Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [134]
“Be serious.” Estil elbowed him; he laughed, and she poked him again. “You should be over there nailing the sticks together to make us a hut.”
“Can’t. Nails were in the stable cellar, too. They’re scattered all over the meadow now.” He made a face at her, then winked at Kieri.
“You can whittle pegs, then.”
“Estil, my little bird, you are not going to pretend we have no help, and you are going to accept the help we’re offered.” His voice was sober now; he put his arm around her shoulders.
“It’s—you built that wall, Aliam. You did. I remember—it’s what you built and I cared for all these years, and it’s gone …”
Kieri had never seen Estil cry; he looked to his grandmother, whose face at first showed only mild distaste but then warmed to compassion.
“Estil, Estil …” Aliam kissed her hair, murmuring. “It is never the same, one year to the next. We will build again; you will have more memories; the children will laugh in the halls and in the courtyard and in the fields. What more could we want than that? The same stones in the same place? The past to return? Brave one, dear heart, grieve awhile because you must, but then rejoice with me. The darkness has left my heart; do not let it invade yours.” He kissed her again, hair, eyes, nose. “Or I will tickle you,” he said.
Her eyes flew open. “In front of—you would not dare!”
“Oh, I would dare anything to see my love again in her own place, laughing and fierce all in one. Make peace with our friends, Estil, and take heart.”
Estil dug her head into Aliam’s shoulder, then sat up. “You’re right, of course.” She turned to the Lady, drying tears still streaking her face. “My Lady, I’ve been rude and silly, but now—whatever you wish to do, I accept with a grateful heart.”
“You are most courteous always, Estil Halveric, and I say again I was well rebuked and bear no resentment. Day is here; the sunlight we need for a working of power is here. Tell me, Alyanya’s own, what would you for your household?”
Estil looked confused.
“Is there not some part of your house you always wished were different? A chimney that did not draw well, a room with an ill-placed door?”
“The second pantry,” Estil said, nodding. “Open the door and it bangs right into another one, so you have to leave the kitchen, shut that door, then open the pantry—”
“We will build better,” the Lady said. She rose without appearing to move and reached out her hand. “Come with me, Estil, and we will look at that mess and consider how best to clear it.”
Kieri set his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his hands, and looked at Aliam. “Well?”
“Very well, thank you. Gods, Kieri, I can’t believe I was sunk so far I could think of nothing but death. Die? Leave Estil to grieve and my children … when so many love me? And leave you to rattle around on that throne surrounded by courtiers and not one man who knows war? Not that we want war to come here.” Aliam nodded to the woman who offered him a mug of sib, and sipped from it. “I don’t want a daskdraudigs either, but I’m glad to have some reason for my behavior other than simple idiocy.”
“Father, should we let the horses into the field where that … thing … was?” Cal had come up; he smiled a little shyly at Kieri.
“Cal, I’m keeping your father away from his work; forgive me. Aliam—go on. I’ll be there shortly.”
By the time the sun was at noon, the Lady and other elves had cleared much of the tumbled stone away, setting the unbroken stones in neat rows, while the humans salvaged smaller, lighter items strewn across the meadow. Kieri, forbidden to work magic, picked up whatever he could find.
“Another bridle,” Cal said. “I wish we’d find the rolls of strapping.”
“I wish we’d find a whole saddle,” Aliam said. “My backside’s too old to ride bareback on that ridgepole backbone our horses have.”
“You should buy Marrakai blood,” Kieri said. It was an old argument. “They’re double-backed and easy to sit on.”
“And expensive,” Aliam said. “Cheaper to buy new saddles.