Part 57 (1/2)

Dewar watched, something tightening in his chest, as Prospero brushed fresh tears from her cheeks and kissed her eyes.

”Poor Puss, thy eyes are weary o' weeping. Ban these tears. An oath's an oath, my girl, and that the Emperor hath falsely sworn shall be to his injury in the end. All know't, but he believeth himself above truth and honor and other human constraints. He that liveth faithlessly shall die the same, and 'twill be a glad day for the earth when his foot weighs no more on't. Aye, I must hold to my word. Greater ill-'tis scarce conceivable-worser things should come of Sorcerer and a Qentteman 467.

my breaking vow than keeping it. I have done what 1 could to protect thee, dearest of mine heart.”

”I don't want you to give up sorcery,” Freia whispered. ”It's everything. You shouldn't have to give up everything.”

”Well, I shall learn new tricks to fill my days,” Prospero said hollowly. ”Puss, 1 cannot think on't much, else it preys on my thought and devoureth it. Prithee speak not oft. I cannot be unsworn. Mine oath is made in blood and fire and shall endure until all the world be unmade around us. I shall aid thee in governance of thy city and live as other men.”

”I don't want a city! You know that. I never wanted a city.”

”No tears, no sighs. Hush. We shall all have things we do not want, Freia, burthens of undesirability unsurpa.s.sed. Thine be lighter than many others'. And canst not deny; 'tis sealed and entered in the t.i.tles of Landuc. Bribery put it there, but nothing can remove it. No tears, I say; hast courage enough to fare into a wilderness, and must have courage to face what thou hast found.” He kissed her eyes again.

”Oh, Papa.” Freia hugged him around the neck. Dewar s.h.i.+fted his gaze to the fire's dull coals, for a tear glittered on Prospero's beard, and it was not hers.

”There's my true brave maid, my nimble-footed huntress,” Prospero said, patting her back.

Freia sniffed once and sat back, half on his lap still. ”Let's go home,” she said.

”Needs must, Puss,” he said gravely. ”There's much I must do yet to fulfill my word.” He laid his hand on her cheek. ”How came you here? Afoot?”

”Horses. Epona and Torrent. We half-killed them, poor creatures. I was walking them,” she recalled, and brushed her hair back.

”Find them-Hurricane's got 'em, no doubt-bring 'em here. We'll walk homeward some ways. There's better resting places beyond this waste for man and beast alike.”

She nodded, rose, and went into the dark. They heard her whistling for the horses.

Prospero regarded Dewar by the ebbing coal-light. ”I know not what to make of thee, boy.”

468.

'E&zafot.i.t Itfittey Dewar's mouth twitched; he lifted an eyebrow. ”I could take offense, sir.”

”Better, then: I know not what to make of thee, son.”

Dewar glanced after Freia, back to Prospero's steel-colored gaze: less of steel than cloud in his eyes now. He sought words, but they slipped apart and would not connect to meanings. ”You threw a war,” Dewar said.

”I'd not put it so,” said Prospero gruffly. ”I'd say, a man doth not squander what be most precious-life's-blood. Even in another's body.”