Tythonnia hesitated, a storm of emotions brewing on her face.
“I love my daughter,” Ladonna insisted. Her voice was low, shadowed by sadness. “But she would come to hate me and my ambitions eventually. Better I make the choice my father was too spineless to make for me. Better she has a loving home.”
Tythonnia sighed and finally motioned for the baby. Ladonna wept softly as she handed Kira to her.
For the last time in her life, Ladonna kissed Kira on her forehead and stepped back. She pulled a pouch of steel from her belt, the weight alone a fortune for those of modest means. She dropped it on the bench.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to crack.
“I’ll protect her as my own.”
“I know,” Ladonna said. She slipped through the door and out into the chill air of Palanthas. It would be her last visit there. This city was no longer her home.
Outside, children laughed and played, and the sun would not be refused as it found its way into Smiths’ Alley. Inside the barn, Tythonnia played with Kira as the child sat in her lap. She’d cried for the first couple of nights away from her mother, but she came to accept cow’s milk for her meals and smiled when Tythonnia or Mariyah picked her up.
The boy Berthal stood nearby and watched the new baby girl cautiously. She was still a stranger in his life, but Tythonnia knew her son was kind and good-natured. He would come to love Kira as his sister.
Tythonnia was proud of him and motioned him closer. She kissed his forehead, and he wiped it clean with his forearm and let out a tiny yelp of protest.
“Stop,” he said. “I just washed.”
Tythonnia laughed and pointed upstairs with a flick of her head. “Go,” she said. “Go get your special books.”
“Are we learning more … Wyldling?” he whispered cautiously in her ear as though the baby might overhear them.
“As soon as Mariyah comes back, yes. We’ll read a new chapter.”
He nodded and was about to race off when a thought struck him. “Will you be teaching Kira too?” he asked.
“When the time comes,” Tythonnia said. “Yes. Who knows? By then you might be old enough to start teaching her yourself.”
He beamed at the thought.
“But you can’t tell anyone, right?” she asked.
“I promise,” he said. “I haven’t even told my friends.”
“Good boy,” Tythonnia said. “Now go.”
Berthal raced up the stairs and began rummaging around the loft as he pried the books from their hiding spot.
Tythonnia sat there and marveled at the wide-eyed innocence of Kira. Like Berthal, Kira had come from a family of strong magic; her grasp of it, her knowledge, would almost be intuitive. Like her adopted brother, she could grow very powerful in the Wyldling craft and free from the interference of the Wizards of High Sorcery.
Tythonnia spoke the truth when she told Ladonna she no longer harbored a grudge against her. No, her conflict was with the Wizards of High Sorcery, and there were still ways of fighting them. Maybe the struggle wouldn’t unfold in her lifetime, but it might happen through her son and daughter, or their children. There would be a reckoning.
Berthal would not be forgotten; his ethos and compassion and generous nature. He would live on through his son and adopted daughter. And maybe, eventually, Berthal would be remembered by people, not stricken from history and he’d be honored as a hero.
Tythonnia smiled at the thought and continued playing with Kira. She could already see great potential in her deep black eyes and her brown hair. The strength of her parents ran true through her veins. The magic in her practically sparkled.
A knock on the barn door distracted her. Tythonnia hefted Kira up to her shoulder as she got up and slid the door open. A man stood there. He was slight of frame and ordinary in almost every way. He wore worn leather trousers, and his lean frame was tucked inside his cloak.
“Yes?” Tythonnia asked.
“I was wondering if you still did smithing here?” the man asked.
“No, sorry,” Tythonnia said. “We haven’t in years. We’re a school now.”
The man nodded. “Thank you.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he said. “You have a beautiful girl. She takes after her mother.”
Tythonnia thanked him and watched him walk away. She paused, continuing to stare at him until he rounded the corner and vanished into Smiths’ Alley. He seemed familiar, somehow, the stranger with the eyes of the blue sea.
But Tythonnia couldn’t place him for the life of her. She closed the door and prepared for her son’s lesson and the other chores of the day.