"All right," she said at last. "I suppose we have no choice but to do our best."
He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Thank you," he whispered.
She smiled, though there were still tears coursing down her cheeks.
Like her mother before her, she was wise and strong. He truly believed what he had told her a moment ago: she and her family would be fine.
"I'll go with you."
They both looked up at Sirj, whose expression hadn't changed at all.
It almost seemed that someone else had spoken.
"What did you say?" Besh asked.
"You heard me," the man said. "I'll go with you. Elica's right: You shouldn't do this alone."
"No," Besh said, standing. In the past few turns he'd come to accept that he had been wrong about Sirj, that the man had a better mind and a stouter heart than Besh had believed. But still, Besh had no desire to spend so much time in the man's company, nor did he want to put the father of his grandchildren in danger. At that moment, he couldn't have said for certain which was the stronger impulse.
"You need to stay here," he said. "With me gone, Elica and the children will need you more than ever."
Sirj kept still.
Besh turned to his daughter. "Tell him," he said. "Surely you don't want him wandering off like this, leaving the rest of you behind." "I don't want either of you to."
"But what of the children? You need him here."
"Yes, she does," Sirj said. "But you'll need me more."
Sirj crossed to Elica and took both her hands in his. Besh expected her to fight him on this, but once again she surprised him. They merely stood there for several moments, their eyes locked. It was something Besh and Ema would have done and after a moment Besh looked away, feeling that he was intruding on their privacy simply by watching.
"He's right," Elica said at last.
Looking at her, Besh saw that there were fresh tears on her face.
"I can manage," she went on. "You need him with you."
"This isn't what I want," Besh said. He looked from one of them to the other. "I'm going because I can-I don't want this burden falling on anyone else."
"If by this burden you mean Lici," Sirj said, "I think everyone in this village shares it already. You can no more claim it as your own than you can the rill or the marketplace."
"You need to take care of your family."
Sirj grinned. "You are my family. You may not like to admit it, but it's true."
Besh blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"You've silenced him," Elica said, smiling, though she was crying still. "I've been trying to do that since I was six years old."
Sirj's grin lingered, but he didn't answer. He just watched Besh, as if waiting for him to admit defeat.
"Father?"
He should have known what to say. Probably Sirj deserved an apology for the way Besh had treated him all these years. Certainly he should have thanked the man for making this sacrifice. But at that moment his pride wouldn't allow any of it.
"Fine then," he said at last, turning away from them both and starting toward the small room where he slept. "If you're going to insist on coining along, you'd better gather your things. That's what I intend to do."
"You'll need food," Elica said.
"Pyav is seeing to that. It'll be here before nightfall."
He didn't wait for them to say more. Once in his room, Besh pulled out his travel sack and began to fill it. A change of clothes, a woolen overshirt, a waterskin, an extra blade, and his fire flint. After a few moments he sat on his pallet, realizing that his hands were trembling.
"Damn," he muttered, not quite certain what it was that had put him in such a state.
"Father?"
He turned and saw Elica standing in the doorway, her brow creased with concern.
"You should be helping him pack his things." "He sent me to help you."
Besh looked away, twisting his mouth sourly.
She came and sat beside him on the bed. "He's a good man, you know; better than you've ever been willing to admit." She paused, and then, "Why is that?"
"I don't want to talk about this right now."
"Well, I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again," she said, suddenly angry again, "so you're damn well going to talk about it!"
He faced her once more.
"Tell me, Father! What did Sirj do to deserve your contempt? I have a right to know! He's in the next room preparing to follow you on this mad errand of yours! He's ready to get himself killed trying to keep you safe! So if you're going to steal my husband from me-if you're going to leave my children fatherless-I have a right to know why you've treated him like a cur all these years!"
"I don't know," he said softly.
She shook her head. "That's not an answer."
"It's the truth. I've been asking myself the same question, and I simply don't know. I decided long ago that I didn't like him. Maybe it was the same thing that made your grandfather hate me so."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Grandfather hated you? Why?"
Besh shrugged and smiled. "I loved his daughter. I wasn't the strongest or the smartest or the best, and I had the audacity to love his daughter. And what was worse, she loved me."
Elica sat for some time, staring at the floor, her forehead creased. At last she lifted her gaze, meeting his. "Why are fathers such fools?"
Besh laughed. "I wish I knew." He looked away briefly, but quickly made himself face her again. "I was wrong about him. Sirj is a good man, and a fine father. And for what it's worth, I'll do my best to keep him safe. I may be an old man, but I've been wielding my blade for a long time, and I know something about magic."
She kissed his cheek. "That's worth a good deal, Father. To Sirj and to me." She stood and surveyed his small room. "Do you need any help getting ready?"
"No. I can do it on my own."
Elica nodded and left him.
For several moments after she was gone Besh didn't move. He felt too weary to stand, much less venture into Y'Qatt lands and do battle with a crazed Mettai witch. Despite all that he'd said to Elica he still didn't relish the notion of having Sirj with him as he searched for Lici. He and Sirj had nothing to say to each other; at least they hadn't for the past dozen years. Better to be alone than with a man he didn't understand. But somehow it seemed that choice had been taken from him, as if his being old gave others the right to make decisions on his behalf.
At least you'll have someone to carry all the food Pyav has promised you. Ema's voice. Besh grinned. Had she still been alive, she would have taken his hand to soften the remark. He could almost feel her fingers touching his. He tried to force himself into motion once more. He still had a few more things to pack, and he should have helped Elica prepare the evening meal this last time. But he couldn't bring himself to move. He just sat on the bed, staring at the scars on the back of his hand. At one point he heard voices he didn't recognize out in the kitchen and he expected that Elica would come and get him. But she didn't, and still he sat.
The light began to fade and the house filled with the aromas of roasted fowl and boiled greens.
"Grandfather?"
Besh looked up. Mihas stood in the doorway, peering at him with wide eyes, as if he feared what Besh might say to him.
The old man smiled. "Come here, boy."
Mihas walked to the bed and sat beside him. "Your mother told you?"
"My father."
"You have questions for me?"
He hesitated, but only briefly. "Are you going to fight her? Lici, I mean. Are you and Lici going to fight?"
"I don't know, Mihas. I hope it won't come to that, but she's hurting people right now, and we can't let her do that."
"What if she… what if she hurts you? Or Papa?"
Hurts. Kills. The word didn't really matter; Besh knew what the boy was asking.