Suddenly, a current seemed to pass from the crown of his head down his skin to his toes, and a distant voice seemed to call, Magnus! Where do you wander? Speak, my brother!
Gar answered with a silent surge of joy. Gregory! How fare you? Instantly, he sensed the turbulence, the yearning, the fear, the abject conviction of worthlessness when Gregory looked at the glowing face of the beautiful woman who lay sleeping before him.
You are in love! Gar had to suppress the feeling that he had never thought it could happen to his bookish little brother. Then his own thoughts darkened. Wait! I know that face!
We sit in judgment over her, Gregory mourned. You must join us in rendering that verdict, Magnus.
Gar listened, spellbound, as the story flooded him, heart and mind. He responded with panic, quickly allayed into wariness, and finally into wholehearted approval and good wishes—but also cautions.
Then his mother, his sister, and his middle brother each added their good wishes, modulated onto Gregory’s. At last his little brother said good-bye and the contact was broken.
Little! Little no longer! In love, his humanity restored, and likely to propose. Gar sat galvanized with apprehension, then remembered his mother’s sage counsel and let it ebb…
And felt far more alone than he had in two years.
In the morning, Linda actually woke up and smiled. She was still too weak to hold her new baby, but her eyes spoke volumes as she gazed at the little bundle in Hazel’s arms. Alea watched and marveled that a woman could go through so much pain, bring herself to death’s door, knock, and manage to run away—and still think it all worthwhile!
“She has a reason for living now,” Versey explained to her after breakfast, as they sat outside on the bench beside the door. “But she’s so young!” Alea protested. “Surely she had reason enough already, especially with her husband! Or aren’t they in love?”
“You saw them look at one another this morning, and how he caressed her hand,” Versey answered. “Yes, that’s reason to live—for the moment. It doesn’t give you any stake in the future, though.”
His words echoed inside Alea, in a hollow she tried to ignore. To hide it again, she asked, “What’s your reason for living, then?”
“A wife and three children,” Versey answered, “though I sometimes think she must have been crazed, to wed a man like me who must live on the leavings of others.”
Alea stared. “But surely the people you tend provide for you!”
“Most of the time, they’d rather not even see me,” Versey said with a sardonic smile. “If you don’t believe in the gods, you’d rather not be reminded of them. Oh, each clan in the country will send me a pittance to make sure no other has a right to look down on them. We are the ones who keep the histories of our clans, after all, and remind them of their heritage.”
“Surely they would listen carefully to you, then!”
“No one really pays much attention to the old ceremonies,” Versey sighed. “The wandering bards, now, that’s another matter. They’re truly honored, since they bring news—and always compose a new ballad praising the valor of the clan who hosts them, every time they visit.”
“Well, that’s some respect for the old ways, at least,” Alea said, “and the bards are trained much like Druids, aren’t they?”
“Like it in that they learn all the old lore, and the craft of verse and lyric, aye. They know the stories of the gods, but not how to celebrate the rites.”
“Well, I should think not! That’s your province, and the clans have to come to you for that.”
Versey shook his head. “The only time they send for me is when someone dies.”
Shocked, Alea asked, “Not even when someone’s ill?”
“You saw how it was with Linda.” Versey nodded his head toward the doorway. “Two steps from her grave, she was, but did they call me? No. I heard the gossip and came for the deathwatch.”
“But … but … if they pay no heed to the ceremonies, why call you when someone dies?”
“That’s the one rite they do want.” Versey nodded sagely. “Believe in it or not, no one’s about to take chances with the Afterlife. No, a Druid must come to the wake and say the prayers to speed the soul’s journey to the Afterworld. And the folk must sing a coronach, a lament for the dead, if a bard’s not at hand.”
“What will happen if they don’t?”
Versey shrugged. “Who knows? But I believe that without a Druid’s testimony, the spirit of the dead would not be honored by his ancestors’ ghosts. I believe it, and so do the clans—or if they don’t, they’re not about to take the risk. How much does it cost them, after all? A night and a day of mourning, and a smoked ham or bull’s hide for the Druid. Why take the chance?”
“Why indeed?” Privately, Alea was shocked, though she tried not to show it. How could the Druid by so cynical and still fulfill his office?
Because his belief was stronger than his disillusionment, that was how—strong enough to allow him to cope with the facts, strong enough for him to live in reality.
“You’ll be off peddling again, then?” Versey asked. Alea nodded. “It’s what I do.”
“No it’s not,” Versey said.
Alea’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at the Druid, wondering how he could have discovered that she was an off planet agent.
But Versey wasn’t looking back; he drained his mug and stood up. “You heal as well as trade, and it’s as a healer you shall go when you leave this place. I’ll speak to Esau and see you have a proper escort.”
Alea nearly sagged with relief.
Versey was as good as his word. In spite of their cynicism, the clan still seemed to respect the Druid’s words, for when Alea left the next morning, she left with gifts and lavish thanks—and a guard of a dozen clansfolk, to see her to the next homestead.
Gar strapped his pack shut and swung it up to his shoulders, then held out his hand to Rowena. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He looked out at the assembled outlaws. “Thank you all.”
They returned his thanks in chorus. Rowena smiled as she shook his hand. “Good luck on the road, peddler. We’d send an escort with you, but it would be more than likely to draw the anger of the next clan you met.”
“Send me.”
The crowd fell quiet, staring at the young man who stepped forward.
9
The outlaws all stared, astounded. Then Rowena found her voice. “Kerlew, are you sure?”
“Don’t pretend you’re sorry to see me go!” he said scornfully. “You’ve made it clear enough what you thought of me…” He looked around at the throng. “All of you.”
“But we didn’t know you were a seer,” Rowena protested. “Oh yes, that has made a difference!” Kerlew snapped. “Now instead of deriding me for cowardice, everyone shies away from me as though the Second Sight were catching! No, none of you will regret my going. That is…” he turned to Gar “…if you’ll have me for a road companion.”
“Gladly.” Gar’s thoughts hummed with plans for training the boy’s psi talents. “I warn you, though, I’m not the most congenial company.”
“Really! And I suppose you think I am?”
“No, I think I know you well enough for that.” Gar grinned. “Fetch your pack, then, and let’s be off.”
Kerlew brought his backpack out from behind him. “It’s here.”