“Do you think you’re his roots?” Vathorem asked. His voice was measured and careful.

“I don’t know.”

“A word of advice, man to man,” he said. “It can be hard when you’re bound to someone tighter than they’re bound to you. Come on, let’s get the day started.”

I followed him into the palace. It was a spare place, but well built. It was a building of large rooms paneled in wood. It was a rugged, well-crafted building, utterly practical, and not at all ostentatious. The palace was two stories tall, and had three wings: one served as quarters, one served as kitchens and pantries, and the central wing was where the government functioned. From the entrance, we came into a waiting hall littered with red elves. They nodded to Vathorem, and he muttered greetings. Through the door at the end of the room was the throne room. The throne sat in the center near the back of the room. It was a large wooden chair built on a raised platform. It was forlorn and isolated. A narrow table in one corner of the room was crowded with people. Dor sat at his mother’s left hand. He nodded to me when we entered. The queen looked up.

She was a hard-eyed, hard-faced woman. She was built of sinew and unbreakable bone. She was strength incarnate, a forbidding person, a person who dared you to challenge her. She wore her authority easily, and she wore it well. “Good. You didn’t get yourself killed,” she said.

Vathorem grinned. “You didn’t either.”

“You brought a stray.”

Dor leaned towards the queen. “Ma, he mentioned…”

“You’ve always got a stray with you,” she said. She looked at me, studied me. She gestured for me to come over. I sat in the chair beside her, my heart pounding a terrified rhythm. She caught my eye, and she smiled, and I was gone. “What’s your story, lad?”

“I’m a shaper.”

“There’s a shaper under every loose rock, it seems.”

“Oh, no, not really. We stick together.” There was a slight pause. “No, Dor isn’t one.”

The room grew quiet. The queen leaned forward.

“He is very smart. Very, very smart,” I said.

Dor left the room. Distantly, I heard Vathorem start to speak, but the queen held out her hand. She smiled wider. “But he’s quiet. Do you think he’s too quiet? Do you think they’ll follow someone so quiet? He is…”