The Shadow's heir

Later, when he was asleep, she sat in his chair by the fire and poked at the ashes.

In all her life, Bran was the only family she had ever known, and her only friend, too. Nobody else wanted to know her. When she was small, other children had been happy enough to play with her, but as they grew older, things changed. The opinions of parents moved on to their children, and suddenly play turned to bullying. Suddenly, she found herself learning new words. New meanings.

Blackrobe. Half-breed. Freak. Darkwoman.

That was when she truly began to understand.

Now her thoughts turned toward her father, as she looked at her lap and the long, thin fingers he had given her.

“Bastard,” she muttered aloud. “Gods-damned evil bastard. Yeh raped my mother. Yeh turned me into this. Yeh made me a gods-damned half-breed. I swear by Gryphus’ flames, if yeh weren’t dead, I’d find yeh an’ do it with me own hands.”

Strangely enough, her anger helped to sustain her over the next few days.

She stayed close to home, as always, preparing food for her adoptive father and keeping the house tidy.

There was nothing she could do for him directly. Even if she had been a healer, he was beyond the help of any medicine. Years of bad living and heavy drinking had destroyed his body from the inside out.

Neither of them mentioned their conversation again. Laela thought of bringing it up, but she felt guilty over it now, and she kept her silence. Her adoptive father didn’t need to talk about painful things any more.

She did her best to keep him comfortable and happy, staying by his side whenever he was awake and talking to him as cheerfully as she could, or even singing. He’d always liked it when she sang. Bran didn’t say much himself, but he’d never been very talkative. Sometimes she felt afraid that he resented her presence, but one evening when she was hesitating over whether she should leave him alone, he reached for her hand and gave it the gentlest of squeezes.

“Yer a good girl, Laela, yeh know?”

She looked down at her hand, almost lost in his big, rough fist, and bit back a sob. “I’m sorry what I said before, Dad. You was right; it din’t matter who my real father was. He was a criminal what raped my mother. You was the good man what looked after me, an’ that’s what counts, ain’t it?”

Bran’s tired face crinkled in a smile. “I’d say so, Laela. I’d say so.”

“I’d like t’know more about my mother, though,” Laela added. “What was she like?”

“Aaahh. .” Bran sighed. “I don’t remember that much, girl. Yeh know that.”

Laela didn’t believe him. “I know, but if there’s anythin’. . anythin’ at all. If yeh don’t tell me soon, yeh never will.”

“I know,” said Bran. “Well. . yer mother.” He sighed again. “Ain’t thought about her in years, yeh know. Well. .” A long pause.

“What?” said Laela, eagerly. “What d’yeh remember, Dad?”

“Yeh mother was a merchant’s daughter,” Bran said slowly. “Had the most beautiful eyes, she did. Blue like a summer sky.” He squeezed her hand. “Like yer own, Laela. Like yer own.”

Laela smiled. “Always bin proud of ’em, Dad.”

“She was a fierce one,” Bran added in distant tones. “Beautiful as a rose, an’ just as thorny, Arren used t’say.”

“Who?” said Laela.

Bran started. “What?”

“Who’s Arren?” said Laela.

“What? Oh. Friend of mine,” said Bran. “Long dead. Knew yeh mother, same as me. We used t’go drinkin’ together. By Gryphus but we couldn’t’ve known what would happen to us. .”

Laela leaned close to listen. “What happened?”

“We grew up,” Bran said briefly. “Bad things happened t’all of us. That was just before the war started.”

“What bad things?” said Laela.

Bran’s brown eyes narrowed. “Bad things,” he repeated. “Young Gern, he died in a fight. Yer mother. . pregnant out of wedlock, to a Northerner. Arren, he. . he died, too.”

“How?” said Laela, mostly driven by morbid curiosity.

“Murdered,” said Bran. He sighed. “My best friend, was Arren. Him an’ me, always together.”

Great Gryphus, thought Laela. No wonder he took to drink.

“So yeh took me after Mum died,” she said. She paused. “But what happened t’her?”

Bran coughed. “Laela, there are some things. .”

“Tell me!” Laela almost shouted. “Dad, I’ve got t’know! It’s all I’ll have of her, so give me that, at least!”

“She was murdered, too,” said Bran. “When yeh were still in the cradle. Died defendin’ yeh.” His voice broke. “I came in right after it happened. The murderer. . he’d slit yer mother’s throat wide open with. . she was dead right by the cradle, with you in it. I came in. . the murderer ran away, an’ I took yeh and left. Never went back there.”

Laela withdrew, suddenly cold all over with shock. “Oh, Gryphus. .”

“So that’s it,” Bran muttered, as if he were ashamed. “That’s how she died, an’ there’s no reason t’look back. It’s over, girl. Over.”

“Who did it?” said Laela. “Who killed her? Why?”

Bran said nothing.

“Who?” said Laela.

“I’m tired,” said Bran. “Let me rest now, girl. . get t’bed and rest yer own head a while. Yeh’ve earnt it.”

Laela stood up. “What was my mother’s name, Dad? Please, can yeh tell me that?”

But Bran didn’t reply, and she knew he wasn’t going to tell her, whether he remembered it or not.

“Well,” she muttered. “G’night, then.”

Bran opened his eyes again and smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry, Laela. For everythin’.”

She touched his cheek. “Yeh ain’t got nothin’ t’say sorry for, Dad, so stop that. Now, get some sleep, an’ I’ll see yeh in the mornin’.”

She left him and went to her own bed, which was actually nothing more than a straw pallet near the fire. They’d never had much money, especially recently, since Bran had been forced to leave his job because of his illness.

Laela snuggled under the blankets, thinking. She had never had anyone apart from Bran, and soon she was going to lose him, too. And when that happened. . what then? She could stay in their house, but how would she support herself? And how long would it be before someone decided to take it away from her?

No. . she couldn’t stay. But if she left, where would she go?

It doesn’t matter where I go, she thought bitterly. Everyone knows I’m a half-breed the moment they see me. No-one here’s gonna welcome someone like that; it’s worse than bein’ a bloody blackrobe. Oh, Gryphus, Dad, why did yeh have t’die now?

She fell asleep with those painful thoughts circling each other in her head.

Uncomfortable dreams followed her.

She dreamt of her mother-an indistinct figure, but one whose blue eyes were kind. A dark shape reared over her, holding a dagger, and after that, blood splattered over Laela’s face. Murder. But she felt no fear.

The dark figure turned toward her, dagger raised.

Laela backed away. Leave me alone, curse yeh! I ain’t done nothin’!

The murderer only laughed. Go. Go. . go. .

You can bloody go, yeh bastard! Laela yelled back. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, see?

Go, the murderer repeated. Go back. Go back.

I won’t!

Go back. .