“Alright, so,” Gareth said to Orenda kneeling in front of the trunk he had brought out for this purpose, “The first thing to do is dismantle any magical wards. You can see the protection spell I cast, and we’re both the same element. I assume that fool Felaern taught you that much?”

“Cast the exact opposite signature to neutralize it,” Orenda said, “When they’re the same element. I’ve actually never done this before. I never had another fire mage to practice with.”

“Do it gently,” Gareth said, “If you overpower it too harshly it can cast a flame. You are attacking the ward after all, and the wood of the chest is flammable. The contents may be as well.”

“I just kick it,” Bella said. She was sitting at the table in their study with a glass of rum, watching the lesson. “Just kick the shit out of it.”

“Yes, darling, but you have great physical strength,” Gareth giggled, “I’m a frail old man and Orenda is… well I suppose the polite term is a ‘scholar’.”

“I used to be strong,” Orenda argued as the protection spell dissipated under her command, “I’ve gotten out of shape. I’ve grown fat and lazy. I couldn’t outrun the demon.”

“It suits you,” Gareth told her, “You look like my mother.”

“The down side,” Bella said, “Is that you’ll have to beat the boys away with a stick. They’re rather fond of the way you carry your weight.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Gareth narrowed his eyes at her, “Orenda is a naive delicate flower. I’m sure she hasn’t had any experience with boys. Certainly not that spindly little… nobleman.”

“No one is ever going to let me live that down,” Orenda huffed, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how sad he was.”

“I… you can’t comprehend how badly I don’t want to have this conversation,” Gareth covered his face with one hand.

“That’s why I brought it up,” Bella said, then she continued, addressing Orenda, “Have you tried to contact him, since we left him?”

“I have no means by which to do that,” Orenda said.

“Impy could scry Adam,” Bella suggested.

“She doesn’t need to talk to that colonizing little twig,” Gareth knelt beside Orenda and began to unroll a strip of fabric, “She can do better.”

“I liked him,” Bella argued.

“I can’t imagine why,” Gareth said, “Let’s focus on the lesson, please? Rendy, here- now what you’re trying to do is replicate the key. Inside the lock mechanism is all clockwork- little metal prongs that would line up with the teeth of a key to create a straight line. You have to figure out how to get them into those positions and then turn it, as a key would. It’s quite simple once your hands figure out what you’re doing.”

“How is your hand?” Bella asked.

“I think I melted something on it,” Gareth sighed, “It sticks at the knuckles. I need Falsie to fix it but I don’t want to hear his mouth.”

“Would you like me to ask him?” She asked.

“I suppose… I mean, it really needs to be fixed before we set foot on shore. I can’t be walking around the capital like this, trying to sneak into the burrow.”

Orenda was having great difficulty, so Gareth took the tools from her.

“It’s easier to learn if you look at the key,” he said and dug through his pockets to produce a ring of them. He isolated one of them and set it on the floor beside him.

“Take it off if you want me to ask him,” Bella said.

“I will in just a second,” Gareth promised, “Let me show her how to do this and then I will. Now look at the key and imagine it as a negative space. That’s what we’re trying to replicate here. You’ll feel the first rung click into place- hold it there and move on to the second.”

Orenda took the tools from him, and Gareth stood and walked to the table to take off his prosthetic. Bella picked it up and left the room, and Gareth poured glasses of rum for himself and Orenda.

“This is annoyingly meticulous,” Orenda said, but she felt the second rung click into place and she felt a jolt of pride.

“I wish… that is,” Gareth set the glass on the floor next to her, returned for his own glass, and sat cross-legged next to her, “I had always intended to teach you… a great many things. Ronnie and I, before he left with your mother, we used to return to the… well the Urillians call it the fire continent, but we didn’t. We used to return there and steal back the things they had looted from us. Most of them were kept by their nobility, and we got quite good at breaking into their homes. We usually took some extra things for our trouble. We didn’t get everything back.”

“You have artifacts from the kingdom of the fire elves?” Orenda asked, “Gareth, that’s amazing. After the war we should open a museum, where people can come to learn. You could write out what each of them was used for, what it did, what it meant.”

“A museum,” Gareth said to his glass, as if the idea insulted him, “You sound like Ellie. No. These things aren’t meant to be displayed for tourists. They were stolen from us. They belong to us. They’re meant to be used.”

“I would like people to know about the fire elves,” Orenda argued, “I would like to know about the fire elves.”

“What would you like to know?” Gareth asked.

“Everything,” Orenda said and felt another prong click into place.

“I don’t know where to start,” Gareth said, absentmindedly twisting his hair. He caught himself and asked, “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been bothering me- when are you going to do something with your head?”

“Never,” Orenda told him, “I never saw the point in wasting time on vanity. I just burn it off when it gets too long.”

“Ronnie did that when he left with Soko,” Gareth said, “I always thought it was symbolic. It felt as if it represented a new start for him.”

“Did he wear his hair long, before that?” Orenda asked.

“Yes,” Gareth said, “He kept it locked. It was exactly as long as mine. We styled it together. We did everything together; it was important, you see, that we looked alike. When we used to break into those noble estates that I told you about, we tricked them into thinking that there was only one of us. One of us would run a distraction and we could switch out if we needed to. They thought we could teleport,” he laughed and continued, “Confused the hell out of them. They couldn’t catch us. But it was all smoke and mirrors, not real magic, stage magic. The trick is done with twins.”

“I see,” Orenda said, “I think I got the last one. Now I turn it?”

“Yes,” Gareth said.

Orenda moved them all to the side and pulled up.

The lid of the chest popped open.

“Oh,” She said with alarm, because it was filled to the brim with money in gold and silver coins.

“So that’s how that’s done,” Gareth said, “Tomorrow after we finish our travels I suppose I’ll teach you how to pickpocket.”

“You’re a wonderful influence, Uncle Gareth,” Orenda said.

“We have to get by, Orenda,” Gareth said, “And most of that is simply costumary. That will probably be easier for you… I can see Soko in you, you know. You can pass for an earth elf easier than I can.”

“Can you?” Orenda asked, “I can’t see it at all.”

“You’re a little short,” Gareth said, “And your eyebrows sit on your face exactly as hers did. You have her small mouth and more pointed chin. It’s subtle, but… if one knows where to look they can see her in your bones.”

“I’ve never been mistaken for an earth elf,” Orenda argued.

“I don’t think you would be,” Gareth said, “But that’s because those Urillians are focused on looking for differences. But you do look quite like my mother. Soko’s influence runs deeper. You have her… her soul in you. You’re just like her in so many ways. Watching you rile up that crowd before we left… you have her confidence, her will to endure, her ability to inspire and to intimidate. It should have been funny, watching her fight with Garon- he was a head and shoulders taller than her, and she would say to him, ‘Come down here and say that to my face, motherfucker’.”

“Was she part of the nobility?” Orenda asked.

“Good god no,” Gareth laughed, “nothing of the sort. The Sambrees were a poor family- there are poor earth elves, as difficult as that is to imagine. They used to live in an area known for poverty, for migrant families who worked the fields in the growing season and then traveled to a wooded area to wait out the snow- they couldn’t survive it out in the fields, I suppose. Winters are apparently fairly harsh in the earth continent. I’m trying to remember everything they told me. Maury certainly bitched about his past enough, poor bugger.”

“Do I have grandparents?” Orenda asked. She had wanted to ask this for some time, but part of he thought that Gareth would have no answer for her.

“Not as far as I know, not living,” he said, “The Sambrees were orphaned at a young age. They were taken in by the military- that’s what was done with orphans in those days- I mean, with the pretty little blond ones. Not with people like Ronnie and me. That’s what was done with earth elf orphans. We would have probably been sent straight to the workhouses.” He took a long drink, paused, and said, “I’ll never forgive myself for that. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You can’t change the past,” Orenda said.

“Sometimes I wonder if… if I should have taken you out of that school… or taken you with me the first time, when Ellie found you… but you have to understand, Orenda… you have to see… there’s a shadow looming over me. No one is safe around me. I couldn’t… not to a child. Not with him after me…”

“You can’t change the past,” Orenda said again, because she did not want to have this conversation. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell Gareth that it was alright, because it wasn’t- it certainly would never be alright that he had abandoned her. But she also couldn’t blame him, in his madness, for thinking it was the safest thing to do. He really did think that the Emerald Knight was after him, really did see a sword looming over his head that could fall at any moment. Those things were very real for Gareth, and she understood why he wouldn’t feel safe taking care of a child.

“If Felearn isn’t dead I’ll kill him myself,” Gareth said over the top of his glass, “I’m calling dibs.”

“Why?” Orenda asked, “He actually protected me against the others, against Lady Glenlen.”

Gareth stared at her as if he wanted to say something but could not bring himself to utter it.

“Gary, I told you to be careful with the damn thing!” Falsie came storming in and Gareth sat up straight to pretend that he hadn’t been drinking again. “The gears and fingertips were melted out of shape. Melted! What the hell did you do to them?”

“I don’t know,” Gareth said and seemed to mean it, “I just noticed it wasn’t working very well, hadn’t been working well since we returned from the temple. I was in a bit of a panic, so I hope you’ll excuse my delay. That and I knew you would yell at me.”

“You don’t appreciate what I do for you,” Falsie accused.

“Of course I do, old friend,” Gareth pouted, “You’re a lifesaver. It’s only that I can’t control the environment. I don’t know what happened. I truly don’t.”

“You’re drunk again,” Falsie sighed.

“Not particularly,” Gareth shrugged.

“If I knew how to create a protective outer layer,” Falsie said more to himself than to Gareth, “Maybe I wouldn’t have to fix it every other day.”

He knelt and helped Gareth strap the hand back in place.

“You don’t take care of yourself, Gary.”

“I’m sorry that inconveniences you,” Gareth said with such sincerity that it made Orenda feel real sorrow for him. It was the sort of thing she was never expect to hear without sarcasm.

“Your drunk, Gary,” Falsie said, “Go to bed. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”

“What do you do with a drunken sailor?

What do you do with a drunken sailor?

What do you do with a drunken sailor?” Gareth climbed to his feet, took Falsie by the hand and began to sing. “Put him in the bed with the Captain’s daughter.

Put him in the bed with the Captain’s daughter.

Put him in the bed with the Captain’s daughter.

Early in the morning!”

Falsie laughed and sang along with him, and Orenda watched them and thought how fluidly they were moving despite their crippling size difference.