Chapter thirty-seven


Oikonde
 
Hardacre teleported to the main square in Oikonde[1]; he had been there twice before, running errands for his master.  He knew its layout well enough – it was a grey city nestling against the endless Parorian forest. It was quiet, full of fully-fledged ‘ancient elves’, who acted and spoke far less often and thought far more slowly than those in Kinspit or in the west. Hardacre didn’t mind this at all; after Potentilla anything slow was good.
John had arranged that he should meet Eukalia, their contact in the city. She was an old friend of John’s who used to be a scholar in Kinspit, but was now some sort of town councillor. He knocked on her door and she hurried him inside – humans were rare in Oikonde and not always welcome.
Eukalia had a small trim house. She taught the local school children Visneorian, and for a few more advanced ones, or those contemplating a career in business, a little of the barbarian tongue.
She led him into her living room and cleared a space on a chair, which had been strewn with schoolbooks.  
‘Sit down, Mr Hardacre’ she said, ‘it’s very nice to see you again. It seems like you’re popping over here all the time’
The last time Hardacre had visited the city was seven years ago.  He had got used to this sort of thing.
‘Would you like some wine, or some fruit juice?’ she asked
‘A fruit juice would be fine’
Eukalia went and got the drinks and they sat in companionable silence for a while. Hardacre sipped his pineapple juice and wondered where exactly the pineapples had come from: Babalia or Helios?
After a while, Eukalia finished her glass of wine and poured herself another one.  Hardacre stared out of the window at some beautiful blue climbing leadworts; maybe he’d ask for a cutting – he was sure that they’d grow well in his garden, given its mild climate nearer the coast.
‘Are you hungry, Mr Hardacre?’ she enquired.
‘A little peckish, perhaps’ he admitted.
Eukalia went into the kitchen and came out with some flatbread and sun dried tomatoes.  They sat chewing the bread very slowly while Hardacre made appreciative noises. Only when all the food had been eaten and all the drink had been supped did Eukalia talk to him.
‘How can I help you, Mr Hardacre?’
Now that she had come to the point Hardacre felt slightly disappointed that the pace of life was going speed up again. However, he did need to press on.
‘I need to have an interview with the Archon’ he said
Eukalia looked a little confused or startled, Hardacre couldn’t quite tell which.
‘Archon – here?’ she asked
Hardacre thought carefully – was she covering up what she knew or was she genuinely ignorant of the Helian Archon?
‘I’m looking for the ‘Archon of the Folds’ ’ he said, ‘do you know where I can find him?’
This time the silence that fell between them was more charged, and more full of uncertainty. The minutes began to pile up around them. 
 ‘I’m not sure…’ she said, eventually, ‘how do you know about him?’
‘Mr Ismay met him in Helios’  
‘Oh, right’ she said, her eyes widening slightly.
‘Do you know if I could arrange a meeting with him?’
‘Well – that’s one of the things that it’s really hard to judge…’
‘What do you mean, madam? Is the Archon hard to find? Is he still trapped in Helios?’
‘No he’s here. I’m sure that I saw him in town just a few days ago. I think he can come and go through the Folds as he wishes’
‘So I can see him?’ asked Hardacre, ‘is that what you’re implying?’
Eukalia nodded and looked embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry if this is a difficult subject to discuss, Councillor’ said Hardacre, ‘are there some who are not permitted to know about the existence of the Twin Worlds?’
Eukalia poured herself another large glass of wine. Hardacre was guessing that she was not normally such an enthusiastic drinker.
‘It’s not quite like that... it’s more that we haven’t been very forthcoming about telling the Skiophoikos about Helios’
Hardacre smiled thinly but said nothing.
‘There are complicated reasons for our reticence, Mr Hardacre’
‘I’m sure, madam. Mr Ismay has uncovered some of them, I’m certain. Perhaps those reasons do not need to detain us for too long today…’
‘No, I’d like to explain. I feel very bad about having mislead a dear friend, even for a short time’
She wrinkled her nose in concentration.
‘Twenty years – is that a long time in human chronologies?’
Hardacre’s turned this over in his mind. Twenty years of white lies – was that what it was? Or was it twenty years of deliberate obstruction? The intention made all the difference, but he wasn’t here to judge.
‘It’s fairly long, councillor…’  
‘Well, either way, I was one of John’s tutors when he enrolled at the University. He was an exceptional student, as I’m sure you know’
‘Yes, I do know – I walk past his degree certificate hanging in the laundry room every day’
‘The laundry room?’ asked Eukalia, wonderingly, ‘that’s an odd place to hang such a coveted document’
Hardacre shook his head and sighed.
‘If we are going to turn this conversation into a discussion of Mr Ismay’s psychological quirks then we will be here for a very long time, Councillor. Perhaps we could return to the main theme of our discussion?’ 
Eukalia grinned and her face relaxed a little. Hardacre hoped that now he’d finally get some useful information.
‘As I said – we haven’t told people in Skiophos, as a general rule. When I say people I mean both humans and elves, although I suspect that the Emperor and the Imperial aristocracy must know something. Anyway, the truth is that I am from Helios, I was born there, and a small number who teach at Kinspit are from there too. We have established Oikonde and Kinspit as our bases in your world, but we have kept quiet about our true provenance for fear of the consequences of revealing them’ 
‘What are those consequences, madam?’
‘I am not entirely sure, as I am no cosmologist, but I think that this reality is made in some way that is different from the other realities and that an excessive mixing of the worlds would be catastrophic. I’m not really sure…’
Hardacre watched her speaking carefully. He was fairly sure that she knew a little more than she was saying but probably not enough to warrant making her struggle any further with her conscience.
‘That’s why I would really appreciate the possibility of an audience with the Archon – he is sure to know what is going on’
Eukalia nodded – it looked a little like she was conceding a game.  
‘Given what you already know’ she admitted, ‘it would seem foolish not to propose a meeting. We really have no desire to get on the wrong side of your…umm… group’
Hardacre could see the dreadful word ‘coven’ lurking unsaid in her speech. The fear of human witches was just, to an archaic elf, a dreadful extension of the fear of barbarians with swords, breaking and burning their neat white cities. This wiccaphobia[2], though, was worse, as it undermined the elven monolithic sense of superiority: all the evidence suggested that witches were more effective than mages, at least at anything practical or immediate.  
‘We would be very grateful if you could arrange a meeting, Councillor Eukalia, very grateful indeed’
‘And you will stay here as my guest until I can arrange it?’
Eukalia’s look was pleading, which surprised Hardacre. Then he realised that she was now beholden to them: she felt guilty as a teacher and a friend and she really wanted to make up for it. The last thing that Hardacre wanted was to stay in Oikonde as someone’s guest: he had four people to look after at home himself.    
‘Of course’ he said, smiling diplomatically, ‘I’d be delighted and honoured to be your guest’
 Eukalia looked pleased and relieved. She stood up.
‘I will prepare some lunch and then I will find the Archon. What should I say you want to talk to him about?’
Hardacre breathed in and considered what he had been asked to do. It did seem like a rather tricky mission. 
‘Tell him that I need to go and examine the Folds’ he said.   

 


[1] Oikonde is an elven city one hundred and fifty miles east of Kinspit. It has a population of a few thousand and is one of the few places where only Archaic Elven is spoken.  It is considered to be a bit of a ‘spooky’ place and few humans ever go there.
[2] Wiccaphobia – fear of witches and witchcraft.

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