Meren whimpered and tried to bury himself in Ree’s shirt.
It took a while to get the boys calm enough that Ree could hand them down to Lenar and Jem. By then, Lenar had dragged the dead bears far enough away that they wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention, and Jem had lined up the sad little bodies of three of the damncats.
More than a few of the other cats were hurt, but they weren’t letting Jem get close. Getting back to the farm just gave Ree more reasons to worry: Little Garrad was acting like any small boy who’d just had the fright of his life, but Meren didn’t seem to be . . . well, there.
He wasn’t crying, wasn’t screaming, he just lay limply in Jem’s arms and stared at something no one else could see.
It was full dark by the time they got in, and Loylla was pacing the kitchen looking pale and frightened, but she’d boiled up water and had bandages out in case they were needed, and she didn’t hesitate when she saw Lenar and little Garrad, just ran to them and embraced them both without a care for the blood spattered over Lenar’s shirt.
“No one’s hurt.” Jem hastened to reassure her. “Is Granddad all right?”
“I’m perfectly well, and you needn’t treat me like an invalid.” Garrad’s voice was strong enough, coming from the main room.
“It was the damndest thing, Father.” Lenar shook his head. He strode into the main room and let everyone else trail after him. “All of them headed for the forest, straight for the boys, and they all attacked two bears.”
The old man paled. “Two . . . They never come this close in summer.”
“Something was controlling them.” Jem said.
Ree didn’t want to hear this discussion. And he was worried about Meren. He pulled the boy from Jem’s arms and said, “I’ll be outside with Meren.”
No one argued. Ree spoke softly as he carried Meren outside. “We’re just glad you’re safe, Meren. That’s all. You two scared us, running off like that.”
Meren’s hands clenched tight into Ree’s shirt, and he shuddered. The damncats—it looked like all of them —waited outside.
Ree found himself needing to sit and was cross-legged on the grass before he realized that he hadn’t decided to sit down. Cats were nuzzling Meren, making the little chirp-comfort sounds mother cats made with their kittens. Meren’s sounds were sadder, remorseful.
Ree would have sworn the cats were reassuring the boy, telling him somehow that dying happens, and the cats who’d died had died well. Whatever it was, it seemed to help, because Meren shuddered again, then started to cry. With words.
“Ree?” The sound came from behind Ree, and for once Lenar sounded uncertain. “I guess I owe Meren an apology. It was little Garrad who opened the air hatch and climbed out. Meren followed him but didn’t catch up until he’d gotten to the oak . . . and then the bears came.” He made a sound Ree couldn’t interpret. “He’s too scared to say more, but . . . I’m sorry. I said harsh things I didn’t mean. It’s just . . . you know, I lost Jem for all of his childhood, and so many bad things happened to him. Losing little Garrad might kill me. I can’t watch him all the time.”
Meren’s body relaxed a little but not all the way. He couldn’t understand all the words, Ree was sure, but he’d understand Lenar’s tone, and he almost for sure would understand the hand on his head and Lenar’s voice saying softly, “Thank you for saving my boy.”
Ree waited till Lenar left. He was thinking of the cats, running like a furry tide, attacking deadly foes to save the boys. He didn’t know much, but he knew that Meren didn’t have the woodcraft to follow anyone. Yeah, he could follow a scent, but he didn’t have enough experience to do it like that, in the woods. If he’d been that far behind little Garrad . . .
“The cats told you Garrad was going to the forest, didn’t they?” he asked.
“No,” Meren whispered, but it was a wavering no, lacking conviction. “They can’t talk to me. I’m not an animal.”
Ree held him tighter. “You’re not an animal,” he said “Some humans can talk to . . . creatures.” Ree had read something about it, once. “The cats told you?”
There was a long shuddering sigh and then, “Yes. I was asleep. Damncat told me. In my mind.” A long silence. “I didn’t want to . . . but . . .”
“You’re scared we won’t want you because of it?” Ree knew that feeling too well—and if Meren could understand the damncats that way without words, then . . . he could understand Ree, and that . . . that wasn’t something Ree wanted to really think about. If he knew how scared Ree was, all the time, it would be hard for Ree to appear calmly confident.
Another nod, a bit shakier this time. Ree pulled Meren closer, hugged him tightly. “It’s just something you do. Not something you are. Being human is here—” He touched Meren’s chest over the heart and tried to believe that, as hard as he could, to believe that Meren having this strange Gift was just . . . well, it was like Mages had their Gift, that was all. Maybe it was an odd kind of magic, but it didn’t make Meren less human for having it.
“Having Gifts is all on how you use it. This one saved you and Garrad tonight. That makes it good.”
Finally, Meren relaxed. “Fank you, Papa.” The words were mumbled around a fiercely sucked thumb.
Damncat strutted over. He gave Meren a headbutt, then rubbed against Ree’s leg.
“Yes, you and yours did well, too.” Ree scratched the cat behind the ears, and smiled. Everything would be all right. These vessels he’d put his heart into would break it again and again and again, but somehow, it would emerge stronger from each break.
Human hearts did.
Ree watched, and tried to keep his stomach from knotting up, while Lenar’s Mage examined Meren.
The Mage was a decent enough fellow, and he wasn’t going to do anything like denounce the boy, not here. It was just . . . after the magic circles, Ree had never really trusted magic.
Magic had made him a hobgoblin, after all, complete with a coat of sleek brown fur and claws that retracted like a cat’s. And a ratlike tail, which was wrapped around one leg inside his pants.
That same magic had given Meren a coat of sparse tabby fur in addition to his white-blond curls, and who knew what else. And that, Ree reminded himself forcefully, was why the Mage was here.
You couldn’t pretend that something like being able to broadcast what you were feeling to all the damncats was just a coincidence, and with the controlled hobgoblins attacking more often . . .
It was better to have Lenar’s Mage make sure that his Lord’s adopted grandson couldn’t possibly be controlling the hobgoblins, and never mind that those same controlled hobgoblins had attacked the child last summer.
Scared people didn’t think about things like that. They got themselves worked up and went after anything that was different. That was one of the reasons Ree didn’t go down to Three Rivers village much—while people respected him, and knew he’d help them whenever they needed, and get hurt for them, too, it was better not to remind them just how different he was.
The Mage leaned back with a sigh, and his eyes focused again.
Meren drooped; whatever the Mage had been doing had tired him out.
“I’ll just get Meren to bed, then I’ll be with you,” Ree said. With Jem walking Amelie to the manor to spend the night there—ostensibly to keep little Garrad company, but more because Lenar’s wife was near to term and not really able to keep up with her son—and old Garrad barely able to move, Ree was the only able-bodied person on the farm right now.
The Mage nodded. “Thank you.”
A little later, with Meren not even protesting about being put to bed for a daytime nap, and asleep before Ree had pulled the covers over, Ree returned to the kitchen and filled a bowl with the stew that was always warming on the stove.
“Here.” He handed the bowl to the Mage. “I heard tell you get hungry after magic.”
“Thank you again.” The Mage—Ree could never remember his name—was one of those people who looked so ordinary you forgot them as soon as you met them.
Not that Ree would have been surprised to find that the Mage “helped” that impression a bit with magic; it had to be a powerful advantage to a Mage to be overlooked and even forgotten.
