Patricia Briggs - Raven's Shadow

“So we are to lose you again?” said his mother querulously. “Alinath and Bandor cannot keep up with the work—every week they toil from dawn to dusk for the bakery, which is yours. When you come back in a few months, I will be dead.”

It was said in a dramatic fashion, but Seraph thought that the older woman might be speaking truth.

“I can find my people on my own,” said Seraph.

“Do you hear that, Tier? She is a Traveler and can find her own way,” said Alinath.

“She is sixteen and a woman alone,” returned Tier sharply. “I’ll see her safe.”

“You were younger than that when you went off to war,” said Alinath. “And you weren’t a witch.” She bit off the last word as if it were filthy.

“Alinath,” said Tier in a gentle voice that made his sister pale. “Seraph is my guest here and you will not sharpen your tongue on her.”

“I can take care of myself, both here and on the road,” said Seraph, though his defense touched her—as if the words of a solsenti stranger could hurt her.

“No,” said Tier, his voice firm. “If you’ll house us for the night, Mother, we’ll start out tomorrow morning.”

Tier’s mother and sister exchanged a look, as if they’d discussed the situation while Tier had left them alone to retrieve Seraph.

Tier’s mother smiled at Seraph. “Child, is there a hurry to find your people? If you cannot tarry here until I pass from this world into the next, could you not stay with us as our guest for a season so that we might not lose Tier so soon after we’ve found him?”

“A Traveler might be harmful to business,” said Seraph. “As I said, there is no need for Tier to escort me. I am well capable of finding my people by myself.”

“If you go, he’ll follow you,” said Alinath with resignation. “It may have been a long time since I’ve seen my brother, but I doubt that he has changed so much as to go back on his sworn word.”

“Stay, please,” said his mother. “What few people who will not eat from the table where a Traveler is fed will be more than compensated for by the new business we’ll get from the curious who will come to the bakery just to catch a glimpse of you.”

Seraph was under no illusion that she’d be a welcome guest. But there was no doubt either that they wanted her to stay if that were the only way to keep Tier for a while.

“I’ll stay,” she said reluctantly and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. If she were here then she wasn’t fighting demons and watching people die around her because she hadn’t been able to protect them. “I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Where is my brother?” Alinath’s voice sounded almost accusing, as if she thought Seraph had done something to Tier.

Seraph looked up from sifting the never-ending supply of flour, one of the unskilled tasks that had fallen to her hands. She glanced pointedly at the empty space next to her where Tier had spent the last three weeks mixing various permutations of yeasted bread. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, as if she hadn’t noted that he hadn’t taken his usual place this morning. Then she looked back at Alinath and shrugged.

It was rude, but Alinath’s sharp question had been rude, too.

Alinath’s jaw tightened, but she was evidently still intimidated enough by Seraph’s status as Traveler not to speak further. She turned on her heel and left Seraph to her work.

Tier didn’t return until the family was sitting down for lunch. He brushed a kiss on the top of Alinath’s head and sat down across from her, beside Seraph.

“Where were you this morning?” Alinath asked.

“Riding,” he said in a tone that welcomed no questions. “Pass the carrots please, Seraph.”

The rhythms of the bakery came back to Tier as if he’d not spent the better part of the last decade with a sword in his hand instead of a wooden spoon. He woke before dawn to fire the ovens and, after a few days, quit having to ask Alinath for the proper proportion of ingredients.

He could see the days stretching ahead of him in endless procession, each day just exactly like the one before. The years of soldiering had made him no more resigned to spending the rest of his life baking than he’d been at fifteen.

Even something as exotic as his stray Traveler didn’t alter the pattern of life at his father’s bakery. She worked as she was asked and seldom spoke, even to him. Only his nightly rides broke the habits of his childhood, but even they had begun to acquire a sameness.

He ought to sell the horse, his mother had told him over dinner yesterday, then he could use the money as a bride price. There were a number of lovely young village women who would love to be a baker’s wife.

This morning he’d gotten up earlier than usual and tried to subdue his restlessness with work—to no effect. So as soon as Bandor had come in to watch the baking, Tier left and took Skew out, galloping him over the bridge and up into the mountains until they arrived at a small valley he’d discovered as a boy. Once there, he’d explored the valley until the lather on Skew’s back had dried and his own desperation loosened under the influence of the sweet-grass smell and mountain breeze.

Part of him was ready to leave this afternoon, to take Seraph and find her people. But the rest of him wanted to put the journey off as long as he could. Once it was over, there would be no further escapes for him. He wasn’t fifteen anymore: he was a man, with a man’s responsibilities.

“You’re quiet today,” said Seraph as they worked together after lunch. “I was beginning to think that silence was a thing that Rederni avoided at all cost. Always you are telling stories, or singing. Even Bandor hums all the time he works.”

He grinned at her as he kneaded dough. “I should have warned you,” he said, “that every man in Redern thinks himself a bard and most of the women, too.”

“In love with the sound of your own voices, the whole lot of you,” said Seraph without rancor, dumping hot water in the scrubbing tub where a collection of mixing bowls awaited cleaning. “My father always said that too many words cheapened the value of a man’s speech.”

Tier laughed again—but Alinath had entered the baking room with an armful of empty boards in time to hear the whole of Seraph’s observation.

“My father said that a silent person is trying to hide something,” she said as she dumped the trays in a stack. “Girl, get the broom and sweep the front room. See that you get the corners so that we don’t attract mice.”

Tier saw Seraph stiffen, but she grabbed the broom and dustpan.

“Alinath, she is a guest in our house,” Tier bit out as the door closed behind Seraph. “You don’t use that tone to the hired boy. She has done nothing to earn your disrespect. Leave her be.”

“She is a Traveler, ” snapped Alinath, but there was an undercurrent of desperation in her voice. “She bewitches you because she is young and pretty. You laugh with her and you’ll barely exchange a word with any of us.”

How could he explain to her his frustration with the life that so obviously suited her without hurting her feelings? The bakery was smothering him.

When he said nothing, Alinath said, “You’re a man. Bandor is the same—neither of you see what she is. You think she’s a poor familyless, defenseless woman in need of protection because that’s what she wants you to see.”

A flush of temper lit Alinath’s eyes as she began to pace. “I see a woman who looks at my brother as a way to wealth and ease that she’ll never have when she finds one of those ragtag bands of Travelers. She doesn’t want to go to her people—even you must see that. I tell you that if you just give her the chance, she’ll snatch you into a marriage-bed.”