The Prodigal Mage: Fisherman’s Children Book One (63 page)

Then he turned again, and walked away.

“Rafel,”
said Charis, standing in her open doorway. She was wearing a white apron over a yellow blouse and green skirt, and her dark hair was tied back under a yellow scarf. Flour dusted her hands, her cheek, the tip of her nose. She looked flustered. Beautiful. “You’re back. When did you—whyareyou—”

Broad-brimmed hat in his hands, he smiled at her, tentative. “I put Firedragon in your stable. Hope you don’t mind.”

“What? No, no of course not,” she said. “Rafel, what are you—”

“I stopped by to see Pellen.”
And let the Council stamp about that all they bloody like. I don’t care
. “Is he here?”

The surprised pleasure died out of her eyes. “Papa? Why do you need to see Papa?”

For so many reasons, he couldn’t answer. “It’s complicated, Charis. And it’s important.” He put on his best wheedling voice. “Please?”

Beneath the smudges of flour, her cheeks tinted pink. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “He’s awful weak, Rafe.” Her fingers tightened on the edge of the front door. “It might be best if you come back another time. I can’t have him upset. I can’t—I don’t—” Her voice broke, and she stared at him in mute misery.

Sink it. “
Please,
Charis,” he said, knowing he was being selfish, knowing he was using her girlish feelings for him.
But this is bigger than her feelings
. “I ain’t looking to fret him, or you. I only need a little while. And I’d not come bothering if it wasn’t needful. I ain’t even been home yet. I ain’t seen
my
da. You reckon I’d come here before seeing him if I didn’t have to?”

She shook her head, tears brimming. “No, of course not.” Letting go of the door, she and stepped back. “But Rafel, when I ask you to leave—you have to leave. Don’t wheedle me then.”

“I won’t,” he said, stepping over the threshold.
Not unless I have to
. “So… I can go up?”

“Yes, go up.” Her hands twisted in the apron. “He’s not long had his supper. He’s still awake. But Rafel—”

He paused on the staircase and looked down at her. “Don’t you trust me, Charis?”

“He’s all I have, Rafe,” she said, as the brimming tears fell. “And Kerril says I won’t have him much longer. If you—if you feel the smallest kindness for me you’ll remember that. When you’re talking your important mage business… you’ll remember it.”

So she didn’t trust him. At least not altogether.
She knows me too bloody well, that’s the problem
. “I’ll be quick as I can. Only—”

Now her fingers were clutching the staircase newel-post. “What?”

“You’re so busy seeing him a sick man, you forget Pellen Orrick lived his life doing right by Lur. He won’t be sorry to see me. He’ll be glad I came.”

“Forget?”
Tears banished by anger, Charis glared at him. “You think to school me on my own father, Rafel? It seems Arlin Garrick’s right after all. You
are
as arrogant as any Doranen.”

He shrugged. “Meek men don’t get much done in the world, Charis.”

And he kept walking up the staircase, feeling the heat of her stare scorch his back.

“Rafel!” said Pellen, as he tapped on the open chamber door. “So, you’re home again. Good. Well, don’t just stand there. Come in. Have a seat.”

But he couldn’t move. Was nailed to the floor at the sight of Da’s friend. Only five days since he’d seen him in the Council chamber, but so much had changed. Pellen’s face was faded blueish-grey, all its flesh consumed by fever. His dark hair was fever-bleached too and cropped to stubble, showing the vulnerable shape of his skull. Just like a babe’s. Even covered by a nightshirt it was clear he’d languished to skin-and-bone, worse even than Jaffee.

“What?” said Pellen, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t Charis tell you I’m dying?”

He’d come here seeking advice. Or maybe… permission. He’d not thought to be struck dumb and close to tears.

A small, wry smile curved Pellen’s lips. “So I do look worse than your da. I should be sorry to hear it, but I’m not. This is a race I’m happy to win, Rafel. You’d best tell me how he’s doing today. The truth, mind. No coddling.”

Rafel cleared his throat. There were tapers burning by the bedside, soaked in some kind of healing incense. Kerril’s doing. She had them burned in Da’s chamber, too. He never noticed them making a difference, but nobody wanted to cross Lur’s best pother.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, the sweet smoke tickling his nose. “I ain’t been home yet.”

“Days on the road and you’re here instead of with your father? What’s the matter with you, Rafe?”

“I got called to see the Council, urgent.”

“Oh,” said Pellen. Then he jerked his chin at the bedside chair. “Sit down, I said. Makes me tired, shouting across the room at you.”

He pushed the door to and did as he was told. “You got any word on Da?”

“I’m told he’s holding his own,” said Pellen, cautious. “But Charis and that bloody pother between them think to eke out a few more days for me by mouthing comfortable lies. That’s why I asked you how he was looking. Can’t rely on what Kerril says. If I had the strength I’d be insulted.” He pulled a face. “Mind you, I think she’s gone a bit sweet on me. Silly girl.” Then his clouded gaze sharpened. “Speaking of sweet, you’re not looking sugar plums at my daughter, are you?”

What?
Yes.
“No! Pellen—”

“Good,” said his da’s friend. “She can do a sight better than a fowsty young buck like you.”

Stung, he felt his jaw drop. “Oh. So—”

“Easy, Rafe. I’m twigging you,” said Pellen, wearily teasing. “But she’s a conversation for another day. Why’d the Council want you so urgent?”

“The expedition. There’s word.”

Pellen snorted. “And it’s bad, of course. The fools. A pity heeding your father’s gone right out of fashion. So, they’re all dead?”

Weary himself, and worried, he felt his belly clutch with anger.
“
Pellen
—
”

“Sorry, Rafe.” Reaching out, Pellen patted his knee. “It slipped my mind. Goose Martin. A good lad. But they wouldn’t have summoned you just for that. What else does the Council want?”

He slumped in the chair. “The impossible.”

“Ah.” Pellen frowned at the ceiling. “So…
these
are the Final Days your mother tried to save us from. After all we went through, prophecy got it wrong.”

He sounded sad but not exactly surprised. As though he’d always known things would turn out this way. “Pellen… ” No use hesitating. Best to just say it. “Me and Arlin Garrick want to go over the mountains. We want to find Old Dorana, and bring back magic as can save Lur. The Council’s talking on it now, but they’ll say yes. It’s our only chance.”

“And crossing the mountains,” said Pellen, after a while. “That your mad idea, was it?”

“Arlin said it first. I said I’d go with him.”

“Bet
that
put a smile on his face.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Not really.”

“Rafel…” Pellen heaved a sigh. “Nobody knows where Lost Dorana is. It’s why they call it
lost
. You could wander for years and never find it.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can’t let that stop me. Any road, leave Lost Dorana aside and there’s still Goose.”

“Rafe—”

“No,”
he said, and leapt up. “I don’t want to hear it, Pellen. Goose ain’t dead. He’s with Sarle Baden, and Baden’s a powerful mage. He ain’t dead. None of them are. In trouble, it sounds like, but not—not dead.”

Pellen dragged a hand over his grey-stubbled face. “What can I say to talk you out of this? D’you want me to tell you how you shouldn’t trust your life to Arlin Garrick? Because you shouldn’t. Given half a chance, that young man would push you off a mountain.”

“Prob’ly,” he said, shrugging. “So prob’ly I shouldn’t give him half a chance, eh?”

Pellen growled. “It’s not funny, boy.”

“Never said it was,” he replied. “Pellen, I don’t know what else to do. All I know is even if Goose wasn’t out there somewhere, needing me to help him, I’d still go.
’
Cause Lur needs help worse than Goose and the rest of them. What I felt in the earth, out in the Home Districts… what I can feel now, here with you…” He didn’t try to hide the shudder. Sat down again, suddenly close to despair. To tears.“I’ve got to do
something
.”

“I understand that,” said Pellen, troubled. “You’re your father’s son. But Rafe—that boy of Rodyn’s, he’s—”

“Believe me, I don’t want to go
anywhere
with the poxy shit. But even though it’s Arlin, I’ll still be safer crossing the mountains with him than if I went on my lonesome.”

“You’re sure about that?” Pellen asked quietly. “Because I’m not.”

“Don’t fret,” he said, trying to hide his own doubt. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. If Arlin thinks to faddle with me, could be he’ll get himself a nasty surprise.”

“It’s one thing to be confident,” said Pellen, with a sharp look. “It’s another to be—”

“Arrogant? Aye. So I’m told.”

That earned him another sharp look. “I see you’ve convinced yourself there’s no other way. But—”

“Pellen
…
”
With an effort, he calmed himself.
I can’t fratch at him. He’s only trying to help
. “I don’t know if Da’s dying… but I
do
know Lur is. And it’s Lur dying that’s put Da in his bed like a wax doll.”

“Maybe that’s true,” said Pellen, frowning again. “But Rafel, speaking as a father, I can tell you
your
father wouldn’t want this for you. All he wants is his son safe and well.”

He sat back. “Does he?
’
Cause down in Westwailing, when he needed help, when folk were in danger? He risked my life without thinking twice, Pellen. Back Da into a corner and he’ll use anyone. You know that. He used his own best friend. Killed him. So me going over the mountains to save this kingdom? That’s just being a good son, ain’t it?”

Pellen’s deep sigh turned into a raw, hacking cough. Sickened, Rafel waited for the spasm to pass, gave his father’s friend water from the bedside pitcher, then waited to see if he was strong enough to keep talking.

“Rafel,” Pellen croaked, stranded against his bolstering pillows. “Are you sure this isn’t because your father denied you the last time? Because you blame him for whatever fate’s befallen your friend?”

He shoved out of the chair again. Paced the small, sweet-scented chamber. “If I don’t do this, Pellen, if I don’t save Lur, then every last bloody pain Da ever suffered for this kingdom? He suffered it for
nowt
. I can’t have that. I
won’t
have it. Lur’s got to live.”

“Though it cost you
your
life?” said Pellen, and dragged open his blue-veined eyelids. “Your father wouldn’t want that.”

“I don’t care what he wants,” he retorted. “Not this time.”

“Well, then… since your mind’s made up… what do you want from me?” said Pellen, a wheeze in his voice. “An old man with his left foot stuck in the grave?”

Good question. Halted at the foot of the bed, he found himself suddenly struggling for words. “Da might wake up after I’m gone. If he wakes up, and—and you—you ain
’
t—”

“If I’m not dead?” Pellen shook his head and laughed, the wheeze sounding louder. “Rafel, you’re bloody killing me. No, no, don’t apologise. After Charis and Kerril, well-meaning as they are, your bluntness is a breath of fresh air.” He sobered. “Yes. I’ll tell him. I’ll try and make him understand. If I’m not dead by the time he wakes up.”

If he wakes up
. The unspoken words hung between them, loud as a shout.

“Thank you,” he said. “I surely appreciate it.”

“And there’s nothing else you’ve come for?” said Pellen. “My blessing, perhaps?”

You’re as bad as Charis. You both know me too well
. “I s’pose,” he muttered. Looked up, and met Pellen’s sad gaze. “Since I can’t have Da’s. And I’ll not get Mama’s. It’d mean something, if you gave it, Pellen. You’re family.”

Pellen’s pain-shadowed eyes washed brilliant. “Barl save me, Rafel. You and Asher. Cut from the same cloth.” Then he grimaced. “About your mother…”

“She’s already well fratched at me. I don’t see this’ll make much difference.”

“Don’t talk tosh,” Pellen snapped. “Rafel, I’ve been friends with your mother close on a quarter century. Right now she’s beside herself not knowing who to be more afraid for, you or your father. So if you’re determined to do this, you’d best do it with your eyes wide open. You’d best face up to what you’ll be doing to her, by leaving. And to your sister.”

“Deenie doesn’t need me,” he said. “She’s got Charis. But Mama…” He rubbed his face. “I already know what she’ll say. She said it already, before I rode out for the Home Districts. She accused me of abandoning Da. She thought I was being reckless and selfish and cruel.”

Five days since she’d shouted those barbed words, and he was still bleeding.

“I don’t understand, Pellen. She used to be fierce. She fought as hard as Da ever did to save Lur from Morg. Why doesn’t she—why can’t she—I don’t understand.”

“People change, Rafel,” Pellen said gently. “Women have babies and they change. She’s still fierce. But she’s trying to protect her family now. That’s what she’s fierce about. That’s what she’s fighting for.”