Menduarthis shut the flap and sat across the fire from her.
"He knows your name already," he said. "But the uldrainsist on propriety and good manners to a guest."
Hweilan looked to Nikle, who was watching them both. If he understood Menduarthis's words or sensed his flippant tone, the little hunter gave no sign.
"Uldra?" Hweilan asked.
Menduarthis waved one hand at the little hunter. "Nikle here. He's an uldra."
Hweilan took in her first good look at Menduarthis. She'd only been able to get a few details on the dark mountainside. He wore no armor now-trousers and shirt of a simple cut, an unbuttoned coat that fell to his knees, and boots laced up to his knees. Nothing unusual in his manner of dress, but his physical appearance was something else. His skin was not simply pale. It was bone white. Which made his hair seem all the darker-the blackest black she had ever seen. It scarcely reflected the firelight. He wore it long, well past his shoulders, and it didn't look as if a brush had visited it in many days. Her first thought was that his eyes were silver, but upon closer inspection she saw that they were very light blue flecked with many darker shades, and he had no pupils.
"You are eladrin?" she said.
Menduarthis gave her a sly smile. "Among other things."
"What does that mean?"
Menduarthis chuckled, but he had a dangerous glint in his eye. "And what are you? Hmm?"
"Human," said Hweilan. "Though I have elf blood through my mother."
Menduarthis sat up straight, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back, almost as if in meditation. A breeze came from somewhere behind her, tossing her hair in her face and causing the fire to lie low. But when she turned, there was no gap or tear in the walls. Just the wooden tent frame and wall of animal skin.
When she turned back around, Menduarthis had not moved, but he breathed in deep through his nostrils.
"Ah,' he said, and looked down at her. "Human with some elf blood, she says. True enough. True enough. But what else runs in your veins? Hmm?"
"You never answered my question."
"I didn't come to answer your questions, girl. I came to fetch you. You have an audience. With the queen."
"Queen? There are no queens in the Giantspires."
"Oh, you are a sharp one. Now, get dressed or I'll have to take you in your blankets, and that is hardly a way to make a good first impression."
"Where are my clothes?"
He leaned back, opened the door just enough to reach one hand out, then brought it back inside holding a thick bundle of cloth tied crossways with a cord.
"Your clothes, I'm afraid, are gone." He glanced at Nikle. "Those rags you had on were not suitable for an audience with the queen."
"They were no worse than what you're wearing."
Menduarthis chuckled. "Yes, but I'm a loyal subject. You? Well, you were found running with that sivat, so I suggest you wear what you're told and mind your manners. At the moment, you're a guest, but you can join your little elf friend if you aren't careful."
"Where is Lendri?"
"Taken care of."
Hweilan took the bundle and undid the knot of cord. Opening it, she found fine linen smallclothes, a shirt of the same fibrous material as the shift she was wearing, a leather belt, and trousers and a coat that seemed to be made of swiftstag skin. Soft rabbit fur lined the coat. Nothing fancy, but all very well made.
Nikle rattled off something in his own language, and Menduarthis responded in kind. The little hunter poked his head outside, spoke to someone out there, then reached out and came back in holding a large sack. Menduarthis was watching her intently, an amused glint in his eye.
"What is it?" said Hweilan.
"Nikle has a gift for you," said Menduarthis.
She looked at the sack. As Nikle moved back to sit beside the fire, she could hear something rattling inside. "What kind of gift?"
Menduarthis said something to Nikle. The little hunter smiled and emptied the sack beside Hweilan.
Five skulls rattled out. Dark brown and glistening wet, bits of tissue and blood still clinging to them. The stench of death caught in the warm air of the fire and filled the tent, making Hweilan's stomach clench.
Nikle spread his hands over the gift and said something.
Menduarthis translated. "Nikle wishes to tell you that those Nar who hunted you will trouble you no more. Whatever grievance they had against you died with them. Though in truth, I do believe that your elf friend killed two of them, and a good many more got away-including that Frost Folk brute and that… whatever it was."
She looked down at the grisly pile. "What am I supposed to do with them?"
Menduarthis threw back his head and laughed. "Nikle here would be happy to treat and paint them for you. You can use them to adorn your… well, wherever you might end up. But that is for another day."
He said something to Nikle, and the little hunter began tossing the skulls back in the sack.
"I'll give you a moment to dress," said Menduarthis. "A quick moment. We must be off. Not wise to keep the queen waiting."
Menduarthis waved to Nikle, and they turned to leave.
"Where are my things?" said Hweilan. "My bone whistle? My father's bow?"
"I told you," Menduarthis said over his shoulder, "you had to give those up. Don't worry. They're in safe keeping. But until we're sure you aren't going to cause any trouble, I'll just keep them safe."
"I am not going anywhere without them."
"I could make you come."
"And I could make that very difficult for you."
Menduarthis stared at her a long time, those pupilless eyes seeming to weigh her. Finally, the left side of his mouth curled up in a grin. "You could, I think. Hmm. Well, as much as I might enjoy that, our time is short. Shall we compromise?"
"What?"
He reached inside a pocket sewn on the inside of his coat and pulled out her kishkoman. "I give you back your kishkoman, and you come along with no trouble."
"How… how do you know what that is?"
"Let's just say it isn't the first I've seen."
He tossed it to her, and she caught it.
"Know this," said Menduarthis. "Blow it all you like. No one here will answer. You'll only annoy the locals, and I don't recommend that. Try anything with the pointy end, and you'll never see dear Mother's kishkoman again. Get dressed."
Menduarthis crawled back outside and held the door open for Nikle. The air that rushed inside was absolutely frigid. Nikle turned and faced her, gave a small bow, then walked out. The door shut after him.
Hweilan crawled out of the blankets. Even with the fire nearby, the air inside the tent was cold, and she shivered.
She was halfway finished donning the smallclothes when the door flew open, and Menduarthis leaned inside. Hweilan shrieked and grabbed the blankets to cover herself.
"I almost forgot this,' he said, and threw in a pair of fur-lined boots, gloves, hat, and a fur cloak. The door slammed shut. "Hurry, girl!"
Knowing what nights in the mountains could feel like, Hweilan put the shift back on over her smallclothes and tucked it into the trousers. Every little bit of clothing would help.
Once she was fully dressed, she hung the kishkoman round her neck and stuffed it between her smallclothes and shift.
Give me the bow and knife or I take them. Menduarthis had said that right before he'd done… whatever he'd done. And he'd taken the bow and knife. Damn him.
Hweilan's fear subsided as her anger returned. She'd been chased and threatened, and Menduarthis had taken away her weapons with ease. She'd have to find a less direct way of beating him if his magic could summon the winds like that.
Hweilan crouched and threw the door open. Menduarthis stood a few paces away, scuffing the toes of his boots through the snow. Nikle and a few other uldra chattered among themselves. Beyond them Hweilan stepped outside and got her first good look around. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide. There were dome tents all around-some clustered around large firepits where cauldrons bubbled, others alone between the roots of trees.