A Play of Shadow (36 page)

Semyn squirmed to glare at his brother. “I saw the dragon too!”

“There’s more.” Bannan gave them a gentle squeeze then looked to Jenn with hope in his eyes.

So be it. Jenn unwound her scarf and shrugged off her coat.

Heartbeats later, the turn reached her.

She tipped her head back, feeling her form take its other shape. Lost in the sensation, it took her a moment to remember her audience.

Werfol looked pleased and a little smug. Semyn stood staring, his mouth open, then began to smile. “The dragon!”

The . . . ?

Jenn looked down. Sure enough, Wisp lay coiled in the snow at her feet, steam trailing from his nostrils, by far the most interesting thing in sight.

Clever dragon. “This is Wisp—” she began.

Werfol pointed urgently at the nearest tree. “What are those?”

“I don’t see anything, Weed.” Semyn’s face contorted with effort. “Where?”

“Now they’re gone.” Werfol frowned. “Why?”

“You scared them!” Semyn grabbed a mittenful of snow and threw it at his brother. “Uncle said to be quiet!”

“It’s all right, Semyn. They’re shy and don’t know you yet.” Bannan stood. “Thank you, Jenn.”

The turn flowed past, on its way through the valley. As shadows lengthened around her, Jenn became her other self and Wisp faded from sight. She put on her coat and scarf, picking up the basket as if nothing untoward had happened. “We’d best get this inside and warming.”

They waited for her. When she drew close, Semyn reached out as though to touch her, and Jenn held her breath.

Smack! A ball of snow hit her on the arm and Werfol ran past, laughing. Semyn, grabbing handfuls, took off after his brother.

“So much for the mysteries of Marrowdell,” Bannan declared, looking rather smug.

Jenn wasn’t at all surprised when a large mass of snow from the roof came WHOMP! down on his head.

“‘Keep Us Close.’” The echoing words from around the table—from his nephews, from Jenn, and from Wainn, who’d stayed for supper—filled the room and Bannan’s heart. He ducked his head to hide what surely was a stupidly happy grin, and cut generous wedges of Peggs’ meat pie, slipping them onto waiting plates.

Despite poor Frann and whatever problems faced Lila and Emon, he couldn’t help but be glad. The boys were safe and he was home. Ancestors Harried and Hasty, had it been only yesterday he’d left to move in with Devins for the winter? Tir had that bed until his feet healed. After that, Bannan planned to offer his friend room here, if he wished.

“We saw a real dragon,” Semyn told Wainn, seated between the boys on a bench at the table. “He had smoke coming out of his nose!”

“He’s our friend,” Werfol put in. He’d been quiet to this point, staring so intently at Wainn he barely seemed to blink. The youngest Uhthoff didn’t appear to mind.

Bannan understood. Werfol would learn how to suppress his gift; right now he couldn’t help but see deeply and Wainn was—he was astonishing. To the deeper sight, he brimmed with joy and wonder, as if reflecting the best of the world out again. To look at Wainn Uhthoff with a truthseer’s sight? Like warming cold fingers by a fire.

Jenn’s fingers brushed Bannan’s as she accepted her plate, leaving a tingle on his skin. He wanted to tell her how incredibly beautiful she’d looked at the turn, surrounded by the gold of the setting sun against the snow, her shape outlined in pearl and light. He wanted very many things, most of which, he realized ruefully, made newly difficult by the presence of small children.

A dimple appeared, as if she’d had the same thought.

The rest of the meal passed in a pleasant blur. Jenn and Wainn told the boys a little of Marrowdell. Semyn, already a scholar like his father, was delighted to hear Master Dusom would welcome them into his class, when those started again. Werfol, unimpressed by the thought of lessons, perked up at the mention of skates and shoes to walk on the snow, ready that instant to try both.

Bannan, who’d caught himself nodding over his tea, wondered if the boy ever tired.

In the midst of questions about, of all things, musical instruments—or was it eggs?—he must have nodded off again, for he startled awake at the touch of soft lips on his cheek. “We’re leaving, Dearest Heart,” Jenn said with a grin and a second, firmer kiss.

Which woke him completely, too late for more than a round of thank yous and good nights as Jenn and Wainn, already bundled for the outdoors and the ride home, cheerfully refused the leftover pie, and went out the door.

Leaving Bannan alone with his nephews.

Werfol and Semyn stood near the door, almost as if ready to follow Jenn and Wainn out of it.

He wasn’t above bribery. “Is it too late for something sweet?”

“No, Uncle!”

“Momma always gives us a treat before bed,” Werfol added to that.

Bannan raised an eyebrow, but let the lie go, for now. “Then we shall.”

Semyn hesitated. “Uncle, Wainn said we were to introduce ourselves to the house toad.”

“Of course.” The toad he hadn’t yet seen. He felt a twinge of remorse, for the toads were even more fond of courtesy than Master Jupp, and he shouldn’t have brought strangers through the door without the consent of his.

He blamed the dragon, and the ridiculous amount of snow that had found its way down his back.

“May I introduce my nephews?” the truthseer said, and waited for a response, signaling his nephews to stay where they were.

A clawed foot appeared from under the cookstove. He’d not thought the creature could squeeze itself into so narrow a space, but there was another foot. The claws of both dug into the wooden floor then—with a pop!—out came the rest of the toad.

It waddled forth to squat before the boys in quiet dignity, somehow conveying a certain amount of scepticism.

“Uncle,” Werfol whispered anxiously, “I don’t think it likes us.”

Semyn nudged his brother to bow. As they both rose, he addressed the toad. “Honored guardian, we are Semyn and Werfol Westietas, nephews of Bannan Larmensu. Our uncle has graciously invited us to live with him in this house. May we have your permission?”

“We promise to be good,” Werfol added, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

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.