They’d a history with toads, Bannan guessed. Just as well Wainn had given this advice.
The house toad waited long enough for the boys to worry, but not so long as to unsettle tired children. Giving a great, toothy yawn, it hopped out of their way, taking its usual station beside, not under, the ’stove.
Where a dented pile of cushions suggested another watcher had already made himself at home.
Ancestors Witness. What next? Scourge?
The truthseer yawned, more than ready for his own bed. He’d stuff a mattress with straw from his barn tomorrow. Tonight would be a bedroll on the floor, once the boys were comfortable upstairs. He’d be surprised if his eyes stayed open a moment.
His nephews came up to him. “The sweets, Uncle?” Werfol hinted.
Tomorrow, he’d ask Covie about the proper diet for young boys. “Just one.” He found the little bag from Endshere and carefully put a piece of red candy on each offered palm.
Then a second. Lila had to know he’d be a terrible parent. “Sit with me a moment.” Bannan took his favorite seat by the fireplace, waiting for the boys to climb into theirs. Their feet didn’t touch the rug.
Heart’s Blood. They were so young.
They were Lila’s, he reminded himself, and Emon’s. To think them ordinary children was to do them a disservice.
“Semyn, what else did you find in the wagon?”
They glanced at each other, then back to him. “Uncle?”
Respectful and oh, so innocent.
“With the pouch.”
Werfol shifted uneasily in the chair. Semyn shot him another look, a worried one, before turning back to Bannan. His lips pressed shut.
Good. He knew a lie would hurt his brother.
Bannan eased back, crossing one foot over the other. “Come now. My sister left something for you,” he said. “Something she didn’t want found until you were safe from pursuit. With me.”
Blue-green eyes fixed on his, filled with an adult’s resolve. Small hands gripped the chair’s arms. His heart ached, that they’d learned such distrust, but wasn’t it a survival skill, outside Marrowdell?
Hadn’t he been the same?
“Whatever it is,” the truthseer continued, “will have one meaning for you and your brother. It will have another, different meaning for me, her brother. Do you understand?”
“You can’t have it,” Werfol objected, his voice shrill. “Momma sent it for us.”
Bannan laced his fingers together on his knee. “And yours it is. I ask only to see it. I’m afraid for her too.”
Beneath a thunderous scowl, the little truthseer’s eyes glittered gold. Bannan waited. Werfol didn’t want to believe him.
But he must, for it was true.
The scowl faded. “Semyn.”
“Weed—no!”
The younger boy slipped down from his chair and went to stand beside his brother’s. “It’s all right. Show Uncle Bannan.”
Reluctance in every movement, Semyn pulled up his woolen vest, shirt, and undershirt. Beneath, around his small waist, was a belt of softly tanned leather, with compartments, like those worn by merchants and sailors to thwart cutpurses.
This had been made for a child.
A child who searched his face before opening a compartment to bring out its contents. What he held out on his palm, Bannan had last seen around his sister’s neck.
Lila’s pendant.
No ordinary frippery, this. Set in curls of silver, like a rock within rapids, the exotic teardrop-shaped stone changed color with movement, like water playing with sunlight. But its best trick?
The stone spoke.
Emon had bought it in Channen, where artisans worked in magic. Such objects were called endearments, being bespelled with a lover’s soft whisper, a whisper heard only by those intended. Though Bannan had teased her when he’d found out, he knew Lila was never without the thing, going so far as to tuck it within her mail shirt when sparring.
Until now. Werfol touched it and smiled, his eyes closed for a moment. Semyn looked at Bannan. “It’s Mother’s voice.” His own became husky. “She says she loves us. And ‘However far we are apart, Keep Us Close.’”
Werfol opened his eyes. “‘Keep Us Close.’”
He hadn’t realized endearments could be respelled. Trust Emon, ever curious, to have found that out as well. Before he’d thought, he reached out his hand and, hesitating only slightly, Semyn gave him the pendant.
Cool the piece, and substantial. Feeling a fool, Bannan lifted it to his ear, the boys’ eyes following the motion, but of course heard nothing at all. With a rueful smile, he returned the pendant to its rightful holders.
“You said it would mean something to you too, Uncle. What?” asked Semyn quietly.
That Lila had rid herself of a gift she’d suspected could betray her and there was only one place where magic would.
Channen. She’d gone to hunt for Emon herself.
“Uncle?”
Bannan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. “Your mother has resources,” he answered carefully, the word embracing a network of contacts and strong arms the extent of which even he didn’t know. One thing was certain. Lila was uncannily aware of what went on beyond her walls; including, to his chagrin, details of his patrols. “This,” he gestured to the pendant, “tells me she’s not using them.” Why, he refused to guess.
“Momma doesn’t need anyone else. She’ll find Poppa,” Werfol said with touching confidence. “You’ll see.”
Semyn looked as though he might be sick, but didn’t argue. Instead, he shook out its chain and hung the pendant around Werfol’s neck. “Keep it safe,” he admonished his brother, whose eyes shone.
“I will.”
They fell silent after that, staring into the fire’s fickle light. Tired, all of them, and heartsore. He’d take Wainn’s advice, Bannan decided, and let the flames die out, relying on the charcoal in the cookstove to keep the house warm while they slept. At the thought, he yawned involuntarily, smiling when the boys yawned too.
“To bed, Dear Hearts.” He’d shown them the loft where they’d sleep and, of no inclination himself to go outside, provided a chamberpot. “Take a lamp,” he added, this being their first night in an unfamiliar place. “Leave it burning, if you wish.” Lila having provided oil. “If you need anything, call me,” he finished.
Werfol frowned. “You’ll hear us? You’re sure?”
If he didn’t, the toad or the dragon surely would. Bannan smiled reassuringly. “I’ll know if you need me,” he promised, and Werfol relaxed. “Good night.”
“Good night, Uncle,” they said together and rose. They gave him a polite little bow when he’d have preferred a hug, but Bannan dipped his head, accepting the courtesy. He watched the pair climb the ladder, Semyn leading the way.
Then the truthseer closed his eyes, it being impossible to get up from his chair.
A scrap of printed page, touched by skin . . . a drop of sleep, under the tongue . . .
And the dream unfolds . . .
Light sings. Colors shriek. There’s no end or beginning and all is falling . . . falling . . .
Unspeakable power writhes, searching for form, claims shape.
It must be seen. Must be. Cannot be borne—!
The dream falters . . . lost . . .
“Uncle?”
“What—” Ancestors Witness. Not again. He’d slept in a chair last night.
Groggily realizing what he’d heard, Bannan stirred himself. “I’m coming.” He climbed the ladder into the loft, knocking a warning before his head passed the floor.
They’d dressed for bed in gowns and caps, but were sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, their small faces somber.
Bannan sat on the end of the bed, guessing what was the matter. “This
isn’t home,” he acknowledged. “But it’s where your mother wants you to be. Where you’re safe and with me.”
Semyn plucked at a loose thread on his chest where the Westietas’ crest had been removed, as it had been from all their clothing. When he looked at Bannan, it wasn’t the look of a child. “Why you, Uncle? Why not with our father’s family?”
He’d thought to wait until morning for this. Maybe it was better said before they tried to sleep. “As Larmensu, we share a special heritage.” Bannan touched a finger to Werfol’s sock-clad toes. “You are a truthseer.” He moved the finger to rest over his heart. “So am I.”
“Weed?” A quick demand; though he hadn’t known its name till now, Semyn trusted that gift.
Hadn’t Lila?
The younger boy went on his knees, eyes wide and gold. “It’s true,” he breathed.
Semyn pulled his brother back. “What does it mean? Will it hurt him?”
“You’ve seen for yourself. It means you,” Bannan looked at Werfol, “know if someone lies. It means in Marrowdell, where magic lies close to the surface, you can see what’s different.” He sighed. “It’s already hurt, hasn’t it.”
Werfol nodded, then said, very quietly, “When people lie.”
“Everyone did,” Semyn burst out. “The new staff, our guards. Even—even Momma.”
Werfol nodded again, his lips pressed together.
So Lila hadn’t known. Werfol was younger than he’d been. A son, not a brother. Moreover, her house had been under siege, filled with untrustworthy faces. Little wonder her instinct had been to thrust the boys away from danger.
Still. “What did she say?”
“That we’d be safe. That we’d be together again. That Father would come home.” Tears spilled over. “I could see they were lies. All of them!”
“Lies!” Semyn looked ready to cry himself.
Heart’s Blood. “They felt like lies,” Bannan said heavily, “because your mother was afraid.”
They blinked like tired little owls. “Momma is never afraid,” Semyn corrected carefully.
He’d thought so, once. “Your mother doesn’t show her fear. There’s a difference. Trust me when I tell you she’s afraid for you and for your father, more afraid than she’s ever been. What she told you, Werfol, wasn’t a lie.” Denial stormed across the boy’s face and Bannan held up his hand. “It wasn’t the truth, either. You’ll learn the difference. What your mother told you,” he went on gently, “is what she hopes with all her heart will happen. Do you understand?”
Werfol wanted to, desperately, but how could he? It was the hardest lesson of all, that the deeper sight must be interpreted, not blindly believed. “Enough for tonight,” Bannan decided, overwhelmed himself. “Under the covers with you. We’ll start your training tomorrow, Werfol, if you like, once we’ve moved all of your things here.”
“And visit Tir?” Semyn asked.
Bannan smiled as he tucked the quilts around them. “And visit Tir.”
“May we visit Lady Frann?” Werfol put in, snuggling close to his brother. “And Jenn? Will we see her too? And—”
Marrowdell being smaller than the Westietas’ estate, Bannan chuckled, they’d be hard pressed to avoid anyone. “You’ll see them all, I promise.” He picked up the very well-loved little book from the nightstand and adjusted the lamp so its light wouldn’t shine in sleepy eyes.
“Now, who’d like a story?” the truthseer asked.
And didn’t see that a moth clung to a rafter, busily taking notes.
“Your sister wants the boy to keep up his training, sir.”
“Not here,” Bannan snapped. “Not that.”
Tir gave him a look that said plainly as speech he wasn’t about to take responsibility for defying Lila Westietas and anyone who did was a fool.
Fine. He’d no problem with either. Bannan put the practice swords and helms aside, leaving the boys’ wooden pipes on the pile of goods to take home. “Semyn can keep up his music.”
“A grand help that’ll be, fighting for his life.” His friend took a look at his face and added a placating, “Sir.”
Bannan closed the pack, resting his hands on the top. The boys, brimming with excitement, hadn’t stayed indoors long, determined to meet the other children. For the moment, he and Tir had the Morrill house to themselves, Devins being at the dairy, and he shouldn’t waste it. He looked up at the man who knew him—and his sister—better than any now alive. “Lila’s gone to Channen.”
“And a week’s pay says she left when we did.” Tir’s blue eyes regarded him. “What’s to happen, Bannan, likely has by now.”
His fingers tightened on the straps. “I know.” He gave a helpless shrug. “I have to trust her.”
“Oh, wouldn’t go so far as that, sir. Wasn’t it your sister who paid our trusty Ruthh to sew you inside your bedroll?”
And a challenging morning-after that had been. Bannan half smiled. “True. Any word from Kydd?”
“Aie. You were right—t’was no soldier’s luck. Metal’s Naalish starstone, worth ten times what’s in the wagon. Parchment’s blank—meant for a name, is his guess.” After a grim pause. “Can’t say as to the vial, or the proper words, but Kydd says—well, sir, he fears it’s a wishing to force obedience. Not that he believes in wishings, sir, but it being Naalish—” Tir let his voice trail off meaningfully.
“It’d be real magic,” Bannan finished for him.
“He thought so, yes. To use on the heir, would be my guess.”
Implying someone who knew Semyn: a child, yes, but not one to be easily manipulated, not Lila’s son. The rot in that house— “No wonder Werfol was so angry.” At Tir’s puzzled look, he added, “He has the gift.”
Tir straightened from his slouch so quickly he spilled his tea, muttering an oath as the hot liquid found his hand. “Heart’s Blood. Sir! I didn’t know—I wouldn’t have—”
Rare to see the former border guard tongue-tied. “Peace, Tir. Werfol’s here now, and I’ll teach him what he needs to know.” Bannan reached over to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks to you, whatever they’d planned—to force Emon’s hand or use Semyn—has failed. That Naalish magic was involved is a clue we can give Lila and Emon when they come for the boys. I could pity those who plotted against them.”
“No. Sir.” Grim and final.
“‘Could.’” Bannan picked up the pack, slinging over a shoulder. “I’d best get these back. I’ve promised the boys a visit with Frann after lunch, and they’ll want dry clothes.” Along with Covie’s advice on feeding the pair, he’d soon need advice on winter laundry. Ancestors Dazed and Domestic. He supposed baths would be next.
Tir nodded. “Good lads.” He lifted a leg and flexed the ankle, waving his wrapped foot. “I’ll be in boots any day, sir.” A wink. “And there to help.”
“Just be sure you’re healed first,” Bannan warned, then smiled. “Help will be most welcome.”
“One more thing, sir, before you go.”
The truthseer paused at the door. “Yes?”
Tir scratched at his beard, a habit when perplexed. “Yon idiot beast’s acting stranger than usual. Are you sure the lads are safe ’round him?”
Nothing was certain about Scourge, but Bannan couldn’t imagine—then he thought of the bloody snow, and could. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Best you do, sir. Before we have to explain to the baroness.”
“I would not harm the boys.” The breeze found him by the fountain, sly and cool along his jaw, proving there was no such thing as privacy when Marrowdell’s other inhabitants took an interest.
As they had in Werfol and Semyn. Bannan couldn’t see Scourge; he didn’t doubt he was being seen. “Listening at the door, were you?” he said, continuing on his way. “Or did Devins’ toad tell you? Rude, that is.”
&n
bsp; “Mine.”
More than possessive. With one word, Scourge drew a line and claimed sole right to what lay beyond it. This was new.
Was it dangerous?
Despite now-serious misgivings, Bannan kept to his pace, doing his utmost to appear unconcerned. After all, he’d all the winter to work everything out, including the kruar, who’d not hesitate to challenge everyone or anything, including a dragon.
But not, Bannan thought with a lighter heart, Jenn Nalynn. Let winter do what it would, he’d family and love.
As well as the surprise that had everyone talking. Ompah for the Midwinter Beholding Feast.
Marrowdell seemed to hold its breath, the next handful of days, as if to allow everything—and everyone—to settle into place. Like the rest of those used to winter, Jenn found herself eyeing the sky, though there was no sign of another storm.
Like the rest, she found herself often at the Treffs’, though not usually for long. Frann slept and Lorra brooded, a combination that saw Cynd and Davi taking tea with the Ropps more often than not, and made it difficult for anyone to linger.
The only ones unaffected by weather or illness were the children. By their second afternoon, Jenn smiled to see Werfol and Semyn playing with Cheffy and Alyssa, the latter having finished their chores. By the next, the four were doing those chores together, much to the delight of Wainn’s old pony who’d not been so fussed over in years. Meanwhile, Tir had not only donned boots and easily walked to Bannan’s and back, but shortly after moved his belongings into that now busy household.
Day followed day. The only guests Lorra Treff welcomed were Bannan’s nephews. She’d sit with Frann to hear Semyn play his pipes, for he was a talented musician and well schooled, and listen, with unanticipated patience, as Werfol did his best to read from books beyond his age.
Hettie grew rounder and Loee another tooth. Master Dusom announced it would soon be time to recommence lessons, the weather unlikely to hold and young minds needing stimulation.
But it wasn’t peace, Jenn thought as she took off her coat and hung it on its hook.
A Play of Shadow Page 28
