Bloodstone Part 65

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 flushing, 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 worshiped 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."

Once they were gone, Darak bundled Callie into bed while Faelia and Hircha helped her clean up. Keirith stood uncertainly by the fire pit. He looked so lost. Before she could speak, Darak said, "Tired, son?"

"Aye."

"It's been a long day."

The broody look descended again; strange how the expression could be so similar in a face altogether different.

"Try not to worry about the council meeting," Darak said, then shrugged awkwardly as if he understood how impossible that was.

Keirith just nodded and started unlacing his strange foot-gear. Why bother to wear shoes at all if your heels and toes hung out? On the morrow, she'd trim down his old shoes; they'd be too large for his feet now.

"I'm afraid you and Faelia will have to share a pallet," she told Hircha.

Hircha shot Faelia a shy glance. "I don't mind. If you don't. I don't snore." She frowned and glanced over her shoulder at Keirith. "Do I?"

"Nay. But Faelia does."

Faelia stuck her tongue out, then looked abashed.

"Merciful Maker, Faelia, it's me!" Keirith looked even more abashed than Faelia. "I'm sorry."

"Nay, it's my fault."

"It's no one's fault," Darak said. "It'll take us a while to get used to each other again." His gaze drifted toward her, then back to the children. "But no matter what's happened, we're still the same people we always were. Aye?"

"Aye, Fa." Faelia kissed his cheek, then glared at Keirith. "And I don't snore." When Keirith rolled his eyes, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up his discarded shoe and threw it at him. He ducked, grinning.

"Stop that," Griane ordered. "You'll wake Callie."

"A portal to Chaos could open up and Callie would sleep through it," Keirith said. "Even Faelia's snoring doesn't-"

The second shoe hit him in the head.

"Enough. Both of you. Hircha will think we're savages."

Hircha shook her head, her expression almost wistful. Faelia flopped down on the wolfskins and ostentatiously turned her back on Keirith. Despite the warmth of the evening, Hircha slipped under the furs. Faelia rolled over to whisper something that made Hircha smile.

Griane smoothed Callie's hair and hesitated beside Keirith. "Good night, son."

"Good night, Mam. It's . . . it's good to be home." His hands rose, then fell back. Quickly, she opened her arms. She could feel him trembling and realized this was the first time she had touched him.

G.o.ds forgive me. How could I have failed to hug him?

His body was still slender, but broader through the shoulders. A man's body now. It was hard to guess the priest's age with that smooth skin and unlined face. Older than Urkiat, probably. Keirith had not only lost his body but years of life, too. She hugged him fiercely, wishing she could restore those lost years and protect him from the council of elders and the stares of their kinfolk and all the pain he would endure in the coming days.

"I'm just so glad you're home. And I'm sorry . . ." Her voice broke.

"It's not your fault, Mam."

But of course, it was.

Darak's hands came down on her shoulders and she started. "I was thinking of going to the lake," he said. "I've so much salt crusted on me, I might crack." His smile was as hesitant as Keirith's. "Will you come?"

She nodded, equally shy. "I need to wash out these clothes."

Through the indeterminate gray of twilight, they walked to the lake. Griane wondered if it was mere chance that led them along the beach to the place where they had made their peace after the interrogation.

Darak pulled off his clothes and waded into the water. While she scrubbed her birthing skirt, she stole covert glances at him and caught him doing the same. Fellgair's presence loomed between them as tangibly as if the G.o.d were standing there.

Only when Darak was drying himself with his mantle did she slip off her birthing tunic. Just as quickly, she pulled the other over her head and kept on with her scrubbing. She could feel him behind her, watching. And all she could do was squat like a fool, rubbing Catha's blood from her tunic.

"Talk to me."

She babbled something about Faelia's rite of womanhood.

"Nay. Griane. Talk to me."

He'd pulled on his spare tunic and was sitting on the same rock he'd sat on after washing the raiders' blood from his body. She'd been the one to reach out that day. Now he was doing the same.

She abandoned her scrubbing and rose. "Fellgair killed Jurl."

"What?"

"He was threatening me. About the boy. The raider."

"He didn't hurt you?" He was off the rock, but froze when she backed away.

"Nay. Fellgair appeared. Before anything could happen."

"He just . . . appeared."

She took a deep breath. "I was waiting for him. In the glade of the heart-oak. I asked him for help."

Darak sank slowly down on the rock.

"You don't know what it was like! Gortin had a terrible vision. He saw you being sacrificed. And when I went to Muina, she said you were sick-" She broke off as Darak's head jerked up. "It was a rite. With all the priestesses. I saw Keirith. He spoke to me. But I couldn't see you. Muina hadn't the strength by then. I only knew you were sick. So ..."

"You went to Fellgair."

"I was alone. I had no one to help me." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "At least Fellgair . . ."

"What? At least Fellgair didn't desert you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Nay, but you meant it." He stalked toward her, then abruptly veered away. "He hinted that you'd come to him. And then today, when we landed, and you said that he'd told you about Keirith . . . I was just glad it wouldn't be such a shock. I should have expected such trickery from Fellgair, but . . . good G.o.ds, Griane, what were you thinking-asking him for help?"