Fly Up into the Night Air (27 page)

* * *

Griff stared at his empty mug for a moment, then placed it rim down, on the bar. Harte was surprised. "You don't want another?"

Griff shrugged. "I'm not thirsty."

"You'll not be singing a dirge all night?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"We both knew the likely result."

"Yes." Griff played with his mug, attempting to spin it on it's rim. "I didn't think about it much at the beginning ..." He threw out a hand as though to toss something away. "The truth is, it felt like a game, and we were busy. Anyway, knowing the keg will run dry doesn't prevent you from feeling parched when it does."

Harte looked for words on the battered surface of the bar. "I'll visit--write."

"Oh, leave off. You'll be gallivanting around with Stilian, while I'll be here wondering if I've a living anymore."

Harte felt his stomach clench. "The Council didn't release you?"

"No, but they'll never entirely trust me again."

"God! I'm sorry, Griff. I didn't think--"

"Oh, shut up. You enjoyed every minute of it, and so did I." Griff shrugged. "Now, it's time to mend the crockery."

"I will speak to my father. He will--"

"You will not! I don't need your charity, Harte, or your father's. I will miss you, that's all. Leave it alone; you cannot fix it. I knew what I was doing same as you did."

"Will you leave the watch--or Walford's Crossing?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. But I joined the watch to serve more than the private needs of wealthy councilmen. What we did together was proper justice, and I want to see more of it. But Sister Grace ..."

"You do not want to leave her."

"She made me what I am, and I pushed her away. Then you ... when you came back to Walford's Crossing, I had found a cosy place in the watch. Now, I feel a draft and notice the chinks in the wall."

Harte looked at Griff helplessly. "Let me buy you a drink."

Griff sighed. "All right. Get me a clean mug, will you?"

* * *

Harte found Stilian in his room, reading, his long legs resting on the back of the couch. Stilian spoke as Harte craned his neck to see what Stilian was reading.

"You've made up your mind."

"Could you not at least give me the illusion of a little privacy?"

Stilian lowered his book and wiggled his toes. "Tell me." Harte sat down and pulled one of Stilian's feet into his lap and began rubbing it.

"I will go with you and Peli to Grayholme."

"Ah, that's good."

Harte wasn't sure if he was referring to the trip or the foot rub.

"And after?" Stilian asked.

"I don't know. Can't we let tomorrow take care of tomorrow?"

"I will keep asking until you say no."

Epilogue

"I thought I might find you out out here."

Harte shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun. "Well met, Thalia." He sat up and pointed. "Hey, look at what I've found! The crocuses are coming up."

"So they are." Thalia sat down on the blanket next to Harte. She pointed down the mountainside, past gray-brown hardwoods sprinkled with new growth like green confectioner's sugar, to a small clear patch. "See that meadow? Come May, it will be covered in poppies. That was where Hugh and I first walked together. Hugh used to sneak down there to get away from the other students. One day, I followed him. We had been singing together so I thought he would welcome me." She chuckled. "He was not happy with me for invading his private place and wouldn't talk to me. But he got over it."

Harte smiled. "You and Hugh seem so easy together. Stilian and I ..."

"It comes with time." She shrugged. "Or you grow apart and give up."

"I can't believe that happens to the Canny very often."

"Really? There is nothing magical about being canny. We lose our way as often as any."

"But Stilian knows what I'm feeling. I have to guess at him."

"Harte! Is a cloudless sky beautiful? Phooey. Give me clouds. Rain. Rays of sun bursting through, like a sex after an argument." Harte felt his face grow hot, but Thalia was just getting started. "Do you think Stilian is perfect? That you cannot measure up? Hah! Love is not like that." She pinched the skin on one spotted forearm and shook it vigorously. "We love one another despite our moles. Hugh and I have spent nearly twenty years running schools that are four
long
travel days apart. Was that perfection? I have had days when I could have eviscerated Hugh just for not being here with me."

Harte thought out loud. "Stilian is pretty funny when he's drunk--which is too often."

"Yes, and he drools in his sleep. So what? Get a leather pillow."

"He has asked me to travel with him, to 'see the world beyond the shire.' I have been thinking that the thaw would be a good time to take a journey."

Thalia batted angrily at a fly, her face averted. "We have been begging him to come home for two years."

"I know. But he has so many memories here at Grayholme. I see it in his eyes. We'll be walking past some unremarkable corner, his eyes will lose focus, and he's not with
me
anymore. He will not talk about it, but I know he still grieves Kit." He looked out upon the greening world. "We will visit. Peli will not forgive us if we do not visit."

Thalia smiled at him through her tears. "Nor will I."