Someone shook her shoulder with determination, but Fia didn’t want to wake up.
“Fia!” Calima whispered. “Wake up.”
Slowly Fia opened her eyes and turned her head. The merest gray light of dawn barely lit the window panes.
“What is it?” she asked groggily. “It’s still so early!”
“No it isn’t,” Calima retorted. “The storm just makes it look that way. It’s well past time to get up.” Fia reluctantly pushed the blankets back. “Be careful to be quiet,” she told her. “Everyone else can sleep for as long as they want; there’s no traveling to be done today. The storm arranged that! It’ll do them good. But Gilahdro wants to see you.”
“What about?” Fia yawned as she followed her into the hall.
“How should I know?” she inquired. “I’m going to the kitchen to help with breakfast.”
“Calima,” Fia said, “won’t Larna be worried about us with this storm? And is she going to be fine? She’s all alone by herself now.”
Calima shook her head.
“Don’t worry about Larna,” she said. “As soon as we got here Gilahdro told us that you two were taking the cobs over, so several of the wounded that were most recovered went with Andro to Olayin House. They’ll take care of things there, and Larna knows that you might be stopping here instead of coming home. As soon as the weather clears we’ll all be heading home.”
She pointed out a door down the hall.
“They’re in there,” she said. “But first come down to the kitchen with me and get a good breakfast. Never can tell how long a meeting with Gilahdro will drag on.”
Fia just nodded and smiled. Their own meeting with Gilahdro had been short and to the point, but breakfast did sound like an absolutely marvelous idea. “And, Calima,” she hurried to ask, “do you think I could find a comb to borrow? I haven’t fixed my hair in days.”
Her teacher laughed. “I certainly think we can.”
After she had combed and braided her hair again Fia felt much more presentable, and with a full stomach and a cleared head, she knocked gently on the door of the room she had been told Gilahdro was in.
“Come in,” came his unmistakable voice, and she timidly pushed open the beautifully carved wooden door.
A gorgeously colored rug lay spread over the floor between a semicircle of chairs and a divan, with a elegantly carved walnut desk on one side. Gilahdro sat at the desk, and on the divan reclined the well-blanketed figure of a pale, but alert-looking King Gregor. Ilido sat on the rug beside his father, leaning one elbow on the divan next to the king, his strong young hand enclosed in one of his father’s weakened ones. Arethmay rested in an easy chair by her husband’s head, her right hand laid gently on his hair. Her face was at peace for the first time since Fia had first seen her, and she wondered if she could look any more like a queen even in coronation robes.
As Fia entered Arethmay looked up and smiled at her.
“Where’s Calima?” she asked.
“She’s in the kitchens,” the girl said.
“I should help.” Arethmay rose from her chair and patted her husband’s head with a special smile for him before she crossed the room.
“Lady Arethmay,” Gilahdro said, and then corrected, “Queen Arethmay. You have done enough already. You have well deserved to rest now, Your Highness.”
Arethmay’s head tipped to one side as her face spread into a slow smile of friendly amusement.
“Is not a queen’s place to be with her people?” she asked softly and kindly. And then she was gone through the door.
Gilahdro bowed his head respectfully to the place where she had stood. It was clear that he respected his newest queen much more deeply than merely that which a subject is bound by duty to give.
Then he drew a breath and turned to the erstwhile trespasser.
“Well then, maid Fia. As you can see this storm has made travel impossible for some time, but it will have its effect upon our enemies as well, of that we can be certain. Thankfully most all of our people were in good places for just such an event, and we may well hope that our adversaries were not.”
He came around from behind the desk. “Our young prince tells us you two encountered the scoundrel that had led you astray the last time I had the honor of your company.”
She looked at the floor and bit her lip at this reminder.
“…And that you took the opportunity of regaining what Othira had, once again, temporarily lost.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She remembered that it was still in her pocket. Or at least it had better be. Her quick hand found its hard shape and she breathed again.
He smiled then, a quick, warm smile that made you feel as if he knew about all the mistakes you had ever made, and overlooked them all, to like you immensely anyway. You also got the feeling that perhaps he had made quite a few himself at one time, and so understood your position completely.
“Glad to hear it,” he said; his words held a clear lilt, as though he was hoping for the best from you, and was genuinely, thoroughly delighted when it happened.
“I’ll need something sharp… I sewed it in…” She tried prying the edges of her pocket apart, but then Gilahdro handed her his opened penknife.
“Thanks.” She took it and quickly sliced through the stitches she’d hastily put in.
She stepped forward. “Here it is.”
She held out the bundle Ilido had entrusted to her, turning back the edges of the cloth so that the Sunlight Stone could rest uncovered in her upturned palm.
Even in the dim and uneasy light of a stormy morning in winter, and by the flickering light of the fire, the Cororan Solevir twinkled with a soft and merry golden glow, like it shared a private secret. She could have sworn she almost saw it wink at her.
“And I’m truly sorry I was involved in any part of its being taken from its rightful keeper, sir,” she said.
“All things turn out right in the end, little friend. As I think I mentioned when we first met.” He raised a friendly eyebrow and his smile broadened. “If you hadn’t been taken in by that swindler you’d never have known to come here yesterday when you couldn’t make it to Olayin House, and many would have suffered, and probably been lost. And if the Sunlight Stone had never been taken, you, Fia, would not now be able to return it, and in so doing put Othira’s monarchy partially in your debt; and myself completely in it.”
“Oh, no,” she quickly avowed.
“Ah, yes.” King Gregor lifted a hand. “We are much in your debt, Fia Brithin.”
“But, it was my fault in the beginning…”
“No,” said Ilido. “It was more mine. You tried to warn me not to believe Arlot, but I didn’t want to listen to your good advice.” Then his smile brightened. “See, we’ll share the blame together, Fia.” And he laughed.
“Well…” she said, and diminished into silence.
Gilahdro gently took the golden stone from her palm and went to one knee beside the king.
“I have not had the opportunity to swear fealty to you yet, my king,” he said. “Now that I have regained my trust, may I do so now?”
The wounded king nodded in recognition of Gilahdro’s wishes. Holding the yellow adamant towards his liege, the Keeper of the Sunlight Stone spoke in a quiet voice that carried earnest authority.
“I, Gilahdro Gemelio, Keeper of the Sunlight Stone, do swear fealty to Gregor son of Kenlir; Sovereign of beauteous Othira and King of the North Shore of the River Endrel; and do offer my life, my limb, and all my worldly goods for his service. And I show on this day, as proof of my good faith in this my sworn trust, this stone, the Cororan Solevir, which was entrusted to my forefather Barendol by King Eleros, in the tenth and second year of his reign; and which to you belongs.
“As I and my fathers have served those kings before you, so I will serve you now, my lord, and your heirs.”
The king put a weary hand on his servant’s shoulder. “Your fealty is accepted, Gilahdro Gemelio, most worthy of men.” His eyes were tired and kind, but sparked with an inner fire still, as he shook his head. “All this that you have spoken with words has long been more clearly spoken with your deeds, my friend. Keep your trust, good Keeper. I shall never fear for your loyalty or devotion. I thank you.”
Gilahdro rose. “It is we who thank you, sir, for the danger you freely face of your own good will, for the freeing of our country. It is no easy burden, but all good hearts that beat in Othira this day give thanks for a king such as you.”
The king sighed and laid his hand wearily on his coverlet. “My friend, you embarrass me with your flattery,” he said with a smile. “Let us speak of other things.”
He turned his eyes to the girl standing on the rug. “Fia Brithin. I hear your brothers are fighting in Othira’s foothills. I thank them for the danger they share for a country that is not their own. And you, for the risk you took in helping to lead some few of our people to safety. You have the gratitude of us all.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. She didn’t know what to do, so she did nothing.
“Will you come closer, maid Fia?” he asked, and Ilido moved around to his father’s head to make room for her at his side. “Stay a while with an old invalid, of your kindness, and lighten the day a little.
“We had a little daughter once,” the king continued, and took her young, strong hand in his weakened one. “She was as bright and pretty a thing as ever you saw. She had dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. We lost her when she was three to the fever. Do you know, little one, that I still miss her? You’d think that one would forget after a time.”
“I know my father would not have,” replied Fia, her heart quickened. “Some things are never forgotten.”
“But we were lucky to have her, even for so short a time,” he said and smiled, a little sadly. Then he said, “Tell me about your family.”
And so she did. Though at first Fia was rather shy, and Ilido seemed to do most of the telling, gradually she warmed to this sad and weary father, and soon was telling him about Scelane Tilth and of growing up in the company of many friends and family, of how they’d stalk the deer in the woods for sport, and of the time she’d briefly spent at the Lorsian palace.
He listened carefully, no matter where the conversation wandered, and would smile and nod like a kindly man that had been too long away from his hearth, and too long at the wars.
Outside the quieted storm softly laid down more snow, and the wind hushed and went away to hide in a cave. The clouds hung over the mountain hideaway like a coverlet over a sleeping child, and the fire crackled ever more softly as the king eventually slept.
Fia slipped away in silence then, leaving the father with the son to watch over him. She now felt at ease with this wounded king, and knew that he would talk with her again when he felt rested. Somehow she seemed to help entertain him. If there was anything she could do to help Ilido’s father she certainly would… and besides, she liked him very much just for himself.
In the hallway she met Arethmay coming back, and the gentle queen caught her by both shoulders. Her eyes twinkled happily in the dull light of the hall. It was like a veil of fear had momentarily been lifted from her, and relief from the former gnawing worry had decked every cloud with silver spangles. Even small things glittered in the reflection of her happiness.
“I have heard what you did, my Fia.” The Lady squeezed her quickly in a hug. “You have done very well. Your family should be proud of you, as much as I am.” Then she pressed a quick kiss to the girl’s forehead.
“Thank you,” Fia whispered, without knowing what it was the queen had heard. Whatever it was had made her smile, and Fia was glad for that, at the very least. Arethmay stepped back for a second, and then went on to join her family.
Fia continued down the hall. Although a light lunch had been brought up to the king’s room for them, that now seemed ages ago, and she was starving.
She tried to head in the general direction that she remembered from earlier in the morning… trying to find the kitchen. But the unfamiliar house was a bit of a challenge.
Childish laughter came from behind a nearby door, and Fia was glad of a chance to ask directions. She turned the knob and stepped into a small room warmed by a cozy fire, and occupied by a group of children. They were scattered pell-mell around the hearth, many lounging on the rug where the heat was strongest, sturdier hearts curled up on chairs here and there, and small ones huddled under a comforter on the bed, all faces turned to a young lad at the fire. Fia instantly knew he had been storytelling; the scene was too much like her own siblings’ pastimes to be misread.
As one, the children all looked up at her, fixing her in their sights, the wariness in their suddenly somber eyes showing plainly that they had been part of the company Ilido and she had guided from Arnithera. Suddenly she was shy, inexplicably out of her depth with these weary little hearts whose moment of magic she had disrupted.
“I’m sorry…” she began. “I’m looking for the kitchens… and I don’t know my way around. I was wondering if anyone…?”
“I’ll show you.” The Storyteller got up from a short stool by the fire and began stepping carefully over the sprawling limbs of his audience. She felt she knew him, but her mind was drawing a blank. There was definitely something familiar… but…
“I’ll show her!” A little boy jumped up out of the coverlets that had been curled into a nest at the head of the bed. “I’ve heard this story, Derin. You stay and keep telling it.”
He climbed down in a flash and hurried to stand next to her.
“I know the way!” His big eyes looked up at her full of confidence, and anxious to be proved worthy.
“Really, I do.” He turned to assure his sister, a dark-haired lass only a few years his elder. It was she he had been sharing the nest with, Fia saw, and she, Fia surmised, who had made it. Now his sister looked on uncertainly at his impetuousness, and then at the storyteller, standing stranded in the small sea of his audience. In a moment of understanding Fia realized they were siblings, these three. And that she did know them… they were the three on the red horse who had fallen on the slope in the storm.
Only a second passed, but some unspoken decision formed, and the girl disengaged herself from the bed.
“I know it!” the youngest boy repeated. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, Yori.” She turned to the bedpost and Fia saw a lonely mitten that had been drying there, stuck upright like a hand waving good-bye. The girl stood on tiptoe to lift it off, and then brought it to Fia.
“Thank you for letting us use it,” she said shyly. Her eyes slipped to the floor and then back up again, gratitude forcing her to continue. “And thank you for giving us your horse to ride. He was very surefooted, like you said; never even slipped.”
“Yes, thank you very much,” the storytelling lad added. “I hope you were able to ride the other all right.”
Inexplicably Fia felt a little embarrassed; she had only acted instinctively and certainly required no thanks.
“Oh, yes,” she said, laughing it off lightly. “He just needed to find his feet again, that’s all.
“Now.” She turned to her volunteer escort. “I’d like to get a little something to eat.”
The boy grinned and strode importantly past her into the hall.
“It’s this way,” he said and marched off.
His sister came out of the door behind them as they left, and shadowed her brother’s efforts… Fia knew it was to make sure he got back to the room all right. Fia smiled… they reminded her of her own siblings, back when they were very little and needed looking after.
At the kitchen door Yori stopped, and Fia paused to thank him. He was delighted to have been helpful, and turned around to go back. His sister stood waiting at the last corner, and Fia sent a smile and a silent thanks to her, also. She watched as Yori came up to his slender sister, and the girl put a hand on his shoulder as they both disappeared around the corner.
Then Fia turned in to the kitchen, and the task at hand. There would be no leaving this place until the storm broke, and frankly she was in no hurry to go. After the exhaustion of the past days every bone in her body wanted to lay down in the warmth and rest. It felt good to know that was exactly what would happen.
But she also knew that Larna would be worrying over them, regardless of what Andro had to say. It would be good to get home again and have everything and everybody as it should be, once more.
Then she stopped, noticing a change in her own thoughts.
Home.
Home to her was now Olayin House …
She smiled. Maybe that was the change she had hoped for. Maybe she had grown up.
There was more than one home in her life now, and there was room for many more.
She went onward, her thoughts hazily drifting forward to the coming days…
Safe and warm.
It couldn’t ever be completely safe, not while there was trouble on the other side of the mountain… But now that Ilido’s father was safe, and she had so recently seen Evin, and had word of Arolin, Fia felt things were basically all right again.
Suddenly she yawned. First she’d eat, and then she’d go straight back to bed.
The End