Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

‘I did, sweetie.’ Hannah was trying to wash whatever parts of the little girl would stay still for more than a moment at a time. ‘What do you call that?’

‘Mama calls it the scramble; she taught me before I went to live with Rabeth and Prince Nerak.’ Milla kicked off the wall again, splashing water over the side of the tub.

‘Whoa, easy there!’ Hannah laughed. ‘You know, my mom taught me that one too, but we call it the doggie paddle. And it works better if you cup your hands.’

‘Like this?’ Milla held up one hand, fingers splayed.

‘No, sweetie, like this.’ Hannah demonstrated. ‘You see how I can pull the water along? That makes you go faster, with less effort.’

‘I’m already fast.’

‘And I’m cold, so we need to hustle a bit if we-’ Hannah took advantage of Milla’s momentary stillness to scrub her face and neck.

‘I’ll fix it,’ Milla said and gestured again at the braziers. The flames in both leaped a bit higher, growing more intense. ‘That should make it warmer.’

Bemused, Hannah shook her head. ‘Where did you learn that?’

‘Rabeth thinks he taught me, but I could just do it for ever. I used to make fires for Mama all the time.’ Milla returned to her laps. ‘Watch this.’

‘That’s better!’ Hannah said. ‘Good, just like I showed you, the scramble.’

‘I like doggie paddle better.’ Milla kicked her way across the washtub. ‘I like dogs.’

Thinking back on how surprised she was to discover that Branag’s poor wolfhound had tracked her – on Milla’s orders – all the way from Southport, Hannah sighed. ‘I remember, sweetie.’

Later, all clean and dry, her bare feet dancing on the scullery flagstones, Milla shivered. ‘It’s cold now.’

‘Let’s get you out to the front room and you can get warm by the fire while I get your dry clothes.’

‘Should I heat the water for Hoyt?’ Milla asked. ‘He’s been sad since Churn fell. Maybe the bath will be fun for him, too.’

Hannah swallowed hard. ‘I’m sure he’d like that.’

Staring down at the washtub, Milla pressed her lips together and knitted her brow. She looked like a child who was angry with her doll and was about to give it a thorough scolding.

Hannah watched in mute amazement as the water started bubbling, then cried, ‘Oh, Milla, sweetie, stop now – you don’t want to cook him, do you?’ She hugged the enchanting little magician close.

‘Do you think it’s too hot?’

‘Nah,’ Hannah laughed. ‘Hoyt will figure it out.’

‘Someone call my name?’ Hoyt appeared through the kitchen door; like Milla, he started dancing as soon as his bare feet hit the flagstones. ‘Yeow! It’s cold in here. At least you lit the braziers – thanks for that.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Hannah said, collecting Milla and her blankets. ‘Enjoy your bath.’

The two women were barely through the kitchen doorway, smiling conspiratorially, when they heard Hoyt cry, ‘Gods of the Northern Forest, that’s hot!’ And then a moment later, ‘Hannah!’

That night, Hannah lay in bed, waiting for Hoyt. A candle burned by the bedside; she watched its shadow flicker and dance on the ceiling.

Alen had found the Wayfarer and paid for two rooms, one for him and Milla and one for Hoyt and Hannah. They hadn’t told Alen about their lovemaking; neither wanted it to be a source of discomfort between them, nor did they feel the cathartic encounter merited mentioning to the Larion Senator. Yet Hannah was beginning to worry. When alone, Hoyt avoided making eye contact with her, and their conversations had grown strained. Hannah wanted to say something, to clear the air. It might be weeks before they reached Orindale, weeks before she was reunited with Steven, and she didn’t want to spend her last few weeks in Eldarn enduring awkward moments of strained silence with Hoyt, someone she thought of as a true friend.

Hannah waited, trying out different icebreakers in her mind, but when Hoyt finally joined her, she was so surprised to find the young thief dressed, still in his boots, and carrying a small canvas pack that she forgot all her prepared speeches and blurted, ‘Well, I know things have been a bit awkward between us, but a pack? You aren’t moving out on me, are you?’

Hoyt grinned. ‘Awkward? Between us? Since when?’ He set the pack on the edge of the bed. ‘You mean since you fell off that cliff, and I had to put your busted head back together?’

‘No,’ Hannah giggled, then, embarrassed, pulled her blankets up to hide her face. ‘And it wasn’t my head; it was my shoulder.’

‘Oh, yes, right. Well, then, you must mean it’s been awkward since I taught you that song about the sailor’s wife with the wooden leg, and you sang it until that barman told you to be quiet.’

Hannah pointed at him defiantly, but, still grinning, said, ‘Hey, I taught you that song, cousin. And as for that night, well, I blame Malakasian beer. Good lord, but what do they put in that stuff? Seaweed?’

‘Then you must mean that things have been awkward since you made me keep my head beneath the blankets in that pine grove so you could pee beside the fire, because it was too cold to go and look for someplace private?’

Hannah buried her face in the pillows and howled. ‘All right! All right! I give up. Sanctuary! Sanctuary!’

Hoyt kneeled beside her bed and, suddenly serious, said, ‘Are we all right?’

‘All right? Hoyt, I’d be dead six or seven times over without you. I’d be dead and mad and raving like a lunatic on bad fennaroot.’

‘So, you’re not angry about… well, that morning?’

Hannah took his face in her hands. ‘No, Hoyt. I’m not angry, and I’m not sorry, and if I ever find Steven again, I’ll find some way to

… oh, fuck it, to let it go, Hoyt. Look where we are. I have no regrets.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘Good,’ Hannah laughed again, then stopped herself short. ‘But where are you going?’

‘Alen says we’re short of silver. I’m going out for some. I’ll be back before dawn.’

‘Do you think that’s smart? I mean- Well, that could be dangerous. We have enough, surely – we can cut back on our expenses. Is it really that much to make the trip to Orindale?’ She sat up in bed and lectured him like a concerned spouse.

‘Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,’ Hoyt said, his face reddening again. ‘Please, Hannah, one sympathy jump for a depressed friend does not make you my keeper.’ He tried to keep a straight face, but cracked a smile when Hannah’s mouth fell open.

‘Why, you miserable-’ The rest of Hannah’s rebuke was lost as she shouted obscenities into her pillow.

‘Nice talk,’ Hoyt said, ‘do you kiss your mother with that foul mouth?’ Laughing, he started towards the door. ‘I’ll be back.’

Hannah collected herself long enough to say, ‘If you insist on going to work tonight, remember the jewellery rule.’

Hoyt grimaced. ‘I shudder to ask.’

Holding one bare arm above the blankets, Hannah said, ‘If I can lift my wrist, it is not large enough.’

‘It?’

‘My diamonds.’

‘Diamonds?’

‘Well, whatever passes for precious stones here in Eldarn. God, you do have precious stones, don’t you?’

‘All right.’ Hoyt smiled, opening the hallway door. ‘If you can lift your wrist, it isn’t large enough. Got it.’

‘Be careful,’ Hannah said.

‘Always. See you in the morning.’

Steven woke from a dizzying dream to the smell of a long-distance bike ride.

It had been Mark’s idea, one night at Owen’s Pub after he’d finished the most recent of several-too-many beers and eaten about half a dozen too many of Owen’s spicy burn-your-arse-and-cry-for-your-mama buffalo wings, and he’d named it the Magellan Tour, a circumnavigation of the Denver metro area. He raised his mug and announced, not quite soberly, ‘Tomorrow, Steven Taylor, we round the Horn.’