Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [130]
“Niffa?” Dallandra said. “You'd best go tell your mother where you've been. Lady Zatcheka and I have much to talk about.”
Jahdo woke when the sky was just turning gold with sunrise. For a moment he lay still and luxuriated in the knowledge that he was lying in his own bed, in his own chamber, listening to his own brother snoring nearby. Ambo was sleeping curled beside his head, and Tek-Tek had draped herself across his chest. He picked her up and laid her next to Ambo, got a nip for his pains, then rolled out of bed on the other side. Niffa had never slept in her bed. He sat looking at her empty mattress, then shrugged and got up. He could guess that she'd stayed at the elven camp.
After he dressed, he leaned onto the windowsill and looked out. By craning his neck just right he could get a glimpse of the lake over the houses on the next street down. Home. He really was home. The smell of cooking porridge finally drove him to dress and leave the view. Out in the big room he found a rumpled-looking Niffa, finishing the last of a bowl of porridge at the table while Dera stirred the iron pot at the hearth. Lael was just coming in the door with two buckets of water.
“Good morrow, all,” Jahdo said. “Ah, Mam, it be so good to see you there and smell your cooking!”
Dera laughed and waved the long spoon in his direction.
“Never did I think to hear anyone praise my skill at the hearth! It be good to see you in your rightful place, too.”
“But your voice, lad!” Lael said, grinning. “You sound hoarse as a frog in winter.”
“No doubt, Da. I did talk more last night than I've done in all the rest of my life.”
Jahdo sat down next to his sister with a sigh of contentment. Home. At last he could put all the strange and horrible things he'd seen behind him—or so he hoped. Lael emptied the buckets into the big terra-cotta jar by the hearth, then set them down.
“I do be surprised to see you here,” Jahdo said to Niffa.
“Well, I did want to let Mam know where I spent the night past.”
Dera said nothing, but Jahdo noticed her giving the porridge a slap and a hard stir in the pot. Behind her back Lael sighed with a shake of his head, then came over to the table and sat down.
“I'll be going back later,” Niffa went on. “I'd best collect my things here first.”
Dera was concentrating on scooping out the porridge.
She set a bowl down in front of Lael first, then Jahdo, and returned to the hearth.
“I did hear last night about your man,” Jahdo said to Niffa. “It does sadden my heart. I did count Demet a friend.”
“My thanks. I do believe I'll mourn him the rest of my life.”
Jahdo pushed out what he meant to be a reassuring smile, then devoted himself to his porridge. He had seen so much death in the past year that he'd thought himself hardened, but his sister's grief cut him nonetheless. Dera brought her own bowl to the table and sat down. For a while they ate in a subdued silence.
“It gladdens my heart to see you safe,” Dera said finally. “Ai! I feel such pity for that poor Gel da'Thae woman, losing her sons.”
All at once Jahdo realized that he had a task to do, no matter how much he wanted to bask at his family hearth forever. He laid his spoon down in his bowl and stood up.
“Mam, do forgive me,” he said, “but it be needful that I run an errand. There be somewhat I carry with me that does belong to Lady Zatcheka.”
“Well, have you not the whole long day for errands?” Dera said. “You've not finished your breakfast.”
“Dera, hush!” Lael raised one large hand flat for silence. “I think me our Jahdo do know his own concerns best.”
Dera sucked her lips into a scowl, but she said nothing more. As he hurried into the bedchamber, Jahdo felt that he just might burst from pride. His father trusted his