Elfhome

35: FOREST MOSS

Tinker had heard that Forest Moss was not lucid, so she expected finding him would be fairly simple. A quick check with the hospice — where she expected to find him drugged — and Ginger Wine’s — where she was hoping to find him locked up — both turned up empty.

The elves were letting a mad howitzer roam Pittsburgh unchecked? A quick scry showed that Forest Moss wasn’t even in Oakland.

In the end, she called Riki. “Do you have any idea where I can find Forest Moss?”

“He’s at Kaufmann’s.”

Kaufmann’s been built in the heart of Pittsburgh back in the 1800s. Clad in limestone, decorated with carved stone arches, cherubs, and lion heads, it stood like a fortress, resisting time and space. The elevators boasted bronze doors with art deco designs. The ancient escalators on the upper floors were clad in wood. The only department store that survived relocation to Elfhome, it was normally overstocked with all that humans might want to stay well-heeled while isolated on another planet. Two months being stranded without restocking from Earth, and even Kaufmann’s was starting to look picked over.

There was something slightly incongruent about riding up the wooden escalators with her Hand in armor and carrying swords and bows. .

It all became very surreal when they found Forest Moss.

The crazed elf was in the children’s department. There were no humans on the floor — both customers and salesclerks had abandoned it to the elf. The air was oddly hazed, as if a sudden dust storm had erupted in the department. Forest Moss sat in the back corner at a tiny tea table, not exactly alone. All of the pint-sized mannequins were gathered tightly around the table, clothed and naked, brightly smiling and headless, hands and amputated arms all outstretched to the elf in silent welcome. Someone had supplied Forest Moss with a china toy tea set, a plate of the bakery’s fancy cookies, and real tea for the teapot. He had shared out the cookies and tea and was now imploring the children to eat. All the while, a fine dust snowed down on the mannequins, the table, and the white-haired, one-eyed elf.

“Try the yellow ones,” he murmured to the mannequin standing beside him. It was a little brunette eight-year-old-girl in a white tank top and blue flowered pants. He put his arm about it and pulled the doll close, rubbing his empty eye socket along the mannequin’s pale cheek. “They are sweet perfection like you.”

Somehow, Tinker doubted that questioning the insane elf was going to useful, but she had to try. “Forest Moss?”

The male’s good eye flicked to Tinker even as he continued rubbing his wound over the curves of the mannequin’s face. “Hmm, Wolf’s child bride, so young and waif-like. What could she want with one such as me?”

“I want to talk to you about the children,” Tinker said.

“My beautiful, lovely children are all so happy and carefree.” His hands slipped under the tank top to caress the flawless plastic skin underneath.

Tinker controlled the urge to rip the mannequin out of the elf’s hold. He was better off playing with the dolls than pinning down real children. She tried to ignore the way that the fabric of the tank top stretched tight, molding to Forest Moss’ large hand as it traveled over the small, anatomically correct body.

“Do you know that Earth Son told people that he would sponsor them if they came to Pittsburgh?”

“Earth Son? Now, there was a disappointing child.” Forest Moss frowned and glanced at one of the boy mannequins standing to his right. “Whine. Whine. Whine. I told you to shut up, you spoiled little coward!”

Forest Moss flicked his free hand up to his mouth, set up a resonance, and gave a quick closed-fist gesture. Pony snatched Tinker up and whirled her about, putting himself between her and Forest Moss. She didn’t see the boy mannequin explode, but fingers and toes and part of an ear tumbled by as white dust woofed out around Pony’s shields. Only then did she notice that the floor was already littered with plastic body parts and tattered clothes. The explanation for the haze became evident.

If Forest Moss had been just pretending to be crazy before, he wasn’t acting any longer.

Pony cautiously put Tinker down but stayed between her and Forest Moss.

Forest Moss pulled the girl mannequin close and nuzzled into its neck, keening slightly. “All this is his fault.”

“Earth Son’s?”

Forest Moss keened more, his caressing hand making its way into the tight flowered pants. Judging by the gender ratio of his plastic audience, Forest Moss had a beef with little boys. “What a spoiled child he was! He could swallow the moon and still be hungry for the sun. He could not be happy with the prosperity of peace; he clung to the grudges of the past. It did not matter that his lovelies, the ones that loved to fight the best, begged him to give up such pettiness. Endless war would take us to extinction. It was time to put away old hates.”

Tinker wasn’t sure if Forest Moss’ rant had anything to do with Earth Son and the children. She’d been under the impression that Earth Son wasn’t that much older than Windwolf.

“Shut up!” Forest Moss suddenly bellowed at one of the few remaining boy mannequins. “Shut up! Yes, they chose the Fire Clan over us! Whining spoiled. .”

And he snapped out the closed-fist spell, reducing the silent mannequin to dust, and started to keen again. Tinker found herself teleported back a dozen feet more, both Stormsong and Pony between her and the crazed elf.

Was Forest Moss destroying himself again and again, the one that made the mistake that led to the slaughter of his household?

“Did you know — did he know that the pathway led to Onihida?”

“He should have been more cautious!” Forest Moss howled. “They trusted him to be careful! Some near stranger comes to him and whispers of a chance to beat all the other clans to wealth, and he leaps at the chance without wondering why him.”

“Someone else told you about the path to Onihida?”

“Oh, how hard he searched for their deaths. In and out of caves, over mountains, round and round, searching for the way to oblivion.”

“Who told him about the path?” Tinker pressed.

“You cannot find what you cannot see,” Forest Moss whispered. “That’s all domana are good for on Earth — to see the way home.”

Tinker nudged Stormsong aside and caught Forest Moss’ face between her hands and made him look at her with his one good eye. “Tell me who wanted the pathway found!”

Forest Moss whimpered softly and let drop the mannequin. As it clattered on the ground, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her.

“Wait,” Tinker growled as Pony and Stormsong grabbed hold of the male, trying to pry him away from her. “Let me deal with him.”

While Pony watched with concern, Stormsong had murderous hate in her eyes.

Forest Moss sobbed as he ran his hands over her, rubbing his face against her stomach. “So long! So long since I’ve held true flesh — soft and warm and yielding.”

“Tell me,” Tinker said. “Tell me about him or I’ll go away.”

“Oh, child, you can’t imagine what it is like to live so long. Memories do not stay bright and sharp. Years wear away the polish and then all details. Even with those you love, everything slowly washes away, the shape of their face, the sound of their voice, the scent of their hair. Names of friends and even enemies slip away, lost in the dark waters of time.”

“You don’t remember?” Tinker cried.

“No!” Forest Moss tightened his hold as if afraid she would tear away from him. “It was at one of countless parties at Summer Court. I remember I was on a bridge, somewhere in the gardens, and he found me there. We talked, but I don’t remember the words. All there is left is a dark wind smelling of cherry blossom, and the murmur of voices just over that of running water.”

“How could you forget the male that destroyed everything?”

“We searched for years!” Forest Moss wailed. “I deemed him unimportant. A nivasa, beautiful and talented but nothing more than a sweet, nearly forbidden treat.”

Any questions about what that all might have entailed was driven from Tinker’s mind as Forest Moss pushed his trembling hands up under her shirt. A moment later, he had his face pressed against her bared stomach, his scars rough against her skin.

“Domi,” Pony growled softly.

Tinker caught Forest Moss’ braid and yanked his head back.

“Please, oh, please, let me taste you!” Forest Moss begged.

Tinker flinched at the thought but growled, “Tell me something worthwhile!”

Forest Moss whimpered and groaned, running his hands over her stomach. “Something worthwhile? Something worthwhile? Gods above, nothing in my life has been worthwhile since the oni took my eye. Time has taken all that I had. There is only darkness where my lovelies once lived.”

“Did this nivasa talk with Earth Son? Convince him to lure the children here?”

Forest Moss went still, and his eye slowly widened. “Oh.” He finally breathed. “I did not recognize him. Yes, I saw him with Earth Son.” He pushed his face into her stomach again and moaned softly as he rubbed against her. “I thought nothing of him whispering in Earth Son’s ear, twisting him around and around until he was just as warped inside as I was. Ah, but Earth Son’s lovelies were much more wise than mine — they killed the spoiled brat before he could be the death of all.”

“What about the children? What are the children?”

“They are beautiful — until they’re unmade — then they’re like everything else — just so much dust.”

There was a ding, and the elevator door opened. Blue Sky leaned out. When he caught sight of them, he leapt out of the elevator.

“Tinker! Tinker!”

“What is it?”

“It’s your grandfather!”

“What?”

“Your grandfather! He’s here!”

“What? My grandfather is dead. You know that. You were at his funeral.”

“No, no, the other one! Your great-great-great-something-grandfather. The elf one! He’s here and he’s taking Oilcan away!”