Protector of the Flight (43 page)

Marrec
grunted, watched Jetyer raise a tentative hand to stroke Dark Lance’s nose. The
kid had guts and smarts and determination—and a well of more Power than Marrec
would have thought. Like Marrec himself, the youngster could develop more, and
perhaps his silver marks would widen. A lot about this boy reminded Marrec of
himself. And would that mean that Calli would love the child? How much did she
really “love” Marrec, and how much of her feeling of him was because of the
Pairbond? His jaw clenched. Distracted again by thoughts of his Pairling.

Looking
around the courtyard, Marrec started to rise, to lead Jetyer someplace private
where they could discuss the matter further, when he saw one of the tavern
wenches wiping her hands on her stained apron and watching him with an
eagle-eyed stare.

That
made him think of something else.
Sinafinal, Tuckerinal!
he called with
his mind, wondering if either being would answer him, where they might be—at
the Castle, the Circlet Island Alf, or the camp….

We
are here.
The phrase echoed in his mind. Two hawks circled around the inn yard then
settled on Dark Lance’s back. The volaran sidestepped and grumbled.

With
a half bow of his torso, Marrec mentally sent,
Salutations, feycoocus. This
child has asked to become a son to Calli and me. Should I accept him?

Sinafinal
lifted a foot and used her beak to clean her claws.
Why do you ask us a
question you already know the answer to?
But Tuckerinal flew down to land
at the boy’s feet and circle him, walking under Dark Lance’s belly, causing
another rumble of irritation from the volaran.

Jetyer
had gone pale, eyeing the birds warily. Turning to meet Marrec’s eyes, he said.
“Wh-what are th-they?”

Feycoocus,
Marrec replied
in a loud mental voice.

The
youngster jumped.

He
will do well,
Tuckerinal said.

He
has acceptable Power for the child of an Exotique. You will teach him and raise
him right.

I
suppose,
Marrec said.

Dark
Lance snorted.

Turning
her head to pin him with a narrowed gaze, Sinafinal said,
You will raise him
to be a fine man.
Was that a prophecy? Or an order?

He
didn’t much like the latter, but these were magical beings and he’d called
them.
Thank you.

Sinafinal
swept a look around the yard, stepped close to Tuckerinal when he flew from the
ground to alight beside her. Dark Lance’s back rippled.
We will stay to
witness the adoption.

By
the Song, Marrec wasn’t quite ready to move so quickly. Too late now. He gestured
Jetyer to stand in front of him.

Lips
pressed together, but with a long, sure stride, the boy did so.

Keeping
his voice low, Marrec said, “The most important thing a son of mine must do is
love his mother, Callista Mae Torcher Gardpont, the Volaran Exotique. Can you
do that?” He hoped to the Song that this child wasn’t one of those unfortunates
that instinctively loathed Exotiques. Surely Dark Lance and the feycoocus
wouldn’t have approved the boy if he had been.

The
child’s breathing went ragged, he blinked rapidly and his lips trembled.
“Ay-y-yes.”

Marrec
considered him, the rising Song. “We’ll have to consult the medicas about your
stammer.”

Jetyer
flinched.

The
adoption,
prompted Sinafinal.

After
a deep breath, Marrec projected his voice. “It is my intention to adopt this
boy, Jetyer Desillp as the son of myself, Marrec Gardpont and my wife, Callista
Mae Torcher Gardpont. To show my good faith and assure you all, I will seal my
oath with blood.” He took out his new knife and made a slight cut in a vein of
his right arm, flicked a few drops on the cobblestones near his feet where they
dried quickly and remained bright red.

“Do
you agree to be our son, to take the name Jetyer Gardpont?” he asked Jetyer.

“I
ag-g-g-gree!”

Jetyer’s
eyes were wide, the rim of iris looking lighter than ever.

Marrec
said, “I am willing to participate in a surface bloodbond with Jetyer, to bind
him to myself and my Pairling, my Shield.” With a touch of his mind, he
searched for Calli, found her with Alexa in their tent. Good enough.

Calli,
Pairling?
he sent.

Marrec?
What’s happening? Your Song is so…so different!

He
wanted to ask “different how?” but time was short and the way Jetyer was
shaking, Marrec needed to get the bonding done quickly. He cleared the static
from his mind, calmed his tone.
I have found a son for us.
His words
rang like destiny between them.

Her
Song dipped, soared, exploded into a thousand shards of tinkling notes, and he
knew her eyes had filled with tears.
A son? Really?

Yes.

Her
next sending was tentative, as if she whispered.
We should not.

Dark
Lance and the feycoocus agree the boy is ours.

Boy?

Jetyer
is his name, a bastard orphan of a Lladranan woman and a foreign man.

The
boy flinched. How much was he hearing?

I
cannot reject him,
said Marrec.

Of
course not.
There was that spinning melody of her soft heart, her staunch loyalty. Her
trust in him and his judgment.

Her
need to be loved.

All
harmonized in yearning, in acceptance.

Again
Marrec focused on the boy, knew instinctively that the pale child quivering
before him would love Calli.

Keep
your mind with mine as I participate in a surface blood-bond.

Yes.
She, too, was
quivering. He sensed her sitting atop their bed, Alexa’s arm steadying her. The
Swordmarshall’s Song came, too, excited and happy.
Do it!
Calli said.

He
returned his awareness to Jetyer. “Do you agree to a surface bloodbond?” asked
Marrec.

Standing
tall, Jetyer held out his right wrist, his dominant hand. “I ag-gree!”

Marrec
unrolled the boy’s sleeve until the too-large cuff flopped over Jetyer’s hand,
then shoved the cuff up to expose an arm a shade paler than the child’s hand.
He met Jetyer’s steady gaze. “Ready?”

Jetyer
nodded.

Glad
the knifepoint was sharp and that the cut would be relatively painless for
Jetyer, Marrec nicked the boy’s vein, swiped his own cut over the child’s.

Memory
images flashed before his eyes, Jetyer’s, Calli’s, his own, even one or two of
Alexa’s. His gut dipped, steadied, the boy stumbled, Marrec caught him close
with one arm circling the child. “Easy,” he said, frowning. The youngster’s
eyes had dampened.

The
feycoocus cried out, shot into the sky, disappeared. Dark Lance trumpeted.

Jetyer
continued to lean heavily against Marrec.

The
tavern wench who’d been watching intently bustled forward. “Best get ya both up
to your room. Get some good nourishing broth into ya.”

“Good
idea.” Marrec frowned as he picked up the boy, who closed his eyes and went
limp in his arms.

“He
was mightly ’fraid of askin’ ya to be his folk,” the woman said. “Don’ think he
et much last night nor nuthin’ t’day.”

Marrec
hoped that was the reason for the youngster’s weakness, and not any memories of
his own that the child had picked up or any images from Calli’s strange land.
They’d have to be careful of a full bloodbond. Something else to consult the
medicas about.

Dark
Lance whuffled comfortingly.
We should stay.

Yes,
Marrec agreed,
minding his step up the steep stairs to the room he’d just vacated.

Marrec,
what is wrong?
Calli sounded nervous.

Overexcitement
on our son’s part, I think. He fainted.

He
felt her touch on his mind, steadying him, warming him, then she reached
further.
You are right. He is healthy.

We’ll
stay here today and tonight. Jaquar and Marian are at our estate.

Alexa
says they know what’s going on.

Huh.
More bonds of friendship. He assured himself that was good.

I’m
coming! Give me exact directions—

No!
Marrec settled
the boy on the truckle bed that slid out from under his own.
Jetyer is
resting. We don’t know how long it will take for him to recover from the small
bond.
From long-ago experience of a life Marrec had left behind him, Marrec
eyed the boy.
I’ll probably get some stew down him then he’ll sleep all
night.

Oh.
Her tone was
stilted. Marrec reached for her Song, felt it tumbling with need—for him or the
boy?—disappointment, traces of the previous anticipation. There
was
a
slight emotional distance there, a wary note to her tune, a missing beat in
their shared Song.
Alexa is joyful, too. We have agreed that I will meet you
at home tomorrow morning.

Did
Alexa offer, or did you request leave?
he asked.

Her
hesitation answered him, but he already regretted bringing up her need to
please.

I
would have requested, but Alexa made the offer when I was still stunned by our
small bonding ceremony. I
am
going to request that Luthan Vauxveau and a
Castle medica accompany me. Luthan can perform another bloodbond ceremony in
our own village temple.

Marrec
blinked. He’d never have thought of that. Delight and…affection for Calli
pulsed through their bond. He bowed his head as if she stood before him.
Good
thinking, thank you.

I
must make the arrangements now. I will ask Luthan how much time off we all need
for the bloodbond and recovery. Then I will inform the Lady Knight
Swordmarshall.

He
could imagine Thealia Germaine’s reaction to the Volaran Exotique adopting
another child while the rest of the world needed her.
Good luck. And thank
you for bringing a medica, too.

I
have a feeling that both Luthan and the medica will be curious, as always, in
Exotique affairs. Bide well, Pairling.

And
you.

M
idmorning the
next day, Marrec stood in the town square, holding Jetyer’s hand. Jaquar stood
next to them, holding Diaminta. The boy looked paler than before—both from a
scrubbing and renewed anxiety. He’d barely said a word, and once again a fine
trembling coursed through his body. Marrec had brushed his mind with a
reassuring touch, but it hadn’t helped much to calm Jetyer.

He’d
been fascinated with Diaminta, who had crawled over to him and climbed into his
lap upon introduction, with the sure sense of being accepted. Jetyer had
encircled the baby with both arms and raised a damp gaze to Marrec. “I will
protect her always.” Marrec hadn’t thought that his son had realized he hadn’t
stammered. The moment had been precious and had made Marrec’s heart ache that
Calli hadn’t been there to share it.

Diaminta’s
emotional hurts were healing well, to the point that she was being spoiled…by
the males of the staff. She’d dimpled at Jaquar, but had ignored Marian all
morning. Diaminta needed to have more women around her and spend more time with
them. Still, it was better this morning for her to be held by a man.

When
Marrec sensed Calli and Thunder nearing, he’d led a procession of most of his
staff to the village, carrying a quiet Diaminta and walking hand in hand with
Jetyer to the village. He was unsurprised to see that most of the town had
turned out, dressed in their best, ringing the square. News traveled fast in
villages.

Now
they gasped as Thunder and Calli appeared, flying far ahead of four other
volarans. Luthan Vauxveau and a medica—a man—and Alexa and Bastien. Marrec
frowned.

Alexa
and Bastien are additional witnesses,
Calli said. She waved.
Good. Marian
and Jaquar are there. You agree that they should be—um—
parenties,
just
in case?

He’d
thought on it and since she felt strongly about this and he couldn’t think of
anyone he’d prefer—certainly not Lady Hallard or the folk who raised him, he
answered,
Ayes.

Good!
She and Thunder
descended in a landing more efficiently beautiful than any Marrec had seen.
Thunder walked up to Jaquar. Diaminta squealed and patted his neck, tugged on
his mane. “Thud! Thud!” The volaran winked at her but didn’t nuzzle. Diaminta
pouted.

Calli
dismounted, greeted Marian and Jaquar, and brushed a kiss—and a loving mind-touch—on
Diaminta. Their daughter’s face crumpled and Calli circled around to face
Marrec and Jetyer. A shock of deep attraction went through Marrec when he saw
her fully. She was wearing a dark blue mage-gown that flowed from a split
wide-legged skirt to full dress as he watched. Gold embroidery wound around the
hem and up the sleeves, showing flying volarans. The robe emphasized the blue
of her eyes and the gold of her hair. How had he kept himself away from her?
Why?