had the same layout as Legon’s, with a large table in the center of the main room and a kitchen toward the back. It was in the kitchen that you could see how tidy the house was. The counter was wiped clean, and all of the knives and other cooking articles were grouped together in a neat line. Everything was perfect, and it was obvious that Arkin would see if even one thing was moved. On either side of the fireplace were paintings of landscapes of the mountains. Above the mantelpiece there was nothing. The table at which they sat was made of redwood.
Sasha noticed that the table stuck out in the room. Everything in the house was light in color but the table. It was dark and red, drawing your eye when you entered. You couldn’t help it. The more she thought about the house, the more she realized that it commanded respect and, moreover, action. The room led you through it, making you naturally go where the owner wanted. She had been in this house hundreds of times and never noticed the genius of it. She began to see that Arkin was much more than a carpenter.
“So Legon, you have been told how we found you,” Arkin said, placing cups in front of both of them.
“Yes, and …”
“And you know what your tattoo is, don’t you?” continued Arkin.
“Yes, and …,” he began, but this time was stopped by the look on Arkin’s face. It was somber.
“What color is it?” asked Arkin flatly.
Legon began to sputter, but Sasha silenced him by placing her hand on his. “What color is it supposed to be, Arkin? It’s a tattoo.” She knew that Legon’s reaction had given away the fact that his tattoo had changed colors, but she wasn’t planning on losing control of the conversation that easily.
“Legon, guard your reactions. I don’t know what color it is, but I would venture to guess red, green or purple.” Sasha could hear the change in Arkin’s voice. It was obvious that he had taken control back.
Arkin was impressed with Sasha. She was smart and noticed more than she let on. She wasn’t as good as him, however. Maybe in time and with some training, but not yet. “I have to figure out what they know,” he thought. “So what is it?” he said confidently.
She had lost. There was no way around it. Legon had given them away. Arkin had been waiting for today. “Purple,” she said.
“I was hoping you were going to say green.” She could hear the sadness in his voice.
“Why green? What’s wrong with purple?” she asked in a calm but commanding tone.
“Green means that you’re not part Elf. Any change in color means that you are.”
“So what does that mean, Arkin?” asked Legon, looking agitated but not unsurprised.
“It means that one day the Elf in you will die and you will be full blooded human. Or the day will come when the Human part will die and you will be full Elf. The change in color shows that the Elf side is winning.”
She noted the resignation in his voice; he didn’t want this to be true. He wanted Legon to be full human, but why? Elves were immortal. The thought came to her then: But humans are unnoticed. Legon was looking down at his drink. She knew the same thing was going through his mind. There was no need to ask Arkin about how or when it would happen; the day would come when he would change.
“Why does the queen hate the Elves? I need to know why she is going to hate me or why she already does,” Legon said.
“I will tell you, but you need to save your interruptions to the end. I will have to give you some history and you will have to accept that what I tell you is true, and that I will not answer all of your questions. Does that work for you?”
“Yes,” said Legon. Arkin turned to look at Sasha. “Yes,” she said.
“There was a time when Elves were like humans. They died just like us and lived just like us. There was no magic. They were led by two Dragons—two brothers, one whose scales where white as pearl and glittered with brilliance, and the other whose scales were black as coal and pulled the light from the sky. One was good and the other evil. I don’t know too much more about how they parted or what all happened, but the