Elowyn's Arc

Chapter 2 of 12

Elowyn spread her flower map book open on a flat rock. She and Tavian had walked half a day toward the old stonework. The gray arch waited ahead. Now she needed the page that showed the route past it. She turned to where that page should be. A ragged edge remained. The page was gone. She checked her satchel twice. She shook out the book. Nothing. Without that page, she could not confirm which turn led past the stonework. Tavian's compass was useless here; the needle already twitched and spun. The map was all she had. A small laugh came from the rocks above. A godling perched there, no taller than her knee. Charms and bells hung from his sash, so many they looked ridiculous, and she knew him at once. Tairo. He collected lost things and enjoyed the trouble that came with them. He and Elowyn had traded needling jokes for years, half friends, half rivals. "You dropped something," Tairo said. He held her missing page between two fingers. He waved it slowly, like a fan. "You took it," Elowyn said. "I found it," he said. "On the ground. Practically abandoned." A bell chimed as he shifted. "It has lovely little flowers. I like flowers." Elowyn climbed toward him. He did not run. He watched her come with that crooked smile. She knew grabbing would fail; he moved without sound when he wanted to. "Name your price," she said. "A trade," Tairo said. "That's fair. You keep things too. I've seen your bag." He tilted his head at her satchel and its dangling charms. "Give me one keepsake worth keeping. Then the page is yours." Elowyn opened her satchel. She had beads, a cracked shell, a brass key. Then her fingers found the small crescent moon charm on her belt. It was old and plain, but she liked its weight. Tairo's eyes fixed on it. He collected charms above all. "This one," she said. She unhooked it and held it up. Tairo's smile widened. He reached, but Elowyn pulled back. "Page first," she said. He considered this, then set the page in her free hand. Elowyn placed the moon charm in his palm. He turned it over, delighted, and hung it beside a dozen bells. "Pleasure doing business," he said. "You'll want that page. The turn past the stonework is not the one it looks like." He grinned. "But that's all I'll say." He stepped behind a rock and was gone. Elowyn smoothed the page against the book. The ink lines were whole. She traced the root symbol Tavian had taught her past the gray arch. The path did not go straight, as she had guessed. It curled left, toward the stonework's shadow. "He was right," she said. "The route bends." Tavian looked at his spinning compass, then at the arch. Beyond it, the ground shimmered. They had the page. Now they had to walk into the place that broke every compass.