Magnus pressed his father's hand, then pulled up two chairs. He sat, and Alea sat beside him.
"It's good to have you here again," Rod said, "so good."
"Thank God I came in time, Papa!"
"I do." Rod nodded. "I do."
Then his gaze strayed to Gwen's face again.
Magnus and Alea sat in silence.
Rod sighed, shaking his head. "So many years wasted."
Magnus stared, scandalized.
"Twenty-eight years of my life, before I met her," Rod said. "Even if you don't count the first eighteen, that's ten years when I could have been with her but wasn't."
"None even knew of this planet then, Papa," Magnus reminded gently.
'True." Rod nodded. "That doesn't make those years any less empty, though." He shrugged. "I'd given up hope of ever falling in love with a woman who would fall in love with me—showed a horrible knack for falling in love with the wrong ones, in fact. Then I met your mother."
And the two sat quietly, listening in fascination as Rod told the story of his meeting with Gwen, of the slow realization of how much she had come to mean to him, of the sudden discovery that he was in love with her, and of their life together as a young couple.
Magnus listened intently, fascinated by all that he had never known of their early days, and Alea drank it all in, wanting every scrap she could have of this friend she had met too late.
THE COFFIN TOUCHED bottom, the pallbearers pulled up the silken ropes, and everyone waited for Rod to throw down the first handful of dirt, but he only stood, hands folded, musing as he gazed down at the oaken box. Finally, Magnus reached down for him, scooped up a handful of dirt, and threw it down.
Pebbles rattled on wood, and Rod looked up, startled, then nodded slowly and said to Magnus, "Thank you, son."
"My right," Magnus answered him, "and my honor. Come away, Papa."
Rod looked up at him with an amazingly peaceful smile. "Why not? After all, she'll always be with me no matter where I go."
A choked sob came from the mourners; Alea wondered if it were hers.
"Even so." Magnus turned his father away from the grave and began walking with him, back toward the house. "Bide with us, then—we who need to mourn, Papa."
"Of course." Rod nodded. "Not that it's really necessary, mind you—but it's fitting."
So they went down to the gate of the churchyard, where Magnus hovered watchfully as Rod mounted the tall black stallion that had carried him there. Magnus mounted his own horse, and the siblings and their spouses fell in behind him, then the rest of the entourage behind them.
Alea rode with them, as near Magnus as she could be, and wondered at the man and woman who rode in the black-draped coach with the gilded crown carved on the door.
SHE FOUND OUT who they were in the great room of the family cottage, where the mourners gathered for warmth and reassurance. Only a quarter of those who had come to the funeral stayed for the reception, of course, but that was still enough to fill the cottage's room. Alea threaded her way though to the kitchen, looked about for a tray, found one with glasses and a bottle, and took it to serve the guests, but Cordelia came through the door just as Alea approached it and smiled, stopping her with a gentle hand. "Leave that to the elves—they wish to honor their king's daughter, and their work is their tribute."
Alea sighed as she put the tray down. "I must have something to do!"
"Then stand by Magnus," Cordelia advised. "He will need you now as much as he ever did in battle."
Alea looked into her eyes for a second, saw there was far more there than Cordelia put into words, and nodded. "There is sense in that—but what will I say?"
"Whatever comes to mind. You've dealt with the grieving before, or I mistake quite."
Alea remembered sitting by the bed of a dying matriarch and nodded. "Yes, I think I can. Thank you."
She threaded her way back to Magnus and found him talking to the man and the woman from the coach. They were dressed in black, but their coronets gleamed all the brighter for it. Prince Alain stood beside them and looked up as Alea came near. He smiled with the warmth that would make his people love him and took her hand. "It is well you could be here, damsel. Mother and Father," he said, turning to the man and woman, "I would have you meet Magnus's companion, Alea."
"Welcome, damsel." The elegant woman with gold and silver hair held out a regal hand.
Before Alea could touch it, Alain said, "Damsel Alea, my mother and father, Queen Catharine and King Tuan."
Alea froze, staring at them, then dropped a curtsy, very glad that she hadn't touched the queen's hand. She did now, long enough to kiss it, and said, "I am honored to meet Your Majesties." She hadn't realized Magnus was so well connected.
"We were childhood friends," Magnus explained to her. "In fact, Alain came once to rescue us when we siblings had wandered off and become lost."
Queen Catharine's eyes sparked. "There may be such a thing as taking a friendship too far."
"Never, Mother," Alain said instantly. "After all, they have saved my life as often as I theirs."
"Yes, I'm looking forward to hearing those stories," Magnus said. "Gregory always glossed over the interesting parts."
"Such as our peril at the whirlpool of the afanc?" Alain smiled. "But how could I have been in any real danger with two doughty warlocks beside me?'
"The danger of a monster with sharp teeth baring them at you," Queen Catharine said instantly.
"Better that he has learned to face danger before it has come to war." King Tuan placed a mollifying hand on her arm, then turned to Magnus. "Though, if rebellion raises its many heads again, I trust you will be by his side."
The question caught Magnus off guard "I… I will if I am on this planet, Majesty."
Queen Catharine frowned. "Surely you will not be off on your travels again!"
"I… I had assumed that… of course, I would be about my work ..."
"There is your labor." King Tuan nodded toward the fireplace.
Turning, Magnus saw his father standing alone by the hearth, an untouched wineglass in his hand, staring into the flames.
"I mistrust his composure," King Tuan said. "Be sure that I will do all I can for my old friend—but I must be far from here, in Runnymede. Surely the claims of blood are stronger than those of your mission."
"Especially since it is one you appointed for yourself," Alain added.
"Well… we haven't discovered the next planet that needs us …"
"Or have we?" Alea touched his arm, then stepped away and slipped between people to stand by Rod's side.
The room was full of bright chatter and muted laughter, people reassuring themselves that life could still be fulfilling without a friend they had always relied on. Rod was an island of silence there. Alea stepped up beside him and followed his gaze into the fire. "What pictures do you see in the flames?" she asked softly.
Seven
ROD LOOKED UP, SURPRISED BY COMPANY, THEN smiled. "Those I saw when I was a child, damsel—fairy castles and shining knights fighting dragons."
Alea smiled, too. "Do you still cheer for the knights?"
"It depends on the dragon," Rod said. "I suspect you've faced your share of them."
"Literally? Only on one planet, and they were scarcely a few feet long—wyverns, really, not true dragons."
"A local life-form?" Professional interest quickened Rod's tone, and Alea wondered how much he had given up to remain on Gramarye.
Far less than he had gained, no doubt—but enough for nostalgia. "They were, but the colonists had tamed them— not that their descendants remembered, of course. Only a few still had the skill of writing."
'Typical retrograde colony." Rod nodded. "But the oral tradition held?"
"Yes, but in its usual garbled form." Alea said. "Spaceships were incomprehensible, so their legends only told that their ancestors had come from the stars and didn't say whether or not they had brought the wyverns with them."
"Medieval?" Rod asked.
Alea nodded. "I'm beginning to realize why Magnus understood the people so well."