C. J. Cherryh - Fortress 05 (68 page)

Gods, let one quench the other. Let them be brothers.

A step intruded. A servant, he thought at first: very few dared come and go without at least a cough.

It came just that degree closer than a servant at work and he turned his head, his hand already moving; but it was Tristen who had come in—doubtless an open door, the servants coming and going about their business—but not necessarily, Tristen being what he was. Cefwyn’s hand went back to the window sill, his attention back to the view below. He welcomed the presence by him, the other overseer of the witch’s son—and the queen’s. His friend.

Always his friend, whatever the world said.

“Elfwyn has wizardry,” Cefwyn murmured, knowing he was not wrong. “I ever so hope it was your teaching.”

A moment of silence. “The boy was offered many things on his journey. He found something within himself, where it always was.”

Cefwyn turned his back to the window, his face to Tristen, as if a glance could answer what had no answer, nor might have for years.

“His mother’s heritage, do you say?”

“His mother had a choice,” Tristen said. “Both the sisters had, at the start. Neither was strong enough. Tarien came closest to escape.”

He thought he understood what Tristen was telling him. He could hardly imagine that Tarien Aswydd could have been like Emuin, that the choice of wizardry rather than sorcery had been within her reach. Some Aswydd far back in the line had made a certain fatal choice, was what he had believed, a choice that had damned all the line.

And he had, in his folly, joined that bloodline to his own, linked these two boys, these brothers.

He looked back at his sons, saw they had risen from the step.

Aewyn put his arm about Elfwyn’s shoulders.

Elfwyn’s arm went about Aewyn’s. Two boys, pushing and shoving at each other, meandered back to their fallen weaponry.

They gathered swords and shields up out of the snow and, falling in together with a second round of elbows and now evident laughter, passed out of view.

Tracks remained, a serpentine in winter white, one set of tracks, weaving this way and that, but going side by side.

—«»—«»—«»—

[scanned anonymously in a galaxy far far away]

[A 3S Release— v1, html]

[March 21, 2007]