by Jenna Rhodes
Tolby thought on it. “Three tinctures or sprays we’ll need. Three different potencies with aryn wood, I should think.”
“Then I’ll do the sanding and gather the sawdust we need.”
Tolby thought to warn him. “Be circumspect about the mess. Meg and Lily are like to be in a dither about cleaning up. Lariel is coming for a visit.”
Dayne halted in the doorway. “With my brother?”
“Aye. They’ve announced their engagement and are coming to meet the two little ones.”
“Engagement? And you didn’t think to tell me that first?”
Tolby took his pipe from his mouth and considered it. “I would have thought it his place to tell you.”
Dayne’s face flushed. “Well, there’s that, but he didn’t. Is he coming here?”
“I believe so. The message was not so clear.”
“When?”
“Ah, now that I have some idea about. Lara said soonest.” He shrugged.
Dayne threw his hands up and went out the door, turned abruptly and came back in to search the tool boxes for a file, went out, came back in and rummaged about till he had a bit of canvas to catch the sawdust, and finally departed totally. Tolby let out a soft chortle before he put the pipe out and in a pocket while he went to check his batches of spray. He scratched his chin as he leaned into the storage cabinet and the faint whiff of chemicals reached him, pondering the matters of high elven with long lives.
For all that Lara sent that they would be arriving soonest, they did not. Word came of a stop at Hawthorn, capital of the First Home and in the opposite direction from Calcort because Larandaril lay roughly in between and north of the two cities, but finally birds came heralding their nearness with no actual sight of them. The guards ducked out of the day’s heat, and Corrie fussed from the depths of the house as she prepared the children. Nutmeg watched the street closely. Dayne came by, a jug of cool cider in his hand.
“Rest a bit?”
Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I’ll pour you a cup of cider. You’ll have plenty of time once their approach is seen.” He picked out a shady spot in the porch overhang. “Sit. I have something to discuss with you before they get here.”
Dayne pulled a chair out for her. Nutmeg looked from his hand to the seat of the chair, but she didn’t ask the question that seemed obvious from her expression. Wiping her fingers dry on her apron, she sat perched on the seat’s edge, her legs tucked under so that she could bolt away if need be. “I can’t tarry. Corrie’s waiting for me, to help tidy up the children.”
“She’ll wait. I vouch this is a bit more important.”
“Why?”
“It’s about the children.”
Her spine stiffened.
“Listen, just a moment or two. Give me that.”
“They’re babies.”
“No, they’re not.”
“They are! Barely two years of age and you know that as well as I do.”
“I probably remember a wee bit better than you.” His eye caught a sparkle. “You were busy at the time.”
“Undoubtedly.” One hand twisted at the apron’s hem. “I won’t be letting you take their innocence away. They are babies, for all that.”
“Meg, you were farm raised, like I was. You’ve seen a horse or pony birthed. How long before they’re on their hooves, ready to nurse and then run after their mother? They’re born long-legged and ready to move. How many Vaelinar children have you seen?”
Nutmeg twitched and Dayne held up his hand. “Full-blooded.”
Her mouth quirked. “None.”
“Like horses, they’re born with long legs and are ready to run, a defensive evolution, I suspect because of our devious natures. Once ten years or so grown, they are on the edge of developing the final traits of adulthood, but that’s when they begin to slow. Immensely. It’s not much different from those of us with half-blood. We just don’t grow as tall. And then the maturity begins, and that will take centuries.”
“Vaelinars mature slower because we live longer. That is the usual way of it, and Dwellers also take their time, but I am not talking about their frames.” Dayne paused. “It’s the look in their eyes, Meg. They have thoughts and souls far beyond their years, bursting to get out. They’re not mature, but they are far more grown than they appear, and you’ve got to be prepared for that, because you don’t have babies. You’ve got Vaelinar blood. They can’t express the words they need, and in Evar, that drawback drives him to fury. We’ve got to show him the way to live with his true nature. To take hold. We need to be teaching them now.”
“You mean their Talents.”
“That will come, too, but I’m talking about the core of what they are. It’s already there. It’s not going to take a hundred years to form.”
The corners of her eyes glistened. “Merri can barely walk.”
“Yes, but she listens and learns. She watches you, me, Lily, Tolby—your brothers. She watches and learns by leaps and bounds. And she’s smart, like Evar, far more than the average person. You know that. You’re her mother and you will always be, but you can’t expect to spend your days mothering a helpless child. She’s not helpless. She’s just . . . trapped. We need to educate them.”
“And draw more of Tressandre’s attention than we already have?” Nutmeg shook her head vigorously. “No! And that would expose Evar as well as Merri. Who could we trust to teach them if we did? I cannot think of a soul I would trust.”
“I would do it, if you would let me.”
Her mouth softened a moment before she put her hand up. “No.”
“And why not?”
“They’re not ready.”
“I disagree. I think you’re the one who’s not ready.”
“And why would I be? Why would I want anyone to lead them into a pack of scheming Vaelinars, ready to take their place in the ranks of those seeking power beyond anyone’s notion of what is right and just?” She bounced to her feet. “If Lariel had any other heir, I would never even consider what obligations they might hold. But she doesn’t, and so I do. But they’re still mine, and I won’t give them up.”
“She’s awake now . . . and she will want them.”
Nutmeg’s lip curled. “Train them in her footsteps and mistakes.”
“Would you have them be ignorant of what their fellows are like? What they must accept and avoid?”
“Lariel needs them far worse than they need her.” Nutmeg looked at him, her eyes shining with hurt and worry. “I don’t want to have this talk with you.”
“I can almost guarantee you’ll have it with her. They should be prepared. They are no less than crippled, for all your love. It rankles at them, most especially Evar.” Verdayne paused, thinking of young Evar with his little hands knotted into fists. “The longer you leave him go, the harder it is for him. He struggles to find the words that he needs to fit the action he wants to seize. It isn’t good or wise to try to muffle him. He’s bursting out of his skin, and I don’t want him to feel he must explode. It’s not good for him to ignore his frustration and needs.”
“Take your brother aside. Tell him no, and tell him to lead her to comply.”
“You overestimate my brother’s influence with the Warrior Queen.”
“He’s a Warlord!”
“And do you know what the Warlord does, amongst the Vaelinars? He’s a general among generals, nothing more. She wears the title Queen.”
“Then tell him to—tell him to challenge her for it. He’s been holding the Houses and Forts together all these seasons while she slept.”
“It’s not done like that.”
“I don’t see why in the cold hell not.” Nutmeg looked down at the ground, furious, her hands shaking on the back railing of the chair. “They’ll all be fine. The Vaelinars abide. T
hey’re doing quite well with only Bistane to guide them, despite Tressandre nipping at his heels. Their Houses won’t fall.” Her breathing fell into a sudden quaver. “My house won’t survive without my children. It won’t.”
Her tremors upset the patio table so much that her glass of cider slid over the edge and shattered abruptly on the ground. Dayne moved. “I’ll sweep it up.”
She ran a hand through her hair, dragging it away from her face, and looked up, the color bleeding from her cheeks. A cloud of smoke appeared from the southernmost end of the road into their quarter. A pounding of hooves preceded the appearance of a rider, racing toward their farmhouse.
“She’s coming!” Hosmer, resplendent in his uniform for the City Guard, pulled his horse to a plunging stop in the road. “She’s passed the main gate,” he told his sister as he swung down and began to lead his mount away to the back courtyard.
“Oh, it’s about time,” Nutmeg said. “I’ll be back.” She turned, ducking into the house, and Dayne pointed Hosmer away from the shards of the fallen cup. He had it all cleaned up and put away when the group of them reappeared, Evar and Merri trailing behind their nurse, busy with some mischief they didn’t wish seen. The guards took up watchful posts as Nutmeg dried her fingers on her apron again. She reached back for her children’s hands, to draw them out from behind Auntie Corrie’s voluminous skirts and found little fingers damp and sticky. “By the cold hells. Who keeps giving them toffee apples? Corrie, get them cleaned up, again, and I swear—” She cast a narrow-eyed look about the assembled group of Farbranches and guards. “If I catch you sneaking them treats, I will run you out of town wearing nothing but toffee and feathers!”
“Not me, I swear!” Dayne raised his hands in defense and stepped out of everyone’s way as they made a mad dash back into the farmhouse for repairs.
By the time the children made it back outside, their little faces and hands scrubbed within an inch of their lives and a shiny, near apple red from the efforts, Lariel and Bistane had drawn their horses to a stop in the middle of the street, their accompanying guards, who numbered a modest four, and the pair assigned to Calcort exchanging loud and vivid salutes and shouts of loyalty. The mayor, a retired trader of stout Kernan blood, waved to them all. “The inn awaits your pleasure. Simply send a runner ahead to notify them when you wish your meals and your beds turned down, my lady, my lord.” He gave a toothy grin for which he’d become famous, Tentith the Toothsome, reining back and bidding farewell with a grand flourish from his saddle.
Bistane helped Lariel down from her dappled gold tashya, but it wasn’t a Lara Nutmeg could easily recognize. Her time of illness had reforged her. This Lara appeared dangerously thin under her clothes, although her muscles stood out like cords along her arms. Her beauty had always been great, even among the slender and beauteous Vaelinar, but now her cheekbones stood in such stark relief that they looked almost sharp enough to cut. The silver in her golden hair burned brightly in the sun, almost difficult to view. Her eyes looked wider and brighter, her gaze harsher. Her riding leathers were tailored to fit her closely, yet seemed too loose even at that, and she carried a riding whip curled in her hand like a defensive weapon. She wore light mail over her leathers and a long sword at her back, crisscrossed with a bow. A quiver of arrows hung from the front of the saddle she had just left. Nutmeg stared at her and wondered if she would now make friends with such a woman, all harsh edges, if she had not already.
Lara smiled tightly as if aware of Nutmeg’s sudden inability to talk and advanced, her arms outstretched. “Nutmeg, you look wonderful. Motherhood obviously agrees with you.”
Nutmeg found her face wet with tears and hugged her back, tightly, whispering in her ear, “I did not think to see you so alive again! Bright apples, and here you are!”
Lara let go slowly. She looked downward at two suddenly shy figures. “And the children.” She frowned slightly. “Are they . . . well? They look fevered, their faces so pink.”
That broke Nutmeg’s lock on her words. “Fevered? What? Oh, no, Lara. Just scrubbed. Very, very, well scrubbed.” She drew Lara to her again and hugged her tightly, feeling for herself the thin but rock-hard form within her embrace. “And Bistane!”
She turned to the Warlord who had locked arms with his brother and was finishing up, “Send you to Calcort with a job to do and you never come home?”
“Things kept me busy,” Verdayne threw back at him and drew Nutmeg up so that Bistane could grasp her hands and kiss them fondly.
Bistane looked upon one and the other. “I don’t doubt that you have been occupied.”
Dayne’s cheeks heated a bit. “I’ve been home at least as much as you have.”
“Ah, good. That means we still have crops and aryns and obligations answered!” Bistane stepped back.
Nutmeg moved back and introduced Corrie, but Lara’s gaze was fastened on the children, both of them, and she slowly dropped to her knees at the edge of the roadway, her leathers creaking and her mail clinking softly as she did. She reached for their hands. Merri slipped into Lara’s hold eagerly, but Evar stayed back, aloof, head tilted, eyes on her face.
“We tho’t you’d never get here,” he said solemnly.
“Nor did I.” Lara placed both of Merri’s small hands in her left one and reached for him again. He stepped forward slowly then and took hold of her. She studied him for a very long time before looking up at Nutmeg. “I think we have much to discuss. And best not out here on the street.”
• • •
In the shaded house, the words fell like pebbles into a pond, spreading ripples. “You knew I had twins.”
“Yes, but I’d been told of the ruse and how successful it had been.” Lara sat back in her chair, her hand shaking a bit as she reached toward Bistane. “It might have worked in the past, but anyone who sees him now, who knew Jeredon at all . . . will know immediately. He might be a bit small in stature, but he is most assuredly Jeredon’s son.”
Nutmeg looked across the table to where the two sat on the floor, engrossed in putting together a wooden puzzle that Bistane had emptied out of one of the many saddlebags they’d brought with them. Her mouth closed and lips curved slightly. “I see it in him, but I wasn’t sure who else might. Sometimes I think I might imagine it.”
Lara shook her head. “So the question is, what shall we do with them?”
“That is a question I’ve already answered.” Tolby crossed his arms over his chest.
“They can’t stay here.”
“You were not all that safe at Larandaril.”
Bistane said tightly, “We have taken measures.”
“I’m certain you have, but the fact remains that if we had been in residence when the ild Fallyn struck, you might have lost your heirs as well as Lariel.”
“I didn’t lose Lara.”
“Nearly.”
Lara reached over and took Bistane’s hand in hers. “He is right, you know.”
Bistane looked down angrily, but his countenance softened at the sight of her fingers lacing gently into his. “I fault myself for it.”
“No, you blame Tressandre.”
“True. Her first and myself second. I should have remembered the depth of her ambition.”
“And who else would try to kill a dying woman?” Lily arched an eyebrow as faces turned toward her. To Lara, she added, “Bistane did not report great optimism on your recovery. He walked a fine balance between the news of your living and your languishing, to keep your enemies off-balance. It is plain Tressandre tired of waiting for the inevitable.”
“And equally plain she will soon know that Evarton is an heir of mine as well as Merri.”
“She might even put Merri aside in her mind and focus entirely upon him. He has the looks and the bearing even for one so young.”
A silence fell over the table as if aware that the clamor and babble of the ch
ildren at play had stopped long ago and they looked to find the two staring back at them.
“They’ve never been that quiet,” Nutmeg remarked.
“Yes, and no one can say they aren’t observant.” A smile quirked the corner of Lara’s otherwise stern face. “What do you know of their abilities? Both have the eyes, although Merri’s are quite subtle. I know they have much more to grow, but they must be showing some tendencies already.”
Nutmeg tilted her head in thought. “Merri is a conciliator, a soother. I would say she is the more diplomatic of the two, and very likely a Healer. They get their bruises and scrapes, but they rarely show them more than a day, and Evar heals first. I think she takes care of her brother.”
“A Healer? Hmmm. A good Talent.”
“And she talks with animals.”
“Really?” Lara fastened her attention on the speaker, Dayne.
“Like a lot of small ones, she spends a great deal of time talking to them. After a while she convinced me that they must communicate back.”
Keldan sat forward eagerly, pushing his forelock from his head. “Oh, they do. She’s told me a number of times about this one complaining that the saddle rubbed because the blanket was too thin, or a stone was caught in the frog, or the grain was going bad. She was right every time, although she’s got a bit of trouble finding the words for what she wants to say. She knows far more than any child should.”
“But no one told me.” Nutmeg sounded a bit affronted. “About the animal talk.”
“We thought you knew,” Dayne and Keldan said almost as one.
That definitely brightened Lara’s face as she laughed softly, sitting back more comfortably in her chair. “Jeredon had a great affinity for animals and their ways although he was more a ranger and a hunter. He understood about them, although not directly. I think it would have bothered him to hunt otherwise.”
Merri made a sniffling noise of sympathy. Evar reached out a comforting arm and drew his sister close. That immediately cut off her sniffling as she pushed him off.