whom Firekeeper had already confided the great news in order that she might quiz the older woman about just how humans went about having children and how long it took those children to mature to usefulness and such, looked pleased.
“I’ve been bursting at the seams,” the elderly gardener admitted. “Just the other day Princess Sapphire’s maid was giving herself such airs in the servants’ hall. It was all I could do not to burst her bubble. Smug little minx—as if waiting on a princess makes her one herself!”
“Must run in the blood of those who wait on Shield-born,” Derian said. “I recall that Melina’s old confidential servant—Nanny, they called her—gave herself airs as well.”
“After we have our tea, then,” Holly said, “remind me that I have a packet for Derian.”
“Packet?” Firekeeper asked.
Holly nodded, looking at that moment bent as much by sorrow as by age.
“Do you remember how once I told you that my daughter, her husband, and their little girl were among those who went with Prince Barden?”
Firekeeper nodded. She felt sad for the fine old lady. It was clear that over ten years might have blunted the intensity of Holly’s loss, but had done nothing to diminish her grief.
“Well, I’m sending a few small grave goods for them. Derian and I spoke of this during one of his earlier visits. You, I think, were chasing rabbits.”
Firekeeper frowned. “You and House Kestrel and the king and queen. Derian, we will need more than two mules and a few ponies!”
“They’re all sending small things,” the redhead replied with a chuckle. “Like the tokens that go into wedding pouches.”
Firekeeper felt relieved.
“Good then.”
DERIAN STUDIED FIREKEEPER as Holly spoke of her daughter’s family, but no emotion but compassion crossed the young woman’s features. He knew the names of Holly’s family: Serena Gardener, Donal Hunter, and Tamara—this last the couple’s daughter, still too young to have a use-name of her own. In any case, no other identification than a first name probably had been needed in Prince Barden’s small colony.
What Derian was looking for on Firekeeper’s face was recognition, for he knew—as perhaps no one other than King Tedric knew—that Firekeeper really was this lost Tamara, and that Holly, whom the wolf-woman had adopted from personal interest and fellow feeling, was her own grandmother.
But Firekeeper showed no signs of recognizing any connection between them other than fondness, and Derian was sworn to silence.
Besides, he thought, aren’t ties of love and friendship better than those of obligation?
The truth of this stayed with him as he sat visiting with the old woman and the young, and his faint feeling that he should tell Firekeeper the full story of her relationship to Holly faded. Instead he thought over the past several days.
He’d enjoyed his visit home, would be sorry to be leaving again so soon, but Earl Kestrel had offered no difficulty with Derian living at home this summer while continuing in Kestrel employ. Derian could anticipate a long slow spring into summer, working part-time with his father, that routine enlivened by duties for the earl. A trip now would simply give him more stories to tell out under the peach tree in the garden as the family whiled away the hot summer evenings.
Derian considered telling Firekeeper some of the rumors he’d gathered at the stables, but held his tongue. This lighter conversation—Holly was chivying Firekeeper about the butter running down the young woman’s chin—was pleasant, and he would have time enough to bring Firekeeper up to date as they traveled west.
“Tell me, Derian,” Holly asked, seeming to read his thoughts. “Are you and Firekeeper making this journey alone together?”
Derian shrugged and offered a rueful smile.
“There’s no saving Firekeeper’s reputation where I’m concerned, Holly. I was her body servant for too long. ’Round the North Woods we
“I’ve been bursting at the seams,” the elderly gardener admitted. “Just the other day Princess Sapphire’s maid was giving herself such airs in the servants’ hall. It was all I could do not to burst her bubble. Smug little minx—as if waiting on a princess makes her one herself!”
“Must run in the blood of those who wait on Shield-born,” Derian said. “I recall that Melina’s old confidential servant—Nanny, they called her—gave herself airs as well.”
“After we have our tea, then,” Holly said, “remind me that I have a packet for Derian.”
“Packet?” Firekeeper asked.
Holly nodded, looking at that moment bent as much by sorrow as by age.
“Do you remember how once I told you that my daughter, her husband, and their little girl were among those who went with Prince Barden?”
Firekeeper nodded. She felt sad for the fine old lady. It was clear that over ten years might have blunted the intensity of Holly’s loss, but had done nothing to diminish her grief.
“Well, I’m sending a few small grave goods for them. Derian and I spoke of this during one of his earlier visits. You, I think, were chasing rabbits.”
Firekeeper frowned. “You and House Kestrel and the king and queen. Derian, we will need more than two mules and a few ponies!”
“They’re all sending small things,” the redhead replied with a chuckle. “Like the tokens that go into wedding pouches.”
Firekeeper felt relieved.
“Good then.”
DERIAN STUDIED FIREKEEPER as Holly spoke of her daughter’s family, but no emotion but compassion crossed the young woman’s features. He knew the names of Holly’s family: Serena Gardener, Donal Hunter, and Tamara—this last the couple’s daughter, still too young to have a use-name of her own. In any case, no other identification than a first name probably had been needed in Prince Barden’s small colony.
What Derian was looking for on Firekeeper’s face was recognition, for he knew—as perhaps no one other than King Tedric knew—that Firekeeper really was this lost Tamara, and that Holly, whom the wolf-woman had adopted from personal interest and fellow feeling, was her own grandmother.
But Firekeeper showed no signs of recognizing any connection between them other than fondness, and Derian was sworn to silence.
Besides, he thought, aren’t ties of love and friendship better than those of obligation?
The truth of this stayed with him as he sat visiting with the old woman and the young, and his faint feeling that he should tell Firekeeper the full story of her relationship to Holly faded. Instead he thought over the past several days.
He’d enjoyed his visit home, would be sorry to be leaving again so soon, but Earl Kestrel had offered no difficulty with Derian living at home this summer while continuing in Kestrel employ. Derian could anticipate a long slow spring into summer, working part-time with his father, that routine enlivened by duties for the earl. A trip now would simply give him more stories to tell out under the peach tree in the garden as the family whiled away the hot summer evenings.
Derian considered telling Firekeeper some of the rumors he’d gathered at the stables, but held his tongue. This lighter conversation—Holly was chivying Firekeeper about the butter running down the young woman’s chin—was pleasant, and he would have time enough to bring Firekeeper up to date as they traveled west.
“Tell me, Derian,” Holly asked, seeming to read his thoughts. “Are you and Firekeeper making this journey alone together?”
Derian shrugged and offered a rueful smile.
“There’s no saving Firekeeper’s reputation where I’m concerned, Holly. I was her body servant for too long. ’Round the North Woods we
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