Part 65 (1/2)
Too soon, Callie squirmed free. ”How come if you're a man your face is so smooth?”
”The raiders don't have a lot of hair on their faces.”
”Why?”
”I don't know.”
”Don't you have to shave at all?”
”Nay.”
”Will you ever?”
”Probably not.”
Callie considered this. ”Do you have hair in your crotch now?”
”I had hair in my crotch before!”
Faelia giggled. Then Hircha. Keirith felt himself flus.h.i.+ng, but then he laughed. In a moment, they were all laughing except Callie, who just looked puzzled. ”What about the hair on your head?”
”That'll grow in.” Keirith took Callie's hand and drew it back and forth over the soft stubble. ”The priests there shave their heads. A moon ago, I didn't have any hair at all.”
”It feels like the sheep. After the shearing. I know! I'll shave my head, too, and then we'll both look the same.”
Keirith pulled him back into his arms and buried his face against the soft, warm neck.
Griane took refuge in preparing supper. She had to do something to keep from staring at Keirith. Before she could ask Faelia to help, Hircha picked up a knife and began skinning the rabbits Faelia had snared that morning.
”I worked in the kitchen,” she said with a hesitant smile.
”Kitchen?”
”Where the food was cooked.”
A place just for cooking. It was as inconceivable as Darak's claim that you had to purchase water. With half her mind, she listened to the stories they told Callie-silly tales about the strange group of performers Darak had fallen in with and incredible descriptions of the place Keirith had lived. An enormous building of stone with more rooms than there were huts in the village. Painted tree trunks that held up the roofs or simply marched alongside a path for no reason whatsoever. A tame wildcat that took food right from your fingers.
Callie interrupted with dozens of questions, but whenever he asked about the bad man, Darak or Keirith steered the conversation to another topic. Since she was prepared for Fellgair to enter the tale, she could listen with the same wonder as the children when Darak revealed that the raiders wors.h.i.+ped the Trickster, too.
It was harder to hear how Fellgair entered Darak's spirit. She knew how much pain his brief account hid and found it hard to forgive Fellgair for choosing that method-of all the ones in the world-to help Darak. Still, it had worked. Darak had saved their boy. It was more than she had done.
She doubted Fellgair had told him about their bargain; despite his time with the players, Darak was not a good enough performer to hide his feelings. Yet each time Fellgair's name came up, she could feel his eyes on her, gauging her reaction. It would be just like the Trickster to hint that a bargain existed without revealing the details.
Then Callie asked why Urkiat hadn't come home with them.
”He died, son. He was pretending to fight with me. But we were using real swords-they're like long daggers. And Urkiat . . . he didn't move when I expected him to.”
”You killed him? You killed Urkiat?”
”Callie!” Her voice sounded too shrill, too sharp. Even Hircha was staring. ”It was an accident.”
”The bad man made Fa and Urkiat fight,” Keirith said. ”Urkiat was . . . distracted. Just for a moment. Fa didn't mean to hurt him.”
Fellgair had told her much the same story, but the bitterness in Keirith's voice proved there was more to it than a simple accident.
To her surprise, Hircha squatted down beside Callie. ”He died in your father's arms.”
”You were there, too?”
”Aye. I saw it all. And I think-at the end-he must have been glad to have your father with him. Holding him. Easing him on his way. Helping him . . . drift off.”
Griane saw the looks Darak and Keirith exchanged, but Callie was intent on Hircha's face. ”Like when Fa rocks me to sleep? Safe like that?”
”Aye. Just like that.”
She let her palm rest against his cheek a moment, then abruptly turned away as if embarra.s.sed by her show of affection.
”Jurl died, too,” Callie said.
”Jurl?” Darak's shock was obvious. ”What happened?”
”He threw a fit. And he fell over by the heart-oak and his eyes bulged out and-”
”That's enough,” Griane said.
”Well, they did.”
”We're not going to discuss it tonight.”
When talk turned to happier news, Griane gratefully allowed Faelia to carry the conversation. She couldn't help sneaking glances at Keirith, looking for familiar gestures and expressions. When he caught her at it, she smiled brightly. His answering smile was so eager it made her ache. Then the smile would slip and he would fall silent, staring into the fire pit or glancing around the hut as if seeing it for the first time. And then catch himself with a quick, guilty start before picking up the thread of the conversation again with a stranger's apologetic laugh.
Darak saw it all, of course. His hands betrayed his anxiety, reaching out too often to pat Keirith's knee or squeeze his arm, bringing him back from the shadows with a gentle touch or a soft word. Only as the evening wore on did she realize that Darak touched him as much for his comfort as for Keirith's. And that something unspoken flickered between them, as if each knew exactly what the other was thinking and feeling. Perhaps they did. Their spirits had dwelled together. They knew each other intimately. More intimately than she could hope to know either of them.
The sudden stab of jealousy shocked her. She must have made a sound, for every face turned toward her. ”Forgive me. I'm being stupid and sentimental. I'm just . . . I'm so happy you're home.”
Grateful tears welled up in Keirith's eyes. Darak smiled across the fire pit, but his gaze lingered on her too thoughtfully.
Muina's arrival helped dissipate the tension. Keirith's face lit up when Lisula and Ennit followed her inside, but the light died when he realized they'd brought only the younger children.
”Blame Ennit,” Lisula said, quick to notice Keirith's disappointment. ”He made poor Conn stay with the flock so he could visit with Darak.”
”Poor Conn will have his turn on the morrow,” Ennit announced, too heartily. ”Uncle Lorthan's too old to be scrambling about the hills at night. And with Trian gone, that just leaves Conn and me.”
”And me!” Callie shouted.
Keirith smiled with the rest of them. He seemed to enjoy the company and as the evening wore on, some of the shadows retreated from his face. But now and then, Griane caught him watching the doorway as if expecting Conn to appear.
One by one, the children fell asleep. When Hircha struggled to hide a yawn, Muina said, ”You should be ashamed of yourself, Lisula. Keeping these poor folk up half the night so you could hear their stories.”
Lisula smiled; after so many years, she was used to Muina's humor. She hugged Darak hard. ”It's so good to have you home. But you need feeding. You're skin and bones.” Then she turned to Keirith. ”And you-you are a gift from the Maker. My blessings on you, Keirith. Tonight and always.”