Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [48]
“I don’t like this story,” Mina said, frowning.
Nightshade was about to make a stinging remark when he caught Rhys’s eye and thought better of it. He went on with his tale.
“The little boy said he wanted to leave. He could see a wonderful, beautiful place and he wanted to go there, but he couldn’t because he didn’t want to leave his father. I said his father would want him to go on with his journey and I told him that they’d meet up again. The little boy said that was the problem. If he did meet his father again, how would his father recognize him after so much time had passed?”
Mina had been fidgeting, but she was quiet now, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, listening intently, her amber gaze fixed on the kender.
“I told him his father would know. The little boy didn’t believe me and I said I would prove it.
“I went to the cobbler and I told him I was a Nightstalker and I’d talked to his son and that there was a problem. At first the cobbler was kind of rude, and there might have been a small scuffle when he tried to throw me out of his shop. But then I described his little boy to him, and the cobbler calmed down and listened.
“I took the cobbler to the graveyard, and his son was there waiting for him. The cobbler told me that he thought about his son every day, and he imagined what he would be like as he was growing up, and he said that was why he came to visit on his birthday. That he could see his little boy growing up in his mind. When the little boy heard this, he knew that no matter how much he changed, his father would know him. The boy quit kicking the tombstone and gave his father a hug and then he left on his journey.
“The father couldn’t see his little boy or hear him, of course, but I think he did feel the hug, because the father said I’d lifted a weight from his heart. He felt at peace for the first time in five years. So he took me back to his shop and he gave me the boots and he said I was a—”
Sitting up straight, Mina said abruptly, “What if the little boy hadn’t died? What if he’d lived and grown to be a man and he’d done things that were wicked? Very, very wicked. What would happen then?”
“How should I know?” Nightshade said crossly. “That has nothing to do with my story. Where was I? Oh, yes. The cobbler gave me the boots and he said I was a—”
“I’ll tell you,” said Mina solemnly. “The little boy must never grow up. That way, the father will still love him.”
Nightshade stared at Mina in astonishment. Then, leaning close, he said in a loud whisper, “Is that why she’s a—”
“Go on with your story,” Rhys said quietly. He reached out his hand and gently smoothed Mina’s auburn hair.
Mina gave a fleeting smile, but she did not look up. She sat gazing into the fire.
“Uh, anyway, the cobbler gave me the boots,” Nightshade said, subdued. He sat looking uncomfortable and then remembered. “Oh, I have something else!” He went to retrieve a large cloth bag and plunked it down triumphantly.
Rhys had noticed the bag, but had been careful not to ask questions, not being truly certain he wanted to know the answers.
“It’s a map!” Nightshade stated, pulling out a large, rolled-up sheet of oiled paper. “A map of Ansalon.”
He spread out the map on the floor and prepared to show it off. Unfortunately, the map kept wanting to roll back up again, and he had to anchor it down with two ale mugs, a soup bowl and the leg of the stool.
“Nightshade,” said Rhys, “a map like this costs a lot of money—”
“Does it?” Nightshade frowned. “I don’t know why. It