Feather

by Susan Page Davis

  “Yes,” Sam agreed. “But between the plague and the invasion, all contact was broken between Pretlea and Elgin. Your people did not know if Tira lived, or if she had children. I tell you, dear people, she did.”

  “She had daughters,” Rose said. “You said it a minute ago.”

  “You mean . . .” Zee looked from Sam to her father and began to smile. “Does Tira have living descendants?”

  Sam returned her smile. “Two of Tira’s daughters died young. The other two married. One married a noble. She died two years later, and her first and only child was stillborn.”

  All of the Wobans sighed in sorrow.

  “But,” Sam said, “her younger daughter, Brenaden, married a merchant. Her father, Rondo, didn’t like it when Brenaden married beneath her class, but Tira encouraged her daughters to marry for love, and that is what Brenaden did. She married the merchant and was very happy. And she also had a daughter.”

  “Only one?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Only one. Ezandra, named after her great-grandfather, King Ezander of Elgin.”

  “Is she living?” Alomar’s voice trembled as he asked the question.

  “No, she died before I was born,” Sam said. “I was a scholar of Pretlean history, and it saddened me, as I know it must you, to know that she died in her thirties. But she and her husband, who was a farmer, had two sons.”

  “This is getting complex,” said Alomar.

  “I have written it all out for you on paper,” Sam said. “You can go over this family line as many times as you wish, my friend, and I’m sure that you will want to.”

  “Yes,” Alomar sighed.

  “You said she had sons,” Hunter prompted.

  “Yes. The farmer, Nile, and Ezandra had two sons. The eldest died in infancy. The younger inherited the farm. Penlinden married and—”

  Tag leaped to his feet. “Penlinden?”

  Sam smiled. “That is correct. And he had a son named Penzander.”

  Tag stood frozen in place, and Patch stirred uneasily at his feet and stretched, exposing his claws.

  Alomar looked at Sam in expectation. “Tell us, teacher. What does this mean?”

  Sam nodded toward Tag. “This young man is Penzander.”

  Feather gasped. Her chest felt tight, and her palms were damp with sweat.

  “Are you sure?” Tag asked. “That I am of Tira and Rondo’s blood, I mean?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “How could I not know this?”

  Sam smiled. “Your parents were commoners. For generations the women of your family had married men of the middle or peasant class. During the great sickness, the throne changed hands several times within a few years, going from father to son, to brother, to cousin. It was all but forgotten that there were distant cousins of Rondo’s line, descendants of his long ago daughters. Why should anyone remember? They—that is, you and your sibling—were never eligible to rule, so no one thought that was important. But mothers don’t forget. When you became my student, your mother told me that your father, Penlinden, was of royal blood—not of Pretlea. She didn’t consider that to be significant. It was his Elgin blood that mattered. Penlinden and his son—you, Penzander—were direct descendants of Ezander’s daughter, Tira, and perhaps you had relatives in faraway Elgin who were royalty.”

  “My mother told you that?” Tag asked.

  “She did, but she also said that her husband had forbidden her to tell you. The kingdom of Elgin had fallen long past, and Penlinden knew there was no throne to return to. He didn’t want his son to know the same disappointment he’d had in that knowledge.” Sam looked around at the avidly listening crowd. “I was skeptical at first, and soon after she told me this, the farm of Penlinden and a neighboring farm were raided by Blens. A son was taken from each family, and Penlinden and the rest of his kin were slain.”

  Tag sat down with a thump and bowed his head. Hesitantly, Feather touched his sleeve, and he took her hand in his, not looking up.

  “I was saddened,” Sam said. “Had the last true heirs of Elgin been killed? I made it my study for two years. I researched all the old records. I questioned many people in the castle. And I found that her tale was true. My student, Penzander, known to the Blens as Tag, was the last living descendant of King Ezander. But alas, I never expected to see the boy again.”

  “And then the invaders came in their warships,” Alomar said.

  “Yes. The invaders came, and I fled from Pretlea. I do not know even now how many of my people live. I know many, many died, but there are probably others who escaped. I made my way in a long, slow journey over the desert and the mountains, trying to outrun the horrors I had seen. At last I came here. To my surprise, I found peace and new friends. I found a people I could serve and who welcomed me as one of them. And last night . . .” His gaze rested once more on Tag. The boy looked up and met his eyes. “Last night I found Elgin’s crown prince.”

  Feather watched Tag as he raised his chin. His eyes shone with a new resolution.

  “Lost things are found,” she whispered. She knew that her broken life was also mended now.

  Alomar rose. “It is a privilege indeed for us all to have you here, Prince Penzander.”

  “Please,” Tag said. “You mustn’t . . . I don’t . . . You’re saying that if my father had gone to Elgin ten years ago . . . what would have happened then?”

  “We don’t know,” said Sam. “Perhaps there are enough descendants of Wobert and the other faithful Elgins to rally round a king. Perhaps not.”

  Alomar smiled. “There is much to discuss, my lad. Perhaps we should end our council and meet again tomorrow evening. And if you and Sam would be so kind, I would like to meet with you and the other elders after the noon meal tomorrow for further talk.”

  “I will be happy to do so,” Sam said.

  Alomar looked expectantly at Tag.

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said. “I have many questions.”

  Alomar nodded. “Whatever the future brings, I assure you this tribe offers you a home as safe and secure as we can make it. And now I give you over into the care of Hunter, who plans to adopt our Karsh and Feather soon if they both consent. This also will be a matter for another day, however. It is late, and we all have much to think on tonight.”

  Feather felt Denna stir beside her, and she saw that Denna was crying. Feather reached over and squeezed her hand.

  Alomar looked their way and said, “Denna, you will go with Feather tonight. She and Weave will show you where you can sleep and make sure your needs are met.”

  Denna smiled through her tears. “Thank you, sir.”

  Feather was suddenly glad that Denna had insisted on coming with her and Tag, forcing her way into their plan. In her mind she foresaw a future in which she and Denna were friends and she, Karsh, and Hunter were united as a family. And what of Tag—or rather, Penzander?

  Whatever happened in Tag’s life, Feather knew without doubt that he would remain her friend forever. She hoped he would stay with the Wobans. But was there a bigger future for him? She wouldn’t think about that tonight. She would only be glad that she had come home, and they were safe with the Wobans.

  Tag squeezed her hand and let go. “Good night. I’d better ask your brother if Patch can sleep with me.”

  Feather nodded. “He and Bente like to have the dogs in their shelter.” She realized as she said it that Bente wouldn’t be sleeping in the men’s shelter, but in a family hut set aside for him, Jem, and Zee. The changes were too many for her to absorb in one day. “Karsh and Hunter will help you,” she said.

  Karsh came and stood before Tag, staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “If you want, I’ll show you where we sleep, Penzander.”

  Tag smiled. “Thank you. I’m used to being called Tag.”

  Karsh nodded. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

  Feather and Denna went out and headed toward the brush shelters. As they approached the one used by Jem’s family until his ne
w house could be built, Denna touched Feather’s arm and stopped walking. Feather stopped too and listened. Zee was sitting on the threshold of the hut, singing a lyrical melody. Her voice was soft and earnest. Feather did not recognize the song.

  They stepped closer, and Zee smiled at them and broke off her tune.

  “What are you singing?” Feather asked.

  “A song of the Wobans,” Zee said. “A new song, not yet complete, of Wobert and his son and his son’s son, and of all the people who survived together and saw the day when their king returned to the land.”

  “Will you teach me this song?” Feather asked.

  “Yes, when it is finished, I will teach it to all our people.”

  Feather smiled. “Good night.” She and Denna went on in the starlight toward their shelter.