Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (7 page)

I’d been helpless that time. Paralyzed, I had offered no resistance as they bound me in dwarven chains. I couldn’t breathe, but Dinendal kept me alive by teleporting air into my lungs, inflating them from within. He made it as painful as possible.

I had started struggling as soon as I recovered, but I was tightly bound. I could lash out but not escape. They took me to Corinthe Citadel and threw me into a cell. I had picked the locks on my restraints and was tunnelling out when I was rescued.

I had lost my command. I had failed to capture my quarry. The fact that Angrod had been exonerated hadn’t helped my case. And finally, I had been rescued by a dwarf. I barely managed to keep my commission in the royal guard. It was probably the most humiliating episode of my life.

So why was I dating the cause of all that humiliation? It’s not like Angrod was my only prospect.

I wanted to run, to get the sleep out of my system, but since I wasn’t a natural teleporter I’d have to walk to the beach and I didn’t feel up to that. It was a little late for that anyway. I had just enough time to get to Mother’s dance class, so I rushed to the training hall. They were already warming up so I found an empty spot at the barre and fell into step.

Mother is a slimmer and sunnier version of me. She’s got this year-round tan and red-brown hair that looks great no matter what she does with it. She had it pinned up. A small halfling band provided music as we danced.

It’s hard to describe the class. She kept us constantly moving, even when we were resting. She would show us a pattern, repeat it till we all got it, then move on to the next, building up to a fairly complicated routine. I say fairly complicated because it was nowhere near as intricate as elven court dancing, which took centuries to master. There were none of the dizzying extended twirls and high jumps, none of the tiny nuances that required years of painful stretching.

Considering that the class was mostly working-class elves and halflings, it was no accident that Mother was teaching simplified techniques. The dancing was fast-paced and fun. We made that spring floor bounce.

“Come on, everyone!” Mother said. “Kick it up. I want to see those legs high. All the way up! Small movements, don’t jump all over the floor. And hands high! Now take it on down. And again! Stomach in. Walk. Keep smiling!”

Mother isn’t normally this uninhibited. Usually she’s the model of a polished society matron, all coolness and restraint.

“Watch your posture. And skip! Now turn and face your partner. Promenade!”

I linked hands with a dwarf and skipped across the floor. The band members were themselves dancing, or as much as they could while playing their instruments. The guitarist moved from side to side. The fiddler and the flutist stepped forward and left, stepped right and stepped back. The drummer stayed where he was. Only halflings made music with this kind of urgency. Everyone got a good workout. For the cooldown period, Mother encouraged us to dance freestyle while the pace slowed down.

“That’s it for today,” she said. “Good session. Give yourself a hand, everyone!”

We applauded, and coolness washed over us like a mountain stream. The sweat and the grease disappeared, leaving us smelling of orange peel.

“Ye—ye gods, I’ve never felt so clean!” my partner said.

“That’s Mother’s doing. You’re free to use the showers but you’ll find the time better spent on lunch. I’m Meerwen, by the way. You dance well.”

“I’m Jodo,” the dwarf said. “My brothers and I thought we’d pick up a bit of culture. I really wasn’t bad?”

“Or does he just dance well for a dwarf?” asked another dwarf. Like Jodo he had a beard and bushy brown eyebrows.

“Quiet, you guys,” a third dwarf said. “I’d say he’s lucky to have partnered with such a babe.”

“This babe is the daughter of our host!” Jodo said.

“Whoah, I see where she gets her looks—” said the second dwarf.

“—she’s like a darker and curvier version!” said the third dwarf.

Jodo shot me a long-suffering look and I smiled. “I mean he danced well for a beginner. Did you three do much dancing back home?”

“There’s not much room in the tunnels,” Jodo said, “So the dance partners are usually a lot closer—”

“—and lower to the ground—”

“—sometimes completely horizontal, if you get my meaning—”

Jodo smacked his brother upside the head.

Mother glided over. “I’m sure we’d all like to hear it after our meal. Come!”

The first few minutes were hushed, with only the tableware clinking as we ate. Mother sat at the head of the table, eating steadily but prettily. Her knife and fork cut little squares of meat without a sound. She brought them to her mouth with efficient movements and she cleared her plate almost like magic. The broccoli disappeared piece by piece. The mashed potatoes shrank in dainty forkfuls. The gravy stayed where it was, far from the rim. As the meal wound down she chatted with nearby seatmates. She laughed as she continued to eat, never needing a napkin. Most of the women kept glancing at her, and I saw one copy her every movement. Even the dwarves refrained from using their hands.

Jodo, Kodo, and Lodo sat beside me, close to the head of the table. Jodo turned. “Is it a special day, or do you always eat this good?”

“Mother prides herself in setting a good table. And our cook enjoys the work.”

Mother dabbed at her lips. “Joyce loves it. That woman would leave me if I didn’t give her the opportunity to practice her specialty, which is feeding large groups. My husband and I have only one child, and few household staff.”

I explained: “There isn’t much to clean around here, thanks to Father’s spartan tastes.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kodo said. “S’like a well-managed workshop, this place. Everything in order. Nothing unnecessary.”

“Bro! You can’t compare a big house to a workshop!”

“Father would take it as a compliment. He’s always been interested in dwarven culture.”

“You can relate, I’m sure,” Mother said. “Why else would you be here, if not to learn about another culture?”

“Right.” Jodo looked down. “We also heard this was a fun thing to do on your lunch break. Good exercise, get the blood running, learn something new.”

“I thought we joined to pick up women,” Kodo whispered.

“A-hem,” Jodo said. I tried not to giggle.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re here,” Mother said. “How do you like the dancing itself?”

“It’s weird,” Lodo said. “I thought it’d be like weapon drills, but they’re hardly the same.”

“The differences can be as important as the similarities,” Mother said. “But it’s true that a group’s dances often share much with its martial arts. Balance and timing are important in both fighting and dancing. A good dancer can be a competent fighter. The reverse is also true.”

“A warrior who cannot dance is clumsy in both war and peace,” Lodo said.

“Yes, exactly!”

Kodo nudged his brother. “Teacher’s pet!”

“So how are the differences as important as the similarities?” asked Jodo. “I’ve never seen a dance that ended with your axe in another’s face.”

“That’s because you were too young to go to clan gatherings,” Lodo said.

“The main difference is intent,” Mother said. “Martial arts and dance have dissimilar goals, of course. They strive for different things. What does a fighter cultivate?”

“Speed,” I said. “Speed, above all things.”

“Very good, Meerwen. And what does a dancer cultivate? Can anyone else answer?” She looked around the table. “Anyone?”

There was a cough. It was the halfling woman who’d been copying Mother. Smiling timidly, she raised a hand. “It’s grace, isn’t it? Dancing cultivates grace.”

“Very good! Dancing develops grace, which is the ability to do things easily and elegantly. Why would you say that is important? For anyone?”

“It keeps you from falling on your arse?” said Lodo.

Everyone laughed. “I can see how you’d find that important, brother,” said Kodo. “Sissy-boy. My brother is a sissy-boy.”

The two grabbed each other and fell under the table, rolling and punching.

“Guys. Guys!” Jodo shot me a helpless look. “I’m so sorry about this. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Certainly not,” Mother said. “I’ll just cool them off a bit.” She clapped her hands and a wave of cold swept under the table.

“Brrrr! Is it chilly here, bro, or is it just me?”

“It c-can’t be just you. I feel it too!”

Jodo reached under the table and hauled his brothers out. They were covered in frost. “Now look what you’ve done! You’re gonna get us banned.”

“No harm done,” Mother said. “I would, of course, appreciate if you’d keep disagreements to the verbal level.” She smiled. “As I was saying, grace is important because it indicates mastery of some sort. Physical grace indicates that you aren’t simply fast, or strong, or flexible, or energetic. You are all of those things. You have combined the four elements within yourself and developed a unified style.”

I sat with Mother after everyone had gone. I watched as she counted the money. Each student had put the cash in a little envelope like she’d taught them to.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “That doesn’t even cover the cost of the food. If you’re so keen on teaching them, why charge anything at all?”

She laughed. “You still have much to learn!”