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.
Da always kept his word. Always. But still How much older, Da?
Just older, said Da, in the voice that said enough.
He was ten now, and still waiting for an answer. For a little while after that, cause he felt so guilty, hed stopped pinching Arlins magics. But only for a little while, cause the itch grew too strong and he had to scratch it. Just like before, nothing went amiss. So he stopped feeling guilty. He was right and Da was wrong. Magic wasnt dangerous, at least not for him.
But he still wanted to know what Da wouldnt tell him.
Not long after his ninth birthday, tired of waiting, hed asked Darran. Why doesnt Da like magic? Whys it make him so fratched?
The ole man had sat at his desk for a long time in silence, counting trins out of one open lockbox and into another. I could answer that, he said at last. But Im not sure I should.
I wont tell, hed said. Promise.
Darran pursed his lips, clinking trins with his fingers. The office door was closed. It was just the two of them alone. Magics not been kind to your father, Rafel, he said at last, so softly. Its been used to hurt him. And hes used it to hurt. He had to, you understand. Your das a good man. Were only safe today because of him. But he never asked for his power. He never was comfortable being important. He never will be.
But why? I think magics grand, he muttered. Da should be happy hes got so much of it.
Is that so, young man? said Darran sharply. Then youve not been listening to a word Ive said. Trust me when I tell you that power is not a promise of happiness. Havent I lived my long life among men of power? Be guided by me, my boy: for every man it makes happy, it makes another three miserable.
Darran didnt understand. How could he? He was an ole man, and he had no power at all. Ive got power, and I aint miserable, Darran.
You? said Darran, his straggly grey eyebrows shooting up. Youve got nothing of the sort. Youve some talent for magic, and more talent for trouble. Thats not power. Nor is it a combination to set a fathers heart at ease. Hed peered then, suspicious. I hope youre not playing games with your magic, Rafel. You know the rules.
That made him feel all fratched. b.l.o.o.d.y ole man, scolding. Who asked him, eh? Wasnt his job to scold. He wasnt Da, or Mama.
I know, I know, said Darran, crossly amused. I should mind my own business. But you started this conversation, Rafel, not me. If its not turned out to your liking, well, thats hardly my fault.
Squirmy, hed scowled at the floor. Huh.
Rafel, I shared a confidence with you, which Id like you to keep, said Darran, still snappy. And Id like you to remember this: if youre kept on a leash, and you find it fretsome, consider that your parents have only your best interests at heart. For its true, you do have power. But youre not old enough to wield it or comprehend what it means. Trust your father to know. Trust your father.
I do! hed protested. I do trust him, Darran.
But the ole man didnt look like he believed him, and that had made him so cross hed stormed off to his secret place and cracked so many stones there he had to make a hole and bury them, after.
When that was done, and he sprawled face-up on the ground panting and sweaty, something Darran said had floated back to him like dandelion fluff on a breeze.
Magics not been kind to your father, Rafel. Its been used to hurt him.
Hed never heard that before. He could hardly believe it. Someone hurt Da? With magic? How could they? Da waswasa hero. He was the saviour of Lur. Darran was a stupid ole trout, what did he know? He had to be wrong. Hurt Da with magic?
As if anyone could.
Rafel. Rafel.
Blinking, he pulled free of the past and looked up into his fathers solemn face. They were alone in the crypt now. Mama and Deenie and Uncle Pellen had gone outside. Da looked so sad, glimfire making his eyes too bright. He reached out his hand and Das fingers closed tightly around his, a little muscle leaping along his jaw.
Its a good effigy, Da. It looks just like that ole fish.
Da nodded. The magic took, thats a fact.
He stared again at cold, stone Darran. You did it with Doranen magic, didnt you?
Aye, Da said at last. Gar taught it me, a long time ago.
He looked at King Gars stone likeness. Did you make his, too?
Da nodded again. I did.
He couldnt believe it. They were talking magic. He and Da hardly ever talked magic. Maybe there were some kind of spell on the crypt. Id like to do that. Id like to make a marble picture of Mamas face, when shes smiling.
Das holding fingers twitched. Mayhap you will, sprat. One of these days.
Only if you teach me, Da. Only if you let me do real magic.
Real magic? Da snorted. Doranen magic, you mean.
So? he muttered. Its more fun than earth-songs and flowers.
Rafe Da let go of him. Only reason you think that is cause you aint got any idea what Doranen magic be about.
He wanted to shout, Yes I do! He wanted to show Da here and now the things hed taught himself, pinching Arlin Garricks magics. But he couldnt. The trouble thered be, if he did that.
So he scuffed his boot-heel on the crypt floor, feeling hot and sulky. I would if youd tell me.
And I will tell you, Rafe, Da said, snappish. Just not today. So dont go on at me.
I aint, he protested. I onlyDa, I want to make faces in marble, like you do. Cause its beautiful.
Even though he was fratched, a reluctant smile tugged at Das lips. Beautiful, eh? You tryin to wheedle me, sprat?
No, Da, he said, earnest and dutiful, though of course he was and both of them knew it. Im just saying my druthers. Couldnt you tell me the words? Couldnt you show me how they go? Just this once?
He wanted it so badly there was a pain in his chest. Him and Da together, doing magic. No need for telling tales, no need to hide. Him and Da doing magic, out in the open.
Da let loose a slow sigh. You aint strong enough, Rafe. Once Doranen magic gets in your head you cant get it out again. It sits there like a toad. It changes you, sprat, and there aint no changin back after, not even if you want to.
Now Da looked worse than sad. Dumbstruck, Rafel folded his arms.
That aint true, Da. Im not changed. I havent got a toad in my head.
Rafel, said Da, and dropped to a crouch before him. Listen. I got to ask you a thing. I got to ask, and you got to answer me straight.
He nodded, slowly. Fright made his mouth suck dry. Does he know? Has he found out? All right, Da. I will.