Part 27 (2/2)

The lake was reached by a narrow track that threaded its way through a thick stand of Denebian softwoods: single trunk spires with short, full-leaved branches. The lake, dewdrop in shape, was deceptively large for Isthia led them out at its narrow end where the tributary stream flowed down from the hills to their right.

'I've constructed a perch,' Isthia said, directing them along the bank to their left where several large flat black rocks formed an irregular bench.

Some sort of spidery multi-legged insects skimmed across the lake and occasionally an aquatic denizen broke the surface into ripples, snagging the water runner. Sleepy avian and nocturnal bug noises punctuated the evening air as they seated themselves.

Afra threw a jacket across Damia's shoulder, for the air at the lakeside was chillier than at the protected cabin.

She leaned into his touch, avid for physical contact. He settled his arm about her shoulders and drew her against him as if this casual sort of contact was long established.

Afra was having no trouble, she thought, with their new relations.h.i.+p. His fingers pressed against her arm and she glanced at him, suspicious that he was disobeying Isthia.

He bent his head towards her.

'A touch is just a touch, Damia love, he said quietly, s6 don't get fussed. More than you, I can't afford to risk the healing process.

Damia shot a quick look at her grandmother who was sitting, with the discretion of a duenna, at the opposite end of the rock couch.

Isthia gave every evidence of ignoring them. Which, Damia realized, was probably genuine. Isthia would hate having to leave this place with its ensured solitude. She must remember to thank her for that sacrifice.

'Sacrifice,' Damia thought, her heart heavy. So many little things reminded her of Larak. Once again Afra's fingers took a new hold on her arm and she shook her head of such wounding reflections.

'See!' Isthia pointed at the cloud formation now tinged with a delicate shade of peach as the sun began its final descent behind the hills.

So they watched, awed by the beauty, by the silence of the wood and lake about them, a reverence for the display and for the tranquillity of the night to come. When the last colour faded from cloud and sky, Isthia sighed, a sound of intense satisfaction, and rose.

'Don't stay too long. There's a chill in the night air, she said, and thrusting one handlight at them, she departed, playing hers on the track as she made her way back to the cabin.

For Damia, who had always been physically restless, this sort of inactivity was novel, yet she would not have broken the quiet mood for anything on any world she had ever trod. What was even more amazing was that she was sharing - truly sharing - this magical serenity with Afra.

From the corner of her eye she snuck a peek at him and saw, in the crepuscular twilight, that he reflected her own tranquillity. Why had she never noticed what a strong profile he had: a high straight forehead, a straight nose jutting at a fine angle, the generous gap between nose and upper lip, and the strong well-modelled wide mouth, the firm chin and jawline. He had nice ears, too. But there were undeniable flecks of white in his blondy hair. Not much, but noticeable.

Self-consciously, she fingered back the white-flecked lock that always fell across her face.

'I've got more white hair than you,' she remarked.

'But not in the same number of years, love,' he replied equably.

'Is that going to matter?' she asked anxiously.

He looked down at her, smiling at her concern. 'It oughtn't but it's bound to come up. Does my seniority bother you?' 'You're always ”Afra” to me,' she said, surprised at how she identified him within herself.

He chuckled. 'As you have always been inimitably ”Damia” to me.

D'you know? I heard you protest your birth.' 'That's not fair!' She did not like him to remind her of moments like that.

'When does ”fair” enter into any relations.h.i.+p? Suffice it to say, that I have known you since the first breath you drew and, strangely enough, it makes you dearer to me.' The look in his yellowy eyes, the tenderness in his mouth, the appeal in even the way his shoulders inclined towards her, and Damia had to admit that she could have no objection to what lay behind that soft declaration 'Oh, Afra! Why did you wait so long?' His lips turned up and his eyes danced. 'I had to.

Until you were ready to look at Afra.' With such laughter in his eyes and mouth, he had a careless boyishness about him that cancelled further discussion of age.

Larak had been little more than a boy at his death.

Unbidden, the comparison had crossed her mind.

Afra's hand covered hers instantly. 'I can see that you're thinking sad thoughts again, love. What this time? Tell me!' Damia smiled ruefully up at him. 'As I told you all my small troubles?' 'I'm able for the big ones now.

'I keep thinking of ' She faltered.

'Larak,' and his fingers caressed her gently. 'I think of him a lot myself Damia burrowed her head into his shoulder, hooking one hand about his neck as she had done so often as a child.

But it was not as a child that she clung to him now.

'I'm told such pain eases with time,' he said quietly, 'and there has not been enough of that between us and his death.' Damia sat upright. 'Who is taking care of Jenna right now?' Her tone was stricken for she had been thinking more in terms of her own grief and loss from this wretched Sodan affair.

'Isthia can tell us... no, don't reach,' he said and Damia let out an exasperated sigh. 'We'll go and ask.' 'It takes getting used to, this limitation,' she replied caustically 'In a good cause, love,' he said and, smoothly rising from the warm rock, pulled her to her feet.

'Jenna?' Isthia said, surprised at the question when they returned to the cabin. 'Jeran sent Ezra to her, but she has a big family and they're Talented enough to give her comfort and sufficient solace to ease her heart.' Isthia's expression altered to one of amus.e.m.e.nt.

After all, she has not only her son but also another child on the way.' Damia stared at her grandmother. 'Oh!' she exclaimed indignantly.

'Larak didn't? Why, he's...' She stopped short. 'Under the circ.u.mstances, I guess I'm glad. Lord, but we Gwyn-Ravens are prolific 'Tell me about it,' and Isthia threw her head back and howled with laughter. 'Remember, separate rooms tonight.

I'm not going to explain that to your parents, Damia!' When Isthia entered Deneb Tower, her grandson Jeran had just finished with the incoming traffic.

'How are they?' he asked urgently, rising from his conformable chair and embracing her. She rather liked his strong young arms about her: made her remember Jerry.

'They will both recover completely,' she said, and then gave him a warning glare, 'if they are allowed to recover at their own rate. No unexpected visits, no shafts of enquiry, no exercise of 'path or 'port whatever!' 'How's Damia taking that kind of a prohibition?' Jeran asked, raising his eyebrows.

Isthia considered, careful not to let any of her more recent conclusions be accessed by her clever Prime grandson. 'Better than you'd expect,' she replied, with just a slight emphasis on the p.r.o.noun.

'Of course, once she regains her health-' 'What?' Jeran's exclamation of alarm was genuine.

'Oh, she's battered physically as well as psychically, Jeran. And genuinely distraught about Larak. It'll all take time Jeran frowned.

'How long?' Now an FT&T Prime spoke 'As long as it takes, said Isthia with a shrug. 'I'd like to rea.s.sure Jeff and Rowan-' she added, gesturing towards the board.

'Certainly,' Jeran said, stepping well away from the conformable chair. 'It's break time for me anyway. Will you be going right back?' 'Heavens, no,' and Isthia grinned as she settled into the chair. 'When I meant no mental exertion, I meant none, which includes me leaking metamorphic theory all over them. Physically, they're well able to take care of themselves, and each other.' She shook her head, thinking of how true that was and trying very hard not to chuckle at her private merriment. 'You're stuck with this white man's burden again 'Never stuck, Gran, glad to have you any time.

Isthia snorted, knowing perfectly well that Jeran was rapidly reviewing how to conduct his current affair with his grandmother in the same house. 'Or, I can always move into Kantria's digs. Yes, that makes sense and she's on the outskirts of the City anyway. Do be tactful and ask her first, Jerry.' She laughed as she caught the quickly-suppressed ripple of consternation from Jeran as he hurriedly closed the s.h.i.+elded door behind him. That should divert him sufficiently from speculating further about his sister and Afra Then she settled back in the chair and, picking up the pulse of the generators, sent her mind ranging the long distance to Callisto.

Isthia? the Rowan caught her up immediately and did not moderate her understandable anxiety. Damia was foremost in her mother's mind.

They're both well and they will both recover, Rowan.

Mother? Instantly Jeff's mind joined the link. Without loss?

Afra's recuperation worried Jeff more but only because he felt Afra had been in more jeopardy than his daughter.

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