'Not this time,' the Fox answered. He hesitated, then spoke one word more: 'Dagref.'
Selatre's eyes got wider still. 'But he's not old enough. She's not old enough, either, come to that.' Then she counted on her fingers and frowned. 'Time does run away, doesn't it? They could, I suppose, but I wish they wouldn't.'
'So do I,' Gerin said. 'Outside of wishing, though, I haven't the faintest idea what to do about it but let it run its course and see what comes of that. Van and Fand both seem to think a match between the two of them would be good, and I don't mind one, either. How about you?'
'If it's what they want, I don't mind,' his wife said. 'I wouldn't want it right away, though. They aren't old enough to know their own minds. Let's see what they think two or three years from now.'
'That sounds good to me,' Gerin agreed. 'My guess is, Van and Fand won't mind, either. Whether Dagref and Maeva will put up with waiting two or three more years, though, is another question. If they stay attached to each other, they'll just get more attached, if you know what I mean.'
'I suppose so,' Selatre said. 'When I was their age, though, I was waiting for the old Sibyl to die. I was to be a maiden, and had no chance to form an attachment to any male.' She took his arm in hers, so that his also brushed against the side of her breast. 'I've made up for it since.'
'That's good.' Gerin let it go there. He couldn't say he wondered if he would be around in two or three more years, because saying as much would bring up the question of the succession, and the succession was the one thing he'd ever found that he did not care to discuss with Selatre.
No, she'd never urged him to name Dagref over Duren. He didn't think she would urge him to do that, but he didn't want to set temptation in front of her, either. If Dagref kept growing as well as he had lately-and if no one hit him over the head with a rock for being so maddeningly right all the time-the decision might shape itself. If Dagref made everyone want to hit him over the head with a rock, even if no one did, the decision would shape itself, too, the other way.
If neither of those things happened, Gerin would have to shape things himself. He shook his head. He would have to try to shape things himself. Whatever choice he made, by the very nature of things he wouldn't be around to enforce it. That would be up to his sons, and to Selatre if she outlived him, and to all his vassals: many of them, these days, the sons of the men who'd first given him homage and fealty, some the grandsons.
'No matter how long you last,' he murmured, far more to himself than to Selatre, 'sooner or later things fall from your hands.'
His wife thought along with him, as she often did. 'They don't fall and break, though. Someone catches them and carries on. You did, when the Trokmoi killed your father and your brother.' She said no more than that. She didn't suggest that someone would catch the affairs of Gerin's kingdom when they did fall from his hands. Suggesting such a thing was as much as implying that someone should be Dagref.
Gerin thought about Duren competently running his barony, about Dagref fighting well and also falling in what might be love with Maeva. 'You're right,' he said. 'One way or another, things do go on. Pretty soon, they'll be in someone else's hands.'
'Not pretty soon, I hope. And whosever hands they're in, your mark will be on them,' Selatre said.
He considered that, then slowly nodded. 'I suppose it will. I helped keep the Trokmoi from overrunning all the northlands-and the ones who did settle south of the Niffet are mostly my vassals these days. I kept the monsters from breaking out, too: all except Geroge and Tharma, anyhow. If I didn't drive the Gradi from the northlands, I pinned them back against the ocean. And I could be wrong, but I don't think the Elabonian Empire will trouble us again any time soon. The gods know I haven't been perfect, but I've done pretty well. When you think how things can go for a man, I'll take that.' He nodded once more. 'Aye, I'll take that.'
