Part 64 (1/2)
Mirili exclaimed with pleasure but Nemek turned pale. ”Four . . . more?”
”I don't know why you're looking so queasy,” Griane said. ”Your part is done in a moment.”
Nemek bristled. ”My part lasts a good deal longer than a moment, thank you.” Then blushed when his father laughed.
”Will you come inside and share a cup of elderberry wine?” Nionik asked.
”Later, perhaps. Now I must return this little one to his mother. He's hungry.”
”That's why his face is so red,” Nemek told his father.
Nionik nodded gravely. Griane shared a smile with Mirili. No need to fear for this child's future; he would be surrounded by love.
She was starting back to the birthing hut when a shout stopped her. Everyone froze as Conn raced into the village. Callie trailed behind him, his face nearly as red as the babe's.
”Three coracles,” Conn said between pants. ”Coming up the river.”
”It's Fa!” Callie tugged at her skirt. ”Fa and Keirith. I know it. Lacha brought them home.”
Three coracles. That must mean the girl was with them. The one Fellgair had told her about. Quickly, she thrust the Trickster from her mind as she'd done every day in the half-moon since returning from the Summerlands.
”Come on, Mam! We have to go down to the lake. We have to be there when they come.”
The coracles could just as easily contain visitors from another village, but she could scarcely breathe for hope.
Maker, let it be them.
Already, people were streaming out of the village. Callie's excitement had infected everyone. All around her, Griane heard eager speculations that Darak and Urkiat were returning with Keirith. They didn't realize Urkiat would never return, that his body was lying in foreign soil. She could only hope his spirit heard the prayers she offered.
She glanced around, searching for Faelia. She had entrusted her daughter with the truth about Keirith, had even revealed that the Trickster had told her. Despite her youth, Faelia could be counted on to keep a secret; the G.o.ds knew she had enough of her own. But Griane had said nothing to Callie, fearing he would spread the tale to the entire village.
Failing to spy her daughter's bright hair, she walked quickly to the birthing hut and found Lisula and Muina waiting outside. They were the only others who knew about Keirith. Neither had offered much comfort when she had shared the tale with them, both of them worried about the reaction of the tribe. Griane had bristled when Muina reminded her of the law.
”Keirith is not Morgath!”
”I know that without you shouting at me,” Muina replied. ”But others will only see the power and the potential for destruction.”
Judging from their worried expressions, both priestesses were recalling that conversation, but there was no time to speak. Sali ducked out of the birthing hut and held out her arms for the child.
”You go, Mother Griane. Bethia and I will stay with Catha.” Sali hesitated, darting anxious glances at all of them before blurting out, ”I hope it's them. I know how much you've missed them. I've prayed every night for their safe return.” Then, as if appalled by her speech, she darted back inside.
Muina stared after her in astonishment. ”I don't think I've ever heard that many words come out of the child's mouth in all the years I've known her.”
”Whatever happens,” Lisula said, ”you know we'll stand by him.”
”Where's my stick? I won't stand at all without that.”
Lisula produced Muina's quickthorn stick and they made their way slowly down the hill. Griane trailed after them, telling herself not to build up her hopes in case the visitors were strangers. Like the others, she shaded her eyes against the late afternoon sun, watching the coracles move out of the long shadow cast by Eagles Mount.
”Mam! Mam!” She turned in the direction of Faelia's voice and found her pus.h.i.+ng through the crowd. ”Is it them?”
”We don't know.”
Faelia surprised her by throwing her arms around her neck. ”What do we say? If it's Keirith?”
She'd discussed that very question with Muina and Lisula without arriving at an answer. All she could think to say was, ”Follow your father's lead.”
Over Faelia's shoulder, she spied Ennit striding toward her. He kissed Lisula on the cheek before turning to them. ”It looks to be two men and a woman. One of the men might be Darak-I couldn't be sure-but the other . . .” His face crumpled. ”It wasn't Keirith. I'm sorry, Griane. He had almost no hair at all and what there was of it was black.”
Griane hugged Faelia hard, praying that no one would guess that she and her daughter were sobbing with joy.
As he drove his paddle deep into the water, Keirith stared at all the people lined up along the sh.o.r.e. Somewhere in the crowd were his mam and Faelia and Callie. Conn, too, perhaps. He'd looked for him as they pa.s.sed Eagles Mount, but tears reduced the scene to blurred smears of white and green.
It will be enough to see them all again. After that, it doesn't matter what happens.
As they drew closer to sh.o.r.e, his father glanced back and flashed a smile. Always, when they discussed this homecoming, his father insisted all would be well, but Keirith sensed the doubts lurking beneath that confidence. Only once had his father voiced them.
The morning after Hua's recovery, his father took him aside. To Keirith's surprise, he included Hircha in their conversation as well.
”Illait wanted me to ask . . . he would have spoken to you himself, but he thought it might be better coming from me. He's invited you to stay. Both of you. If you want.”
”Stay?” Hircha echoed.
”He said no matter what had happened in Pilozhat, you'd restored his grandson.”
”You told him?” Keirith asked in shocked disbelief.
”Nay. But Illait's no fool. I don't know how much he's guessed, but he's offering you a home here. You'd live in his hut. Be part of his family.”
”I have a home,” Keirith said. ”And a family.”
”Aye. Always. But . . . it's a risk. Going back. You know that.”
”Do you want me to stay?”
”I want all of us to be together. But I also want you safe. I can't guarantee what the council will decide. And I'll not ask you to pretend to be some stranger I found in Zheros.”
”I couldn't do that. It's just . . . too hard.”
”Besides,” Hircha said, ”that's my role. Unless you want to claim me as your long-lost daughter.”
His father frowned as he always did when Hircha turned her acid humor on him. For some reason, she enjoyed p.r.i.c.king him, probably because his father didn't know what to make of it. And because, despite her bravado, she was a little afraid of him.
”Aye. Well. Think about it. Both of you.”
Keirith shook his head. ”I want to go home, Fa.”
”I've come this far,” Hircha said, humor gone. ”I'll see it through to the end.”
Keirith shuddered now, recalling her words. Then he remembered his father's, fierce and soft: ”As long as I live, they will never take you to the heart-oak.”