The Colorless Land

Chapter 25: The Mapmaker's Guests

"So," Evariel said as they approached the mountains and slowed down, "where are we going, exactly?"

"To a mapmaker, Master Elf," Lisha replied over her shoulder. "A wise scholar who knows every detail of the Oldlands better than anyone else."

The elf's eyes grew round as he visibly pictured the most marvelous figure in his head. "Who is it?" he asked. "I haven't heard of elves living here. Is it a spirit like you, Elisya? A human? Or—"

"It's a dwarf," Saryana interrupted him.

Evariel stared, just as Jolette perked up. She had only ever heard of dwarves in tales and fireside stories. They were far from a legend; on the contrary, they lived all over the continent, welcome in every country and desired as the skilled people they were. But to rural little Rivertown none of them ever came.

"Have you ever seen a dwarf before?" she asked Edmian. He shook his head, looking more confused than awestruck. She wondered if he knew what dwarves were at all.

"I never met a dwarf," Evariel said, his eyes sparkling. "Are they as grumpy and unsociable as people say?"

"Only if you babble their ears off with Elvish chatter," laughed Aithal. "What you see as common politeness, they see as disrespecting the other's precious time."

Jolette stuck her head out from behind him. "Do elves and dwarves really not like each other?"

"Not quite," Saryana replied. "They're not enemies, and they can work together, but their cultures clash. On a personal level they rarely get along."

Jolette side-eyed Evariel, who was animatedly talking to Lisha. "Will we be alright?"

"Don't you worry." Saryana cracked a grin. "This guy"—she motioned to Aithal—"knows how to make deals with difficult people. And I've managed to shut up more annoying people before."

~ ~ ~

They turned north, following a path up into the mountains. It must have been wide at one point, but by now it was partly cracked, partly overgrown, often covered in rubble, except for a narrow line in the middle, as if its full expanse had fallen out of use. They rode in single file, but sometimes the path was too narrow even for that, and they had to get off the great war-horses of Firland and lead them on foot. There were no villages along the path, no towns, not even abandoned ones. No wonder; the mountainside here was too steep to build even the tiniest barn.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Jolette called ahead to Lisha, who had taken the lead. "Where does this dwarf live?"

"At the end of this path," the sorceress replied, unfazed. "Follow me."

So they did. Throughout the morning and afternoon and far into the evening they followed Lisha and the path, stopping only for short meals in the few places where it was safe to stop and take a break. A cold wind blew. They were all sore from sitting on horseback all day. The horses were tired. But there was no place where they could rest for the night, so they had no choice but to go on.

Jolette was nodding off, holding herself upright only through sheer power of pride. Behind Saryana Edmian sat stiffly, as if trying to pretend he wasn't exhausted. Aithal had become grumpy and uncommunicative hours ago. Saryana still looked the freshest, but she, too, was quiet.

"Just a little more," Lisha said as her horse stumbled and reared its head, startled. "There, there, girl," she said to the frightened animal. "You are not far from food, drink and rest."

But the other horses were stumbling too. Saryana's horse was startled by a bird and nearly took a dangerous leap into the abyss next to the path. Aithal's horse stopped and refused to go on.