In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

“Well, here the boys are at last,” she said and gave Elliot a hug. “Oh my God,” said Elliot, somewhat muffled, into Luke’s mother’s bosom. It was not entirely covered, and she was wearing a very large, very ornate golden necklace. Elliot was not sure if he should be worried about being suffocated or having his eyes put out by one of the jewels.

“You are just like I thought you would be from Luke’s letters,” she said. “Come sit by me, Elliot, and tell me how you got Luke to actually learn facts about ancient history.” “Mum!” said Luke. “And he knows his way to the library and everything!” said Rachel Sunborn, rumpling Luke’s sunny hair as he went by her on a quest for consolation and sandwiches. “My little man. It’s a miracle.” She patted the place beside her. Elliot cautiously went over to it and sat beside her. She ruffled his hair, too, and pulled him in occasionally for another suffocating hug. She asked him to tell her the story about the throwing knives in his own words and laughed when he did.

she was a very lovely lady, he decided after a while. He felt guilty, since she obviously assumed he was friends with her son, but he could not explain the truce to her. He sat with her and tried to make her laugh instead. It must be nice, to have a mother like that.

“You’re going into the forest?” Elliot asked. “To talk to dryads? I want to go!” “Right, Elliot, but you can’t,” Luke explained. “Because only those in war training go on missions, since they are the ones who can protect themselves. Those in council training stay where it’s safe in camp, and go over the papers.” “All we want is your safety,” Serene contributed. “Do you hear what I’m saying, Elliot?” asked Luke. He sounded anxious. Elliot thought that was very wise. “I do, Luke,” he said, so earnestly that it made Rachel Sunborn laugh again. “I do hear what you’re saying.” He didn’t know why Serene and Luke had to act so surprised when they uncovered the supplies wagon on their mission and found that he had stowed away in it. He understood everyone else wandering around saying that they couldn’t believe his behaviour, but he’d hoped they were coming to know him better than that.

This far from the Border, there were harpies, like lion-sized eagles, pinwheeling in the sky. He could hear water trickling somewhere, and if he followed the sound he might find mermaids. There was light brimming around and wind rushing through the leaves of the trees, and as the leaves rustled together Elliot heard a few words in the wind, and knew it was not his imagination. He knew it was dryads.

Elliot spent a good deal of his time on the mission explaining that these living conditions were too horrible to be borne, and speculating on who would die of a chill first because nobody had proper medical care available in the otherlands.

Sigh

“They’re the treaties for the dryads and villagers to sign,” he said. “There’s one treaty, and there’s the other. What’s your point?” “Sometimes people like to do this cool thing with words called ‘reading them,’” Elliot explained. “These treaties say different things.” He looked toward Serene, who he had faith would understand, and saw the pin-scratch line of a frown between her dark eyebrows. “Considerably different,” she observed. “There are all sorts of restrictions in the dryads’ contracts,” said Elliot. “Conditions for this peace, ceding territory to the villagers, agreeing to stay off the villagers’ paths while the villagers can go into their woods and chop down their trees.”

“If someone gave me this treaty to sign, I wouldn’t do it. I’d be insulted.” “You are insulted by people saying ‘good morning,’” Luke pointed out. Elliot paid no attention to this slander,

“And how would you know?” the captain asked. “You’re a child.” “I know because it’s . . . really obvious?” said Elliot, and Luke gave the cough which was a signal for “Too insubordinate! Back up!” “Look, one person chops down the wrong tree, and they’re at war again,” Elliot tried. “Then they will break a peace negotiated by the Border guard,” said Captain Whiteleaf. “And the guard will march back to deal with them.” “Right, okay,” said Elliot. “But then people will die.” Captain Whiteleaf said: “So?”

They had both stood up for what was right, when it counted. Elliot just wished that one of them would share his dark misgivings once in a while. He sometimes felt like the kid in the magic book who was always whining along the lines of “Should we go to find that giant ruby of ultimate magic, though? Isn’t it dangerous?” Everyone knew that kid eventually turned evil.

At home every day was the same, just as it had always been. His dad would come home late, when the day was already getting dark and cold, and put his briefcase down neatly on the table in the hall. They would sit at either ends of the polished rectangular table, and eat dinner. Conversations would stop and start, escaping from Elliot’s hands like a balloon in the wind. That was how conversations with his father made him feel: as if he were a little kid, surprised every time at the loss.

It wasn’t that his father ever got angry, or ever hit him. It was just that it was like sitting in a room where all the air was escaping, to stay in a room with a man who was grimly, methodically drinking: to know that he had once been happy and never would be again.

“She was the first thing I saw when I walked into a room,” he said at last. “And once I saw her, I never wanted to look anywhere else. She would speak, and whatever she said was brilliant and startling. She was like that, a constant bright surprise. She was always talking, always laughing, always dancing, and she was never what I expected. I was even surprised when she left.” He looked over at Elliot, who was sitting with his hands clenched tight around his knees. “You’re not like her,” he added. “You’re like me. Nobody will ever love you enough to stay.”

His mother had stayed with his dad for ages. She’d left pretty soon after Elliot had arrived. Elliot could do the maths. He supposed it didn’t matter if someone left because you weren’t good enough or left because you actually drove them away. The result was the same.

Nothing changed, not permanently. Elliot had known that even when the miracle happened, and he was taken away to somewhere fantastical. Every bit of reality in the fantasy reminded him that miracles were not for him.

Even if you found yourself in a magical story, there were no guarantees that you were the hero, or that you would get the things you dreamed of.

He followed the directions, which came with helpful drawings of trees, almost mechanically. He was worried enough that he almost did not realize when he arrived. In the midst of moors and woodland was a tower, in the same brief, round style as the towers at the Border camp, looking like nothing so much as the rooks in the chess set his father had gathering dust in a cabinet. There was ivy climbing up it in cascading green profusion over places where the stone was jagged and worn. Elliot stuffed Luke’s map into his pocket and climbed the broad, flat steps.

“We all go on campaigns, and the one on leave gets the kids. We always have Louise’s friends over, and this summer we have my sister’s boys, Adam and Neal, staying too. You guys can distract each other. And frankly, it’s my turn for a houseful of kids: Michael had Luke at the Northmark fortress from when he was nine to when he got sent off to camp. I was on an expedition to traverse the entire otherlands. It was meant to be a two-year mission, but it ran long.”

“The DeWitt mission, led by the explorer from my world,” said Elliot enthusiastically. “The one that improved all the maps! How was finding an entire lagoon full of mermaids? I wish I could meet a mermaid.” “Kid, they drown people.” Elliot waved this off. “Is it true that the river mermaids have a common tongue but the mermaids who live in lakes have all entirely separate languages, though they can usually speak the language of the people who live near the lakes, and the saltwater mermaids seem to only speak the languages most common to sailors? Do you think the sea mermaids do have their own language but only use it in the deep? Because that’s what I think.” Rachel threw back her head and laughed. “How would I know, funnyface? But I can harpoon a mermaid at a hundred paces from a moving boat. Not bad for an old lady, eh?”

He climbed one of the ladders to get to one glinting embossed spine, to see if it could possibly be what he hoped it was going to be. It was. He climbed down the ladder to display his prize to Luke. “1,000 Leagues Across a Sea of Blood,” Luke said. “That’s a good title.” The subtitle was Sea Monsters Demanding Sacrifice, Fanged Octopi & Murderous Mermaids I Have Known.

He thought about the classic hits he listened to at home, filling his whole empty house with song, something that a mother might like, and sang a few lines of “When I’m Sixty-Four.” Rachel beat time on the lid of her pot. “You have a nice voice, kid,” she said. “You could be a minstrel.” “Oh, thank God, there are other jobs for people besides being a weird conscripted soldier on the Border camp,” Elliot said. “Logically there had to be, someone has to make the food, the world would be stupid and make no sense otherwise. But I was terrified it was all dumb killing people in the face.”

Since he was pretty sure Luke would expect him to be in the library, Elliot acquired a book and cunningly hid out of doors. He wandered around the woods for a little while until he found a tree that he thought looked appropriate and comfortable, then carefully stowed his chosen book into his hoodie and climbed up into it. He was reading peacefully for an hour or so in the green-glowing quiet,

Adam strode toward him, and Elliot was just considering whether he was going to get punched or kicked when Luke emerged from the trees and knocked Adam off course. “Where have you been?” Elliot demanded. “Looking for you!” Luke snapped back. “How was I supposed to know you were off hiding in trees, you lunatic?” “Don’t be rude to me when you’re rescuing me, loser,” Elliot told him. “That’s terrible manners. You’re the worst.” Luke made an incoherent sound of rage,

“You’re not doing it!” said Luke. “Where’s the honor in hurting someone who’s not as strong as you? What does that prove?” “It might stop him being such a brat,” Adam suggested. “Doesn’t,” Elliot contributed. “This is not the first time somebody’s ever wanted to punch me in the face.” Luke frowned for some reason, but supported him by saying: “That is obviously true. He’s extremely annoying.” “See, you two are not original souls. Kids at my old school used to hit me all the time, I have collected the data on this subject, and I am in the perfect position to tell you that it has no useful results whatsoever. It just means I’m bleeding as well as annoying.”

Neal said: “What value does he have, exactly?” Luke had to give it some thought, which Elliot found offensive. Eventually, he said: “He’s clever about some things. And he makes up songs.” “No, I don’t,” said Elliot, even more vastly offended. “Yes, you do,” said Luke. “You sang the song to me and Mum.” “That was not my song,” said Elliot. “That song belongs to the Beatles.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Elliot, beetles do not write songs.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Elliot said conversationally to Luke. “If they’re your mum’s sister’s kids, how are they Sunborns too?” Serene frowned. “It makes perfect sense. Of course the children bear their mother’s name. The woman is the strong one, who bears the child and begins the family. You can’t be sure who any child’s father is.” Elliot considered. “That’s a good point, actually. It’s why the Egyptians married their sisters.” “I don’t know that family,” Serene said, “but that does not seem to me like a good solution.”

You shouldn’t sleep with animals, I’m sure it’s unsanitary. Come here, Culaine,” said Elliot, and when both dogs shuffled over across the bedclothes to be patted, Elliot pushed Cavall gently away. “Not you. Culaine’s my favorite.” Luke sat up. His blond hair was sticking straight up: he looked like an offended dandelion. “They’re both good dogs. You can’t have a favorite.”

Adorable description

Serene climbed up on the bed as well, and entered into an argument with Elliot about which was the finer dog. Serene thought Cavall was the best at hunting: Elliot was firm in his conviction that he did not care.

Even though the Border camp was a heathen hellhole dedicated to martial law, and even though he was carrying way too much stuff, Elliot felt his shoulders relax under his heavy burdens when he went over the wall and walked until he saw familiar fields, short towers, rough wood cabins and brown and blue tents. He felt in a good enough mood to wave to some of the students he recognized.

“I’m not responsible for other people being fussbudgets.” “You look like a snail that’s about to explode,” Luke said and made a grab for one of his bags. Elliot gave a pterodactyl screech of protest.

“Bet I’m the first bully who snatched your bag that was about to explode,” said Luke, and started to spin the bag by its strap. “Don’t throw it!” Elliot wailed as Luke whirled it over his head and threw it with all his might. As soon as the bag hit the ground, it loudly burst into flame.

The absolute worst thing about being fourteen was that almost everyone else’s interest in girls had caught fire and caught up with Elliot’s at last, and thus Elliot was no longer the only one actively wooing Serene. Though he did flatter himself that he had got the head start, and made real progress. Plus he was easily the most cunning person in the entire training camp, and had several cunning courtship plans. He put one of them into action at one of their lunchtimes, when Serene had once more been waylaid by other boys. They were always offering to teach her how to do this or that warlike thing which Serene already did better than them, it made Elliot feel extremely unwell. But Serene was very patient with them. She even seemed to like it.

“Serene’s not going to leave us,” said Luke. “She and I are swordbrothers. Well, you know what I mean. We swore an oath on a blade and shared blood. It’s a warrior thing. You wouldn’t understand.” Elliot understood enough to feel hurt and left out, so he said: “Please do not discuss swapping bodily fluids with Serene in public. She is a lady! And ladies need to be wooed with soft words.”

“The Border guard were initially a far less military operation,” Elliot explained. “Records indicate that long ago the relationship between the military and their councilors was mostly equitable, with diplomats and soldiers working together to find solutions for their people.” “So that didn’t last?” said Luke. “Because it didn’t work?” Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “It was only as time passed, and the other species militarized in response to the humans, that councilors became the largely useless and disrespected body they are now. Basically, the military crushed their spirits.” He stopped declaiming from his position on his bunk to give Luke an accusatory glare. “Yeah,” said Luke. “I can see the spirit of every future councilor I know is really crushed.”

“It’s okay that it’s—bright,” said Luke. “It means I can find you, when you’re in trouble.”

Their advanced age meant they were accorded certain privileges, like access to the lake that had been out of bounds for thirteen-year-olds. Elliot wanted to ask if fourteen-year-olds were really much less likely to drown than thirteen-year-olds, but Luke and Serene had urged him not to do so. Apparently they liked the lake. Elliot did not like the lake. He would have liked a different lake, full of shadows and with leaves hanging above the water and whispering secrets to each other. This lake was crowded with people, and they were barely wearing any clothes and celebrating their discovery of hormones.

The way girls did their flirting was different. There were far fewer girls than boys in the Border camp, and they seemed to want to gather in groups, not around a lone boy like the boys crowded around Serene (like lions around an antelope that had been cut off from the rest of the herd, Elliot thought bitterly). The herd of girls looked at the boys, selected one, looked at him and discussed him. And the boys didn’t quite dare approach the whole group of girls, so they formed their own group and then the two groups were in a stand-off that involved a lot of casual hair-tossing and muscle-flexing. Presumably rebels from both sides would break away and unite at some stage. Elliot’s plan was to do his reading.

Adara stared at him. “Who asked you?” “You were speaking quite loudly, and I’m a yard away,” said Elliot. “If you wanted to keep your conversation a secret, may I suggest whispering about it on some lonely midnight? And if you wanted me to politely pretend about anything, I’m sorry, have you met me? But suit yourself. I’m sure tossing your hair as if you’re a pony being bothered by flies will work eventually.”

I have a very serious and important question to ask Adara,” said Elliot. “Now, Adara, you said that, and it actually worked. How did you do it? Was it like this: Go away, Luke? Or was it more like this: Go away, Luke?” Adara shot him a look fit to kill. Luke lowered his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to her? I have no idea what I did to upset her. She seems a bit touchy.” Which was Luke-speak for “she seems weird and mean.”

His father had made sure he had many lessons so he would not be underfoot all the time: Elliot could swim, ballroom dance, speak French and Italian, and play three musical instruments.

She stretched like a young, thin birch tree swayed by a wind, pulled her tight leather top over her head, and tossed it on the ground, leaving her smooth, pale skin entirely bare from the waist up. There was an echoing silence all around the lakeside suddenly, as jaws dropped in such perfect unison Elliot thought they should have made a tiny collective creaking sound.

“I am mystified by everyone’s behaviour!” Serene exclaimed. “My breasts are not so large as to need supporting garments, so why should I wear anything on my upper half? Don’t worry,” she added. “I’m not self-conscious about the size of my bosom at this time. I am still very young, and I will develop further. Besides which, I do not subscribe to the superstition that says the larger a woman’s breasts, the greater her courage on the battlefield and prowess in the bedchamber.” She saw everyone’s startled looks. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “Obviously that is an elven superstition, and besides which you are, in the main, men. You do not have any masculine attributes that could be compared to other men’s: it would be ridiculous if you did, since you could have only the most minuscule difference between one man’s attribute and the other.” “What do you mean by miniscule?” burst out Commander Rayburn, and at Captain Woodsinger’s sharp look he said: “Ahem. No. Sorry, sorry. Totally inappropriate question for a student.

Another amusing passage

“If you do not obey, there will be consequences. There should be consequences for your behaviour today, but”—Commander Rayburn again caught Captain Woodsinger’s eye—“I’m prepared to be lenient this once,” he finished feebly. “I will obey,” said Serene, pale and determined. “Yeah,” said Luke, just as determined. “We’ll obey. None of us will go down to the lake again, and none of us will appear in a—in a scandalous state of undress again.” “That’s right!” Elliot exclaimed. “We’ll have a lake boycott.” The commander and the captain did not seem to care about the lake boycott.

“I realize this is hypocritical, and I do apologize. I have been struggling against it and trying to keep my composure as a lady should,” Serene said at last. “But I am in an emotional state, and I must admit I do find myself somewhat uncomfortable in such close proximity to an unclothed gentleman.” “Yeah, Luke, you shameless hussy,” said Elliot, and cackled.

They did not go down to the lake again. Instead on their days off they spent time in the fields around the Border training camp. Sometimes Luke and Serene wanted to do weapons practise or a sport, and Elliot sat in the grass and read a book. Sometimes Luke made Elliot do exercise, which was simply bullying and he should be reported. Sometimes Elliot told stories or read aloud or sang to Serene and Luke, and sometimes they lay in the long grass and got into vicious arguments about the shape of clouds.

“You’re from the human world and maybe you don’t know,” he said. “But they’re—I mean, some of them are nice, obviously, I’ve met some very nice dwarves, but there’s a tendency to be a bit cunning? My dad says so.” “It’s true,” said Captain Briarwind, who was really young for a captain, a bit spotty, and had a distressing tendency to look heroworshipfully at Luke. “They’re a low and cunning folk.” He did not seem to be making a pun. “They’d lie, cheat, and steal for gold.” Elliot could not believe that idiots like Captain Briarwind and Captain Whiteleaf got missions while Captain Woodsinger hardly ever did. Both Luke and Captain Briarwind seemed blissfully unaware that one of Elliot’s friends from council-training course, Myra, had dwarf blood.

Why does he always think his small personal anecdotes are the rule instead of people who've lived there their whole lives

“In elven society caring for the children is considered a task for the menfolk,” said Elliot, sighing and wondering why nobody else ever bothered to read a book. “Of course it is,” said Serene. “The woman goes through the physically taxing and bloody experience of childbirth. A woman’s experience of blood and pain is, naturally, what makes womenkind particularly suited for the battlefield. Whereas men are the softer sex, squeamish about blood in the main. I know it’s the same for human men, Luke was extremely disinclined to discuss my first experience of a woman’s menses.” Luke stared ferociously into the middle distance, obviously trying to visualize himself somewhere else, having an entirely different conversation.

Elliot was not accustomed to the company of any children younger than himself, but he’d read that you were supposed to praise them and pat them on the head. “Well done for not eating any poisonous berries,” he said, gingerly patting. “Unless they were slow-acting poison, of course.” The child opened her mouth and gave an earsplitting howl. Elliot snatched his hand back and jumped away. “Elliot,” said Luke. “You’re not supposed to pat children on the face and ear.” Luke knelt down and whispered in the child’s ear, then smoothed her hair back from her sticky face and did something where he pretended to produce a dandelion from her ear. She beamed at him, and he smoothed her hair again.

I guess he's not all-knowing is he?

Luke actually was good and noble and kind and honest and true, that he was obviously a better and wiser choice for Serene than Elliot ever could be, and that Luke would never bully anyone.

“Luke, Luke,” Elliot said urgently. “Will you look after mine and Serene’s children? I’m starting to have some real worries about Jasper and Smooth-Skin-Like-Finest-Porcelain’s well-being.” “You’ve named your children,” said Luke, with extreme and offensive skepticism. “Yes, one elven name and one human name. I wish to be fair.” “You’ve named them Smooth Jazz?” “Look, apparently I’ll be raising them, let me have my fun,” Elliot snapped.