Reluctantly, he came back to the real world. “Oh. Thank you,” he said, and hoped he didn’t sound too vague.
Conberge set a basin on the floor for him. She and Elfryth headed out of the kitchen to give him privacy in which to wash. Over her shoulder, Conberge said, “Take the pork stew off the fire if it starts to smell like it’s burning.”
“All right.” Leofsig worked the pump handle in the sink to get cold water to mix with what his mother had heated for him. Then he scrubbed away at the dirt and sweat that clung to him. A washrag and a basin didn’t let him do the job he could have at the baths, but he hadn’t had to go out of his way to get here.
His father came into the kitchen while he was drying off. Leofsig didn’t know whether Hestan had been home for a while or just stepped in. His father quickly made that plain: “You’ll have heard the news, I expect.”
“Oh, aye,” Leofsig answered with a nod. “The whole neighborhood will have heard it by now, except for that old deaf man three doors down.”
Hestan chuckled, then sighed. “That would be funny, if only it were funny, if you know what I mean. Sidroc doesn’t want to listen to anybody, though I wish he would.”
“You and Uncle Hengist are the only ones who do,” Leofsig said as another blast of shouts came out of the dining room. “And I thought you’d be glad to see Sidroc gone, from most of the things you’ve said.”
His father sighed again. “I would have been. Powers above, I was, till he said he was really going. After that. . . it’s hard to watch your own kin walk into what can’t be anything but a big mistake.”
“If he goes, Ealstan’s safer,” Leofsig pointed out.
“That’s so,” Hestan said, “but Sidroc hasn’t shown any sign of recalling just what happened there. I never felt safe enough about it to tell Ealstan he could come home, and he probably wouldn’t want to now, not when he’d have to try to bring that girl with him.”
“Vanai,” Leofsig said, remembering how startled he’d been when Ealstan told him her name. “Aye. Now that the redheads are shutting so many of the Kaunians away, how could he bring her back to Gromheort?”
Before Hestan could answer, Sidroc shouted. “Curse you, you old shitter! Powers below eat you! I’m going where I am wanted!” A moment later, the door opened and then slammed shut. The whole house shook.
“That seems to settle that,” Leofsig said, and his father nodded. He continued, “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry, if that makes any sense. I won’t miss him very much, and I’m safer with him gone, too, even if he hasn’t made little sly cracks about turning me in to the Algarvians for a while.”
“I don’t think he ever meant them,” Hestan said. “I hope he never did, I’ll tell you that.”
Leofsig was convinced his cousin had thought hard about betraying him to the Algarvian authorities, but held his tongue. Sidroc hadn’t actually done it, and pretty soon he’d get shipped off to Unkerlant. He’d have plenty of more urgent things to worry about there.
Uncle Hengist came into the kitchen. He was Hestan’s younger brother, and the more dapper of the two. Now he looked older than Leofsig’s father, and worn to a nub. “He’s gone,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it. “He walked out of here. He’s gone.”
“Aye,” Hestan said. Leofsig busied himself with putting away the basin. That way, Uncle Hengist wouldn’t be able to see the look on his face. As he’d said to his father, the whole block knew Sidroc was gone.
“Who would have thought he’d want to go fight for the Algarvians?” Hengist said, though Sidroc had been talking about doing that for months.
And Hengist had had some things to say about the redheads that didn’t sit well with Leofsig, either. “Don’t you think they’re the coming thing anymore, Uncle?” he asked.
His father gave him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut. Uncle Hengist scowled, but answered, “Even if they are, that’s no reason to take up arms for them. They’ve got plenty of soldiers of their own.”
You can’t have it both ways, was what Leofsig wanted to say. One thing that stopped him was his father’s warning glance, which had got more urgent than ever. The other was remembering that Hengist, like Sidroc, knew he’d escaped from an Algarvian captives’ camp. He didn’t dare push his uncle too far, not when he couldn’t fully trust him.
Hestan said, “Powers above keep the boy safe, Hengist.”
“Boy is right!” Hengist burst out. “But he’s so cursed sure he’s a man, and how can anyone tell him anything different?”
“He’ll learn,” Hestan said. “You did. I did. Leofsig has. We just hope he doesn’t pay too high a price for his lessons.”
“Easy for you to say,” Uncle Hengist said.
“No, it’s not,” Leofsig’s father answered. “I had a son in the army, the Forthwegian army”--he couldn’t resist the dig, and Hengist’s mouth tightened--”and my other boy’s gone, and who can say what happened to him? No one in Gromheort knows where Ealstan is. He might have fallen off the face of the earth.”
“I never have understood what happened the day he disappeared, Hestan, the day Sidroc got hurt,” Hengist said. “If I did understand it, I think I might have something more to say to you.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
“He’s liable to be more dangerous than Sidroc,” Leofsig said in dismay after his uncle had gone.
“I don’t think so,” Hestan answered, and then, with one more sigh, “I hope not. He has other things than us on his mind right now, anyhow.”
“Now that he won’t have Sidroc staying with him, he ought to move out of here and find a place of his own,” Leofsig said.
“Do you think so?” His father sounded genuinely curious. “My notion has always been that it’s better to have him where we can keep an eye on him than to let him go off on his own and brood. Am I wrong?”
Leofsig considered. “No, I don’t suppose you are. I wish you were, but I don’t think you are.”
From the hallway, Conberge called, “Are you decent in there? If you are, Mother and I would like to finish cooking.”
“Come ahead,” Leofsig said. “I have a better appetite for pork stew than I do for quarreling right now.” His father raised an eyebrow, then solemnly nodded.
Twenty
For the first time since an egg from an Algarvian dragon killed Eforiel, Cornelu was back in his element: riding a leviathan in search of the most harm he could do to King Mezentio’s followers. The leviathan, a Lagoan beast, wasn’t trained up to the standards of the Sibian navy, but she was still young, and she could learn. He’d already seen as much.
True, these days Cornelu patrolled the Strait of Valmiera, not the narrower channel that separated Sibiu from the mainland of Derlavai. His own kingdom remained under Algarvian occupation. Powers above, his own wife remained under Algarvian occupation. But he was fighting back again.
He tapped the leviathan in a pattern the same in the Lagoan service as it had been in that of Sibiu. Obediently, the great beast raised the front part of her body out of the water, lifting Cornelu with it so he could see farther. If an Algarvian ship glided down a ley line without his seeing it, he could hardly try to sink it.
Even with the added range to his vision, he saw nothing but sea and sky. He tapped the leviathan again, and it sank back down into the water. By the way the beast quivered under him, he knew it thought rearing was part of an enjoyable game. That was all right with him. He would enjoy the game if it led him to Algarvians. King Mezentio’s men wouldn’t, but sending them to the bottom would only make Cornelu happier.