Legacy of the Darksword (15 page)

She
is
afraid, I thought,
and who can blame her? Having grown up apart, isolated, alone.

Gwendolyn had taken a step back,
out of Saryon’s arms, though not out of his hold, to gaze fondly at him and
he
at her.

“Father, it is good to see you
again! How well you look!”

“For an old man,” said Saryon,
smiling down on her. “And you are lovely as ever, Gwen. Or lovelier, if that is
possible. For now you are happy.”

“Yes,” she said, glancing behind
her at her daughter, “yes, I am happy, Father.
We
are happy.” She laid
emphasis on the word.

A shadow crossed her face. Her
grip on Saryon tightened. She looked back up at him, with earnest pleading. “And
that is why you must leave, Father. Go quickly. I thank you for coming. Joram
and I have often wondered what became of you. He was worried. You had suffered
much for his sake and he feared it might have damaged your health. Now I can
give him ease, tell him you are well and prospering. Thank you for coming, but
go quickly, now.”

“Pulled the welcome mat right out
from under him, didn’t she?” said Simkin.

I gave the knapsack a whack.

“Where is Joram?” Saryon asked.

“Out tending the sheep.”

A muffled, derisive snort came
from the knapsack. Gwen heard it. Glancing at me, she frowned and said
defiantly, “Yes, he is a shepherd now. And he is happy, Father.
Happy and content.
For the first time in his life! And
though he loves and honors you, Father Saryon, you are from the past, you are
from the dark and unhappy times. Like that dreadful man who came here before,
you will bring those terrible times back to us!”

She meant that we would bring the
memory to them. I saw, by the pain in Saryon’s face, that he gave her words
another meaning, a truer meaning. It was not the memory we were bringing to
them, but the reality.

He swallowed. His hands on her
arms trembled. His eyes grew moist. He tried several times to speak, before the
words finally came out. “Gwen, I stayed away from Joram all these years for
this very reason. Much as I longed to see him, much as
I
longed to know
he was well and happy, I feared I would only disturb his tranquillity. I would
not have come now, Gwen, but that I have no choice. I must see Joram,” Saryon
said gently, and now his voice was firm. “I must talk to him and to you
together. There is no help for it. I am sorry.”

Gwen gazed long into his face.
She saw the pain, the sadness, the understanding. She saw the resolution.

“Do you . . . have you come for
the Darksword? He won’t give it up, not even to you, Father.”

Saryon was shaking his head. “I
have
not
come for the Dark-sword. I have come for Joram, for you and
your daughter.”

Gwen kept fast hold of him, for
support. When she let go, it was only to lift her hand, to wipe her eyes.

I had been so intent on their
conversation that I had forgotten the daughter. At the sight of her mother’s
distress, she dropped the hoe and ran toward us, moving with long, free
strides. She pushed back the hat, to see better, and I realized that I had
misjudged her. She hadn’t been afraid of us. She had been pausing to consider
us, to study us and to study
herself
, to determine how
she felt about us.

I paused to consider her. My life
paused, at that moment, to consider her. When life resumed, a second later, it
would never be the same. If I never saw her again, from that moment on I would
see her forever.

Thick, black, and unruly hair
fell in disordered curls from a central part, glistened in luxuriant clusters
about her shoulders. Her brows were also thick and black and straight, giving
her a stern and introspective aspect that was dispelled by the sudden, dazzling
light of large, crystalline blue eyes. That was her father’s legacy. Her mother
bequeathed the oval face and pointed chin, the ease and grace of movement.

I did not love her. Love was
impossible, at that first moment of our meeting, for love is between humans and
she was something extraordinary, not truly human. It would have been like
falling in love with the image in a painting or with a statue in a gallery. I
was awed, admiring.

Prospero’s daughter, I said
inwardly, recalling my Shakespeare. And then I smiled derisively at myself,
remembering her words on seeing the strangers washed ashore by her father’s
art: “How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is!”

I could tell from her glance that
raked across me with curiosity and little more that I was
not
providing
images of brave new worlds. And yet I interested her. Though she had her
parents for company, youth yearns for its own, to share the newfound dreams and
budding hopes that belong to youth alone.

But for now, her first care was
for her mother. She put her arms protectively around her mother’s shoulders and
faced us boldly, accusingly, her black brows a straight, heavy line.

“Who are you? What have you said
to upset her? Why do you people keep intruding upon us?”

Gwen lifted her head, dashed away
her tears, and managed a smile. “No, Eliza, don’t talk in that tone. This man
is not like the others. He is one of us. This is Father Saryon. You’ve heard us
speak of him. He is an old friend and very dear to both your father and to me.”

“Father Saryon!” Eliza repeated, and
the heavy line lifted, the blue eyes were light and radiant, like the sun
shining down after a thunderstorm. “Of course, I have heard of Father Saryon.
You have come to teach me! Father said I was to go to you, but he kept putting
it off and now I know why—
you
have come to me!”

Saryon reddened, swallowed again,
and, embarrassed, looked to Gwen for guidance, to know what to say.

She was unable to assist him, but
her assistance wasn’t necessary because Eliza’s quick gaze went from one to the
other and she realized her mistake. The light dimmed. “That is not why you’ve
come.
Of course not.
My mother would not be crying if
that were the case. Why are you here, then? You and your”—she turned her
brilliant gaze on me, made a guess— “your son?”

“Reuven!” said Saryon. He turned
around and stretched out his hand, urging me forward. “My boy, forgive me! You’re
so quiet ... I forgot you were here. He is my son by affection, though not by
birth. He was born in Thimhallan, born here in the Font, as a matter of fact, for
his mother was a catalyst.”

Eliza regarded me with cool
intensity and suddenly I had another of those strange flashes, such as I had
experienced earlier, where I seemed to be looking through a window into another
lifetime.

I saw myself a catalyst, standing
in a crowd of catalysts. We were dressed in our best ceremonial robes, all
blending together, our tonsured heads bowed in respect. And she walked past us,
regal, gracious, clad in silks and jewels, our queen. I lifted my head, greatly
daring, to look at her and she, at that moment, turned her head and looked at
me. She had been searching for me in the crowd and she smiled to see me.

I smiled at her, we shared a
secret moment, and then, fearing my superiors would notice, I lowered my gaze.
When I next dared look again—hoping that perhaps she was still looking at me—I
saw only her back, and even that vanished, for she was followed by all her
courtiers, every one of them walking.
Walking.
Why did
that seem strange to me?

The image faded from before my eyes,
but did not fade in my mind. Indeed, it was so clear and well defined that the
words
Your Majesty
were on my lips and I think I would have spoken them
aloud, had I been able to speak. As it was, I felt bewildered and disoriented,
much as when Mosiah released us to return to our own bodies.

Recovering, I signed that I was
honored and pleased to meet those who held a special place in my master’s
heart.

Eliza’s eyes widened at the sight
of my flashing hands. “What is he doing?” she demanded, with the frank and open
honesty of a child.

“Reuven is mute,” Saryon
explained. “He talks with his hands.” And he repeated to them aloud what I had
said.

Gwendolyn gave me a preoccupied
smile and said I was welcome. Eliza appraised me, those blue eyes studying
everything about me with unabashed curiosity. What she saw was a young man of
medium height, medium build, long blond hair pulled back from a face that
always seemed to inspire women with sisterly affection. Honest, sweet, gentle
were words women used to describe me. “At last, a man we can trust,” they would
say. And then they would proceed to tell me all about the men they loved.

As for what I saw in Eliza, the
statue was gaining life and warmth, becoming human.

Gwendolyn cast a glance at me and
it seemed that she suddenly had a new worry. A glance at Eliza reassured her
somewhat. Turning back to Saryon, Gwen drew him away, to speak to him in a low,
pleading tone. Eliza remained, staring at me.

My situation was extremely
embarrassing and uncomfortable. Never before had I cursed my handicap as I
cursed it now. Had I been a man like any other, I could have made polite
conversation.

I considered bringing out my
electronic notepad, writing on it. Writing what?
Some
inanity?
What a lovely day. Do you suppose we shall have rain?

No, I thought. Better to keep my
notepad shut.

And yet I wanted to do something
to hold her interest on me. Already, she was starting to turn her head, to look
back to her mother and Saryon. I had some notion of plucking a flower and
handing it to her, when I heard a
plop
at my feet.

Eliza gave a glad cry. “Teddy!”

At my feet sat a stuffed teddy
bear; well worn, most of its fur rubbed off, one ear missing.

Eliza swooped down, picked up the
bear, and held it up, calling in delight, “Look, Mother, Reuven’s found Teddy!”

Gwen and Saryon turned from their
conversation. Gwen
smiled,
a strained smile. “How
nice, dear.”

Saryon flashed me an alarmed
glance. All I could do was helplessly
shrug
.

Around his neck, Teddy wore an
orange ribbon.

“Nevertheless, there I
sat,
a perfect teapot upon his desk.”

TRIUMPH
OF THE DARKSWORD

“I
.
‘ve
had Teddy ever since I was a
little girl,” Eliza said, cuddling Teddy in her arms.

I have never seen a more
self-satisfied and smug-looking stuffed bear. I wanted very much to throttle
it.

“I found him in one of the old
parts of the Font,” she continued, “where I used to play. It must have been a
nursery, because there were other toys there. But I liked Teddy best. I used to
tell him all my secrets. He was my companion, my playmate,” she said, and a
wistful tone crept into her voice. “He kept me from being alone.”

I wondered if Eliza’s mother knew
the
truth, that Teddy was, in reality, Simkin—although
one might contend that Simkin and reality had little to do with one another.

Gwendolyn bit her lip and cast a
warning glance at Saryon, asking him to keep silent.

“I lost Teddy years ago,” Eliza
was saying. “I don’t remember quite how. One day he was there and the next day,
when I went to look for him, he was gone. We searched and searched, didn’t we,
Mama?”

Eliza looked to me, then to
Saryon. “Where did you find him?”

My master was, for the moment,
struck mute as myself. He was hopeless at lying. I made a sign, indicating that
we’d found the bear somewhere near the Borderlands. It was not quite a lie.
Saryon, in a faint voice, repeated what I had said.

“I wonder how he came to be
there!” Eliza exclaimed, marveling.

“Who knows, child?” Gwendolyn
said briskly. She smoothed her skirt with her hands. “And now you should go find
your father. Tell him—no, wait! Please, Father? Is there no other way?”

“Gwendolyn,” said Saryon
patiently, “the matter on which I come is very urgent.
And
very serious.”

She sighed, bowed her head. Then,
with a forced smile, she said, “Tell Joram that Father Saryon is here.”

Eliza was doubtful. Her delight
in recovering the bear faded at the sight of her mother’s troubled face. For a
moment she had been a child again. The moment passed, gone forever.

“Yes, Mama,” she said in a
subdued voice. “It may take me a while. He is in the far pasture.” And then she
looked at me and brightened. “Could I—could Reuven come with me? You say he was
born in the Font. We must go through it on our way. He might like to see it
again.”

Gwen was doubtful. “I don’t know
how your father would react, child.
To have a stranger come
suddenly on him, without any warning.
It would be better if you went by
yourself.”

Eliza’s brightness began to dim.
You could see it fade, as if a cloud had passed over the sun.