That was too much; she lost every bit of her composure and fell completely apart.
There was a brief flurry of movement as her grandmother rose—and warm arms clasped and held her.
She found herself sobbing into a blue-velvet covered shoulder, found her grandmother holding her as no one had held her since her mother died. It was something she hadn’t known she needed until it happened—
She cried all the tears and fears she’d held in since this nightmare began; cried until her eyes were swollen and sore and her nose felt raw. Kethry didn’t say a word, simply held her, stroking her hair from time to time, and it was with a great deal of reluctance that she freed herself from that comforting embrace to finish the story.
She had to do so with her eyes shut tightly against the tears that threatened to come again, her throat thick, and her hands knotted into fists. “Are you going to be all right?” Kethry asked when she had finished.
Kero took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and shrugged. “I’ll have to be,” she replied. “I told you, I’m the only one left.”
Kethry nodded, pushed her down into a chair, and narrowed her eyes—and turned from comforter to something far different.
The sorceress’ face lost all animation. She cooled, she became somehow remote.
“The men,” she said dispassionately. “Describe them again.”
“They didn’t look like much,” Kero replied, falteringly. “Ratty looking. Like bandit-scum, the kind we’d never hire, except that their armor was awfully good. It wasn’t new, but it wasn’t dirty enough for them to have had it long.”
“No badges, no insignia?”
“Not that I saw,” she said, hardly knowing what to think.
“How did it fit them?” her grandmother persisted.
“What?” Now Kero really was perplexed. Her grandmother looked impatient.
“You’re no dunce, child, how did it fit them? Well, or badly? Too big, too small, places where it was just held together by jury-rig straps?”
“Uh—” Now that she thought back on it, the armor for the most part had fit badly, gaping places where it was too small on some men, too-large mail shirts spilling over knuckles on others. “Badly, mostly.”
“Ah. Are you sure you don’t want to go back and see if there’s someone that can go after Dierna besides you?” She gave Kero a measuring look. “You look to me as if you’ve done enough already. I wouldn’t say you’re up to this, personally.”
“No,“ Kero said as forcefully as she could.
Kethry nodded, and changed the subject. “Did it seem as if anyone was the leader?”
The questioning went on until Kero was ready to scream for the wasted time. And Kethry kept asking her if she was certain she didn’t want to go back. She answered everything as honestly as she could, but it almost seemed as if her grandmother was now looking for an excuse to dismiss her and her plea out of hand, before she’d even had a chance to voice it. She certainly was just as discouraging and disparaging as the old woman down on the trail had been.
She’s not going to listen; she thinks this was all Father’s fault and she doesn’t care what happens to the rest of us. Kero was shaking now; there was a light in Kethry’s eyes that she didn’t in the least like. Hard, and cold-uncaring? Perhaps. The sorceress’ face was unreadable.
Still, when Kethry seemed to have come to the end of her questions and stood up to pace back and forth with her arms crossed, deep in thought, Kero took a deep breath, and made her carefully rehearsed speech before her grandmother could tell her to take herself off.
I’ll never have another chance—
“Grandmother,” she said urgently, “I have to go after Dierna. If I don’t—there won’t be anything left of the family by the time her uncle gets done with blood-feud. He might leave me alive—but not Lordan.”
Kethry blinked, and seemed to shake herself out of an entrancement. “I actually know that, child,” she said dryly. “I’ve had dealings with Baron Reichert before. That man wouldn’t be satisfied if he devoured the world. In fact—never mind. I’ll tell you later. So what do you want out of me?”
“Help!” Kero cried. “Lordan won’t live out the night without a Healer—and I need help, too. A magic weapon, something that will make it possible for me to get Dierna away from those bandits—”
A lightning-caller, a tame demon—something that can attack them from a distance so I don’t have to get too close.
“They aren’t bandits, girl,” Kethry interrupted, her brow creased with a frown. “At least, that mage isn’t. Whoever, whatever he is, he’s good, he hid his presence from me right up to the time of the attack—and he wants a virgin girl for something. I would guess he was hired, and the girl is his price for this night’s work. I suspect your father made one enemy too many, and that enemy has decided to extract a complete revenge and end him and his line. Or else—” She gave Kero a sharp glance, and didn’t complete her surmise.
There’s something she knows that I don’t, Kero realized suddenly. Something she isn’t going to tell me. “I still need a weapon, Grandmother,” she persisted. “And Lordan—”
“Lordan will survive until I get there,” the sorceress said abruptly, turning so quickly that Kero’s heart jumped. “Trust me on that. And as for your going after those bandits—what makes you think you can do anything? You aren’t trained in magery or weaponry.”
“I have to try,” Kero said stubbornly. “I have to. There’s no one else, and you told me what Dierna’s uncle—”
“Why you?” Kethry repeated.
“Why not me?” Kero stood up, as tall as her shaking knees were permitting, and raised her chin defiantly. “Why not me—if you’ll help, I can do it. You did more with less when you were my age.”
She was all worked up and ready to say a lot more, but to her surprise, Kethry nodded. “There’s truth in that, child,” her grandmother said softly. “More truth than you know. And now I know who it is I’ve been waiting for all these years....”
Waiting? For—
“Stay there.” The sorceress crossed the room to one of the shadow-shrouded corners, and bent over a chest, opening it with a creak of iron hinges.
She turned with a long, slender shape in her hands, and as she moved into the light again, Kerowyn could see that it was a sword. Not a very impressive blade; the hilt was plain leather-wrapped metal, and the sheath was just as plain.
“Here,” Kethry said, holding it out to her. “Let’s see if she’ll take to you.”
She? Kero reached forward to take the hilt without thinking, and as she clasped it, Kethry pulled away the sheath.
For a moment, no more than a breath, writing blazed up on the blade itself, as fiery and white-hot as if the sword had just come from the heart of a forge. Kero gasped, but Kethry only nodded, unsurprised.
“She wants you all right, child. You’re the only one of my daughters or granddaughters she’s spoken for. She’s yours now—or you’re hers.” Kethry slid the sheath back over the now perfectly ordinary looking blade. “Take your pick. When she speaks, I don’t think anybody denies her.”