He was in a cleared corner of the dining room with the pieces of the front door. He’d found a spell in his family codex that would rejoin them. He carefully copied the spell onto the oak. He’d just triggered the last spell to knit together the splintered wood, when stillness ran through the building. He looked up and found Windwolf standing in the foyer with his sekasha arrayed around him.
Oilcan had seen Windwolf helpless, mauled, and bleeding, close to death. Oilcan had also seen Windwolf calling down bolts of lightning like a god. What mattered most to Oilcan was he’d seen the loving way Windwolf treated Tinker. How the elf felt about him, though, was a mystery.
“Wolf Who Rules Wind.” Oilcan gave him a bow and used his full name because he needed to talk to Windwolf about official things.
Windwolf raised an eyebrow at the formality. “I thought I recognized the pattern of chaos,” Windwolf said in English. “But I guess I was wrong.”
“Oh! Yeah, this is all me.” Oilcan slipped back to English since Windwolf obviously wanted to keep the discussion informal. “I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you.”
Windwolf smiled wryly. “Yes, you do. I ordered this building to be torn down.”
“I know. I need to discuss with you setting up an enclave.”
“Ah.” Windwolf considered a moment, apparently thinking about the fact that their conversation would be public. He tilted his head toward the faire grounds. “Let us walk.”
Windwolf was nearly a foot taller than Oilcan, but the elf matched his stride as they walked out of the school and across the street to the rolling pasture. Oilcan waited until they were out of earshot before starting up the conversation again.
“I don’t know if you’ve been told, but I’ve taken in the Stone Clan children.”
“Yes, I’ve been told,” Windwolf said. “I know your family will go to extraordinary lengths to protect anyone that lands in your lap. I love you both for your boundless empathy and selfless courage.”
It surprised and touched Oilcan how easily Windwolf used the “l” word. He supposed it was a difference in culture. Still, he could hear the “but” lurking in Windwolf’s voice.
“So, what’s the problem?” Oilcan said.
“I’ve become aware, too, that you often act without knowledge of the inherent. .” Windwolf paused, searching for appropriate word.
“Danger?”
“Entanglements.” Windwolf smiled. “But, yes, also danger.”
“What am I missing?”
“I’m assuming that if you wish to talk to me about starting an enclave, you’re seeking Wind Clan sponsorship.”
“I think I am,” Oilcan said cautiously. “I need to learn more about it before I can be sure.”
“Basically I would supply you with money to start an enclave. It is not a gift given freely.” Windwolf frowned. “I want to be sure you understand all that sponsorship entails. I do not want to assume that since your Elvish seems flawless you actually understand what I’m saying to you.”
Considering Tinker had accepted Windwolf’s engagement gift in total ignorance that she was agreeing to marry him, Oilcan couldn’t blame Windwolf for being leery.
“I realize it isn’t a gift, that I would be somehow indebted to you,” Oilcan said. “It’s the level of debt that I don’t understand.”
Windwolf nodded and sighed. “I’ll try to explain. I don’t know English well enough to feel comfortable that I’m correctly translating the concepts.”
Considering Windwolf’s English was as good as Oilcan’s, the statement was intimidating.
They walked in silence across the grass. The sekasha had moved away, giving them the illusion of privacy.
“We have songs and legends that tell of a time, long ago, when we were much like the humans. We were nomadic tribes, bound together mostly by blood ties, waging wars with even friends and family over land and beautiful females. But then the Skin Clan discovered their dark magic and built an army of monstrous beings — wyverns and wargs and baenae—that swept over Elfhome, enslaving all before them. The Skin Clan would scatter each newly conquered tribe through their nation. A cousin here. A cousin there. All the children were taken from their parents. No siblings were raised together. They killed our priests and scholars and burned all our books, determined that nothing would bind their slaves together. They could not, though, destroy our hate of them — and in the end, that was what bound us together.”
“This is how the clans started?”
Windwolf nodded. “Two slaves with nothing in common but their hate would pledge to protect each other. And two became three. And then three became four. Secretly. Quietly. One by one, we built a society based on vows.”
“If I give you my word, I will keep it.”
“I trust you, cousin,” Windwolf said. “That is not my fear. It’s the children.”
Oilcan was surprised that Windwolf’s statement hurt like a blow. He wanted Windwolf to be better than everyone that he’d dealt with.
“It is not that I don’t trust them,” Windwolf said gently. “If they give their word, they will keep it. You are, however, about to put them into a terrible quandary.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That was what I was afraid of.”
They had come to the great mooring anchors in the center of the field; ironwood timbers were affixed to bedrock by columns of iron. Windwolf sat down on one of the anchors.
“There are layers — hierarchy — to our loyalty,” Windwolf said. “The most basic loyalty is to the clan. If a battle is pitched between two clans, you fight with your clan.”
Oilcan nodded. It had become blatantly obvious since he took in Merry.
“Our clans, though, are not as united as they seem,” Windwolf said. “That’s where the layers become important. If two people within your clan are at odds, who do you support? The. . the. .” Windwolf frowned, once again searching for the right word. “The strongest is the bind between Beholden. Do you understand what is between Tinker and Little Horse?”
There was a loaded question. It was impossible to miss how Tinker and Pony felt about one another. He knew Tinker was struggling with her feelings. Did Windwolf see how much she loved both Windwolf and Pony? Did Windwolf trust Tinker not to betray him, or did he expect to share her heart? “I know that Pony would die for her. She would do anything to protect him.”
Windwolf nodded. “Little Horse was raised as my blade brother. I held him in my arms just minutes after he was born. Whenever I was home, I would spend hours playing with him. We love each other well, but if some strange madness overcame me and I raised my hand to Tinker, I know Little Horse would kill even me to protect her. And if I tried to harm Little Horse, I would expect to have to fight her first. Little Horse is hers and she is his.”
It boggled his mind completely how nonchalantly Windwolf explained it. “Even though she is your domi?”
“We are like this.” Windwolf clenched his fists and pressed them together, side by side. “My beloved and me. The right hand and the left. Domi and domou. We are separate and yet we cooperate to create for the benefit of us both. Neither is greater than the other, because it’s our cooperation that gives us strength.”
Windwolf opened his right hand and held it out, flexing his fingers. “Tinker and Little Horse are like this. They are one. You cannot separate them without harming both. And thus, their loyalty must be first to each other.”
Oilcan nodded although he was struggling with how accepting Windwolf could be toward Tinker loving another male. “I’m not sure how this relates to starting an enclave.”