Haarn knew she wanted to know, and he wanted her to know. He looked at her, realizing she was more like his mother than he wanted to admit.
"I don't know," he said.
Druz nodded.
Haarn drew in a deep breath and assembled his thoughts. He'd never talked to anyone about his feelings regarding his mother, and he'd never had the opportunity to talk to someone so like her.
"My mother was a warrior. I don't even know where she hailed from."
His father never told him and he couldn't remember his mother ever saying. A twinge of guilt shot through him, but he walled it away with other thoughts and feelings of her that he couldn't bear to think of.
"When she left us, she said only that she had to return to where she'd come from, that there were things she'd left undone."
"And she never returned?"
"A few times," Haarn said. "She stayed away longer and longer each time, until finally one day she didn't come back at all."
"How did your father and mother meet?"
"She was pursued into the forest by a band of men. My father chose to aid her."
"Why?"
Haarn shrugged. "He never said. I never asked. What was done was done. Silvanus teaches acceptance of things past and a knowledge of things to do now with hopes for a balanced future."
"She might have been an outlaw."
Haarn nodded, frowning.
"I apologize. I shouldn't have said that."
"It may well have been true. It's not as though I haven't thought that myself. Most civilized people who end up here come because they've been chased from the cities by their own kind or because they're searching for gold or treasure."
"Your mother might not have been able to return after her last visit," Druz said. "Her absence might not have been totally by choice."
"I thought she might have been killed, perhaps jailed."
Haarn was surprised at how much the old pain and confusion returned to him.
"If she was a warrior," Druz said, "she may have signed on to fight somewhere. There've been any number of disputes that have drawn mercenaries to Turmish or the Reach."
Some, Haarn knew, had pitted mercenaries against the druids of the Emerald Enclave. The possibilities twisted his guts. For his mother to have loved Ettrian and fallen to another druid in battle would have been the crudest of fates.
"She might have come from some place on the far side of the sea," Druz said, as if guessing the twisted tangle of his thoughts. "Maybe she intends to return one day."
"It's been years."
That stopped her only for a moment. "Maybe she has returned and was unable to find you or your father."
"There are ways for her to get in touch with my father," Haarn replied, "places she could have left messages. She never has." He blew out his breath. "There is no excuse for her behavior."
Druz eyed him. "Is that you speaking, Haarn, or your father?"
Anger ran deeply in him then, and he had trouble containing it.
"Grant me Silvanus's patience, woman, but you are arrogant."
"Not arrogant, Haarn. It doesn't take a sage to see you're conflicted in this. Gods' blood, but you'd have to be if you had any kind of heart-and I know you do-but I also heard your father's accusation about you finally getting to see a city. I have nothing against your father, but you didn't deserve that."
"You know nothing about what comes between my father and me."
"I know enough to make some assumptions. Your father is bitter about loving and losing your mother, but he was brave enough and strong enough to raise you by himself." Druz eyed him. "Do you want to see a city?"
Haarn hesitated, wondering if she knew him well enough after the past few days to know a lie from him if she heard it. He started to speak, caught himself, then said, "I don't know."
"You don't know if you want to see one, or you don't know if you want to deal with your father's feelings when he finds out you want to see one?"
Haarn didn't answer.
Druz sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly around her legs.
"I grew up in Suzail," she said.
The name meant nothing to Haarn. He didn't suppose he'd ever met anyone from there before, or perhaps they hadn't cared for anyone to know.
"It's the capital city of Cormyr on the Lake of Dragons," she explained.
"I've heard of Cormyr." Actually, Haarn had heard very little.
"I grew up in a small house " Druz said. "My father was a blacksmith, a man good with armor and arms, which is a craft that will keep a man hale and hearty in Cormyr, but there are enough skilled craftsmen there that he was never going to get rich. Still, he provided for all nine children and his wife."
She gazed into the fire, and Haarn sensed that she had hurts of her own. "I was the fourth in the line of children," she continued, "and the first girl. My three older brothers all worked with my father. My mother thought I would provide help in caring for the children and keeping house, but I had my own interests." Haarn sat and listened to her, amazed at how soothing her voice could be after thinking for days only about how she could drone on and on. "When it became apparent that I wasn't going to be the housekeeper my mother wanted and that Josile, the girl next to me, absolutely loved those things, she was given the chores and I got the opportunity to work with my father in the smithy." "You found that work preferable?" Haarn asked. "For a time," Druz admitted. "I was a fair hand at repairing armor and hammering out horseshoes, but I came in contact with men and women who'd traveled around all of Faer?n. Suzail, as large as it had seemed to me, was only a stopping place for them, a waystation while they rested to continue their travels to far-away destinations. One day, after I was grown, or at least thought I was, I decided I wanted to travel. Over the years, I'd been learning swordcraft from anyone who'd teach me. I learned well, and some said I had a talent for it." Haarn agreed, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "One night I left Cormyr, caught the first ship that would hire me on as a sellsword," Druz said, "and I began making my way as a mercenary." "Have you been back to see your family?" Haarn asked. "Several times." "What did your mother and father think about the life you'd chosen?" "They didn't like it," Druz said. "They still don't, but they know I'm happy. I'm getting to travel, and the things I fight for-" She wrinkled her nose."-usually, the things I fight for are of my own choosing and causes I believe in. It's not a life for everyone, but it's the life I chose. That's why I'm telling you this, Haarn. "Maybe the cities aren't to your father's liking, and maybe they won't be to yours, but you shouldn't have to feel guilty about wanting to see them and explore those ties to your mother. I mean no disrespect for your father. Please understand that." Some of Haarn's anger and resistance went away, and he thought perhaps he did understand, though he wasn't certain why Druz would be so adamant about telling him. "If you ever did get curious about cities and wanted to see one," Druz said, "and if I were available to show you one, I… I think I'd like that very much." She glanced away from him, as if unable to any longer hold his gaze. Haarn looked at his father's sleeping form. Normally elves didn't sleep, just went into a meditative trance for four hours or so every day. He could never recall his father sleeping. "He loved her very much, didn't he?" Druz asked some time later. "Yes," Haarn whispered. "Losing her almost killed him." "He'd never known that kind of love before? I know elves are long-lived." "If he has, he's never mentioned it." "And he's never loved like that again?" "No." Haarn fed more wood to the fire, basking in the warm radiance. "Not many people are fortunate to know a love like that," Druz said. "Love like that," Haarn said, meaning it, "is a terrible thing." "Do you really think so?" He gazed at her, surprised by the intensity in her eyes. "I've seen what it can do to people." "You've only seen what it did to your father. Love like that is special, not something easily found." The tone in her voice suggested that she'd had more than a passing interest in the subject. "Love like that is a death trap. Better to find someone you like, share time together, then be on about your business." "And you practice that, Haarn?" Druz's voice carried a biting chill to it that was worse than anything outside the protection of the lean-to. Haarn looked at her, seeing the challenge there and not totally understanding it. He let his breath out when his lungs started to ache, not even knowing he'd been holding his breath. "No," he answered. "That's not what I practice." A smile, partly coy and partly relieved, played on Druz's lips and she asked, "Have you ever been with a woman, Haarn?" Haarn's face burned and he couldn't believe his concern for his father and their forced encampment in the lean-to had led them to this subject. "Now you're stepping over boundaries." A triumphant gleam showed in Druz's eyes and Haarn couldn't understand it at all. "I withdraw the question," she said, "and offer my apologies." Haarn nodded, feeling only a little relieved. "Love like your father and mother had isn't necessarily a bad thing," Druz said. "Wolves mate for life." "Stonefur mated for life," Haarn said coldly, "and his mate attacked you. You killed her without a second's thought." His words visibly stung Druz. Her face pinched shut. Glancing down, she pulled her blanket up and turned away from him. "Since you're awake," she said, "I'm going to sleep now." Haarn watched her do exactly that, and he was irritated at her for raising so many questions in his mind and leaving him with them. He glanced at his father, knowing Ettrian's presence had triggered some of those questions as well. Haarn settled back against the stone wall of the overhang. Never in the past two days had he been so aware of how uncomfortable it was. He gazed at Druz, sleeping so childlike beneath her blanket-except for the naked dagger in her fist-and tried not to think about any of the questions she'd raised within him. It didn't work, not even when he directed his mind to prayers to Silvanus.