Part 7 (1/2)

Pellen knew Deenie well. She and his Charis were good friends, thick as thieves. Only a year between the girls, with Deenie the younger, living in each others pockets like peas in a pod.

Asher glanced at Dathne, whose eyes were tear-washed. His heart, which he was guarding, cracked a little for her pain. I aint fratchin you, Dath. Youre their ma, you know whats best.

Can I take a moment with him? said Pellen. Ill not stay long.

Of course, said Dathne, and stroked a hand down Pellens arm. Its good of you to come.

As Pellen crossed to the bed to say his goodbyes, Dathne wiped her wet cheek with the back of one hand. The dear old man told the children one of his stories. The storm at Westwailing. He said youre the bravest man he ever knew. Oh, Asher Each word was a hammer blow, cracking his heart wider still. That ole fool, that ole scarecrow, that manky ole man. He couldnt speak.

Pellen rejoined them. Ill leave you, he said, his voice rough with sorrow. Send word whensend word. Between us well see hes treated right. Lur owes him a debt he never would let us repay.

On tip-toe, Dathne kissed his cheek. Thank you, Pellen.

Asher nodded. Aye. Thanks.

Pother Kerril released Darrans wrist, straightened and turned. Im sorry, she said, heedless of Pellens departure. Its doubtful he will wake again.

As the pother gathered up her bits and pieces, Asher opened his arms. Dathne leaned into him, sobs choking in her throat. You should sit with him, she said at last. Ill go to the children. They shouldnt be without one of us.

Youre right, he said, and kissed her brow.

Dathne stepped back. He told the children he loves you. Make your peace with him while you can.

She and Kerril left after that, and he was alone in the sweet room with the old dying man. Taking hold of the chair beside the bed, he b.u.mped it closer and sat.

Whyd you make me yell at you, ole crow? he whispered, reaching for Darrans ice-cold hand. Aint I got enough regrets in my life, you make me yell at a dyin ole fool?

The palsy in Darrans face had quieted. He looked peaceful, and painless, breathing so slowly, so shallowly, it was hard to tell that he breathed at all.

You want me to say it, dont you? he demanded. You want me to say it so you can throw it back in my face. He dragged a silk forearm across his burning eyes. Fine, all right, you persnickety ole codger. I love you. You happy now? You got your last laugh? Come on, you meddlesome mugwort. Lets hear you laugh. Lets hear it. Come on.

The silence deepened, m.u.f.fling as snow.

Aye, well, thatd be right, he said. Got to have the last word, eh? Got to put me in my place. He tightened his fingers. When Gar died, I didnt hate him. You hear me, Darran? Are you listenin? You see him, you tell him that. You tell him that from me.

Deeper silence again. A breath held a waiting and then, like a blessing, the cold fingers in his moved.

But while he was weeping, Darran stole away.

CHAPTER FIVE.

After three days of folk saying how sorry they were hed died, they put Darran in the royal crypt next to Das best friend King Gar.

Staring at the marble effigy on top of the tomb, Rafel couldnt believe it wasnt ole Darran magically turned to white stone. He didnt know which was more shocking: that the effigy was so perfect, or that Da had made it. Da never used magic. Only glimfire, and that didnt count. He never talked of it, even. And if anyone tried to make him, well that wasnt a good idea.

Only once hed ever been frightened of Da, and that was the day he complained because other boys fathers did magic, so why wouldnt he? It wasnt fair. The boys he knew from the City, from schoolDoranen boys like Arlin Garrickthey laughed at him and said mean things. Why didnt Da care?

Afterwards, Mama sat with him and let him cry a little bit into her lap. Hed been eight, too big for tears, but Da had been so fearsome angry he couldnt help it.

If those boys laugh again then you walk away, shed told him, cuddling him close. Stupid boys, what would they know? Magics a solemn thing, Rafe. Its not for boasting, or for playing like a game.

Goose plays, hed muttered, sniffing. And that Arlin, he shows off all the time.

Mama flicked the end of his nose. Youre not Goose, or Arlin Garrick. This familys got its own rules when it comes to magic. Rafe She tightened her arms. I hope youre being a good boy. I hope you remember what Da and I said. No-one can know theres Doranen magic in you. Not yet. Not until we tell you its safe to say.

He hated being told that. Why did he have to be a secret? Why did it matter he could do Doranen things? And he could. He did. And not just cracking stones, either. For three weeks now, safe on his lonesome, hed been doing Doranen magics pinched from Arlin Garrick and his poxy friends, and getting the incants and sigils right every time.

Hed had to do it. The itching in him that only magic could scratch got so bad it kept him awake. Got so bad that cracking stones made no difference. The first time he did it, broke his word to Da and Mama, he nigh on wet his trews from fear. Half-expected to die, or be found out. But he didnt. He wasnt. The Doranen magic worked. He turned his white-painted woodcarved pony jet black and nowt terrible happened.

Almost a dozen Doranen spells hed pinched since then, and not once had things gone wrong. So why was he meant to stay a secret? It wasnt fair.

Rafe, said Mama. Are you listening?

Yes, Mama, he said, nodding. Feeling so bad to be lying. Knowing he could never tell her the truth.

Oh, Rafel, she said. Theres more to life than magic. It doesnt make you brave, or good, or strong. You wouldnt be any happier, I promise, if Da and I let you run about the place casting spells from sunup to sundown. Believe me.

She was wrong, but he had to pretend she was right. Yes, Mama.

Yes, Mama, she echoed, smiling, but her eyes were sad. Youre a big boy, Rafe, but youre not grown-up yet. There are things your Da and I know that you dont. Youll have your magic when its time, and not before.

Later that night, when he was tucked up in bed, Da had come to see him. In the warm summer darkness hed sat beside him, his arms safe and strong and holding, his cheek scratchy with stubble.

Sorry I shouted, Rafe, he said, his voice gruff. Sorry I scared you. Youre only eight, a spratling. You dont understand.

Is magic bad, Da? hed asked. Cause I got magic. Does that mean Im bad?

No, Da said, and crushed him so close it was hard to breathe. But you got to be careful, Rafe. Magics deep and dark and dangerous, especially for you.

And there was Da hinting, just like Mama. They were always hinting, they never came out and said. Cause Im like you, Da? Why is that dangerous?

Da sighed. That be a small question with a sinkin big answer, sprat. When you be a mite older well try talkin it through. But for now you got to trust me and your ma to know whats best.

Everything was about when he was older. But he wanted to know now. This was his life, not theirs. And anyway, they were wrong. His Doranen magic wasnt dangerous. It was the best thing in the world.

Da kissed the top of his head. Feels mean, dont it, sprat. Feels poxy unfair. But I never said life was fair, did I? Never promised you that.

No, he never did. He shook his head against Das broad chest. Nuh-uh.

And I will tell you, Rafe, said Da. One day. When you be ready to know.

Though it was dark in his room, not even glimfire, just a little moonlight spilling between the drawn curtains, hed looked up, struggled to read his fathers face. Thought he saw in it truth, and sadness, and memories he didnt want to share.

Really, Da? You promise?

My word, Rafe, said Da, nodding. Man to man.