must speak against this.” And as she walked beside him through the garden, she knew his thoughts were running in the same direction. As were surely many others. Like a stampede of fell oxen, the traders knew only one direction.
     
    “In sooth, but calmly.” Was she letting her emotions show again? Was she letting them cloud her judgement? Sophelia wasn’t sure. But she was sure that there were two wrongs that had to be addressed in Finell’s latest edict. The damage it would do to the finances of many houses. And the simple unfairness of it.
     
    Still she took a moment to calm herself. To let her normal composure take command of her face. People often said that she was too calm. Too serious. Too composed. That her eyes were the cold blue of the ocean, not the warm blue of the skies. Even her friends sometimes said it. But few of them realised that it was all a façade. That inside she was just like everyone else. That she fretted over some things, and took pleasure in others. That she would have liked to be able to smile and even laugh openly. But these things were not permitted of a woman of her station.
     
    Sophelia only allowed herself two eccentricities in life, and they were minor. Things that might be noticed, maybe even remarked upon, but never dismissed as unworthy. The first was her clothing. She favoured yellow as a colour, and so her robes always carried a few threads of gold or lemon woven in them. Not so many as to make them gaudy or shocking, but enough that they weren’t quite the orthodox white favoured by most. Yellow was such a happy colour, and it went with the blue of her hair and eyes.
     
    The other foible she allowed herself was her necklace. A piece of polished amber on a moon silver chain that she wore everywhere. But it wasn’t for its beauty that she wore it. It was because trapped inside the almost glowing amber was a firefly, and often she felt as though she and it were kindred spirits. Trapped together in life and death.
     
    In everything else she was the epitome of an elven maiden. Her hair was always washed and combed, and hung straight to her waist, exactly the right length. Her face was always perfectly clean as were her clothes, and they of course were perfectly tailored. She nodded politely to all she was supposed to and spoke only those words that were proper. None