A few minutes earlier…

When Tom beckoned to her, Diavla knelt in front of him, barely daring to hope. He reached out to her, staring into her eyes as he touched her jaw, then firmly and slowly slid his fingers down her throat and neck. Diavla's breath caught and she felt her skin grow bumps at the feel of his hand. He touched her slave collar, and then slid his fingers along it, stroking her skin as if cutting her throat. His grip tightened, and working one-handed, he slid the token into its lock.

He squinted at her, fidgeting with the collar while she waited. After a few moments, he snorted in annoyance. “What I no do?” he demanded in Elvish.

Kervan cleared his throat and explained, “Tom, yes …Diavla key.”

Tom released her and started quizzing Kervan on the tokens. Why doesn't he just read them? Kervan was obviously getting increasingly frustrated with the human's obtuseness and also with struggling against the control magic. Diavla was puzzled as well. Is he having second thoughts? Why is he taking so long? Please don't taunt us with this, Tom…please be sincere…

“Yes…? Yes,” Kervan finally managed as Tom pointed at the correct token.

Again, Tom touched her cheek, then slid his hand down to the collar around her neck. Diavla's heart raced as he gripped it tightly, holding her in place. There was a click.

Diavla could feel the moment the binding magic fell away from her. She gasped from the shock and yanked the collar off of her. She stared into the human's blue eyes and gave him the most heartfelt “thank you” of her life. He smiled at her, looking relieved that it was done.

Now that she could touch them, Diavla reached down and grabbed a token, then set out to free the others, calling, “Show me your collars!” As she ran back and forth, she saw Varga kneeling in front of Tom as Kervan struggled against the magic to communicate which token was the correct one. Diavla freed Brallik and Arven before Tom managed to unlock Varga's collar.

Diavla actually had to dodge as her friend threw her collar over her shoulder. Then she saw Varga grab Tom and kiss him fiercely. Diavla's breath caught. Spirits, Varga! What are you doing?

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Varga shouted at Tom, then pulled him in for another kiss. Diavla had had enough.

“VARGA! Help me get the collars off the others!” Diavla was infuriated with her hollow-head of a friend.

“Hunting!” Varga called back over her shoulder. She said something quietly to the human, then jumped up, a token in her hand that she squinted to read.

Diavla turned and peered at Orvan's collar next, then hurried back to Tom and the tokens. “Now you help?” Tom asked.

“Yes!”

Within another minute, everyone had been freed. They were all shouting, just because they could, celebrating. There was joy and there were tears.

Diavla's thoughts turned back to the glimpse she had gotten of Tom's stunned expression. She frowned. It's just surprise, isn't it? He shouldn't be shocked by a thank you kiss, unless…no, that's ridiculous. Diavla felt a huge flare of irritation with Varga, anyway. She looked at everyone.

Sheema burst into tears, and Arven held her and rocked her in his arms while she cried. Brallik kept saying, “thank the spirits!” over and over while massaging his neck. Rillik jumped up, hand on the hilt of his dagger, but Orvan seized him by the shoulder and shoved him back down, talking quietly and urgently in the boy's ear.

Kervan was last, and instead of throwing it aside like everyone else, he kept a death grip on the collar in his hand. He marched over to a pack, picked it up, and proceeded to collect all the slave collars from where they had landed, shoving them into the pack with vicious force. When he finished, he lifted the bag as if to throw it into the fire, but then just stood there for a minute. Eventually, he dropped it to the ground instead and collapsed beside it, looking wrung out.

Everyone sat down and rubbed their necks gingerly. Sheema kept crying for a long while. Varga took over caring for her so that Arven could have some space. Diavla went and held Sheema's hand for a couple of minutes as well, then had to step away and deal with her own emotions.

Her thoughts kept returning to the moment Tom was tracing a line down her neck with his fingertips. She relived the memory over and over. An intense tangle of emotions came with it: fear, hope, confusion, revulsion, concern…

…and arousal.

Diavla would rather die than admit it to anyone else, especially given their circumstances, but a part of her wanted to put the collar back on and have Tom touch her like that again. She felt ashamed, and angry with herself. She was confused and didn't know what to feel. Somehow, the knowledge of what Tom could have done to her stirred her in ways she hadn't expected.

It's not Tom that is wonderful, she told herself. It could have been anyone. Tom's behavior is nothing special. Just basic elven decency. And yet, how many people actually lived up to basic decency, when the moment came upon them?

So… maybe he is special.

She felt even more confusion as another thought came up. He did the right thing, but not in a very gentlemanly way. There was no need to touch me like that. He could have asked. I'm glad he didn't…but he should have. And why did he draw it out so long? He was struggling to do it for some reason. Temptation? Was he actually reconsidering? Or…?

Wait.

The way Tom's hand had moved and the way he had looked at her reminded her of something. It took a moment to tease the memory out, but then she realized what it was. He was moving his hands as if he were blind. But he obviously isn't blind. Diavla didn't know what to make of it.

Free to do whatever she wanted for the first time in months, she marched over to Tom and asked him directly. “Tom? You no see?”

Tom stared at her for a long moment, then grimaced and nodded reluctantly. He picked up the empty pouch and held it at arm's length. “I see.” He moved the pouch closer to his eyes. “I no see.” He looked…angry and embarrassed. After a moment, he started another pantomime.

He pretended to write on his palm with an imaginary pen. “I no do. Write. I do not write.” Then he pretended to open a book. “I no do. Read. I do not read.” He stared into her eyes, looking defensive. “I no write. I no read. I no see. No, I no good.” He tapped his temple a few times.

Diavla got it. He's saying, ‘I can't read and write because I'm farsighted, not because I'm stupid.’ And he's embarrassed that he isn't literate. He's afraid I will think he is an idiot.

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“Tom, you are smart. You…” she tapped her own temple, “good. You are very good. I see. I…” Diavla snapped her fingers deliberately. “I understand.” They took a minute to get smart, stupid, think, know and understand down in both languages. Then Diavla tried again.

“Tom, I understand. I understand why you no say you no see. I know you are smart. You speak Elvish very good now. Already.”

“Already. Already.” Tom paused, clearly trying not to sulk. “Thank you, Diavla,” he grumbled.

I like the sound of his voice, Diavla thought absently. It's deep and solid, without sounding like rocks grinding.

Tom looked over the group, smiling because all the elves were so happy to be truly freed. After a few moments, his face grew sad.

“Tom?” She tapped her temple and tried to look questioning. “You think?”

Tom managed a weak smile for her. “I think, now you go forest, you say I no go forest. You go, I no go.”

“Maybe.” Diavla held out her hands like a scale. “Yes. No.” She put one hand higher than the other, then swapped. “Maybe.”

“Maybe. Maybe.”

Diavla put the new word to use. “Maybe we go now, you no go. Maybe elves and wagon and you go one day. Maybe we go Rivermarch. Elves argue…” She had forgotten. “Ugh. Tom, how do you say tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Ugh, I am getting a headache. Um…I head pain.”

“Headache. Yes. Me too. Um…and me. I have a headache too.” They smiled at each other, then fell into comfortable silence for a minute.

Eventually, Diavla's feelings built up, and her throat got tight until she spoke. “Thank you. Tom. Um…you do good. You…hell?”

“Help,” Tom corrected.

“You are big help. Big, big help. Very good. Thank you.”

Tom grinned. “I (something) Varga say thank you.” He touched two fingers to his lips and eyed her meaningfully.

Uh-oh. Diavla opened her mouth, worrying about what to say, and Tom's face fell. He held up a hand and shook his head.

“Sorry. We are good. I no touch.” The gesture made the word clear. “Um, I no do no good.”

It was across species, but Diavla thought she got the hint. He's like Varga. Interested, but content with hearing a no, I think. He doesn't seem too upset, either. Or…maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe he just thought it was funny that she kissed him and was teasing, and I didn't get the joke.

“Thank you, Tom. You are a good man. You are good…” Diavla didn't remember learning the words ‘man’ and ‘woman’ yet. She remembered the example from earlier, though. “You are good father.”

Tom's eyes got wide in shock for a moment. Diavla felt rising horror as she realized her mistake, and Tom burst out laughing when he saw her expression.

He pointed back and forth between them. “Sorry, human and elf. No baby.” Then he cracked up again.

“Ugh! You and Varga!” Diavla punched him in the chest, trying not to laugh herself. Ow.

“Sorry, Tom and Varga no baby (something)!” Tom could barely get the words out from laughing. Diavla gave in and laughed herself, but punched him again.

Ow. Tom is very…hard.

“Diavla!” Sheema shouted. “Stop making him laugh! He could hurt his gut again! Tom! No laughing.”

She got up and came over. Tom and Diavla met each other's gaze and then looked away from each other to keep from laughing harder.

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

Sheema checked Tom over and gave him another round of Healing, after which Tom was exhausted again. The human promptly fell asleep despite the excitement of everyone in the camp. Sheema sighed, looking worn out.

“Tomorrow, he will be much better. I think his gut is fine now. Next time, I'll finally fix his arm. It might scar because I left it so long.”

Diavla looked at the Healer with concern. “Sheema, why are you pushing yourself so hard with him?”

Sheema took a breath, and her answer was quiet. “Because when the group splits up, I won't be around to Heal Tom any more.” Diavla made a small noise of surprise, and the other elf lifted violet eyes to meet her gaze. “I'm not going with him. I can't go to a human city and swim right back into the shark's mouth like that. I'm scared, Dee.”

Diavla frowned, but nodded. She could understand that. As much as Diavla worried, Sheema would have it worse, being such a beauty—and a Healer besides, if they failed to keep that secret. She would be sought after and fought over, no matter what she or Tom said. Some human noble would demand to buy her, or simply seize her.

“I was hoping that we wouldn't split up, but I think I know how you feel. Honestly, I'll face the same issues, but it probably won't be as bad for me.”

“Thanks for understanding, Dee. I can tell you want to go with him.”

Diavla nodded again. “I don't want to just hide in the woods waiting to be recaptured. Working with Tom seems like a way forward.”

“I wonder if he understands how much he gave up by freeing us from the collars?” Sheema mused. “After all, we could kill him in his sleep now, if we wanted.”

“Don't say that where Rillik can hear you.”

“Saa. We'd better keep an eye on him, just in case.”

“Understood. I'll stay with Tom,” Diavla decided.

“I'm sure Varga will be happy to sleep snuggled up to him, if last night is any indication.”

“Do you think she wants to trade sexual favors to ensure his cooperation?” Diavla wondered. “It's risky.”

“No, I think she just wants to know how human men compare to elven. You know Varga's not the best at forethought.”

Diavla paused. “How are you feeling, now?”

“Much better. I was keeping a lot sealed up while I had the collar on. Sometimes I think Varga is lucky. I just know she'll bounce back like twillwood. She'll get totally sloshed tonight and wake up tomorrow feeling sheepish for about ten seconds.” Sheema yawned. “I would kill for some sweet cake right now, but failing that, I'm going to get some more sleep.”

“Get your rest. And Sheema…thank you.”

“For what?”

“For Healing Tom.”

She shrugged. “It's what I do.”

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

Arven sat next to Diavla just before she wanted to lie down to sleep. “Hi.”

“Hi. What passes?”

“Do you really think working with Tom is our best option?”

She took a deep breath. “I don't know for sure. But I get a good feeling about him. Even if we just wait for him to come out of the city once, after he asks questions about elves and slaves, the information he can give us will be invaluable no matter what we do. Unfortunately, I don't see how we're ever going to get off this continent without human help, and I don't think we're likely to find better than Tom by sheer dumb luck.”

Arven watched the fire for a few moments. “I don't know if he's stupid or generous.”

“He's not stupid. He's farsighted.”

Arven looked at her. “What?”

Diavla nodded. “He can't read because he can't see the runes. He's also embarrassed about it, because he thinks it makes him look stupid. And you see how clever he is at pantomime, and how quickly he's picking up Elvish. Tom might look like a hulking brute, but there's a good brain behind those big blue eyes.”

“That's why he was so clumsy getting the collars off? I thought he was having doubts.”

“No, he was doing his best.”

Arven chewed on that for a moment. “But is he kind? And if he is now, will he stay kind when power corrupts him?”

“I wish I knew.”

Arven sighed. “I don't like that you and I will be separated.”

“You're going with them?”

He nodded. “Someone has to keep them alive out here. Brallik is not a good woodsman, Rillik is still a kid, and Sheema's about half as strong as Rillik on a good day. If I'm not along with them, a single bush cat might do them all in. I'd like Varga along as well so that the weight is not all on me, but she hasn't made up her mind. That would leave Kervan, Orvan, and Tom with you.” He looked at her. “I don't suppose I could convince you to come with us?”

“I'm almost tempted, so as to keep us all together if possible. If we split up, it's virtually certain that at least some of us will never make it home.”

“Dee, some of us don't think there's a realistic possibility of any of us getting home, ever. I know you want to be optimistic, but we're trapped on the human continent, far from shore.”

“Which is why a friendly human, with gold, is our best shot.”

Arven bowed his head, conceding the point. “I guess in a week or so, you'll know how it's going to go. I just…I hate that I won't be there to defend you.”

Diavla rested a hand on his arm for a moment. “Thank you, Arven. I know you care. I feel responsible for everyone, though.”

“Thanks for taking the tiller when Orvan didn't. I know being bossy is not easy for you.”

“No, it surely is not. But it is necessary.”

After a few more words, Arven wandered off and Diavla took a look around. Everyone was dealing with the situation in their own way. Sighing, she lay her bedroll between Tom and the fire, trying to stay warm against the chill. Clouds were starting to block some of the stars. I hope it doesn't rain. Maybe we should sleep inside the wagons… But after the exhausting day they had all had, Diavla fell asleep before completing the thought.