## Chapter 467 — Stakes in the Ground

Early evening had settled over the western house by the time Ian appeared just outside the door and entered.

Lethira was in the kitchen with her sleeves pushed back and a pan occupying enough of her attention that she did not look round at once.

“I heard you.”

Something softened in her voice anyway.

The house smelled of onion, herbs and something browning in fat. One window stood open to the mild evening, admitting the stream's steady sound and the occasional rustle from the trees. Beyond the northern side of the house, fresh tool marks crossed the approach where there had only been grass that morning.

Lethira moved the pan away from the hottest part of the range, wiped her fingers on a cloth and turned.

“Welcome home.”

She crossed to him and stopped close enough that the rest of the room briefly ceased to matter.

“The quote is accepted.”

A pleased little smile appeared.

“They came this afternoon. No soil yet, but they levelled the last part of the cart approach and marked the proper footprint for the bank. It is considerably wider than our original string suggested. Apparently the correct way to build something for you to miss is to prepare for you to miss very thoroughly.”

Her eyes brightened.

“First carts tomorrow, if it stays dry. Do you want to see what they've done before we eat?”

“Yes please, it's good to see my enlarged incompetence.” Ian smiled at her, jokingly.

“I wouldn't call it enlarged incompetence.” Lethira folded the cloth and left it beside the range. “Professionally accommodated incompetence, perhaps. The distinction is important. We are paying quite a lot of silver for it.”

She opened the back door. “Come and admire the scale of your future failure.”

Ian followed her outside.

The northern approach looked different immediately. Freshly disturbed earth broke the grass where the workers had levelled the final stretch. Beyond it, short stakes and taut cord described the bank's proper footprint across the rise, broader at the base than the earlier marks had suggested.

Lethira stopped beside one of the outer stakes and folded her arms.

“There. The glorious monument to your future archery.”

From the firing line the width made more sense. The shoulders spread well beyond where the targets would eventually stand, giving a poor arrow earth rather than trees, road or somebody unfortunate enough to be walking past.

“I can't wait to fail to hit even something that size.”

“That would be impressive.” Lethira looked from the marked bank to the firing line. “If you manage to miss the target, the bank and the ground immediately around both, I may have to reconsider whether archery is the right hobby for you.”

Her mouth curved. “Or make the next quote considerably larger.”

“The Great Peak might be big enough.”

“No.” She shook her head with absolute seriousness. “If your first archery lesson requires the Great Peak as a backstop, I am confiscating the bow.”

A beat passed.

“And possibly informing the Guild.”

Ian walked over and held her hand.

“A productive day for you then?”

Lethira laced her fingers through his. “Productive enough. Accepted the quote. Argued successfully for keeping all the trees. Watched two men improve our land without having to threaten either of them. Pulled some weeds while trying not to supervise professionals who did not require supervising.”

Her thumb moved once against his hand.

“And now you're home. So yes. Quite productive.”

Ian gave her a hug from behind and kissed the back of her shoulder.

“I pondered on the water thing I showed you. I think I need to be very careful, that knowledge is potentially more dangerous than my power.”

Lethira's hand settled over his where it rested against her.

“Yes.”

She did not sound alarmed, only certain.

“Your power is dangerous while you are choosing to use it. Knowledge can leave you behind.” Her gaze went across the grass towards the trees. “We already decided not to walk into the Wood Elf court carrying an answer. We investigate first. Different springs, more than once, after rain as well as dry weather. Then Aelira, if what we saw still holds.”

She leaned back against him. “And we tell her what we observed before we tell her what your world eventually built around observations like it.”

“I quizzed the reality machine on it, but it was still a hypothetical discussion.”

“There is a real risk that humans would attack, invade, or worse the elves and this time, with more serious consequences.”

Lethira went quiet.

The older wars were not theoretical to her people. Human expansion had already pushed into elven land once; some of what followed still survived in families, prejudice and stories which had become less accurate without becoming harmless.

“Yes,” she said at last. “That is a different danger.”

Her fingers stayed over his.

“If cleaner water lets human towns keep more children and lose fewer adults, then it does more than prevent sickness. Given enough years it means more farms, more roads and more people looking at land beyond the places they already hold.”

She turned enough within his arms to look at him.

“That does not make preventing illness wrong. It means we should not pretend the consequences stop at the sick person who gets better.”

“Within 4 generations too many humans looking at your lands, and a significant increase in their numbers.”

“It suggested elves, being more naturally magical, possibly get some protection from the water by your mana, so cleaner water has less benefit to you. Plus, humans breed almost like rabbits.”

Lethira's mouth twitched despite herself.

“Almost.”

Then the humour went.

“The mana part is useful only if it is true. I do not want us building anything around *possibly*.” She turned fully within his arms. “If elves already suffer less from the same water, that matters. If we do not, then we would only be inventing a comforting difference because the alternative is inconvenient.”

Her gaze shifted towards the distant edge of the Elven Woods.

“And four human generations is not very long to us.”

“No, but I could ask it, or see if any Elves have done a study… but either way, I think I actually need to be *more* careful with my knowledge of my world—even if it's common knowledge. I'll stick to flying and teleporting.”

Lethira stared at him.

“Yes. Much safer.”

The dryness held for a moment before a smile escaped.

“Flying, teleporting and whatever other harmless impossibilities you keep in reserve.”

She squeezed his hand. “Do not ask the machine tonight. First we can find out what healers, mages or people who have spent centuries using the same springs have already noticed. If there is no difference, that tells us something too.”

The smell of supper had begun escaping through the open window.

“That is enough civilisation-threatening thought for one evening.” She tugged gently at his hand towards the door. “Before my productive day ends with me burning dinner.”

Ian smiled and followed her in.

Lethira went straight to the cooking range, rescued the pan before anything important had crossed from browned to burnt, and gave its contents a quick stir.

“Still edible.”

She sounded pleased by the narrowness of the victory.

The kitchen had warmed while they were outside. Evening light came through the open window above the work surface, carrying the stream with it. In the front room, the scarred table waited with four chairs around it and two more against the wall.

“I've made enough that we should have leftovers tomorrow, unless earthwork somehow makes us both extraordinarily hungry.”

She divided supper between two plates and carried them through to the table. “And after we eat, I want to hear what you did today that was less dangerous than public health.”

Ian sat down and ate with her.

For a little while Lethira let supper change the subject. The food was simple and good: onions properly softened this time, herbs from the kitchen garden, browned meat and potatoes carrying enough of the pan's fat to make the whole thing richer than it looked. Through the open window came the stream and, farther off, the occasional small sound of something moving in the trees.

Lethira ate several mouthfuls before looking across the table.

“There. No kingdoms, no demographic catastrophe, no invisible organisms.” She pointed her fork at him. “Tell me one ordinary thing from your day.”

“I missed my lunchtime walk, there was too much going on, not enough time to squeeze it in. That was a little annoying, so I got food from the place my work is, instead of walking further into town.”

“That is wonderfully ordinary.”

She cut another piece of potato.

“Annoying, but ordinary. I approve. I like knowing the differences between your days there are not always gods, planets or impossible machines. Sometimes you simply do not have enough time for a walk.”

She reached for her cup. “What did you get for lunch instead?”

Ian pondered the correct translation for a tuna crunch sandwich.

“I am unsure of the translation so: diced cooked boned skinned fish, mixed in with a sauce, maybe, and some onions, served cold in a sandwich.”

“The sauce is…” He paused, with no idea how to explain mayonnaise in Common, then produced a spoon holding a small amount of very slightly off-white mayonnaise. “Try this.”

Lethira eyed the spoon.

“That description became less reassuring with every word.”

She took it anyway and tasted a small amount. Suspicion became concentration.

“Egg?”

She tasted the remainder.

“And something sharp. Oil, I think.”

“That would actually work with cold fish.” She looked at the empty spoon. “You may have accidentally described a reasonable lunch.”

“Oil and egg, yes. Gosh you're good.”

Lethira looked entirely too pleased with herself.

“I know.”

She handed the spoon back.

“Though I was helped by you presenting me with the answer in edible form. Do not sound too impressed. You may encourage me.”

“By every measure available to a mortal man, you're amazing. I am very lucky.”

Ian reached across the table and held her hand.

Lethira's expression softened at once. Her fingers closed around his.

“You are.”

The answer came with enough confidence to make the joke obvious, but she did not leave it there.

“So am I.”

Her thumb moved slowly across his knuckles.

“Even if you do bring me unidentified sauces and civilisation-threatening ideas over dinner.”

“Possibly in the same spoon.”

Lethira laughed. “That would at least be efficient.”

She squeezed his hand once.

“One spoon. One harmless sauce. One fact capable of destabilising civilisation.”

Her smile lingered. “I may start asking which kind you're offering before I taste anything.”

Ian ate some more of his food.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

Lethira considered it while she finished a mouthful.

“Stay here for the first carts, mostly. I want to see that the approach works the way they expect and that nobody discovers an exciting new interpretation of *do not damage the trees*.”

She took another bite.

“After that, if they are happily moving dirt without me, I should go into Merrowford and check the Guild board. The Reed-Mauler path is still waiting for wet weather before anyone calls the repair finished, and I do not need to stand beside a bank all day merely because we own it.”

A faint smile. “Though I may stand beside it for slightly longer than necessary.”

“I might go see the Lifegiver and work off some debt in the morning, then we could maybe do a job if there's one suitably lowly for me to participate, or suitably dangerous for me to be in awe at.” Ian smiled at her. “Would any of that be ok with you?”

“Yes.”

Lethira gave his hand another small squeeze before returning to her food.

“Go garden for your goddess in the morning. I will supervise dirt and defend the trees. Then we can meet in Merrowford and see what the Guild has managed to acquire for us.”

Her mouth curved. “I make no promise that the board will provide something precisely halfway between badger and certain death. But if there is work we can sensibly do together, I'd like that.”

Ian went still for a moment.

“Oh I'm such a forgetful idiot sometimes!”

“I met with Kanno, after she reached out. It was nice, would you like to hear about it?”

Lethira stopped with her fork halfway to her plate.

“You met Kanno.”

Surprise lasted only a moment before amusement began to win.

“And somehow this ranked below dangerous knowledge, earthworks and mayonnaise when you were deciding what to tell me.”

She set the fork down and reached across the table for his hand again.

“Yes. I would very much like to hear about it.”

Her thumb moved once over his knuckles.

“And you are not an idiot. You apparently just require a larger filing system than one middle-aged human head can provide.”

Ian gave her the broad shape of the meeting, not going too much into details. He did not mention reaching his hand out.

Kanno had contacted him herself and chosen the evening, the fresh route and the spare-room door. They had met in a small neutral café with coffee, tea, scones and Ian's increasingly traditional milkshake. Nothing had become a trip or demonstration. Mostly, they had talked.

He told Lethira about Kanno's work and photography; about Berlin and Venus as memories which could remain good without pretending Berlin's bad beginning had vanished; about normal things after impossible ones; about maps making Merrowford and the wider world feel more tangible in his own reality. He had shown Kanno the maps, and she had understood the curation in them through her own photography.

The conversation had wandered through badgers, onions, divine employment and the increasingly questionable guest list for six chairs.

That made Lethira stop eating again.

“You told Kanno we might invite the Lifegiver and the Waykeeper to dinner.”

Ian's overview continued. Kanno had said she would like to come to the house someday if Lethira wanted her there as well. Ian had given her prior permission to photograph the stream, with anything else requiring future consent. Kanno had also been interested in the possibility of Ian joining one of her ordinary photography walks around Sendai someday, but that had already been left as a future possibility because of the boundary on Ian entering their Earth.

They had parted warmly. The meeting had been nervous in places, but good. Kanno had wanted to be there, and Ian had come away glad she had chosen to reach out.

Lethira's answer was simple.

“I like that.”

Her attention went briefly to the open window, where the stream was making the sound Kanno had offered someday to photograph.

“And yes, Kanno is welcome here if a visit ever becomes possible. I would like her to come. She has my permission to photograph the stream too. Everything else can wait until she is standing somewhere she can actually decide what she wants to photograph.”

Then amusement returned.

“But if you have already warned her that the remaining chairs may contain gods, I think we have moved beyond *possible dinner party* and into *administrative problem*.”

Ian sighed.

“There is, as usual, another problem I have created.”

Lethira's amusement faded enough to make room for attention.

“That sentence has an unfortunate range.”

She set down her cup.

“Is this a *you invited too many people for six chairs* problem, or a *reality may become unstable* problem?”

“I promised Isha and Thomas, maybe Kanno I can't recall, that I wouldn't transport people between worlds…”

“I was very emotional about messing everything up, and I think over-compensated as is my way.”

Lethira was quiet for a few seconds.

Then she nodded.

“All right.”

“Then the house is not currently available to her,” Lethira said. “The stream invitation was premature. Embarrassing, yes. Catastrophic, no.”

She turned her cup between her fingers.

“Do not decide the promise was foolish merely because it has become inconvenient. Thomas and Isha had reasons to need something strong when you made it. If you want it changed, ask them—do not find a clever way around it.”

“I think I should ask Isha and Thomas if they might allow some more sensible latitude in that, without me becoming a taxi service.”

“That sounds better. Ask for what you actually mean.” Lethira resumed eating. “If they prefer the stronger rule, Kanno can still join us somewhere neutral. The dinner does not become worthless merely because chair four has to exist somewhere else.”

“I love you, you make everything better.”

Lethira's expression softened immediately.

“I love you too.”

She kept hold of his hand.

“And I make some things better. Other things I merely prevent you from turning into larger problems before supper.”

She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles.

“That is a useful household skill.”

“I am going to clean up here—wash the dishes, if that's a thing in this world. I can't cook, but I can manage attendant-level cleanup.”

“You are welcome to witness the servitude as long as you don't distract me too much, by just existing.”

Lethira stared at him.

“Washing dishes is, remarkably, a thing in this world.”

She leaned back in her chair with exaggerated consideration.

“And I reject *servitude*. You live here. They are your dishes too.”

Her eyes warmed with amusement.

“As for distracting you by existing, that sounds like a limitation in the worker rather than misconduct by the observer.”

She made no move to rescue him from the task.

“I will attempt to exist responsibly.”

“I know, I just like pretending to be captured by you.” Ian blushed a little. “I meant no objection to doing my share. Adjusted for rank.”

He collected the plates and the rest of the supper things, carried them through to the kitchen and began the ordinary sequence of washing, rinsing and drying as needed. He tried hard not to keep looking at Lethira, as beautiful as she was.

Lethira remained at the table long enough to finish her drink, then brought the cups through and set them beside the wash water rather than quietly doing the work for him.

“I know what you meant.”

She leaned one shoulder against the kitchen doorway.

“And I know you like pretending.”

For a little while she simply watched him work. Water moved in the basin. Crockery touched wood and cloth. Through the open window the stream supplied its quieter version of the same sound.

Ian's attempts not to look towards her were not especially successful.

“You realise,” Lethira said eventually, “that trying very hard not to look at me is considerably more obvious than simply looking at me.”

“I don't think I'd make a very good warden, or courtier.”

Ian put away anything in the kitchen that was ready to be put away, then stared at the waste food with no idea whether this place had bins, compost, a large hole somewhere or something else entirely.

“No,” Lethira said. “You would be a terrible courtier. You keep saying what you mean.”

She pushed away from the doorway and pointed towards a small covered crock near the back door.

“Vegetable scraps and anything useful for the garden go there. Meat scraps we do not want sitting around until they become interesting, so those get wrapped and taken out. Ash has its own bucket.”

Her eyes moved from the scraps to him.

“We do possess rubbish. We simply have not developed the sophisticated Earth technology of hiding it inside a large plastic box and forgetting about it until collection day.”

A faint smile.

“You may continue your attendant duties.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Ian applied his new waste-sorting skills to the rubbish at hand.

Lethira watched the vegetable scraps go into the covered crock with solemn approval entirely disproportionate to the achievement.

“Excellent.”

She moved closer once the last of it was dealt with, checking the kitchen almost automatically: plates put away, cloth rinsed, work surface clear enough for morning.

“You have now successfully defeated an onion and understood household waste.”

Her hand settled lightly between his shoulder blades.

“At this rate, by winter I may trust you with something genuinely dangerous.”

A small pause.

“Perhaps two onions.”

Ian laughed, washed his hands and approached her, entering a warm embrace. He rested his head underneath her chin.

Lethira's arms came around him at once.

For a while she said nothing. The kitchen was clean enough, the dishes were away, and supper had stopped requiring anything from either of them. Outside the open window, evening had deepened around the stream.

She rested her cheek lightly against the top of his head.

“This part of your attendant duties is acceptable.”

Her hands settled comfortably against his back.

“And considerably above rank.”

Ian stood on his toes and kissed her, gently at first, then deeper, more passionate.

Lethira answered without hesitation. One hand slid higher against his back while the other settled at the nape of his neck, keeping him close as the kiss deepened. The earlier humour fell away on its own. For several breaths there was only warmth, the faint scent of supper and clean water, and the familiar difference in height that left Ian reaching and Lethira bending slightly to meet him.

When she eased back, she stayed close enough that their foreheads almost touched.

“Well.”

Her thumb moved once against the back of his neck.

“That was considerably more distracting than my existing.”

“May I brush and braid your hair?”

“Not in the kitchen, in the bedroom.”

Lethira's expression softened.

“Yes. In the bedroom.”

Her fingers lingered at the back of his neck for another moment.

“And you may brush it before you attempt the braid. I remember your current level of qualification.”

Ian took her hand and led her upstairs. In the bedroom he removed his boots and trousers, asked her to sit on the bed, and then sat behind her with his legs on either side of her.

“May I lightly clean it first using, well, cheating?”

Lethira gathered her ash-brown hair over one shoulder for a moment, then let it fall down her back again.

“Yes.”

She glanced back at him.

“Lightly. Clean, not improved into whatever your machine thinks the perfect Elf's hair ought to be.”

A small smile touched her mouth.

“I want it to still be my hair when you have finished cheating.”

Using the external mechanism, Ian gave her hair the equivalent of a normal shampoo-and-conditioner clean: nothing too fancy, something a typical woman in his world might do every day or every other day.

He passed a hand mirror towards her hair.

“Is that OK? This is very normal for my world, if it's too much I could reverse it.”

Lethira took the mirror and angled it until she could see the length of her hair behind one shoulder. She ran her fingers through a section near the ends, then higher, testing the texture rather than merely admiring it. Her hair still carried its natural weight and variation; it had simply been cleaned and conditioned.

“This is fine.”

She looked once more, then lowered the mirror.

“More thorough than I would normally bother with every day, but not strange.”

Her hand went back through the cleaned length.

“And no, do not reverse it.”

A small smile appeared as she handed the mirror back.

“You have permission to proceed to the dangerous part.”

A good-quality hairbrush appeared at Ian's request. He took a small bundle of her hair and combed it gently, starting at the ends and moving towards the top, easing through any knots rather than pulling at them.

When her neck appeared from underneath, he kissed it.

Lethira's shoulders shifted beneath his hands.

“That is an extremely questionable brushing technique.”

There was no real complaint in her voice. She tipped her head slightly, giving him better access to both her hair and, perhaps less accidentally, her neck.

After another quiet moment she reached back and separated the length roughly into three broad sections, then let them rest across his hands.

“Start with those. Keep it loose enough that you are not pulling at my scalp.”

Ian began to braid her hair, crossing left over middle, then right over middle, keeping the pattern going to the end. Then he cheated and produced a small plain black elastic hair band, which he wrapped a few times over the end.

He passed her the mirror.

“How's that?”

Lethira took it and turned her head slightly, studying the braid from one angle and then another. Her fingers went first to the base, checking that he had kept it loose enough, then travelled carefully down the woven length.

“Good.”

She sounded faintly surprised.

“Actually good.”

The black elastic received a more suspicious inspection.

“This part looks like something made by people who became impatient with string.”

Her mouth curved.

“But it works.”

She looked at the braid again, clearly pleased despite herself.

“You may count this as a successful second lesson.”

“I think you'd look awesome with side braid things, I don't know what they're called. Can I show you a picture? Don't worry, I'm not going to attempt to do them.”

Lethira turned the mirror once more in her hand, examining the braid he had already managed.

“Yes. Show me.”

A small photograph-sized glossy print appeared, showing long pale hair with several close side braids drawn back from the temple while the rest remained loose. Ian passed it to her.

“I think it has a bit of a warrior-aesthetic, I know you're a warden, but you know what I mean.”

Lethira studied the image closely. The style was far more intricate than the single braid he had just managed: deliberate, practical-looking and ornamental at once.

“Yes,” she said after a moment. “I know what you mean.”

Her thumb rested lightly against the edge of the print.

“It does have that feeling. Not court hair. Not something you would do carelessly before work either.”

She looked at it again.

“And yes, I think it would suit me.”

She glanced back over her shoulder.

“Not tonight. But someday.”

She set the print beside the mirror. “Would you want to learn how to do something like that properly?”

“I like doing things for you.” Ian kissed her neck. “This sort of thing feels really nice. I'm not sure if that's typical for men of any world, to be honest.”

He wrapped his arms around her, just under her breasts, and kissed between her shoulder blades.

“I feel fuzzy and close to you.”

Lethira's hands settled over his forearms.

“I don't care whether it is typical.”

She leaned back into him, careful of the braid between them, and rested her head lightly against his.

“I like you brushing my hair because you enjoy doing it. I like being looked after by you when looking after me means something this small.”

Her fingers moved slowly over his arm.

“And I like this.”

For a while she stayed exactly where she was, held against him in the fading evening light.

“Fuzzy is not the most elegant declaration you've ever made.”

Her smile was audible.

“But I know what you mean.”

Ian pivoted to sit over her lap. Bare-legged and sitting on his heels, he was at eye level with her for a change. He held her face in his hands, looked into her eyes briefly, and kissed her.

Lethira kissed him back. Her hands settled at his waist, steadying him easily where he balanced over her lap. The unfamiliar equality of height lasted just long enough for amusement to touch the corners of her mouth before the kiss drew her attention elsewhere.

When they separated, she stayed close.

“I could get used to you being this height.”

One hand slid slowly up his back.

“Temporarily.”

Ian looked to the right of her face at his handiwork.

“I have spotted one advantage to your hair like this.”

Lethira followed his gaze as far as she could without the mirror, then looked back at him.

“Oh?”

“What advantage?”

Ian leaned forward and placed a dozen little kisses on her exposed ear, each one along the top edge.

She went very still for the first few. Then one hand tightened at his waist.

By the time he reached the pointed tip, Lethira was trying not to laugh and failing in small breaths against his shoulder.

“That,” she murmured, “is cheating.”

Her eyes closed briefly.

“I withdraw any objection to the braid.”

Ian leaned back and repeated the attention with the other ear, slower this time. While his lips gently kissed the top of her ear, his finger traced the underside of the ear he had already kissed.

Lethira's breath caught. The playfulness did not disappear, but it became quieter. Her hands settled more firmly at his waist, holding him steady while she tipped her head just enough to make the slow attention easier.

“That is much worse,” she murmured.

A small shiver passed through her before she laughed softly against him.

“And by worse, I mean you have discovered something you are going to be unbearably pleased about.”

Ian closed his hand around the braid near its root, firm enough for Lethira to feel the hold, then kissed her, hungrier and more passionate.

Lethira answered immediately. One hand came up behind his neck while the other tightened at his waist, drawing him closer against her. The kiss lost the last of its earlier playfulness for several breaths, becoming slower and deeper beneath the quiet weight of his hand in her hair.

When she finally broke away, she stayed close, breathing a little harder. Her eyes flicked once towards his hand at the base of the braid.

“That,” she murmured, “I like.”

A pleased smile followed.

“Keep the difference between holding and hurting.”

Ian caught her lower lip between his teeth in a playful, hungry bite.

Lethira's breath caught again. For an instant she went very still beneath him. Then her hands tightened at his waist and the back of his neck, holding him close while her eyes opened on his.

“Careful.”

Her thumb moved once along the side of his neck.

“Do that again and I may stop pretending this is still about hair.”

Ian slid down, kneeling on the floor and easing himself between her legs where they rested over the edge of the bed. He looked up at her.

“I love you, Lethira.”

The hunger in Lethira's expression softened without disappearing. She reached down, one hand settling against his cheek.

“I love you too, Ian.”

Her thumb traced once through his beard.

“Very much.”

Ian stood.

The braid remained tied with its small black band. His trousers remained where he had left them. Evening had deepened beyond the bedroom windows, and below them the stream continued through the trees while the newly marked range waited for tomorrow's first carts.

For the rest of the night, neither the range nor tomorrow required their attention.