The Quest for the Heart Orb (27 page)

“Thank you, Sir Garundel,” Zakiel said.  “I appreciate that very much, especially coming from you.  But I still don’t want to lose anyone to the cold.”

“You won’t,” Bredon said.  “You’d never allow such a thing to happen.”

“Not if I can help it,” Zakiel agreed.  “Come on.  It’s been a hard day for everyone.  Let’s help get camp set up, then we can all relax.” 

***

A couple of hours later Bredon stood outside his tent, relieved that the rain had stopped for a while.  He knew he should retire, but was unable to stop his eyes from straying to the women’s tent, which he’d been avoiding for the past few days.  He wanted to go to Kapia and tell her the one thing he’d held back.  But what if it was just one thing too many for her?  And what would Zakiel say?  Because, he knew, he couldn’t tell Kapia without telling Zakiel.  And Karma.  And Nikura.

He saw Zakiel step out of the women’s tent, pause to look around, then walk toward Garundel.  As Bredon watched the two men talk, then part ways, he wondered at Garundel’s behavior toward his daughter.  He’d known the man his entire life and had never once seen him hesitate over anything.  And yet, he hesitated to claim Ren as his daughter.  Why?  Life was not infinite.  Even the youngest and greenest of Hunters was fully aware that each and every day that he belted on his swords and pulled on his bracers might be his last.

So why wait?  Why hesitate?  Why waste this time when he knew better than most that those moments could never be regained?  So what if she was angry with him!  Garundel was a warrior.  Surely he could stand fast through her anger long enough to get past it.  If she refused to forgive him, then he’d have to live with that.  But wasn’t she worth taking a chance?

Bredon stilled.  He suddenly felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over his head.  He was an idiot.  A really big idiot.  He shook his head and began marching toward the women’s tent. 

“Sir Bredon asks to see you, Highness,” Caral said.

Kapia looked up, replaying Caral’s words in her mind, trying to make sense of them.  Bredon?  Here?  Had he made up his mind?  “Show him in, please,” she said dully. 

Several days had passed since their conversation about marriage.  Since then the only time they’d been within fifty feet of each other was in Zakiel’s tent, and he’d been careful not to speak to her.  She was fairly sure that he hadn’t even looked at her. 

He’d asked for one or two days, but twice that much time had passed.  After all the time they’d been forced to be apart, she couldn’t imagine
wanting
to avoid Bredon for days on end.  Not for any reason.  He’d demonstrated quite clearly that he didn’t feel the same way.  She had her answer, and she really did not need, or want, to hear him say the words.  But, she couldn’t bring herself to turn him away either.

Caral nodded, then went back to the entrance.  A moment later Bredon entered the tent, walked right up to her, knelt down and pulled her into his arms.  Kapia was surprised, but didn’t try to pull away.  Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.

“I saw Garundel talking with Zakiel,” he said, speaking into her hair because he couldn’t quite make himself let her go now that she was in his arms where she belonged.  “I was trying to understand why Garundel continues to allow so much time to pass without claiming his daughter.  I know he loves her, I know how much he loved her mother, and I know how heartbroken he was when he was told they died.  And now, here she is, a miracle he never dared dream of, and he wastes so much time when he should be with her. 

“I was wondering
why
, trying to understand him, when it came to me that I’m doing that very same thing.  I love you, Kapia, and you were right.  There is no telling what tomorrow will bring, and yet here I am, wasting this precious time that’s been given to us out of fear.”

Kapia could hardly believe what she was hearing.  She had a passing thought that she might be dreaming, and that maybe she should pinch herself.  She immediately discarded that idea.  If she was dreaming, she had no intention of waking up before she absolutely had to. 

Bredon pulled back and looked down at her face.  “Will you forgive me for being such a fool?”

She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.  He smiled, then pulled her against him again.  “Kapia, before we can be married, I must speak with you, and Zakiel.  If, after that, you still want me, I will marry you as soon as Zakiel will allow.  This very night if possible.”

Kapia leaned back and looked into Bredon’s eyes.  “I’m awake, aren’t I?”

“Yes, little flower, you’re awake,” he said, his green eyes bright with unshed tears.

“In that case, I hope to convince you one day that my love for you is not as inconstant as you think.  But for now, yes, let’s go talk to my brother and get through whatever you need to say.”

“Excuse me,” Ren said from behind them.  Kapia and Bredon both turned to see her standing behind them, her face pale, arms crossed in front of her.  “I know it’s rude of me to interrupt you, and I’m sorry for it.  It was awful of me to overhear you, and I’m sorry for that too, but, Sir Bredon, I must ask you, how do you know those things you said about Garundel?”

“I know because I’ve known Garundel for most of my life,” Bredon said.  “It’s not my place to say more on this subject, Hara Ren.  But I will say one thing and that is this; don’t waste what time has been granted to you.  Once gone, it’s gone forever.”

“Thank you, Sir Bredon,” Ren said.  “I will leave you both alone now.”

Ren picked up her cloak and left the tent.  Kapia silently wished her well, then turned her full attention back to Bredon.  “Shall we go now?”

“Yes, now is good,” Bredon said.  Then he bowed his head and kissed Kapia, hoping with all of his heart and soul that it would not be the last time, but understanding, finally, that it was a risk worth taking.

**

From the moment she stepped out of the tent, Ren felt Marl’s eyes upon her.  It was almost physical, the lightest brush of the softest fur or the finest silk.  She paused, waiting for him to join her, which he did within moments.

“Why are you out in this cold, beloved?” he asked while fastening her cloak beneath her chin and pulling her hood up.

“It’s time for me to speak with Sir Garundel,” she said.  “Will you take me to him?”

“Of course,” Marl replied, holding his arm out for her.  “Come with me.”  They walked through the camp in silence.  Marl knew why she wanted to see Garundel, though he didn’t know why she’d chosen this night for it.  The expression in her eyes begged him not to ask questions, so he remained silent, instead sending a fervent prayer to the Sky Warriors that everything would turn out well for Ren and her father.  It didn’t take long for them to reach Garundel’s tent at the far side of the camp.  Either someone had warned Garundel of their approach, or he’d seen them coming. 

“Good evening,” Garundel said, when they stopped before him, his eyes studying Ren curiously.

“Good evening, Sir Garundel,” Marl replied.  “Hara Ren has asked to speak with you.”

Garundel nodded and looked at Ren again.  “Of course.  Would you like to come inside, or would you prefer to stay in sight of the rest of the camp?”

“I’d like to speak with you privately, please,” Ren replied.

“Marl, will you please guard the entrance?”

Marl agreed and after giving Ren’s hand a gentle squeeze, he stepped back.  Sir Garundel held the tent flap open and waved for Ren to enter.  He followed her in, letting the flap fall shut.

“I’m afraid my tent is not as fancy as what you’re used to,” he said without rancor.  “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Ren said, taking the cushion across from where he’d been sitting.  A few minutes later they were both sitting with a steaming cup of tea, Ren holding hers in order to give her hands something to do.  “I would like to ask you what happened,” she said.  “Why did you not come for me?”

“I did not know where you were, or even that you were alive,” Garundel said, his heart pounding though his expression remained calm.  He’d begun to think that Ren would never give him this chance, and now that she was here, he was suddenly afraid of how she’d react to what he had to tell her.  What if she didn’t believe him?  What if she decided not to give him a chance to be in her life? 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Ren said.  “Didn’t Mother tell you where we were in the message she sent?”

“She sent a message?”  Ren nodded, surprised by how strongly he reacted, though she couldn’t tell exactly what the emotion was.  Happiness?  Regret?  Anger?  It seemed to be a combination of all three.  Garundel scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed deeply. 

“Please, tell me what happened,” she said.

Garundel reached for his tea, but just held the cup without drinking for a few moments, then put it back down.   “I was called to duty,” he said.  “I went on short excursions regularly in my duty to King Rhobar, but this time was different.  Isiben was threatened with invasion, and I had to travel far to the south, near the border.  You were five when I left.”  Garundel fell silent for a moment, then cleared his throat and resumed speaking. 

“I received a letter from your mother telling me that she was taking a caravan to the village she was born in, to visit her mother for your sixth birthday.  When I returned home three months later, you were still gone, though you should have long since returned by then.”  Garundel’s voice cracked, but he cleared his throat again and continued.  “Roesa had given me the name of the caravan she’d purchased passage with, so I went to their place of business.  They told me your caravan had been set upon by brigands on Traveler’s Road, deep in the mountains, and that everyone had been killed.  The passengers, the drovers, the servants.  Everyone. 

“I refused to believe it.  I traveled to the site, but months had passed, and there was nothing left but a large group of graves, none with names on them.  I went to the village Roesa was born in, to see if you’d made it there.  Your grandmother told me that you’d never arrived.  She was ill, so I remained there and cared for her until she died a few weeks later.  Then I returned home and struggled to accept that my wife and daughter, my only family, were dead.  I put two mourning beads on my egora, and every single night before I sleep I pray that when I die, I will see you both again, and my loneliness will end.”

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, completely ignoring the tears that tracked down her face.  “So sorry that I blamed you for so long.”

“It’s not your fault, Daughter,” Garundel said, and she could see the pride in his eyes when he called her that.  “Can you tell me anything at all?  I know you were very young, but I would like to know what happened, if you know.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know very much, and my memories are vague,” Ren said.  “I remember traveling for a very long time with a bunch of other people.  Then one day Mother and I went to the river to swim.  That was the last time I took my Mareon form. 

“After that, it was just the two of us, and we were walking instead of riding in the wagon.  It rained a lot, I remember that, and we were both cold, but we didn’t have our clothes or blankets or anything except what we’d worn to the river that day.  A few days went by, three I think.  Mother became ill, but she’d wrapped her shawl around me and got angry when I tried to make her wear it.  Then one day a man and woman in a wagon saw us walking along the road and heard Mother coughing.  They were the first people we’d seen and they were very kind.  They made a fire and gave Mother a blanket and cooked hot food for us.  That was when Mother took the pouch from her belt that she always wore, and sewed it shut.  Then she made me promise not to open it and gave it to me. 

“The next morning they put us in their wagon and took us to Sanctuary. 
Brai
Adaya said Mother had pneumonia.  They put her to bed and only let me visit her for a few minutes at a time.  The second morning we were there was my sixth birthday and I woke up with my first corona stone.  That’s what Mother called it.  Later that afternoon she told me that she’d written you a letter, and that you would come for me very soon.  She died the next day.”

“I never received a message, Ren,” Garundel said, his voice choked with tears.  “I swear, if I had, I would have come.  Nothing could have kept me from you.”

“I know,” Ren said, reaching over to place one hand on his shoulder.  “I understand that now.”

“Thank you,” he said.  Ren sat quietly, sipping her tea while watching Garundel’s face.  His expression was stern, but the depth of his sorrow was there in his eyes.  It was so intense and so vast that she couldn’t make herself look into them for very long.  If she’d doubted his love for her mother before, she never would again.

“Did anyone tell you, later, when you were older, what happened?”

“When I was thirteen, after my second corona stone appeared, I asked
Brai
Adaya to tell me what she knew, but there wasn’t much.  She said that by the time we reached Sanctuary, Mother was delirious with fever, and said little that made sense.  They didn’t know where we were from, or where we were going.  I knew my father’s name was Garundel, Mother was Roesa, and I was Ren.  That’s all.  Since no one ever responded to the letter Mother sent, they took me in as an orphan.”

“Your name was…is…Renata,” Garundel said with a faint smile.  “When you were two you decided you liked
Ren
better because you couldn’t say
Renata
.”

“I didn’t remember that,” Ren said, then took a sip of her cooling tea to wash away the lump in her throat before going on.  “I’m so sorry.  I assumed, foolishly, that you stayed away deliberately.”

Garundel’s eyes bore into hers.  “Never apologize to me for that again, Ren. 
Never
.  You were a child. 
My
child.  I should have known you still lived.”

“How?” Ren asked.  “How could you possibly have known?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll never forgive myself for not finding you,” Garundel said.  “I loved you from the first moment I looked into your eyes, moments after your birth, Ren.  And I’ve never stopped.  Not for a single moment.  I should have known you still lived.”