"I have three brothers. Five sisters."

Cedrik gave a little sound of disbelief, amazed at how so many people could have lived under the one roof. "Where are your parents?"

"They moved to a place west of here called Broom. Heard of it? It's only a three-day ride, so I see them more often than I would like. The others not so much. I don't even know where two of my brothers are living. But I couldn't leave. The old hag needs me, you know?"

Cedrik smiled to himself. It was evident Cade loved his grandmother, though he would thrash anyone who said so.

"Besides I like it here," said Cade. "I've got work, and my girl's here. I don't have a need to leave." He stood back from the cleared beds. "Take your pick."

"I'm going to sleep in your sister's room," said Derek, taking himself out the door.

"Touch any of her things, and I'll break your fingers!" Cade called, then turned to Cedrik who was watching Deacon. "He'll be right when morning comes. You'll see."

Cedrik pulled back the covers to his a.s.signed bed. "It is good of you to let us stay here."

"Not a problem," came Cade's sleepy answer. "The mage isn't going to try and murder me in my sleep or anything is he?"

"Only if you talk in your sleep," said Cedrik.

Cade cast Deacon one more fearful glance before putting out the light.

Chapter20.

Tavern -edrik was the first to wake and was restless. He hadn't anywhere to go. He would not go downstairs to where the old lady was until Cade could accompany him. He had doubts she would remember him from the previous night and wanted to avoid either a fainting spell from her or a broom beating for himself. Soon he was stepping carefully over the clutter with the intent to wake Cade. He stood over him and saw with both amus.e.m.e.nt and alarm that he was gripping a knife in his hand as if it were a stuffed toy.

"Do you always sleep with a weapon in your hand?" Cedrik asked, clearly and distinctly, standing back so the sleeper didn't wake with a start and stab him.

Cade groaned and tugged the blankets up over his shoulder. "Only when there's a mage sleeping in the bed next to mine."

Derek appeared at the doorway. Usually it would take his mother to drag him out of bed by his ankles, but evidently the activities of the previous night had given him a new perspective on the city. Squinting out from under his blankets, Cade said, "You boys up and ready to go, already?"

"We should probably retrieve our things from the inn," replied Cedrik, sitting down and putting on his boots.

It was a slow and painful process for Cade to get up and moving. For a long moment he sat on the edge of the bed, stooped over. "Give me a minute," he muttered in a gravelly voice. He glanced over his shoulder at Deacon bunched up among the blankets. "See, he knows it's not yet time to get up. It looks like death took him instead of sleep-look at him." He picked up something to toss at Deacon, but Cedrik caught his wrist.

"Better to let him sleep," Cedrik said.

They made their way downstairs to the small, cluttered kitchen. There they found a hot breakfast waiting for them and ate as only boys know how. The coffee was hot and strong, and a heaped-up dish with sausages, crispy bacon, eggs, and hot fried cakes was far more pleasing than meals such as Cedrik and Derek had previously made acquaintance with. Grateful for the old woman's hospitality, Cedrik offered his and Derek's a.s.sistance in any way that might prove useful.

"Don't get all fancy. Just eat," she said and picking up a broom, set to her house ch.o.r.es and let the boys have their breakfast in peace.

"You worked some magic on her. Normally she would have set to work any man staying in her home," said Cade, putting another spoonful of eggs onto his plate. "You lads can stay here as long as you need. There's no rush for you to take off."

"If it's not a problem," said Cedrik, "we could find a place more suitable to us in the city if need be?"

"We don't mind the company," said Cade.

"All right, then," said Cedrik, pleased. He liked it here. No one would describe the cottage as grand, but there was something altogether homely about it.

Cade wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "There aren't any rules to abide by here. Only mind you don't aggravate the old woman. She can kill a man within five yards of her tongue. Understand?"

"Understood," said Cedrik uneasily, looking over to see if the grandmother was hearing them, but she was wholly engrossed in her housekeeping.

"If you don't mind my asking," said Cade, "what are the two of you doing so far from home? You surely didn't come all this way to enjoy Cheydon's fine weather, now did you?"

"We came here because Deacon wanted to," said Derek.

Cade blinked vacantly a moment. "So you mean to say you just follow him around like two little slaves, wherever he goes?"

Cedrik gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. "No. We only recently suffered misfortune in our family," he explained. "Deacon was most affected by it."

"Ah, I see," said Cade. "So you're keeping an eye on him, making certain he doesn't lose his mind and start blowing people limb from limb."

"We just didn't want him to be alone at such a time," was Cedrik's brief reply.

"He's not like either of you," said Cade. "You certain he's your cousin, and someone's not just having a go at you?" Casually, he resumed breakfasting and without lifting his face asked, "What side is he from?"

"His mother is sister to our father," replied Cedrik, a.s.suming that was the question asked.

"No, I mean which elven realm, North or South?" Cade looked up from his plate, chewing, and looked from one to the other, waiting for an answer.

"Northern," answered Cedrik with a bewildered expression. "How did you know?"

Cade shrugged. "He's got that look. There's something a little peculiar about him, if you don't mind my saying so, I mean even for here. We've had elves before, dark elves mostly, mind you, but they do come here sometimes. Is he one of them? Half-blood or something?"

"No," said Cedrik. "He lived in Loriendale, but he's got no elven blood."

"He lived in Loriendale?" Cade looked impressed. "What business has he with the elves then?"

"His mother was wedded to one of them," was Cedrik's brief answer.

"I have a cousin who's been to the elves, once or twice," said Cade. "Not to any such place as Loriendale, but he's been to Evandale, so he tells me. More likely he had one too many and stumbled into the woods, thinking they were the elves-probably made it with a few trees."

The brothers said nothing. They thought it best to leave that one alone.

Some hours later Deacon awoke. He was glad to find himself alone. Tossing aside the covers, he struggled from bed, suffering unpleasant aftereffects. His foot hit something, and he looked down to see that his bag had been placed there. Retrieving a few personal items, he crossed over to the washbasin to splash his face with cold water. He shaved and made himself neat, as usual, then made his way downstairs.

He found himself in the company of the old woman jabbing at tangles of cobweb. With all the cleaning she could give the cottage, it would still have been but a place of torment to any woman of refinement. She hadn't yet noticed Deacon, and as she turned, her elbow knocked the ceramic vase off the table. Instead of shattering on the floor it remained suspended. Startled, she looked up to see him standing at the base of the staircase, his hand outstretched. Without apparent effort he kept the object still until she, not without some unease, plucked it from the air and placed it back to its rightful position.

"You're down disgracefully late, boy. Your friends have already come and gone again," she told him.

His countenance remained impa.s.sive and unfathomable. Straightening her frock over her thin frame, she regarded him with uncertainty and was notably uncomfortable at being alone with the young mage. She had heard of the things they could do: summon apparitions from the nether realms, induce madness with illusion, even bind one to their will and force them to do their bidding.

Hot and fl.u.s.tered, she brushed a frail hand across her brow. It was not entirely inconceivable that her face might once have been rather attractive, though the persistent scowl made it difficult to ascertain what she would have been like in youth.

"I'm stuck with you, am I?" she asked, resuming her usual gruff indifference. Pushing past him, she said, "Come to the kitchen." She was a great deal shorter than Deacon but led him into the cluttered little s.p.a.ce with all the authority of an overbearing parent. "Sit," she said and drew out a chair from the breakfast-table. Deacon did as asked. The old woman set a heaped-up plate in front of him. "You're lucky I kept anything for you. It nearly went to the dogs."

Tying an ap.r.o.n over her frock, she let him alone and set to preparing the afternoon meal. Into a large iron pot, atop a wood stove, she threw coa.r.s.e cuts of meat and roughly chopped potatoes. She worked hurriedly and with agitation, as though it was all a bother to her. Often she glanced at Deacon as he struggled through the breakfast she had kept warm for him. He was far more quiet than the others, yet she was strangely more conscious of his presence.

"I need something from the cellar. Shan't be a moment," she said briskly, drying her hands on her ap.r.o.n.

"Shall I go with you?" asked Deacon.

"So you can speak, can you?" she said, antagonistically. "I was beginning to think you were one of the G.o.ds' special sort." The comment drew a slight, bitter smile out of Deacon. "What are you smiling for?" She waved her hand at him. "Eat your d.a.m.ned breakfast."

"I'm not particularly hungry."

She leaned against the table, stared critically at his face, and said, somewhat repulsed, "You're a sickly-looking thing, aren't you? I've seen things lying on their backs under my cupboard look healthier than you."

Deacon smiled to himself. A shade of contempt darkened his face. His look of illness was a sort of shame to him.

"You've been ill, haven't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied coldly.

She straightened herself. "Well, I don't suppose you'll be much use to me, will you? Doesn't matter. I wouldn't trust you anyway. There's a lot of your sort around here. All trouble-makers. Don't go making trouble for yourself now, you hear?"

Deacon dropped his eyes again; an insolent humour curved his lip, and he knew she had an impulsive urge to box his ears.

"Eat!" she said, muttering to herself as she left him to go down into the cellar. When she returned, Deacon was gone. He had left nothing for her to clean after him, and she was surprised and pleased to discover that he had fixed things about the kitchen that had been long in need of attention and which Cade had promised to get around to and never did.

For the remainder of the day, Deacon occupied his time at the spell book emporium, lost among scrolls and books, which he consumed with an insatiate hunger. Often he was frustrated and found much of it scarcely adequate. Finally he found something that took his particular interest. He purchased the book and returned to the cottage and his cousins.

An abrupt silence greeted his appearance. The boys, lounging rather than sitting, looked up uncomfortably. It was just as though he had walked in on some plot against him. For a moment he remained in the doorway. Changing to a sitting position, Cedrik nodded to the book. "What have you there?"

"Nothing that would interest you," Deacon answered as he entered the room, failing to acknowledge the other two. "I see we are to stay here?" he remarked, observing that all their belongings had joined Cade's clutter on the floor.

"You might as well. There's not much better, and here you can stay without cost." Cade spoke with his usual cheer.

Tossing the book down onto his designated place of sleep, Deacon barely acknowledged having been spoken to. Heavy with disappointment, he lay down. After a long silence, Cade proposed a drink and dinner at the tavern.

Well-occupied with himself Cade stared into the mirror. With a rough hand he brushed down his hair that would not lie flat, no matter how he pressed it. Cedrik and Derek watched his vain attempts. They were dressed in the newest and finest cuts, all in perfect order, and all becoming. Deacon was half-reclining over on his bed, book in hand. He glanced up occasionally at Cade, who had spent the past half hour going through numerous changes of garments.

"I have to get myself some new clothes," complained Cade, then turned to Cedrik. "Let me wear one of your shirts."

"Why?"

"It'll make me appear as if I have more coins in my pocket," he said, catching the shirt Cedrik tossed to him. As he slipped it over his head, he caught Deacon's disparaging look. "What?"

"When a man spends his energies on appearing to have, he's all the while losing the precious little time he has in which to actually have," Deacon answered without lifting his eyes from the page.

"Pfft. You, my friend," said Cade, turning to resume grooming, "are in desperate need of some togetherness with the fairer kind. And good strong ale," he added, the drink being his remedy for almost every ailment. "Come with us."

"No," answered Deacon.

Cade ignored his irritability and took the shirt off. "I don't like this one," he said to Cedrik. "What else do you have?"

"Is this really necessary?" said Cedrik, tossing another.

"I've got little more than myself to offer," said Cade. "So at least if I can appear to have a little more, I stand a chance at grabbing a woman's attention, and perhaps a little more if I can get away with it. A rich man is never unattractive in the eyes of a woman, now is he?" Dressed in Cedrik's raiment he had the air of a scrounger who had contrived to give himself a respectable look.

"Surely women are not such fools as to prefer the gold over the man," offered Cedrik mildly.

Cade shrugged. "Who can say? They're unfathomable creatures when you come to consider their strange impulses and reasonings. They're all mysteries, and that's the way I like to keep it. Look too close and you'll lose an eye."

"Haven't you a dozen sisters? Have they not given you some insight into the feminine mind?" said Cedrik.

"Five, and no," answered Cade, making his voice as dry as possible.

"I thought you said you had a girl already," Derek gave Cade a sporting jab in the ribs.

Cade lifted an elbow to defend himself. "Do that again and I'll poke you in the eye. She is my girl. She just doesn't know it yet." He shrugged and rolled his shoulders as if uncomfortable in his borrowed clothes. "Right. Now we can go."

He turned to Cedrik and Derek, draping his arms over their shoulders. "I'm going to introduce you to some real women, my friends, not those showpieces you city lads call women. These ones will put hair on your chest." He looked over at Deacon. "Come with us. You need to eat, don't you? And you don't want to stay here with only yourself and the Crone."

Deacon closed the book with a lazy movement of his hand.

"I'll introduce you to some friends of mine. It'll be a good time, you'll see," promised Cade, when Deacon rose to join them. "Only don't start any trouble with your madman tendencies. And don't, for the G.o.ds' sake, frighten all the women with that accursed stare of yours."

Deacon fixed him with a dark look.

"Right," said Cade briskly. "Let's go! Wait, you're bringing that?" He pointed to the book in Deacon's hand. "You mad tortured b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

The tavern was rowdy and busy. The innkeeper rushed back and forth filling tankards for many thirsty patrons, while the waiting-maids hurried about, weaving in and around the tables, mopping up spills, refilling empty mugs, and serving dinners.

"It's loud in here!" shouted Cedrik, hinting that he wished to be somewhere else.

"b.l.o.o.d.y unendurable!" Cade said with a laugh, pushing past people. At a noisy table near the fire, they joined a group of Cade's friends, some of whom Cedrik recognized from previously. Cold drinks were promptly ordered for the new arrivals, and Cedrik and Derek were very soon at their leisure.

Deacon remained quite separate, absorbed in the pages of his book, occasionally shifting his gaze to watch the dancing flames in the fireplace by which he had stationed himself. He was at his ease, yet was a stranger in the room. Preferring to keep a clear mind, he drank very little and kept to himself. He found no satisfactory company in the slow-moving brains of the village lads and took no pleasure in any of the pretty waiting-maids who frequented the table for conversation and sometimes to steal a kiss from their lovers.

A pert little waiting-maid sat on Cade's lap, putting her arms about his neck. From her forward manner, Derek presumed her to be the object of Cade's affection, when only moments after she left, another pretty thing took her place, sitting on his lap in the same familiar att.i.tude. Her hair was tied in a ribbon with an annoyingly tight knot. "Take it out," she said, turning her head from him to see.

Cade, preoccupied in trying to untie the knot for her, wasn't conscious of Derek laughing at his frustrations. He was starting to perspire from the heat, which made his fingers stick and pull at her hair. Growing impatient, she was trying to tell him how he should do it. That increased his irritation. It wasn't until he finally threatened to cut it out, reaching for a knife, that she removed herself, shoving his head aside as she pa.s.sed. When the ribbon situation had been resolved, the girl returned to Cade and commented on his different apparel.

"You like it? I think it looks good," he said, seeming unware he had lost her attention to Cedrik.

"He thinks this new look is going to somehow win Adriel," said one of them at the table. The girl looked upon Cade contemptuously.

"Except, isn't it true that once a man has won a woman, he no longer wants her?" she said. "It's born into you lot, isn't it?"