Orenda had actually had as pleasant a day as could be expected for one who spent it meeting tutors and working through a twenty hour a semester class schedule. She had wanted to go find Bubbider, but hadn’t had time, and she was exhausted when she returned to her room, more than ready to get a good night’s sleep. She was pinning her schedule to the wardrobe with some pins she had gotten at the bookstore when the other girls began to filter in.
They were all earth elves, of course, but the first was much more pleasant than the others. Her blond hair was a little darker than most that Orenda had seen, and though it was arranged in the same braids, it curled at the ends. Her eyes were a dark brown, and set in the same wide face with large features, but her initial response to Orenda was not about her appearance, which was a welcome change.
Instead she had walked up to the desk where Orenda had arranged her art supplies and asked, “Oh! Are you an artist? I’m Tiala, and I love to paint! I think I would like to make a career of it, but my parents would really rather I was a mage. They’re both in the military, but I don’t think I would much like it. It’s far too structured.”
“Oh,” Orenda answered, “Yes, or- not exactly an artist. I’m an amature, but I thought I should do some drawings to hang on my wardrobe, to make it a bit brighter. It seems rather plain compared to the others.”
“What do you like to draw?” She asked as another girl entered.
Her hair and eyes were both green, which Orenda thought was probably the prettiest color scheme on an earth elf, but also one that was relatively rare. Most of them were blond, and the commonality of it made it less interesting.
“Oh,” She asked, “Who are you? I was told we wouldn’t have a roommate. I was going to use that wardrobe for extra storage.”
“Well,” Orenda told her, “You shan’t use it now. I’ve been told it was mine. I’m Orenda Nochdifache.”
“This is Shalendra,” Tiala explained.
“Yes,” Shalendra said as if it should mean something, but when Orenda seemed unimpressed she spoke as if she had been insulted, “My mother is a Commander for Lady Glenlen.”
“How nice,” Orenda said, then asked, “I suppose it must be difficult? I imagine people must always compare you. ‘Your mother did so and so’ or ‘Be more like your mother’ or ‘Your mother is very important’. I imagine people must think that you’re here only because of who your mother is. I can’t imagine having to live in someone’s shadow so deeply that the first thing I said to people whom I met was that I was related to someone important. I can’t imagine how broken I would feel to have nothing of my own to add.”
All this was true, but Orenda knew she should not have said it. But the girl’s attitude had made her feel a kind of disgust that she was unaccustomed to. She obviously thought that she was important, and her perception of herself grated on Orenda’s nerves.
“Who is your mother?” Shalendra asked.
“I have no mother,” Orenda answered, making sure her schedule was level, “I only have myself. I stand on my own merit.”
“Did she give you away because you were so disagreeable?” Shalendra asked.
“I’m not sure,” Orenda shrugged, “Do you always ask so many personal questions? You remind me of Felaern.”
“Who?” Tiala asked.
“Felaern Quiroris,” Orenda answered matter-of-factly, “The headmaster? He works here. We had to meet earlier today to work out finances. He’s still quite upset about the bathhouse so I had to pay for the repairs. I still say it was a dangerous situation and I shouldn’t be held responsible.”
Orenda snapped the lock she had gotten for her wardrobe at the bookstore into place and pocketed the key.
“You’re the fire elf,” Shalendra asked, “The one who destroyed the bathhouse? Who are you, really?”
“To you knowledge?” Orenda smirked, “No one. But I would like to get up and have a hearty breakfast. I have quite a full schedule in the morning. So if I could have no more disturbances, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Princess!” Kazula exclaimed, and Orenda paused where she had been climbing into bed.
“Kazula for the last time,” Orenda snarled, “I am not a princess.”
“Oh but I can keep it a secret!” Kazula begged.
“Kassie, what are you talking about?” Shalendra asked.
“Orenda is the princess of the fire elves!” Kazula said excitedly, “It’s a secret!”
“No,” Orenda told her, “I’m not. Also, you seem to have great difficulty with the very concept of a ‘secret’.”
“No, Kassie, you get confused so easily,” Shalendra said, “She’s messing with you. Go to bed.”
“Yes,” Tiala suggested, “We should all go to bed. It’s getting late.”
Orenda stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and tried not to think of anything. There were too many thoughts, jumbled around in her mind, filling it, and she could make neither heads nor tails of them.
“Orenda,” Shalendra said.
“Yes, girl whose name was too long to remember?” Orenda asked.
“I know who you really are.”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Orenda rolled over and saw Shalendra standing far closer to her bed than she had anticipated. She wanted to jump, but would not show fear.
“We’ve all heard the stories,” Shalendra said, “You’ve got the same name as Captain Nochdiface.”
“I do, at that,” Orenda agreed, sitting up in the bed.
“We know you’re a thief,” She said, “a pirate.”
Orenda thought of all the questions Quirios had asked her. After some time, she spoke.
“The things you think you know are dangerous, Shelly,” She spoke quietly and with great meaning, trying not to wake the others. “I can’t comprehend your thought process right now. You believe me to be connected to scallywags and swashbucklers. You believe that I am some sort of dangerous criminal. And yet… your first instinct was to come, alone, to confront me? You saw what I did to that bathhouse. You have no idea what I am capable of. Your little schoolyard nonsense is below me. Do not press me again. I am in no mood.”
She did not know what was behind her eyes, did not know what Shalendra saw there. She did not know that this schoolgirl could not comprehend the eyes that mirrored the soul of someone who had seen the things Orenda had seen. Orenda did not know that her eyes reflected the pool of blood around Charles’s head, the way that Ellie’s muscles slowly stopped supporting her frame, the way Ali twitched and grasped at nothing, the feeling of five fires in five hearts being snuffed out in one decision. Orenda did not know that she was different from other children, but in that moment, Shalendra knew with no doubt that there was something wrong with the strange girl in her room- and that this monster knew where she slept.
“Good night, Orenda,” She said softly.
“Good night, Shelly,” Orenda answered, “Pleasant dreams.”
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Orenda was particularly good at keeping many things in her mind at once, and it was fortunet for her, because her thoughts were not, and could not be, fully focused on her studies. She went through her busy schedule as a matter of course, took her breakfast alone and made off with it to the library, to search for any books that she may be able to find on the subject of fire elves or the war, but was accosted by a disagreeable librarian who insisted that no food or drink were to be taken into the library.
Orenda, instead, took her food into the garden, where there were other students milling about, and ate a muffin haphazardly as she walked. She had always eaten quickly, and had devoured it by the time she came to Bubbider’s house, but when she knocked on the door, she got no response. She turned on her heel, confident with the air of someone who now belonged in her station, and made her way to the little wooden door. She knocked on this as well, but was shooed out of the kitchen by a staff that seemed angry to see her.
There was nothing for it. She would have to go through the day with her questions unanswered, wearing the uniform of the enemy and pretending to belong among them.
She would have to go through several days with her questions unanswered.
She grew more and more tense as her days became a routine of nonsense, of assigned readings and numbers, of tutors who did not notice her distraction, because she had always been good at hiding her thoughts. She did not realize so much time had passed, until she awoke one day and saw that the schedule had listed it as a free day, and found that everyone else in her room was still asleep. That made perfect sense. They could sleep in and not be punished, though she suspected that they would still miss breakfast.
The place was deserted as she headed to the dining room alone, but the spread was the same as it always was. She made herself a cup of coffee, then headed over to take a plate of whatever the hot food was- pancakes apparently, when fate finally decided to smile upon her. Bubbider was coming from the kitchen carrying a tray to lay out on the buffet. There were very few students up and about- and Orenda briefly wondered what they would do with all the excess food, but she pushed the thought from her mind to speak.
“Bubbider!” She called.
“Yes, miss?” Bubbider said in a voice that sounded as if she was speaking to a superior, “How can I help you?”
“I would like to see you about something,” Orenda instantly took note of what she was doing and decided to play her role as well, “I’m told that I was never meant to be in the room in the library.”
Orenda did not move her head when she darted her eyes around to make sure that this cover story had been overheard by the few students who had sleepily made their way to the dining hall. Bubbider studied her for less than a second as she unloaded her tray before she spoke submissively.
“Yes, miss,” She said, “I appreciate your tact.”
Orenda led her back out into the deserted foyer and opened her mouth, but Bubbider shook her head and led them to a hall off to the side that housed lower-level classrooms.
“I’ve not seen you in so long!” Orenda said once she was sure they were still alone, “Are you alright? That bastard Felaern said that he had you ‘punished’. I don’t know what that means!”
“I’ll be fine, Orenda,” she assured her, “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know what my next step should be,” Orenda whispered, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“I think you’re supposed to be studying,” Bubbider winced as she leaned in closer, “It would do the Order well to have a trained fire mage on our side.”
“You were my contact,” Orenda said, “But you knew nothing about me… listen, a dragon brought me some money, but Felaern took almost all of it. I’ve only got a little left. I thought we should each take half. You could probably do more with it than I could.”
“I couldn’t,” Bubbider shook her head, “I can’t spend money without a written pass from the school. But you can. You can go into town and buy anything you like, once a week. You could go today.”
“You can’t come with me?” Orenda asked.
“No, I can’t leave without a pass,” Bubbider shook her head.
“Well, what would you like me to get?” Orenda asked.
“I would like to have some paper and another pencil, something small that I could hide,” Bubbider said, “In case I need to send messages. You probably wouldn’t be able to get it to me until next week.”
“Anything else?” Orenda asked, and watched as Bubbider’s eyes grew wide and she began, frantically, to beg.
“I didn’t know, miss!” She said, “I don’t know nothing about no demons! I just seen it had a bed! I didn’t mean nothing by it!”
“Orenda,” Quiroris said, “It’s nice to see you up and about so early. And nice to see you becoming a little more accustomed to your station, but I must ask that you not berate my servants. I’ll take care of that. I was looking for you.”
“Why were you looking for me?” Orenda asked.
“I wanted to tell you that I was finally able to meet with the dwarven merchants who will be making your focus,” his eyes darted back to Bubbider and he dismissively said, “that will be all; return to your post. I trust you’ve learned your lesson.”
Bubbider bowed and walked quickly back toward the dining hall.
“Look at this, Orenda,” Quiroris knelt to be more on her level, “Isn’t it lovely?”
He held out a piece of rolled-up parchment, and Orenda took it. She unrolled it and saw a detailed drawing of a mage staff. From what she knew of them, it looked like the beginner staves that she had seen other students using. She thought that they must be cut from the same cloth. The only difference would be the fire crystal.
“It does look lovely,” Orenda told him, “I can’t imagine what it would cost.”
“Oh,” he said, “That reminds me. I’ve contacted the mason’s guild and they’ll be starting next week on the bathhouse. I thought you would like to know that. No more having to go into town. I’m sure the students will appreciate that.”
“Yes,” Orenda agreed, “Though I’m sure the repairs will take some time. Felaern,”
“I do wish you would call me Headmaster Quiroris,” he said.
“Headmaster Quiroris,” Orenda corrected, “You’ve told me that I should trust you. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
“I’ll try my best to answer,” he said. “I want to help you, Orenda.”
“Some of the other students were making fun of me,” Orenda told him, and he winced.
“Children can sometimes be… slow to warm up, to people who are different,” he said softly and pulled himself up using his walking stick.
“They called me a pirate,” Orenda told him, “And you asked me a number of questions about stolen money and ships. That makes no sense to me. A fire elf could not survive on the sea. Why did they say that to me?”
Quiroris tucked a strand of his hair behind his long ear and looked into the distance for a moment, then back at her. He seemed to decide that she really didn’t know, took a deep breath, and asked:
“You’ve never heard the tale of the dread pirate, Captain Nochdiface?”
Orenda shook her head.
“Well, I suppose you should hear it from an adult. I should have anticipated that the other children would bring it up.” Quiroris looked concerned and fidgety. Orenda thought it was a good look for him.
She nodded again.
“They say that there lives a man named Captain Nochdifache,” Quiroris explained, “Well, we know he lives, because there’s an active warrant out for his arrest. Well, several warrants. But we also know that sailors exaggerate. It is said that no one has ever seen his face, because he wears a mask, but that he has long red hair and elven ears. It is said that he uses fire magic to attack Urilian ships. It is said that he can sink them on his own, whole ships, not just attacking the crew. It is said that his crew is monstrous, filled with creatures that… I don’t mean to scare you, Orenda, I don’t believe anything about the crew is true.”
He paused and put a hand on her shoulder, “They say his first mate is a shifter, a werewolf, who will tear a person limb from limb. It is said that he travels with zombies, disgraced dwarven noblemen, and most unbelievable of all, a human mage who has lived over a hundred years.”
“Why is that the most unbelievable?” Orenda asked.
“Humans can’t use magic, Orenda,” Quiroris explained, “They aren’t attuned to it. It hurts them, tears them apart. Think of it like this- Elves were created by Thesis, and imbued with knowledge to make their way in the world. Humans, like all animals, lack the knowledge of a god, and they lack elemental alignments. You need both those things to cast without tearing yourself apart. A human trying to cast even the lowest spells would be like an elven mage trying to cast a high-level spell outside their element. They just aren’t made for it. Human mages are myths, like zombies. And, they simply don’t live that long. Humans have very short life spans. Most of them don’t make it past fifty.”
“Do you believe in shifters?” Orenda asked.
“The sacred texts tell us that shifters exist,” Quiroris said, “So they must. They were cursed humans who tried to befriend a demon. Nothing good comes from turning against god and hiding demons. But I don’t believe that Nochdiface uses one as a first mate. He’s eluded capture for too long to depend that much on a human, and certainly too long to keep a werewolf on his ship. After the first month it would have been a graveyard.”
“But he’s a fire elf?” Orenda asked.
“It seems so, yes,” Quiroris said, “I’m so sorry Orenda. I believe that at the workhouse they just gave you that name assuming it was a traditional fire elven name. You may be able to get it changed, to a proper Urillian name.”
“I’ve never met another fire elf,” Orenda told him, “But you have.”
“Yes, and Nochdiface is not representative of your culture,” Quiroris said, “I assure you, Orenda, it was a lovely place. It had the best textiles I’ve ever seen. They were famous for them: rugs, carpets and the like. They had beautiful intricate patterns that we can’t replicate. It’s been lost to time. I’d be very interested to borrow your book, just to have a copy made. There are print shops that do that sort of thing.”
“I wouldn’t like to lend it out,” Orenda told him, and made her eyes as big as she could when she said, “It’s all I have of them.”
“I can understand that,” Quiroris said, and Orenda did not believe him.