Shamur tried to remain cross, but her smile betrayed her. "Don't talk back to your mother."
"Why not? You're good with a blade, but I beat you last time."
"So you did know that was me? Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't know how much you knew about my problem," said Tal, "and by the time your past came out, it didn't matter that I'd suspected something a few months earlier."
"You should keep in mind that I'm not just your mother," she said. "You can come to me when you need help."
"And become one of those mewling, spoiled children who run crying to their parents whenever they don't get their way? No, thanks."
"Then don't come to me because I'm your mother," said Shamur. "Come to me because I'm your friend."
That got Tal's attention. "Even though I've known you all my life, I still don't know you very well."
"Then let's make up for it. A new Thayvian opera opens in three days. You will be my escort."
"Why does it have to be the opera?" complained Tal.
"Because I say so, and because I'm still your mother," she said, "and you're still my son."
"Yes," said Tal. "I'm your son, but I'm not your little boy anymore. As long as you see that, and as long as the next time it's the playhouse or a bard at the Green Gauntlet, then it's a deal."
Shamur sighed dramatically. "Why is it so hard for you just to obey your elders?"
"Inherited trait, I think," said Tal.
Shamur chuckled. "You've always favored Thamalon so strongly that I never really saw it before."
"What?"
"Except for your eyes, you've never seemed to take after me," she said. "It seems obvious now why we have three willful and disobedient children."
"I don't think it's all your fault," said Tal. "Obedience isn't an Uskevren virtue, is it?"
"No," agreed Shamur. "It seems I married into the right family after all."
Tal realized the time had come for another conversation, this time with the Old Owl. "You know what is an Uskevren virtue?"
"What?"
"Negotiation."
Tal found Thamalon in his library, tapping his chin with one finger while studying a chess problem. He had mingled with the funeral guests for a seemly time, so no one could blame him for seeking the privacy of his retreat. Lord Uskevren looked up as his son entered.
"Care for a game?" inquired Thamalon.
"No," said Tal. "I came to thank you for Chaney's feast." Thamalon's offer to hold the event at Stormweather Towers surprised everyone.
"Very well," said Thamalon. "You may proceed."
"What?"
"It was a joke, son," said Thamalon. "Perhaps not as good as those you're used to hearing in the taverns."
"Sorry," said Tal, relieved at Thamalon's friendly tone.
"I'm still an idiot sometimes."
"It's hereditary…" said Thamalon.
"… among the Uskevren men," they finished together.
Thamalon's black eyebrows twitched in surprise. They were a stark contrast to his snow-white hair.
"You've been talking to Larajin," suggested Tal.
Thamalon nodded.
"Does Mother know?"
Thamalon's long pause indicated that she did not. "So she told you, did she?"
"You could have told me yourself," said Tal. "After you warned me away from her last year, I thought-Well, never mind what I thought. But it was a lot worse than the truth."
"We all have our secrets," said Thamalon, "as you demonstrated so dramatically."
"I'm glad to be rid of mine, to be honest." "If you had come to me from the start-" began Thamalon.
"If you told me the truth about Larajin…" interrupted Tal.
Thamalon pointed a finger at his son. "Challenger's point'."
Tal chuckled. "Where'd you get a sense of humor?"
Thamalon looked hurt. "Your mother gave it to me for Midwinter," he said. "You'd remember if you spent more time at home."
"I was… busy. Well, yes, you're right. These days I'll make more time. It'll be easier now that I don't have to worry about keeping a secret."
"It occurs to me that we might all benefit from fewer secrets-at least among the family, mind you."
"I'm not the only one-" began Tal.
"No, Talbot, indeed you are not. I'm just as much to blame."
Tal tried to mask his surprise. His father had never admitted a mistake in front of him before.
"There's another reason I wanted to talk with you," said Tal. "I have a business proposition."
By the expression on Thamalon's face, it was clear he had not expected those words. "Go on," he said.
"Quickly left her shares of the playhouse to be divided among us all," said Tal. "Only I never took a salary, so she converted my pay to extra shares. And she counted the money I gave her in the beginning as a loan, with interest."
Thamalon was nodding.
"So I'm the majority shareholder in the Wide Realms playhouse," said Tal.
"As well as the primary debtor," concluded Thamalon. "Is that it?"
"The way I figure it, the amount due each year is just over half as much as the rent on my tallhouse."
Thamalon's eyebrows jumped again. "Are you asking me to increase your stipend?"
"No," said Tal. "Hear me out. I'm offering to give up the tallhouse and asking for the money instead."
"Your mother would like having you back home," said Thamalon.
"We've already talked. I'll go with her to the opera every once in a while."
"You move back to Stormweather, or it's no bargain."
"But-" Tal tried to sound indignant without whining. The more he thought on it, the more he realized Chancy had been right about that flaw in his character. "Throw in Eck-ert's salary," he said. "The costumes are getting a bit shabby."
"What? You're in no position to bargain, young man."
"You want me to live at home, it's going to cost you," said Tal. "And I'll throw in fifty shares of the Wide Realms at half value."
"A hundred shares!" countered Thamalon. "With full determination rights."
"A hundred silent only… and only if you and mother come to twelve shows each year."
"Six," said Thamalon. "Shell never go for twelve."
"Eight-and you don't bring Tamlin. I want that part in writing."
"Done!"
They shook hands to seal the bargain.
Tal finished raking the playhouse yard and climbed up onto the stage for some shade from the hot summer sun. There was no one else in the yard, but he heard some of the women talking backstage. He made no effort at stealth, but he heard them long before they realized he was approaching.
"… and Chaney if it's a boy," said Feena. She could barely contain her excitement.
"What will Tal think about that?" asked Sivana clutching Feena's arm in a girlish gesture Tal never would have expected from her.
"Tal thinks he needs to sit down," said Tal, "if I understand you correctly."
He leaned on the rake for support, for the very idea of Feena bearing his child made him dizzy. He knew it was possible, but he had hoped it would not happen so soon. Running a business was more than enough responsibility for him. Parenthood was a greater task than he welcomed.
Sivana laughed. It was a big, throaty sound that reminded Tal of Mistress Quickly. Since her death, Sivana had adopted a markedly matriarchal role among the players, playing mother to Tal's father. Tal didn't mind that, so long as it didn't cause friction with Feena or the other players. On the contrary, Sivana and Feena had become so close that Tal was beginning to worry more about their outnumbering him than quarrelling over his time and attention.
"Oh, you big goof," said Feena, wiping away her own tears of laughter. "When was the last time you understood anything correctly?"
"Well…" Tal knew enough that he left it there. He was too relieved to learn that he was not suddenly a father that he didn't mind the slight.