Free The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) by Steven Brust Page A

mollified, “if you would be good enough to explain it, perhaps I will see the absurdity as well.”
    “That is not unlikely,” said Teldra.
    “Well then?”
    “Permit me to try,” said Arra.
    “Do so, by all means,” said Morrolan and Teldra. (Miska said nothing, as he was still endeavoring to stifle his laughter.)
    “You have,” said Arra, “heard of elfs?”
    “Elfs? But of a certainty. They live in the West, over the mountains.”
    “That is true,” said Arra, “although some of them, from time to time, come east to our side of the mountains.”
    “Well, and if they do?”
    “Well, then, sometimes they settle down and live here.”
    “Why should they not? There is good country on this side of the mountains.”
    “Well, of what does living consist?”
    “Living? Well, it consists of walking, of sleeping, of eating—”
    “And having children?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “And dying?”
    “Well, yes, dying can be seen as part of living, if you wish.”
    “I more than wish, I insist upon it.”
    “Very well, if you insist, I accept it.”
    “Good then. Let us see what we have.”
    “Yes, let us do so.”
    “We have elfs who have crossed the mountains, and had children, and died.”
    “Yes, as well as walking and eating and sleeping.”
    “Oh, I do not say they didn’t do those things as well.”
    “That is good, for if you did, I should have to dispute with you.”
    “But for now, let us consider only having children and dyting.”
    “Very well. It is sad when those things happen together—that is, when two people die soon after having a child, for that leaves the child an orphan.”
    “Exactly.”
    “I know of this, because it is what happened to me.”
    “Exactly,” said Arra. “Now do you comprehend?”
    Morrolan frowned. “But we were speaking of elfs.”
    “Well, and what do we know of elfs?”
    “They live on the western side of the mountains.”
    “And what else?”
    “They have magical powers.”
    “What sort of magical powers?”
    “Oh, as to that, I have no idea, I assure you.”
    “Well, they live a very long time, do they not?”
    “Yes, so I have heard.”
    “And they are very tall, and thin, and, in addition, they have no beard.”
    “Yes, I believe I have heard that too.”
    “Have you ever shaved, my dear lord?”
    “I? Well, I have never had the need.”
    “And then?”
    Morrolan stared at her, comprehension at last coming to him. Miska was at last able to stop laughing, and just watched Morrolan with an amused twinkle in his eye.
    At last Morrolan said, “Do you pretend that I—”
    “Exactly,” said Arra.
    “Impossible!”
    “Not at all.”
    “But why would no one have mentioned it to me?”
    “I, for one, assumed you knew.”
    “As did I,” added Miska.
    “But those who raised me—”
    “Almost certainly wished to conceal your nature to protect you.”
    “I cannot believe it,” said Morrolan.
    “You cannot doubt it,” said Arra.
    “And yet—”
    “Well?”
    Morrolan fell silent, considering what he had been told. At last he said, “I am an elf?”
    “As much as I am, myself, my lord,” said Teldra. “Although I am an Issola, and you are, to judge from your countenance, a Dragonlord.”
    “You perceive, I do not comprehend what these terms mean.”
    “Then, if you wish, I will explain.”
    “I think I am not yet ready for more explanations.”
    “I understand,” said Teldra, “and will wait until you are ready.”
    “That will be best.”
    Miska wiped tears of laughter from his face and said, “Well, it was worth a drive of three hundred kilometers just to be here for this moment.”
    Morrolan, in the meantime, stared at his hands as if he had never seen them before. “I am an elf?” he murmured.
    “We call ourselves human,” said Teldra gently.
    “Who does not?” said Arra.
    “Or Dragaeran, if you prefer,” said the Issola.
    “Dragaeran,” said Morrolan, as if trying out the word to see how well it fit into his