In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

“Where’s Dale Wavechaser?” Elliot demanded. Luke blinked. “Who’s Dale Wavechaser?” “Your friend!” said Elliot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Luke. “Which is life as usual, I guess.”

“Dale’s about this tall,” Elliot said, waving a hand haphazardly far above his own head. “Very good-looking.” “What?” said Luke. “Elliot is right,” said Myra, which Elliot enjoyed hearing, so Elliot made her his favorite again. “I’ve just never heard him say anything positive about anyone before,” said Luke. “That’s absurd. Serene is an avatar of elven perfection, and I praise her every day,” Elliot snapped.

It sounded a bit terrible in Elliot’s head when he thought it, though, and when things sounded terrible in Elliot’s head that was a bad sign. Elliot thought it was probably bad manners to actually tell people they shouldn’t be where you were. It was not something that had ever come up in Elliot’s life before. Usually people took extreme care not to be where Elliot was.

“Do you have rocks in here?” Luke asked. “I have all my books with me, obviously, and several library books,” Elliot answered. “What if I wished to consult a book and did not have the relevant volume on hand? Think about it. Now if you are carrying my books, I can take the atlas back to my cabin with me and inspect it.”

“Elliot!” Peter said, his voice slightly high. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to take that.” “Nobody ever said I wasn’t supposed to take the atlas home for private study,” Elliot told Peter. “Did they? By the way, do people think this world is flat? Is it flat? What happens if you try to cross the sea?” “If you sail into the deepest ocean, you are killed by giant mermaids,” Peter said flatly. “Fascinating,” Elliot sighed. “You’ve made me very happy.”

“I don’t want to help you steal stuff,” said Luke. “You are talking nonsense, Luke. Obviously I am going to give it back. Besides, is Mr Dustlaid going to punish me? Really? He can barely summon up the will to live. I don’t know how any of the councilors get any treaties written.” “Well,” Luke said pityingly. “They don’t exactly write the treaties. They used to, but the Border guard is too large and too vital to the defence of the otherlands now. Councilors advise on the treaties, of course, and help put them into the proper language, but Commander Rayburn or—if the situation is important enough—General Lakelost decides what goes into the treaties.” “Reeeeeally,” said Elliot. “Under those circumstances, I might lose the will to live myself.”

No wonder the council course had shrunk down to nothing, and all the councilors taught in a despair fugue. They had given up. Giving up was not Elliot’s style. He waved a cheerful good-bye to Peter and Myra. The atlas, held in only one hand, wobbled. Peter gulped. Myra, Elliot’s favorite, stayed cool.

Luke punched him in the arm. “There you go,” he said. “Hang on to it.” Elliot stumbled slightly and glared up at Luke, waiting for the next blow. It did not come. Luke stared down at him. “Don’t hit me,” said Elliot. “I didn’t!” Luke exclaimed. “I didn’t—hit you.” “Oh, no?” Luke flushed. “Other boys punch—people they know in the arms all the time,” he said. “I’ve seen them do it.” “Yeah, I’ve actually been punched before,” said Elliot. “I don’t like it.” “Who punched you?” Elliot waved this off as irrelevant.

“No violence. No hitting, no kicking, no throwing my bag over my head, no shaking trees so I fall out, no shaking the jungle gym so I fall out, no shoving me out of windows so I fall out—” “Elliot!” said Luke. “I’m not going to—” “No interrupting!” said Elliot. “That is doing violence to my train of thought and verbal flow.” “That is ridiculous,” said Luke. “So you insist on perpetrating acts of wanton brutality on the helpless?” “No!” Luke exclaimed. “Okay, fine. No violence. That’s fine. Since I didn’t hit you.”

“Nobody built the wall,” said Luke. “It’s always been there.” “Someone built the wall,” said Elliot. “Because it’s a wall, and not a rock. Rocks are always there. Walls are not. Someone has to make a wall. Nobody has to make a rock.” “Says who?” asked Luke. Elliot squinted. “Luke, are you being metaphysical?” Luke looked alarmed. “I don’t think so.” “Pity,” said Elliot. “I would have been very impressed.” “I doubt that somehow,” said Luke.

“Because basic self-defence training is going to start up soon,” Luke said. “Even the people in the council-training courses have to do it. You signed up to fight when you signed up to guard the Border. You don’t have a choice. I mean, what if the camp was under attack?” “I hope you and Serene would have the decency to protect me!” “Yes, of course,” said Serene, and Elliot smiled gratefully at her. “I’m not saying this to upset you. I’m trying to tell you what you absolutely have to do. What if we were both dead?” asked Luke. Elliot looked at his pudding and was very sad about his life and his choices. How had he wound up here, in a place where all he had was pudding—Elliot would have sold his soul for a chocolate bar—and awful people who at the age of thirteen asked questions like “What if we were both dead?” “Amazing choice of mealtime conversation, loser,” he said. “Now I’m not even hungry.” “Give back my pudding then.” “No,” said Elliot, on general principles.

Elliot had been to the practise grounds before, when Serene and Luke wanted to do their fun pretend murder outside.

“Oh, hello,” said Dale. “Elliot, right? I bet Luke will teach you.” “How thrilling for me,” said Elliot.

“Everyone has a choice, if they choose to make one, and I choose not to do this. The value of people does not rest on their ability to hurt others.”

“I am not winning any arguments because I know how to hurt someone. How does that prove that you’re right? How does being stronger or more vicious prove anything, except that all this talk about honor is stupid? Where’s the honor in being better at hurting somebody? Telling me I have to do this is insulting, as if I can’t win any other way. As if I can’t win in a better way.”

“I do know how to throw knives,” Elliot said. “I can already do all I want to do with knives, which is throw them away.”

“Yes, your point was extremely clear,” said Luke. “You’re just making the whole thing laboured and awkward now.”

Elliot rolled his eyes as he was dragged off to the commander’s rooms, where Commander Rayburn walked in and said, “Oh, the elf’s little ginger boyfriend” in a despairing and, Elliot considered, unprofessional manner. “What have you been doing now?” “Staged a pacifist protest,” said Elliot. “Also, Serene and I have not defined the parameters of our relationship yet, though I have high hopes.”

“Unusual,” said Commander Rayburn. He sounded very, very tired. Elliot shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Serene and Luke were waiting outside. Once they had established that Elliot was not expelled, they told him very firmly that he should have been expelled.

“If the camp is attacked, I swear to protect you.” “And if we’re both dead, the odds are pretty good you’ll annoy people until they chop off their own heads in sheer frustration,” said Luke. Elliot was pleased by this tribute.

“Oh, what?” Luke said. “You’re going to miss my first Trigon game.”

“I have no idea why you would think I might want to go and watch your ridiculous game, loser,” Elliot said. “The truce doesn’t extend that far. I have no interest in the game or you, and I already see your face more often than I would prefer.” “Suit yourself,” Luke snapped. “Have fun washing dishes while I’m winning and everybody else is cheering for me.”

At least nobody was actively trying to hurt each other, and Luke was good at jumping, if you considered that something to brag about. For about five minutes, Elliot almost wanted him to win.

Dale Wavechaser and Darius Winterchild gave Luke many back-pats and fist-bumps, so Elliot presumed Luke had at last found his sporty brethren. Luke still, rather to Elliot’s surprise, came over to them later. “So?” he asked, grinning with what Elliot found to be offensive bashfulness. “What did you think?” “I do not see the point of this game, but you were excellent,” said Serene. Elliot looked up from his book. “Is it over?” he asked. “Who won?”

It wasn’t that Luke caused all the terrible things at the Border camp to happen. It was mostly just that he was the one who told Elliot about them, and so it seemed like they were all his fault. Elliot chose to blame Luke anyway.

“My parents are coming,” said Luke. “Okay.” “So’s my sister, Louise.” “Good for you,” said Elliot. “Serene’s going to come with us,” Luke said. “We’re going to have a picnic.” “This is a very boring story, loser,” said Elliot, instead of saying “Quit rubbing it in.” “Did it sound different in your head?” “You can come if you like,” said Luke. “Since nobody else is going to ask you, and everyone should have something to do on parents’ day.” “That’s all right,” said Elliot. “I actually can’t imagine anything worse than having to attend an all-Sunborns-all-the-time parade.”

It was a really enjoyable half hour until Luke showed up. “So sorry,” said Elliot politely to Bright-Eyes, and then to Luke: “Are you lost?” Luke was giving the library a look of unhappy mistrust. In fact, now Elliot was paying attention, he looked more downcast than usual: it probably could not be attributed to the library. Possibly someone had made fun of his hair. “You have to come to the picnic,” he said. “Why?” Elliot snapped. “My parents are expecting you,” Luke said reluctantly, as if each word were a tooth that had to be pulled. “Why?” Elliot repeated inflexibly. “I don’t know why, Elliot!” Luke snapped back. “I didn’t tell them you were coming. But they asked where you were, and I said you were in the library, and they said to go fetch you then.” “How did you know I was in the library?” “Oh, come on,” said Luke.

“I’m very sorry for being late. I didn’t realize you were expecting me. I think Luke must have confused the issue somehow. His command of the English language is not what it could be. Well, you must have noticed that for yourself.” “Nice command of the English language you have there, genius,” said Luke. “Very appropriate way to talk when you’re a guest.” Elliot took a deep breath. Rachel Sunborn laughed. “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.”

“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.

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.

“You’re not going to die of a chill,” said Luke. “I will give you my cloak if you promise to shut up.” “I may well die of a chill, I refuse to shut up, and I’ll take your cloak,” said Elliot.

“They’d better be really different,” said Elliot. “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.

“You chose to come on this mission, so you’re a soldier. You cannot disobey your commanding officer on a mission.” “I’m not a soldier,” said Elliot. “Not ever.”

“We want peace between these two peoples,” he said. “A peace achieved like this won’t hold.” “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!”

A beautiful peace was descending on Elliot: he knew precisely what he had to do.

“You little brat,” the captain breathed, raising his fist, and Elliot lifted his chin. Luke drew his sword. The sharp edge glittered in the light of the burning papers, pointed across the desk at the captain. “Don’t touch him.”

“We expected something quite different,” she said. “I would be happy to sign this.” Elliot did not miss the faint emphasis she laid on this. It seemed like Captain Whiteleaf did not miss it either. “You’re still a pack of impossible brats,” said Captain Whiteleaf on the ride home. “But I suppose you meant it for the best. This once, I will not report your wild behaviour to the commander.” He spurred his horse and rode to the front of the company. “‘Oh, thank you for saving my first mission,’” said Elliot. “‘No, no, Captain Whiteleaf, it was my pleasure, please do not mention it, all this fulsome gratitude is so embarrassing!’” “Shut up. That was really good of him,” said Luke. “And the mission would have been fine if you hadn’t destroyed the treaties like a maniac.” “Oh, would it?”

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.

“Now, loser, let’s start with the basics,” Elliot added kindly once he was done telling them the list. “This is a book. You open it like this, see? Not along the spine. That’s very important.” Luke made an impolite gesture behind his book.

“You can come too, if you want,” said Luke. “My mum will probably be expecting you. I don’t know why.” “I guess if Serene’s going to be there,” said Elliot. “And since the year’s not up yet, the truce isn’t quite over.” “Fine,” Luke snapped. “Great,” said Elliot.

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.

“What was Mum like?” asked Elliot, who had truly grown stupid at the camp if he was asking that. His father looked out the window, where gray shadows were snatching away the very last of the light. “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. Elliot knew no way, being who he was, to deserve that.

Elliot caught his father looking at him measuringly a few times in the days before he left. He suspected that his father might be puzzled at the idea of anyone wanting Elliot’s company: that was fair.

“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?”

“Don’t worry,” said Elliot. “Luke’s not shy. Everyone likes Luke.”

This fragile, beautiful hope was crushed when Luke barreled into the house, calling for his mother and attended by vicious animals. “Mum!” said Luke. “When do you think he’ll get—oh. Hi.” “Hi,” said Elliot. He should probably, as a guest, not insult Luke in front of Luke’s mother.

“How can you be scared of the puppies?” Rachel asked. “I am not scared of them,” Elliot replied with dignity. “I am just not accustomed to them, so I do not trust them.”