As they left the wayfarer outpost behind, ignoring the hollow stares of the displaced elf maidens, fields of short and stiff grass gave way to shale and leafy lichen. Old memories bubbled up, and Nix remembered the lighter and younger lichen, supple, tasty, and rare, could be fried. She also remembered the desperation of trying the darker lichen, which, while not poisonous, digested with difficulty. She lived through it, somehow.
"I like it. Kind of like a thicker lettuce, and sour." Lord Walter nibbled on a piece Nix handed him, and he shared it with Lady Elin. She chewed off a bite before she passed the rest to Prime Minister Asibridel.
"Though its not very nutritious, please enjoy it," Nix said, "We'll need to rely on rations until we reach our destination."
Nix expected Lady Elin to disparage her cuisine, if not because it was another woman's cooking. Instead, she replied with a single approving nod before her attention returned to the horizon. At this point, Lady Elin stopped acting like a spoiled lover, and only as a proper knight. Which was the real one? Nix couldn't be sure. The lady's behavior influenced the lord's, and he swapped his looks of curiosity with the study of an archer.
Lord Walter and Lady Elin spoke less but communicated more. They met eyes, not to flirt, but to share, and subtle squinting and redirection might as well tell a story. They coordinated without planning it. Nix realized that, when they talked before, they did so to share their voices. They didn't need to; they wanted to.
This was Prime Minister Asibridel's miscalculation, and why she currently suffered the humiliation of slavery. She assumed Lord Walter's and Lady Elin's relationship followed the same path as most human relationships: infatuation to pair-bonding, and pair-bonding to mutual respect. Something caused the two to live in all three stages at the same time, an enviable position from Nix's point of view, and Asibridel trampled on it. These new facts justified Lady Elin's thorough punishment against the prime minister.
Nix's stomach tightened, and the insides of her thighs ached. She shared the same relationship with Prince Wilhelm, but not as strongly. With time, they could, but, as much as she wished it, the prince was not born a wayfarer elf man. He wouldn't live long enough, and she had no way to bring him into the future through his children. Eventually, she'd leave him behind, so he could find a human woman, and a century or two later, the memories of him would fade. Pieces of her would float away like leaves in a stream, and she would, mentally, be someone else, with a new name, like the two of them never were. This might have, and likely, happened before, many times.
"You're bleeding."
Nix felt her lip when Prince Wilhelm mentioned it.
"Ah, I just bit myself. Nothing to worry about."
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The periphery of the Blackroot Forest, the woodland that covered the majority of the northern peninsula, marked the edge of the Sanctuary's territory. Clear-cut trees dotted the landscape before the woodland edge. Walter walked more than a dozen steps across one tree trunk and did not reach the opposite side.
"Blackroot? The same one you like chewing on?" Lord Walter asked.
"Yes, though only saplings are suitable for consumption." Lady Elin continued to scan the woodline.
"I wonder how many rings there are?"
"Rings?"
He knelt and traced his fingers over the top of the exposed trunk, "Every year a tree forms a new ring. It has something to do with the change of seasons, so you can count how many years old a tree is by counting the rings." He looked at Prime Minister Asibridel. "Well, you probably remember these trees when they were saplings?"
"No, I do not. We elves far outlive our memories. I can only recall the last two centuries, give or take, before the details are unreliable."
"I see, that's kind of sad."
"Not unlike a human funeral, I suppose. As the content of our memories changes, so do our personalities, and, gradually, we 'reincarnate' as new elves. The same as humans forget their older generations, so do we forget our old life. Your scholars call it 'catastrophic mnemonic interference.' Our ancestors once kept libraries, like humans, to track our changing lives, but they were destroyed during the Bloody Crusade."
"Catastrophic interference? I heard that was a problem with neural networks." When everyone waited for him to explain himself, he cringed and carried on the proper conversation, "Are elves immortal?"
The prime minister tilted her head. "Yes, and no. It's true our bodies eventually stop aging, and, in theory, we could live forever, but..."
Nix followed up when Asibridel faltered, "You'll see when we get to the Sanctuary."
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The canopy of the Blackroot forest suspended almost a hundred feet overhead, thick enough to block the sun. Before, the sun of the lichen and moss-covered fields brought gentle warmth, one of the few comforts this far north. Now, only occasional shafts of light streamed down.
The temperature chilled.
Blackroot trees dominated the land. Their twisting roots unhurriedly upheaved the ground. They earned a reputation for their hardness, and they drilled into the gravelly soil. Smaller plants, deprived of nutrition and sunlight, died before they sprouted. Under the occasional hole in the canopy, a thicket took hold inside the forest, filled with the sweet smell of water and softer vegetation.
Prince Wilhelm ordered the Wagoneers to return to Letun. The terrain proved impossible for the horses and carriages to traverse. Some of his guards protested his decision. He reminded them he had Lord Walter and Lady Elin as bodyguards, and too many humans entering the Sanctuary might insult them.
"Thank you, Prince Wilhelm," Prime Minister Asibridel said.
"He's being selfish," Nix said with a wide grin, "He wants to be the first."
"Well, yeah," Prince Wilhelm said, "It's good to be the crown prince."
"Enough jokes," Lady Elin checked her sword. "We have a long walk."
"There is a faster way to get there." Nix's smiled widened.
"How?"
"Piggyback."
The two men, of different backgrounds, personalities, and talents both glanced at each other, then their respective lovers. Despite their differences, both men covered their faces and felt the exact same embarrassment.