Ceralt joined Mehrayn’s stare with a frown and I did the same, only then recalling that S’Heernoh had indeed failed to speak upon the point of my having been given to Mehrayn. The gray-haired male looked up toward me from beneath his brows, his head somewhat lowered.
“I think I’m caught,” said he at last, his entire attitude an admission of guilt. “I was hoping none of you would pick up on that, but— The whole affair was so painfully unnecessary that I couldn’t stand to let it go on. You were sending Mehrayn away from you to protect him, Jalav, but he wasn’t in the danger you thought he was. I kept track of him while we rode through the forest, gently guiding his kan where I wanted it, coaxed those lenga into our path to make us turn aside, then stole that storm from elsewhere and set it over us. Getting you and me into the same cave wasn’t hard, nor was bringing Mehrayn in after us. If you had been reasonable about things I never would have played that trick with your life sign, but you weren’t being reasonable, and I became annoyed, and then Mehrayn asked his favor—” The male shrugged, a corner of his grin slipping through, his gaze now directly upon me. “The next time your father suggests something to you, you might recall what happens when he becomes annoyed. ”
Great outrage and indignation took me then, the sort which sent my left palm to seek a hilt which was no longer upon me, yet Mehrayn saw none of it. His gaze had remained locked to S’Heernoh, and of a sudden a great happiness took him.
“You are father to her, and you granted her to me!” the Sigurri exclaimed in sudden revelation, straightening where he sat. “Blessed Sigurr sustain me, for I had never thought to see it so.”
“Hold, hold,” protested Ceralt in distress as S’Heernoh turned to look upon Mehrayn. “I, too, was granted the wench, and that before you. Has he not said that he watched over her? In my village did I draw her from the circle, proclaiming her mine, and naught was done to prevent it. I, too, was granted her, only first!”
There came then a great babble of words as Mehrayn and Ceralt both spoke at once, yet had I already looked down to my hands, so that I need not allow the thing to touch me. No longer did I need to concern myself, for S’Heernoh had said I might not be forced from the path I had chosen. A long moment passed all wrapped in the babble, and then did a silence ensue.
“It seems you two still haven’t learned to ask my daughter what she wants,” came S’Heernoh’s voice, far graver than it had been. “Everyone else has had their say, Jalav. Why don’t you take your turn?”
“Jalav deserves no other thing than the rest promised her by Chaldrin’s spirit,” said I, continuing to look down and away from those I had no wish to look upon. “Release her now, male, so that her weariness might at last be seen to.”
Again a silence fell, one containing the feel of motion upon the air, and then a sigh came which was clearly S’Heernoh’s.
“That wasn’t Chaldrin’s spirit, daughter mine,” said he, the weariness within me apparently having touched him as well. “I needed something to pull you out of that uncaring horribly wounded and defeated mood you’d fallen into, so I used an image of Chaldrin to reach you. Give me just a little while longer, and maybe we can get this worked out.”
The male paused after having spoken softly, yet when his words resumed, even I looked up in surprise.
“I’ve had more than enough of this childish bickering!” he snapped, his anger unquestionably directed toward Ceralt and Mehrayn, the sternness of his glare bringing a wilting to the two, as though they were possessed of too few kalod to stand their ground against him. “Are you men in name alone, that you act so foolishly? Don’t you know what you’re doing to the girl you claim to love?”
“I make no claims,” said Mehrayn with more than a shade of diffidence, then did he force a partial return of his usual calm. “Merely do I state my love, for the fact that it is. Should you see this as the doing of less than a man, I will face even you in defense of it.”
“And I,” said Ceralt, as disturbed as Mehrayn, yet also as calm. “There is naught more precious to me than the wench of my heart, and I will face any man who attempts to say other than that.”
“Men in love are damned fools,” said S’Heernoh bluntly to the two, looking upon each of them in turn, his palms pressed to his knees. It came to me then to wonder for what reason he alone seemed able to move somewhat in the cross-legged seated position we all had been given, yet did his continuing words make the thought a fleeting one.
“Men in love are damned fools,” said he, “but that doesn’t mean they have to abuse the privilege. If you spent half the effort thinking things through that you put into challenging each other and everyone else in reach, you would have had this all straightened out long ago. You’ve both been avoiding the most pertinent questions involved here; I can understand why, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you continue avoiding them. Once they’re answered, you should see the truth as easily as I do.”
Both Belsayah and Sigurri seemed unsure as to what their response might be, yet were they given no time for a response. S’Heernoh shifted in place yet again, and this time no more than his glance touched me.
“Before we go any further, I think I’d better admit that a good part of the trouble you’ve had is my fault,” said he, the words an admission not easily brought forth, his gaze now avoiding those he addressed. “I’ve told you that I watched over my daughter, but there were times that was all I could do—watch. While she was being put through—things no father should allow to be done to his daughter. If I had been an ordinary man I wouldn’t have had to allow them, but because of who and what I am, my daughter had to pay a certain price. It made her stronger, I know, and also know it was necessary, but part of me doesn’t want to know those things. Part of me wants to apologize for something that can’t ever be excused—in the sort of lame way I’m doing right now—for letting her be hurt so badly that she’ll likely see reflections of that pain in every man she looks at for as long as she lives. Some day you may understand, I hope you do, but until then—”
The words of the male ended abruptly, falling into the silence of confusion which we others felt, then did he straighten himself where he sat and turned brisk once again.
“All right, enough of that,” said he, giving his gaze to the others again. “No need to go on about what caused the problem; what we need are some answers for it. Now, both of you want my daughter so badly you can’t bring yourselves to allow her to have her choice in the matter, isn’t that true?”
“Most certainly not,” said Mehrayn, his sudden stiffness a clear indication of insult. “The wench has been coaxed and invited any number of times to choose between Ceralt and myself, yet does she continue to refuse.”
“Even has she vowed that she shall speak no choice,” said Ceralt, somewhat less offended than the Sigurri. “Were we to accept such a dictum?”
“Perhaps not,” said S’Heernoh with a faint smile, continuing to look between them. “But I’d like you both to keep in mind what you just said, while we go on to the next point. When you discussed why she started that fight with Galiose, you both said you were willing to give her up so that she might live. Despite the words exchanged between you just a short while ago, do you still feel the same?”
“For her life, yes,” said Ceralt heavily, Mehrayn silently anod to show agreement with the words. “We neither of us would consider turning from her for a lesser reason, yet for her life—yes.”
“Good,” said S’Heernoh with a nod to match Mehrayn’s, his tone now encouraging. “You don’t want to give her up, but you will if that’s what’s needed to save her life. Now comes an even more important question: would you both refuse to give her up, if that was what was needed to save her life?”