“I’m not sure,” I said idly. “I was monitoring Cyhan’s progress out of Lancaster… I think.”
“You’re not sure? It took me several minutes just to get your attention; you were looking straight through me as though I wasn’t even there. Were you able to tell if he went the right direction?” she asked. The wind had died down and her hair was lying calmly across her shoulders now.
“I’m sure of that. He went south, heading toward Albamarl. If he’s planning to double back he went an awfully long way before changing directions.” A stray thought passed through my mind, her hair looked better with the wind in it. A sudden playful gust picked a lock of hair up and tossed it about. Did I do that? I wondered but I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t used my power; the wind seemed to move of its own accord.
“Focus, Mordecai.” Ariadne snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Your eyes were drifting away again. Am I going to have to talk to Penny about you?”
“No I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m just trying to get used to some of my abilities.” In truth I really wasn’t certain. “What did you want to talk to me about… before I frightened you?” I forcefully drew my mind in on itself and began walking toward the main keep.
Ariadne kept pace with me as she responded, “I wanted to ask you about Marcus. How has he been?”
Her brother hadn’t returned to Lancaster after the end of our battle with Gododdin’s army. His goddess had refused to heal Penny when she was mortally wounded, ostensibly because Penny and I had broken the bond that shielded my mind. That refusal had led Marc to reject her and the resulting void within him had left him despondent and a bit lost. He had been staying with me at Castle Cameron since then but I hadn’t been able to draw him out much. Naturally his parents and siblings were worried about him.
“He’s about the same,” I replied. “I convinced him to have a few drinks with me and Dorian the other day but he wasn’t very jovial.”
Her brows pinched together in an expression of concern. “I wish he would come home for a while. Maybe I could talk some sense into him.”
I sincerely doubted having his younger sister nagging at him would help, but I didn’t dare tell her that, instead I used my considerable powers of misdirection to rephrase my thoughts. “I don’t think having your father lecturing him would help much right now.” I do seem to be gaining some wisdom as time goes on.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed. “Will you be staying for dinner or returning home right away?”
I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. My focus had been entirely on how to handle Cyhan when I rode out that morning. I was pretty sure Penelope expected me home for dinner that evening though. “I hadn’t planned on staying this late actually. But if you like we could have dinner here tomorrow evening. I’m sure Dorian would like an excuse to visit his mother as well.” Dorian was living with us in Washbrook now, serving as my seneschal and master at arms.
“Is Rose still staying with you? If so you should extend the invitation to her as well,” Ariadne added, giving me an impish grin. She seemed to like Rose Hightower; she had looked up to her as a young girl. I suspected she had some ulterior motive though. I didn’t doubt that she was plotting to fix Rose and Dorian up together. Penny had similar ideas though I wasn’t sure I approved of their meddling, as far as I could tell the two of them would be just fine if everyone left them alone.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving her out,” I answered politely. Our steps had brought us to the building James had had constructed to hold the teleportation circles I created in Lancaster. “I will have to say good-bye, I need to return. I didn’t expect to spend so much time standing in the courtyard.”
“Give Penelope my regards. I do hope you can both visit for dinner tomorrow,” she replied.
“I can’t imagine anything that would keep us from the invitation,” I said with a smile, and then with a thought and a word I teleported back to Castle Cameron.
Chapter 2
The hall was empty when I stepped out of the alcove in Castle Cameron. I felt a bit relieved actually. Lately I had been besieged by various people needing me to make decisions about this and that. The castle itself had survived our recent war with little damage, aside from the one wall that was breached. Repairs there were proceeding rapidly and soon enough I would have the workmen starting on a new outer wall to encircle the rest of the rapidly growing town of Washbrook.
With some luck I might be able to reach my workshop without encountering anyone needing me to make pressing decisions. I had taken over my father’s smithy and expanded it to suit my needs. I doubted I would ever become a master smith as he had been, but I did frequently work with metal and the forge was quite handy when I needed it. There might have been a few sentimental reasons as well, but I tried not to dwell on those.
I waved at Cecil Draper as I left the main door of the keep and headed across the yard. My luck didn’t hold though, Cecil left his post and ran up to me before I could get ten steps toward the smithy. “My lord! Sir Dorian asked me to let you know he was looking for you.”
I stopped and gave him a gracious smile, “And where would my friend be presently?” I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Dorian just then but I always tried to be polite in dealing with the people who supported, and were dependent, upon me.
“He said he would be at the tavern my lord,” Cecil replied quickly. I nodded and changed direction. The tavern he was referring to was operated and maintained by Joe McDaniel, a good friend of Dorian’s and also the head of our town militia now. After things had quieted down I had given him the house Penny and I had lived in (before the castle was completed) and he had made great strides in having it remodeled into a serviceable tavern.
I spotted the large wooden sign soon enough, gaily painted with a large pig covered in mud. The artistic rendering had been inspired by my first meeting with the Baron of Arundel, on which occasion I had slathered myself with mud to better make a good impression. Taverns traditionally had simple names that could be depicted with pictures since many people couldn’t read. This one had the words, ‘The Muddy Pig’ written carefully under the picture. It was a bit embarrassing that they had chosen my meeting with Arundel to use for the name of the tavern but hopefully people would soon forget the meaning behind the name.
I stepped through the doorway and let my eyes adjust to the somewhat dimmer interior; it was twilight outside and the lamps inside hadn’t been lit yet. The evening crowd had barely begun to gather so I didn’t have too much trouble spotting Dorian sitting at the end of the bar. “Ho, Dorian!” I shouted to catch his attention. “Cecil said you were looking for me?”
My large friend’s head turned as he heard my voice and his eyes lit upon me. “Mort! Glad you’re back. How did it go?”
Naturally he was referring to my visit with Cyhan. “I let him go and he told me I was a fool,” I said, summing up my previous conversation for him.
Dorian snorted, “You are, and a stubborn one at that. I still think it’s a mistake.”
“Only time will tell my friend, surely you didn’t want me just so you could nag about a mistake already made?” I hid my impatience poorly.
“In a hurry to get back to work again? Sit down, you can spare a few minutes. Have a drink.” He waved at Joe who had been listening intently and the older man went to draw a tankard for me. “It’s about Marc,” he added.
“Ariadne was asking about him as well,” I told him.
“She’s right to be worried, he isn’t getting any better.”
“He’s just depressed. He’ll snap out of it eventually. He seemed alright when we were together the other night,” I said.
“That’s the only time, when he’s with us, and drunk… we can’t do that every day,” Dorian answered. It was odd to hear him urging sobriety, since reaching his majority Dorian had shown a great fondness for drinking.