I stopped and proffered a hand. "Sylpa," I said. "Pleased to meet you."
She shook my hand, then giggled. We resumed our walk to the garden plot, and she said nothing else. I think she was merely relieved to know that she could speak, if she so wished. I made no effort to engage her in conversation, nor did I ply her with questions. At least I didn't then.
As we were on our way back home, I heard my name being called from the marketplace. Looking that way, I saw Trenna waving to me. I told Licaldi to wait for me, but she seemed reluctant to be left alone. Seeing no harm in taking her with me, I started toward the market with my companion in tow.
Much of what transpired in the marketplace is recorded now in the records of the council, and I won't bother with details here, except to say that two peddlers were in dispute over one woman's interest in buying a bolt of Aelean wool. Both claimed that she had promised to buy their cloth; the woman swore that she had made no such promise to either man, but rather intended to look at the wares of all the other peddlers in the marketplace before making her decision. Trenna, of course, had no intention of making the woman buy from either of them. Rather, she remembered a similar matter coming up several turns before, involving the same two men, and she was now convinced that the two were swindlers working in common purpose.
Reminded of the earlier incident I remembered it clearly, and agreed with her. I ordered the men out of the village, threatening to draw upon my magic if they refused. The pair complained loudly, protesting their innocence and vowing never to set foot in Kirayde again, but all the while they were packing their wares and making a most careful count of what gold they had already made that day. In a short while they were gone, and Licaldi and I started once more to make our way home.
"You're the village eldest," she said, as we walked.
At first, still thinking of those men, I answered absently that I was. Then the import of what she had said reached me.
"Did your village have elders as well?"
She nodded, staring straight ahead. It occurred to me that I had said "did" rather than "does," and that the girl hadn't corrected me.
"You're Mettai, aren't you?"
Again she nodded. I could see the color fleeing her cheeks and lips. Her hands trembled and her jaw quivered.
"Can you tell me the name of your village?"
Suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. "It doesn't matter;" she whispered.
I stopped, gently taking hold of her shoulders and making her face me. "Why doesn't it matter? Did you run away? Was someone there cruel to you?" "No, it wasn't that."
"Then what, Licaldi? Please tell me."
But she wouldn't say more and I knew better than to push her I'm anxious to know what's befallen the child, not merely because of some dark curiosity, but because I expect the sooner she can speak of it, the sooner she can move beyond it. And, of course, the sooner we know where she belongs, the sooner we can try to reunite her with her family. That last strikes me as being most important, and yet something tells me that it will prove the most difficult. The question in my mind is no longer where her family might be, but rather how many of them have survived whatever tragedy the girl witnessed.
Besh turned the page to read more, but a knock at the door stopped him. Looking up, he realized that the sun had risen. The knock came again and he called for whoever it was to enter.
Ojan stepped inside.
"Sorry to disturb you, Besh."
"Nonsense, my friend. This isn't my home. You don't need to knock on my account."
The big man merely shrugged. "I just wanted you to know that I'm headed home now. I've work to get done. I don't know who's coming on next, if anyone, now that it's day. But I can come back tonight, if you and Pyav need me to."
"Thank you, Ojan. I intend to speak with Pyav this morning. If we need you again, we'll let you know."
He raised a hand and nodded. "All right. I'm off then."
Besh watched him from the window. He thought about reading more, but then set the daybook down on the arm of the chair, stood, and stretched. Now that it was light, he was tired. Of course. He'd been a fool not to sleep, and no doubt he'd pay for his folly before the day was out. For now, though, he needed to get home, before Elica made herself sick with worry.
He returned the journal to the box in the back room and, after taking care to close Lici's door, hurried back to Elica's house. Everyone was awake when he got there and the children came running out of the house to greet him, shouting, "Grandfather! Grandfather!"
The young ones each took hold of one of his hands and practically dragged him toward the front stairs, while Mihas walked beside him. "Where were you, Grandfather?" the boy asked.
"Lici's house."
The boy stared at him briefly, but then looked away again. "Mother wanted Father to go out and look for you, but he said you'd be back when you were ready to come back."
Just as they reached the stairs, Elica emerged from the house, eyes blazing.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, leveling a wooden spoon at his heart as if it were a blade. "I've been worried sick about you! First Lici disappears and then you go off in the dark of night like a thief or a… a… a who-knows-what! What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"
While she was shouting at Besh, Sirj stepped out of the house. He remained behind her, but after only a few moments of listening to her harangue, he rolled his eyes and walked past her.
"He's back now, Elica. Have done."
"Have done?" she repeated, her voice rising, which Besh hadn't believed possible. "He's too old to be wandering about in the middle of the night!"
Sirj had placed a log on his stump and lifted his ax, but he stopped now, fixing her with a hard look. "He's not that old, and I can tell you now that when I'm his age, you won't be speaking to me in that tone."
For the second time in as many days, Besh found himself thinking that he'd misjudged the man all these years. He could almost hear Ema laughing at him.
Elica eyed her husband a moment longer. Then she faced Besh again, and in a somewhat gentler tone asked, "Where were you, Father?" "I went to Lici's house."
Sirj split the log with a single blow, and turned to look at him. "Why?"
Besh regarded him briefly. "We found a daybook there yesterday. It belonged to Sylpa, and during the night it occurred to me that it might have something in it that could tell us where Lici's gone."
"Sylpa's been dead for nearly a dozen fours," Elica said. "What could her daybook tell you about where Lici is now?"
"I don't know yet." He scratched the back of his head and glanced over at Sirj, who just stared back at him. "I suppose what I should have said was that it might tell us something more about Lici herself, something that might give us some idea of why she left." He nearly mentioned then his suspicion that she had departed on the anniversary of her arrival in Kirayde, but he didn't know this for certain, and even if it were true, he didn't know yet what it might mean. "Now, if I may," he said instead, climbing the stairs, "I'd like a small something to eat before I go and speak with the eldest."
He brushed past Elica as he entered the house. A half-eaten loaf of bread sat on a counter, and he cut off a slab and covered it with butter. Taking a bite, he turned. His daughter stood in the doorway, watching him.
"Are you all right?" she asked.