A Play of Shadow (80 page)

Scourge ran across the snow, Wisp flew above it, her sack—and toad—in his claws. Being neither kruar nor dragon, Jenn pulled up her skirt to run through the new drifts, Night’s Edge having more snow than she remembered, and laughed.

She was glad to have such fine new boots.

Glad of so much.

The turn went ahead of her, catching the eyes of efflet, sparkling the hair of ylings, burnishing the mail of toads, for little cousins squatted in the snow as though to show her the way.

Her heart knew it.

There was the gap in the hedge, which wasn’t a gap in a hedge but the door to everything she held dearest and wanted most.

And there, as if he’d known, was Bannan. He began wading through the snow toward her, struggling and as desperate to reach her as she was him, both laughing for the joy of it.

Though Jenn was ever so impatient.

All at once, what had been snow and a struggle pending flew into the air and out of their way, becoming a cloud of tiny moths, then a twinkle, then gone.

“‘Keep Us Close,’” Bannan said as they came together at last.

Jenn Nalynn couldn’t agree more.

“Turtles.” Peggs shook her head, smiling. “That’s what you remember most?”

Turnip in hand, Jenn used her wrist to push hair from her forehead. Her sister reached across to tuck the stray lock behind her ear and she smiled her thanks. “If I could, I’d have brought my clothes to show you. Especially the simples,” she added, managing not to blush. “But they’re in Channen.” Not to mention coated in slime and mimrol from her time in the canal, being carried by those turtles.

Peggs had heard the entire tale while they prepared supper together, their father listening to the part about riding kruar through the Verge while he’d tea, and Kydd, though presumably busy painting, eavesdropping shamelessly through everything concerning the Shadow District and artisans, though Bannan had spoken to him in private.

The Uhthoffs’ having been most helpful and needing to know.

Peggs waved steam aside as she inspected her stew. “I wonder if Mistress Sand could bring some,” she mused aloud, “to trade, of course.”

She’d not thought of that. “I could ask,” Jenn offered.

A glance from knowing dark eyes. “So you’ll be going back. To the Verge.”

Jenn twirled the turnip idly, then aimed her knife at it. “Not right away,” she said comfortably, though in truth she hadn’t left.

For she was whole, now, and knew herself. She was more than the memory of flesh, held within glass, filled with tears. She was woman, and turn-born, and sei. Marrowdell. The Verge. Magic itself.

One and the same.

“Good,” Peggs declared, and Jenn didn’t for an instant think her perceptive sister had missed a thing. “Now—tell me more about these artisans.”

So she did.

Leaving out the rabbits.

“We’ll be fine.” Lila refolded a shirt Werfol had left on the bed, tucking that into a bag. Her youngest was off playing with Cheffy and Alyssa. “Will you?”

Semyn, in the bedroom to help his mother pack, looked up. “Wisp says he’ll be here.”

As now-permanent guest, it would seem. Must be in the rafters, there hardly seemed space amid the bundles. “I’m not the one returning to Vorkoun.” Bannan leaned against the window frame and frowned. “Is it so bad here?” She’d seemed content, in Marrowdell, teaching her sons when not helping the villagers. The breadth of Lila’s skills never ceased to amaze, but even he’d been surprised to learn she knew how to make cheese.

And Werfol could reliably sit the now-healed kruar.

His sister gave him a look he knew very well. She’d sat still long enough, his Lila. No longer.

He’d expected it. She’d waited for the kruar to heal, that was all. “Stay till after the celebration,” he urged. “That at least.”

“Please, Momma?” Semyn asked. “I promised to play.”

Her lips quirked. “Well, then. We mustn’t break a promise.”

Meaning nothing so benign as the boy’s pipes and the dance. They’d talked it through—he, Lila, and Tir. How Glammis might have learned of their gifts, be it a slip from someone trusted or malice left from the marches. What he wanted with them.

How to prevent it.

In Lila’s hands, that, as was her pendant. She’d heard how Werfol had used it more than once, something new in her experience with truedreaming, and intended to learn more. Though Kydd, knowing something of such magic, had cautioned it might not have been the endearment alone, but Marrowdell. Oh, the gleam in her eye then. Bannan thought it more than likely his sister would be back. With her family, of course.

A joy in itself to believe.

Last and not least, Lila had put the box, with its weight of letters and seals and dire guilt, in his care, to keep in Marrowdell and safe. She’d not said what to do with it, should the need arise.

Making him her threat, his sister, which was no joy at all.

“The celebration and no longer,” Lila said then, reaching for another small shirt like any mother packing for her children. “I’ve ’dreamed. Your father’s ready for us.” She eyed her son. “We’ve a new cook.”

Semyn went still, then nodded. Heart’s Blood, he’d wish she spare the boy—but that wasn’t the life they led, his family. Not and be safe. “I’ll write,” Bannan promised gruffly.

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation, little brother?”

He pretended to grimace, then smiled. “If you must.”

To his surprise, her face softened. “Thank you.” More briskly, with that familiar glint to her eye. “Now, what’s left to pack? Semyn, be sure to check every bag.”

“For what, Momma?”

Lila glanced at Bannan, a dimple in one cheek.

“For toads.”

The Midwinter Beholding was held in Marrowdell, as it was throughout Rhoth and her neighbor, Mellynne, on the longest night of the year. Boughs of fragrant cedar were tied throughout the mill, and lanterns carefully lit. A feast was prepared, as feasts should be, using the best from larders and shelves.

Plus an immense platter of ompah, to the particular joy of Master Jupp.

Baking there was, all the favorites plus puddings and sweet sausage pie, being traditional at this time. As, in Marrowdell, was the wearing of one’s very best winter coats, it not being possible to heat the mill.

Dancers would warm themselves, once the meal sat comfortably in stomachs, though most would return to nibble, there being sweet trays to come later and savory and surprise treats tied in little bags.

Bags used the last year and years before that, and those not frayed saved for next year, it being one of the Ancestors Blessings to add the old to the new.

Added to this year were the Westietas, mother and sons, as well as Tir Half-face, being himself of Marrowdell as much as any place or more. Semyn played on his old pipes, his new flute packed to be taken and repaired, with Weed helping Cheffy keep the beat on a drum.

When they weren’t playing tag with Alyssa.

Lila and Lorra, having discovered they’d much in common, sat together. Plotting to take over the world, Bannan would say, only half in jest, but he was as pleased as any there, to see color in Lorra’s cheeks and hear her argue to her heart’s content.

While she could. Zehr and Davi had crafted a sled from the wood of Lila’s wagon, for as she’d put it, Emon would need the tools of his office soon.

Though a little anarchy, she’d grinned, was good for him.

A bagful of letters would return with them as well, the opportunity to send word midwinter not to be missed. Aunt Sybb wouldn’t be the only one surprised and pleased.

The sled and all its contents would be pulled, much to the astonishment of those who knew kruar, by Spirit and Dauntless. Jenn had gladly wished away the saddles grown onto their backs, expecting the pair to seek their freedom. But once healed, they’d accepted the traces without demur, being, it turned out, enamored of Werfol and Lila.

Semyn, ever prudent, kept his distance.

According to Wisp, the kruar vied to be fools like Scourge. Scourge seemed content, having proclaimed he was, in fact, too big for Werfol. Anything but admit to being glad to have his own truthseer back and safe.

And so worlds tugged each other this way, then that, Jenn Nalynn thought, gazing down at all this from the attic, her chin on the rail around the stair, her legs and feet—bare—dangling over. She could feel it, how the light of the Verge would begin to retreat before the light of the sun, days longer here, but not necessarily shorter there.

The Verge hardly so predictable.

“May I join you?”

She smiled and patted the floor. A moth flew up and away as Bannan slipped his legs through and sat. “Our first Midwinter Beholding.”

Jenn looked askance at him. “What do you think?”

He put his arm around her. “I like it.”

“The dancing will—” She paused, it being hard to speak and pay proper attention to a kiss at the same time, and the kiss being the more interesting process, then continued, breathlessly, “—start soon.”

“I like dancing. I like the food. I like almost everything.”

She looked askance at him for the second time. “‘Almost.’”

Bannan could look remarkably innocent. He did now, widening his apple butter eyes and smiling. “I’ll have my house back, in a couple of days. You know what it will need then?”

Her heart began to pound. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He put his face close hers, lowered his voice to a delicious rumble, and said, “Another toad.”

She sat back and pushed at him. “You have your own.”

Bannan laughed, undeterred. “A map, then. I need a map for my wall.”

Why . . . catching on to the game, Jenn took a breath, feeling giddier than a couple of ciders and happiness could explain. “I suppose you need another pair of boots too.”

“How did you know? And clothes. Drawers full of clothes.” He ran a finger through her hair. “And a hair brush,” this tender and soft and now she saw the hope in his eyes and realized he was more than a little giddy too.

Before the sun had set, they’d all stood in the ossuary, snow to their knees, to silently tell their Ancestors Dear and Departed, including Frann, of every fault and every triumph of the past year, then every hope for the next.

She’d not looked at Bannan then, nor wished. She’d simply told her Ancestors of her new and special hope, for this very year.

So, it seemed, had he.

“A toad.” She pretended not to understand. “A map. Boots, clothes, and a brush?” Then Jenn Nalynn smiled, from her heart. “I believe all that could be arranged.”

They kissed, then and again, and whether she had a heart or simply the memory of one didn’t matter, for Jenn felt hers about to burst with joy, and they might have kept kissing, but the music started below and tables were moved and someone—likely Hettie—shouted up at them to come down, then everyone did.

With Lila’s voice the loudest.

Bannan helped her to her feet. He blew a kiss down to his sister, then glanced at Jenn. He started to frown, muttering, “Ancestors Bothered and Brash,” as if struck by sudden concern. “I’d best tell you now, Dearest Heart. You may—” oh, and this so grim and serious she knew it was nothing of the sort and managed not to smile, “—change your mind.”