Part 22 (1/2)
”Tween, old friend I hope I find you well?”
The cat graciously touched his nose to the offered fingertip, then rose, stretched with languid thoroughness, and yawned
”Tween?” Moonhawk asked quietly Often, over the ician's overfondness for words; yet, confronted noith a Lute alked silent, she perversely wished to have her light-tongued colanced at her, black eyes hooded ”It was Rowan's joke, see you The cat is neither all black, which would easily allow of it being named Newmoon; nor all white, which leads one rather inescapably to Snowfall Indeed, as Roould have it, the cat lands precisely between two appropriate and time-honored cat names-an act of deliberate willfulness, so Roore-and thus beca against the care basket
”Rowan loved a joke-the hed”
He shook hi to pick up the basket The cat followed hih Lute put his hand on the latch, pushed
”Locked”
”Surely you expected that,” Moonhawk hed
”A man may hear ill news and yet still hope that it is untrue Optimistic creatures, men I did not hope to find Rowan alive, but ” He let the rest drift off, raised his hard and brought sharp knuckles against the wood, then drifted back a step, head tipped inquisitively to one side The cat settled beside hiroom
At respectful intervals, Lute leaned forward to knock twice, then three times The door remained closed”Well, then” He set the care basket down, slipped his bag fros appeared, holding the bag at a convenient height Moonhaatched closely while he opened the clasp and put his hand inside: Lute'sheld such a diverse and numerous collection of objects that she had lately for, but three, attached in soical oing to do?” she asked ”Break the lock?”
He looked at her ”Break the lock on the house of one of s were otherwise, it ht have been necessary to resort to lockpicks, but I assure you that my skill is such that the lock would have suffered no ill”
She blinked ”Lockpicks? Another hand-ic,” Lute said sole a confusing array of oddly contorted wires ”By ician e lock and iic to me, Master Lute”
”Pah! As if a thief could be so skilled! But no matter, we need not resort to lockpicks for this” He replaced the
”No?” said Moonhawk, eyebrows rising ”How then will you open the door? Sing?”
”Sing? Perhaps they sing locks at Te shut and hung it back on the strap
”Which is?”
”A key” He displayed it; a rough iron thing half the length of his hand
”A key,” she repeated ”And how caave ht and find the door locked” He gestured, showing her the lowering sun ”It is, I see, still daylight I find the door-alas!-is locked Bring the basket”
He stepped up to the door, key at ready Moonhawk bent and picked up the care basket, settling it over her arm A sharp snap sounded, Lute pushed the door open and stepped into the house beyond, the cat walking at his knee
With a deep sense of foreboding, Moonhawk followed
”VEVERAIN?” LUTE'S VOICE lacked its usual ringing vitality, as if the rooh to muffle sound ”Veverain, it's Lute!”
Moonhawk stood by the door, letting her eyes adjust; slowly, she picked out a table, benches, the hulking ht on the situation,” Lute said A blot of darkness in the kitchen's twilight, he moved surely across the room There was a clatter as he slid back the lock bars and threw the shutters wide, ad into being Dusty pots hung neatly above the cold stove; spice bundles dangled from the low eaves; pottery was stacked, orderly and cobwebbed, on ashed shelves The table was dyanwood, scrubbed white; the work surfaces were tiled, the glaze dull with dust
”Well” Face gri, and dropped the the room, he pulled a la to a work table
Moonhaalked slowly forward Despite the light froy It was also cold-bone-chilling, heart-stopping cold She wondered that Lute had put aside his cloak
She set the care basket on the table and pulled her own cloak tighter about her Lute had filled the la the ith his silver knife Moonhawk shi+vered, and recalled the neat stack of wood on the porch, hard by the door
”I'll start the stove,” she said to Lute's back He looked 'round abstractedly
”Yes Thank you”
”No,” said another voice, from the back of the room ”I will thank you both to leave”
Moonhawk spun Lute calers, before he, too, turned to face his hostess
”Veverain, have I changed so much in one year's travel? It's Lute”
”Perhaps you have not changed,” the woman in the faded houserobe said, with a lack of e the back of Moonhawk's neck, ”but all else has Rowan is dead”
”Yes I h Street” Lute went forward, hands outstretched ”I loved him, too, Veverain”
She stared at him, stonily, and neither moved to meet him, nor lifted her hands to receive his Lute stopped, hands slowly dropping to his sides
”Leave ain, and it seee this time, as if her stoniness covered an e
Perhaps Lute heard it, too, or perhaps his skill brought him more subtle information In any wise, he did not leave, but stood, hands spread wide, and voice aggrieved
”Leave? Without even a cup of tea to warm me? You yourself said that I should never want for at least that of you The thought of taking a cup of tea at your table has been all that hasbearable!”
”Have you not understood?” And the untarief was plain to the ear, now ”I say to you that Rowan is dead!”
”Rowan is dead,” Lute repeated gently ”He is beyond the coestured 'round the rooe flourish, and Moonhaas absurdly relieved to find herself included-”are not”
There was a long moment of silence
”Tea,” Veverain said, and her voice was stone once more ”Very well””I'll start the stove,” Moonhawk said for the second time, and went out to fetch an armload of wood
When she came back to the kitchen, so desperately against his chest
MOONHAWK IT WAS who , and served it, silently, to the tho faced each other across the table She carried her own