Alea blushed and looked down at Gwen. "It must have been you, sir, for left to myself I am sharp-tongued and shrewish."
"A shrew who digs toward the truth, then."
The door opened again, and they looked up to see Rod coming into the room. He gave her a reassuring smile and Brom a bob of his head; the little man stood, leaving the chair for him. With a nod of thanks, Rod sat opposite Alea, taking Gwen's other hand. "Thank you for watching, damsel."
"My pleasure." Alea caught her breath at the irony of the word.
Rod smiled, seeming to understand. "A pity you couldn't have come a few years ago—but you were just meeting Magnus then, weren't you?"
Alea nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Rod glanced at her keenly. "How long since you've slept?"
"Oh …" Alea counted backward in her head. "Eighteen hours."
"Better find a bedroom," Rod advised, then when she started to object, "We may need you later. I can't watch her the clock around by myself."
Flattered, Alea relinquished Gwen's hand. "Good night to you, then."
"And to you." Rod's smile was far warmer than a stranger should see. "See if you can get that big lug in the hall to lie down, too."
Alea couldn't help smiling. "He usually recognizes good advice."
"Gets that from his mother." Rod nodded sagely. "Sleep well."
"And you, sir." Alea turned away.
The dwarf laid a fatherly hand on Rod's shoulder. "Be of stout heart, lad. Her life has been good because of you."
Rod stared at him, then smiled sadly. "Wish I could be sure of that."
"You have always been slow to believe truth."
"Only when it comes to myself," Rod said, "but thanks, Brom."
"It is your due," the little man said, and turned to go with Alea. "If you begin to doze off, lad, call for another to watch in your stead."
Rod's voice stopped Alea at the door. "Damsel, by what name does my son call himself when he's planetside?"
"That depends on whether or not he thinks he's made a mistake," Alea answered. "Why? Did you change your name for each mission?"
Rod nodded. "I always tried to fit in with the local culture—that's why I chose the name 'Gallowglass' when I landed here." He smiled. "Never thought I'd use it for the rest of my life. What's Magnus's nom de guerre?"
"Gar Pike," she answered.
Rod gazed at her a moment, then nodded. "Appropriate."
Somehow, Alea knew he wasn't thinking of the fish. "His real name … it is d'Armand?"
"No, that's my real name." Rod still smiled. "His is 'Gallowglass.' Does he go by 'd'Armand' now?"
"Only if I press him."
"Do that more often," Rod advised. "Good night."
Alea stepped through the door, closed it softly behind her—and stared as the dwarf went over to Magnus, patting his hand and murmuring in a reassuring tone. Then Alea realized she was being rude and transferred her gaze to the young giant.
He looked up with a grave smile. "Your Majesty, this is Alea, my companion."
"We have met," the little man told Magnus.
Magnus nodded as though that made no difference. "Alea, this is Brom O'Berin, King of the Elves—and my grandfather."
The dwarf's head snapped back. "How didst thou know!"
"We figured it out before I was twelve," Magnus told him, amused.
"The Puck told you!"
"No, but he didn't deny it when we asked him." Magnus shrugged. "It made sense. Why else would you have visited so often? Especially on holidays …"
"Never tell thy mother!"
Magnus's smile faltered. "Wrong phrase just now, Your Majesty. Besides, she figured it out long ago."
Brom stared, amazed. "How many years?"
"I think it had something to do with the look on your face the first time you saw me," Magnus said.
"You were only twenty minutes old then!"
"Yes, but I saw the way you looked at Gregory when he was born, and I can imagine how much stronger it was the first time."
The conversation had allowed Alea time enough to recover from the shock. She curtsied as she said, "I am honored to meet Your Majesty."
"Most excellently done," Brom said with approval, "and you must never do it again, for no mortals know me by that title—save those in this house, of course. To all others, I am only the queen's jester."
Now Alea did let herself stare. "Jester? But how …"
"Actually, they all know he's her privy counselor," Magnus explained, and turned back to Brom. "I don't think anyone has thought of you as a jester for thirty years."
Now Alea began to understand why Brom had thought his daughter's death was his fault. After all, he bore at least half the responsibility for her being alive in the first place, and if she hadn't lived, she wouldn't now be dying, would she?
Pure sophistry, of course. She wondered why a king would desire to take so much blame on himself, especially one who was king of elves, then realized that every good king had accepted responsibility for all his people's welfare, all his life. "It seems, Your Majesty," she said slowly, "that I must thank you for my life, too, and certainly thank you for saving it from ruin."
Brom stared, taken aback. "Why, how is that?"
"Because this young man wouldn't be alive without you." Alea nodded at Magnus. "He's the one who saved me when I was running for my life, fed me and taught me to fight and to read, and took me along to visit half a dozen new worlds."
Brom relaxed and looked Magnus up and down with approval. "You have done well, lad."
"Very well indeed," Magnus agreed, "for she has saved my life at least once on each of those worlds, not to mention the one on which she was born."
"Oh, I didn't save you there!"
"I seem to remember a pack of wild dogs, and the two of us standing back to back with our quarterstaves whirling …"
"Oh, that." Alea dismissed it with a wave. "He also realized I was a latent telepath, Majesty, and taught me how to use my talent—or at least, he has made a good beginning."
Brom stared at her, eyes glazing for a moment, and Alea felt his own thoughts brushing hers. Before she could object, the touch was gone and Brom was nodding. "Only a beginning indeed. This young woman can learn very much, Magnus."
"Then I have brought her to the right school," Magnus said with a smile.
"You have, and I will leave you to your lessons." Brom turned back to Alea. "He has not slept in thirty hours, has he?"
"Only in fits and starts," Alea admitted.
"On tenterhooks hoping you would not come too late?" Brom gave Magnus a penetrating glance. "Well, now you know you are here in time. Sleep, lad, and be sure we'll wake you if there is danger."
Magnus bowed his head gravely. "I thank Your Majesty."
Brom gave him a curt nod in reply and turned away, striding down the hall. Alea thought she heard him grumble, "Majesty, forsooth!!" before he turned a corner and was gone from sight.
Alone with Magnus, she couldn't keep the exhaustion from showing. "Have I a chamber of my own, Gar? I admit to feeling rather weary."
"Of course." Magnus offered his arm and led her to the end of the hall. "This is only a cottage, though a rather large one. At the castle, you would have your own suite, but here there's scarcely room. Don't worry, I'll sleep in the parlor."
It won't worry me if you don't, Alea thought in exasperation, then caught herself in horror. But it disappeared in an instant, for she noticed that Gar's arm was like wood, so tight was his self-control. Yes, definitely she needed to close a door between him and the rest of the world.
At the end of the hall, Magnus led Alea into a slope-ceilinged room with a narrow bed, a table and chair, and a wardrobe. The tapestries hiding one wall depicted knights in battle; another showed a scholar at his books, while behind him, the wall faded away into a view of an enchanted realm in which unicorns grazed and Pegasus flew. A third tapestry showed the ornate, powdery pinwheel of a spiral galaxy. She turned slowly, staring at the decorations, then realized that the hairbrush on the dresser was only a rectangle of wood, though polished and waxed. "This is the room where you grew up?"