Untitled (55 page)

Her home.

Every so often, she caught a glimpse of silver here and there in the Grove—Poe with her little Silver tech animals and fanciful benign beasts she loved to create and turn loose. Poe's skill with her power was now quite impressive. She'd even created a silver seal with bright, solemn eyes that could talk and fly. She'd been inspired by Dav's stories of Carahil. Dav had to admit the seal, recalling his old friend, was his favorite.

She could vaguely smell the meats and dishes being readied in the great hall for their wedding feast—over a thousand people waiting to sit and eat and raise a toast to she and Dav. All their friends were there. Even Kilos was out of her beloved Marine uniform and was beautiful in a lovely dress, standing tall next to her handsome husband. The last they saw of Ki and her husband, they appeared to be heading off to some dark, quiet part of the castle for some alone time. She couldn't wait to sit there at the table with Dav together as lord and countess. She took a deep breath. The feast smelled good, and she was hungry.

Down below, she could see Dav waiting for her, his CARG glinting in the early evening light. She guessed she'd wander around up here for a bit and then go back down. She'd pretend to have had an encounter of some sort, collect her husband, and return to the castle. She waved at him, and he waved back.

Turning, she wandered into the hazy maze of tombs, hoping to see an old Blanchefort ghost.

* * * * *

She'd walked a bit, allowing herself to get lost in the boulevards, lanes, and alleys of tombs. She didn't worry; her Black Hat ability to sense her direction was available for her use should she need it. Her feet were pinching badly, and once or twice, she stopped to get those Blanchefort shoes off and throw them, but recalling what Dav had said, she kept them on. The things she did for her husband and his ghost ancestors.

Moving on, she reached the far end of the hill. The tombs here were ancient. They were weathered, shapeless with old age, and covered in vines and centuries of tangled growth. The name plates on the doors were written in Vith, which she didn't know. The doorways were open, and the stony interiors were dark. Syg went into one and sat for a moment, the smell of age and mildew heavy. Anyone else probably would have been pretty scared in such a place—the dark, languid interior, the possibility of an old Blanchefort shade lurking nearby high. Syg, though, felt nothing but a bit of boredom, an empty stomach, and a growing desire to return to her husband.

She heard something outside and went out.

In the distance she saw a figure reaching out for her. The figure, backlit with some ethereal light, retreated into the distance. Pulling her shoes off, Syg followed, running as fast as she could. If it was a ghost, she wasn't going to let it get away.

Soon, she reached the tomb of Sadric, Davage's father. The figure was there, sitting, misty, weeping.

"Never wanted me … he never wanted me," the figure moaned.

Syg stood there and watched the figure.

"Who are you? Tell me please," Syg said

The figure turned to her. There was a hollow space where the head should be.

"You," it said. "You only love him because I loved him. You feel what I felt."

"Lady Hathaline, is that you?"

The figure stood. "You were going to kill him in your dreams—as if you could. I stopped you. I stayed your hand! I helped you to see him for what he is. I stopped you so that he did not have to kill you in turn!"

"You've been among us? He's not seen you, though he's looked and looked."

"I hid from him. I hid from his Sight. I was ashamed. But I've never been too far away. Even in death, I cannot forget him."

Syg gazed at the figure. Her face, hazy, indistinct, appeared from nothing. It was her face—their shared face. Her wavy red hair floated on a phantom's breeze.

"Does he hate me still?" Hathaline asked. "Tell me he has forgiven me."

"Of course he has, and you know that. He never hated you. He regretted those words the moment he spoke them. He regrets them still."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I cannot answer that question—because he does. And I love him. Like you, I've been waiting for him my whole life."

"When he looks at you, he sees me."

"He sees us, Lady Hathaline. He loved you as his friend, and he loves me as his wife. I think there is room in his heart for the both of us, and in mine."

"Both of us?"

"I welcome you into my soul, Lady Hathaline. I've a place set aside there just for you. Come, let us together go to him as one and be his Countess."

"Together? I can be with him still?"

"You can, as part of me. Come, join me, and let us be a complete person at last."

Hathaline glowed with happiness. Her figure tentatively moved toward Syg, passed through her, and was gone.

Syg took a deep breath and smiled.

A bit of herself had come home to her. The joy she felt—such joy.

* * * * *

Syg bounced down from the hilltop. Down below, Dav waited. He saw her coming and opened the gate.

She threw herself into his arms.

"Well," he said, "that didn't take too terribly long."

She squeezed him tightly.

"Did you encounter anything?"

"Yes, I did, in fact." She kissed him.

"I hope whatever it was wasn't too disturbing."

"Not at all. I'm glad I went up there. And now, Lord Blanchefort, I believe that your countess is going to attack you right here and now!"

"Syg," Dav said as she began undressing him. "Our friends are waiting for us. Our dinner … aren't you hungry?"

"I'm starving, but that can wait. Our friends can wait a moment too. I intend to have my husband. I intend to conceive the next Lord of Blanchefort."

"I thought you wanted to go to the balcony for that."

"The balcony can also wait for all that follow. I've a son to conceive, and I wish to do it right here surrounded by all these old Blanchefort ghosts. I want them to see that their line is safe with us, that their House will continue."

And in the vast interior of the Grove, they came together as husband and wife. Overhead, in the darkening early evening sky, the first emerging stars came out and twirled.