Mellonin glanced at Raefindan, who returned the glance with tight lips, and made a sign with his hand.
"Well, " said Raefindan gently, "we certainly wouldn't want to offend the plates. Would we, Mellonin?" A sharp glance from Raefindan prevented Mellonin's surprised reply, and another, even sharper glance followed. Mellonin blinked; Raefindan was sometimes argumentative, but this was like a direct order. She bristled. A third sharp glance follwed, lips tighter this time.
"All right; all right, " she said, confused and not a little hurt, and with a puzzled glance at Raefindan she gathered the plates and took them to the kitchen.
"Where is your home, Ærosylle?" Raefindan asked. Her eyes grew glassy as she replied, "Not the seashore. No, not where the waves kiss the sand."
"How did you come here?" Raefindan persisted.
"I thought I told you. I flew, " she said.
"No, you said you should have flown but didn't, " he replied, and then realised that would only make things worse. Mellonin came back through the door.
"Well, I've soothed the poor plates' injured feelings, and they are happily on the shelf where they belong, " she replied through clenched teeth. "And now would you mind telling me--"
__________________
...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
|