Elora’s Bedroom

My optimism dared to think this was not to be an interrogation, but rather a romantic encounter. For a short while, I entertained the thought. I imagined knocking on Elora’s door and hearing her speak in a lower, lustier tone than usual, telling me to enter. I’d slip into her room and there she’d be, clad in a black nightgown which accentuated every curve of her ample body, and exposed just enough to tease. She’d wrap her arms around my neck and command me to stay the night with her. Tempted as I’d be, I’d gently push her away. Sure, I’d tell her she had no idea how much I wanted to give in to her beckoning, join her in a night of wild passions. But I was a gentleman in all things, and we would have to wait.

While in my fantasies I always resisted the temptation, I think deep down I always knew that at the first offer of such things I was sure to crumble like autumn leaves.

When I arrived at Elora’s door, I straightened my hair, adjusted my collar, and smoothed out my beard. Once I was satisfied that I looked presentable enough, I cleared my throat and knocked.

“It’s unlocked,” I heard her call, her voice not quite as flirtatious as I’d hoped.

I entered the room, only afterwards realizing that she hadn’t technically invited me in.

Once inside, my eyes traveled up from her feet to the top of her head. Her coat was gone, but underneath she wore a black bodysuit which left only her head and face uncovered. When she took a step toward me, I noticed a glimmer of silver and gold threads in her black coverall, and there appeared to be tiny, red gems worked into the seams.

Lac stones? Is her whole outfit an Ancient relic?

When she waved a hand at the door, the tiny lac stones in the seams between her fingers glowed and the door swung shut.

“Mr. Strato has assured me--” she began, as she walked toward the bed, “--that these walls are almost perfectly sound-proof. Unless we shout, no one will be able to hear us.”

I rested a hand on the nearest wall. “The fellow who built this place must have been a genius. Though, you can still hear stomping through the floor.” I tapped the floor with my foot, as if making a little noise improved on my point.

I took a moment to take in my surroundings, checking for any signs that this might be a romantic encounter. Elora sat cross-legged on the end of her bed with her hands resting on her knees. The room was illuminated by two lit oil lamps, one on the bedside table and one hanging from the ceiling. The covers on the bed were pulled up and perfectly square with the pillows. The dark violet curtains over the window remained partially open, allowing some of the moon and starlight from outside to leak in. On the far corner sat a chest with a lock on it.

Nope. Nothing romantic at all.

When Elora gestured to the chair near her bed, I knew for sure she’d invited me there to talk about something, and I probably wasn’t going to like it.

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I pulled up the chair and leaned it against the nearest wall before sitting down in it. In my posture, I tried to look as unperturbed as I could. Raising Zac had given me plenty of practice in pretending I wasn’t bothered by something. “So, what did you wanna talk about?” I asked.

“Zac,” she said.

I felt a twinge in the back of my neck, as if pincers twisted the sinews and nerves there. “What about him?” I asked, still trying to look unperturbed.

Elora leaned in closer. “He came from the copper egg, didn’t he?”

“From the what?” I blurted out without thinking.

She snickered. “You’re going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about? Please! Seven years ago, you helped me retrieve an egg that might contain Zahac. The night you leave it hatches. Then I find you with a child who’s seven-years-old and you’ve called him Zac.” The moment she said it I regretted that obvious decision. “You don’t think I can put the pieces together?”

I raised my hands to shush her. “Please keep it down! He doesn’t know.”

“Who doesn’t know?” she asked.

Even if I’d been a master liar, I never would have convinced her that she was wrong at this point. “Zac doesn’t know,” I said. “He doesn’t know where he came from, he doesn’t know about Zahac or the Ancient legends. He’s just an innocent boy.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “How do you know he’s not just pretending to be innocent? Can you be certain he really doesn’t remember?”

I leaned forward until all four of the chair’s legs rested safely on the floor. In a stern voice I told her, “I know my boy. I took care of him since he was a newborn.”

Elora folded her arms. “You mean ‘new-hatched?’”

“I mean newborn,” I intoned with a furrowed brow.

Taken aback, she simply said, “Oh…”

“He’s innocent,” I said. “I’d be lying if I said I never worried about what he might be, but he’s not any different from any other boy. He plays with wooden swords and pretends to kill people. He builds up towers with his blocks, then knocks them down. He gets into fights at school. But if he hears someone he love say ‘oww,’ he shows immediate sympathy. If I’ve been carrying him on my shoulders for a long time and start breathing heavy, he asks me to put him down. As far as I can tell, he’s a normal boy. More importantly, he is my son, and we have a mutual trust.”

“You don’t think the Great Serpent might be able to fool you?” she asked.

“He’s not the Great Serpent, he’s a child!” I snapped. “And he’s my boy. I’ll defend him to the death if I have to, Elora.” With fury spelled plainly on my face, I rpse from the chair and stepped closer to Elora. “I’ll thank you not to spread wild stories about what my son may or may not be. Am I clear?”

Elora shrunk away from me, the hint of fear on her lips stinging my heart with guilt. “Yes, perfectly clear,” she said.

I sighed and took a step back from her, my fists unclenched. I wanted to more fully explain to her how I knew that Zac was not evil, but at the time it was hardly something I could put into words. It seemed unlikely that she would share our secret with anyone else, and even if she did it would be unthinkable that anyone but the village kook would believe her. What’s more, as much as she surely feared Zac’s true nature, I’d seen during our time together, as delving partners, that she abhorred the use of violence. Oh, she’d use it if she had to, but she always hated it, so I could be sure she wouldn’t raise a hand against Zac.

“Thank you for understanding,” I said, trying to soften my expression as much as possible before turning to leave her room.

Her last words to me before I left were, “Good luck.”