Falnight 10 (of 14)

[mother_herbivore]

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As I had promised, we arrived in Yuville before midday, and stopped into a bakery there for lunch. The Keepers’ house was at the end of the street, built on a small hill that raised it slightly above the roofs of the shops here. I watched it as we ate, leaning against the hitching post alongside our horses. Several people came and went in that time, two of them wearing the stiff black surcoats of the healing order of the Keepers, the others patients or visitors. It made me think of Fietree, my fourth child and a member of the Keepers in the rural midwest of Ylitte, and how much I missed him. He was a fine Keeper, even Steward of his house—always so gentle and reassuring, his healing magic unmatched by his peers. He always doted on Falnight.

 

Missing him made my heart ache for Falnight that much more. I made straight for the house as soon as I had finished my lunch, and Harlan only just kept up.

 

The Steward of the house was an old but spry hill elf, and when I flattered her house’s bells, saying that I remembered how beautiful they were and how I would like my son to see them, she was more than happy to show us to the stairs that led up into the belfry. As we climbed them, once we were out of earshot, Harlan said quietly, “You lied to her.”

 

“I didn’t,” I said. “The bells are lovely. She does not need to know all the details.”

 

Harlan did not argue.

We reached the top of the stairs and stepped up into the belfry. It was true, the bells were handsomely forged and the largest was decorated with impossibly detailed mountain scenery, but we paid it little attention as we skirted it and went to one of the unglazed windows.

 

“What use is the Dog’s picture?” Harlan asked. He looked out at the mountains, frowning. “The view will change from wherever we look.”

 

“We won’t know until we open it,” I said, although I had my doubts too. Still, I had to stay optimistic for my sake as much as Falnight’s. The Dog’s impression could be everything I needed, or it could be nothing at all—until I opened it, it was both.

 

I took a deep breath, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the paper.

 

Harlan leaned in close over my shoulder and together we stared at the impression.

 

“Oh,” I said at last.

 

“Oh?” asked Harlan.

 

“I know these peaks,” I said. I was weak with relief, and leaned against the window’s edge. “They used to be called Theren’s Burden, until the humans renamed the whole range as one. See his arms, his head bowed beneath the sun?”

Harlan took the paper and studied it for a long moment, brows furrowed.

“His head was flattened by the mining,” I added, and recognition dawned on Harlan’s face.

 

“If the Dog had known this, we could have been on our way already,” he said, handing the paper back.

 

“The range has been called the Easters since my parents were children,” I said. “I doubt many maps survive with the old names. And we do not know what her family might have called them.”

 

“I suppose I can’t expect much from a troll who doesn’t know which way is east.”

 

“Harlan,” I chided. “She did what she could.”

 

“Did she tell you anything else? Any actual landmarks, a trail, even an odd boulder?”

 

I looked at the paper again, at the ink already beginning to fade. There was nothing remarkable about the house or its small garden. It was a lot like the house that I raised Harlan in, in fact: a simple thing, built by a father’s hands, except this one was made with clean clapboards instead of hand-hewn logs. The garden was spare but neatly kept. The impression was too small to give much more detail than that.

 

“No,” I said, “but if it is as protected as the Dog said, there will certainly be an aura of magic. It’s simply a matter of feeling it.”

 

Harlan rubbed his chin, looking at the paper and then out at the mountains again.

 

“Alright,” he said. “Normally I like to have a bit more to go on than feeling, but if that’s what you think is right, then I will follow.”

 

I bit my tongue, unsure if he was holding something back or if I was imagining it. Then I remembered what I had said the night before, and I asked him if he was holding something back.

 

“No,” he said, then, “Well, not completely. I will follow you. You know magic better than I.”

 

“But?” I prodded. I could see his jaw clench and unclench before he answered me.

 

“But, I wish we had more information,” he said. “You were too quick to leave the Dog, too lenient with her. I think she could have given us more if we pressed her.”

 

“I got what I could from her with kindness and money. To push her any further would just have been mean.”

 

“There is cruelty and then there is sternness, or bargaining, even. You are too afraid to ruffle any feathers now. You used to be patient, but strong-willed. Now you are just patient.”

 

“People change,” I said. “I changed. It has been a long time, Harlan.”

 

“Have I changed?”

 

For a long time, I leaned silently against the wall, considering my answer. Harlan stood in front of the window, staring out at the mountains.

 

At last, I said, “Give me more time to learn who you are again. As I’ve said… it has been such a long time since I knew you, Harlan. Even when we saw each other, even when we wrote, you were distant.”

 

“Haven’t I always been?”

 

“You have always been quiet. Independent,” I said. “I know I smothered you. I was learning. You know that I was young when I had you. I was raising you while I was still growing up, too. I can say that you changed from the young man you were when you left home, but I can’t say for sure what you have become.”

 

Harlan was silent for so long that I began to worry.

 

“I look forward to knowing you again,” I tried. “I am sorry if I was too honest.”

“Would you have done all this for me?” he asked.

 

The question surprised me, and for a moment I could not reply.

 

“If you had gone missing, I would have torn this world apart looking for you,” I said at length. “You are my son.”

 

He was quiet again, and I said, “I am only one person, with only so much time—for every step I tried to take towards you, you took another step back from me. I had to take care of your siblings, too, and myself. But I have never, ever not loved you, not even for a second. But you chose to stay away.”

 

“I still wish that you had done more,” Harlan said at length, and that stung me, “but… I concede that I’ve been selfish. There are many things I should have done, too.”

 

There were tears prickling at my eyes. I pushed the feeling away with a smile, resting a hand on Harlan’s arm. “But I don’t want to dwell on what should have been. I want to look forward.” Of course that is something easier said than done, but I wanted to make my intentions clear. I wasn’t interested in recompense. I would not hold a grudge.

 

Harlan let my words hang in the air for a long moment, then turned back towards the stairs, clearing his throat.

 

“We should find this house, then,” he said. “It will be another three days’ ride to the base of the Easters. We need supplies, and we need to get them now unless you intend to spend the night here.”

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and shook my head. “No, we should set out today. Here—” I gave him my billfold. “Get what we need, and go to the stable when you are done. I’ll see to the horses, and send a message back to Sheaside.”

 

He took the money, and started down the stairs. I followed him, folding the Dog’s paper and slipping it back into my coat.

“And be sure to comment on how beautiful you found the bells before you leave,” I said. I think I heard him chuckle.