Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [61]
“Some,” Caelan admitted reluctantly.
“But you accepted death.”
It seemed to be a question. Not understanding where the Choven was going, Caelan nodded his head with impatience.
“Yes.”
“Why did you accept it?”
Caelan shrugged. “I had no choice. I had done my best to save myself. But it was inevitable. I had to accept it.”
“So when no other choice is possible, you will accept what is before you?”
“Maybe.”
Moah laughed. “Such stubborn caution.”
“I am not Choven,” Caelan insisted, goaded by the Choven’s amusement. “I am human, son of Beva E’non—”
“A man you do not love, a man you do not respect,” Moah interrupted.
“That’s between me and him,” Caelan snapped. “No one else. He’s still my father.”
“And you would defend him?” Moah asked. “How curious. You have resented and criticized him as long as you can remember, yet—”
“You don’t understand,” Caelan broke in. “That’s just part of it. If he had only accepted me:—”
“And who are you, Caelan E’non?”
Caelan stopped, feeling confused again.
Moah took a step closer, his gaze penetrating. “Who are you?”
“But I don’t look like you!” Caelan burst out, feeling cornered. “My skin, my hair and eyes, my stature. I’m not Choven. I’m human. Why do you insist otherwise?”
“I have said nothing,” Moah said in a reasonable voice.
Caelan glared at him. “Lea told me.”
“Ah, your sister is light incarnate. She is radiance itself.”
Caelan refused to be distracted by this compliment. “Yes, but she’s wrong.”
“Is she?”
“Yes!”
Moah turned away as though he were going to leave, then paused. “I will relate a tale,” he announced, and began before Caelan could protest. “In the long days you call summer, a man of Trau climbed the mountains in search of us. We would not be found, but this man persisted. He wandered the mountains and even ventured onto the glacier. His will was iron in his body; he would not give up.
“At last, after a span of many days, the seeker sat on a rock and fasted. Rains fell on him. Winds blew at him. He fasted, sustained by his limited skills of severance and his will.
“We were in the time of feasting and did not wish death to cast poor omens across our shadows. We brought the seeker to us and restored his health. He told us he was a student of healing, but a poor one. He could not master the skills of his training, and he feared he would fail. With all his heart he wished to bring succor to the sick and needy.
“The Choven had pity on this seeker, and the ability to heal was given to him.”
Caelan gasped, his mind reeling. All this time he’d thought his father had been born with his gift. The masters at Rieschelhold had all praised Beva’s abilities while he was in training. Why had they lied?
“The seeker went down the mountain and treated his gift well,” Moah said. “He used his new powers only to heal, never forgetting his bargain with us.”
“What bargain?” Caelan asked.
“That is in the past—”
“What bargain?” Caelan insisted, yearning to know. “What promise?”
Moah regarded him a moment, then answered. “If we would make it possible for him to heal the sick, then he would live his life as a peaceful man, committed only to the practice of his arts and training.”
Caelan frowned, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Understanding filled him, but it did not lessen the resentment in his heart.
“Weren’t we worth his commitment, too?” Caelan asked. “Why did he bother to sire us if he didn’t want us?”
“But you were wanted,” Moah said.
Caelan remembered his father’s many lectures, remembered his father’s plans for them to be healers together.
“Years passed,” Moah said, “and once again during the long days the man came in search of us. Remembering him, we let ourselves be found and listened to his request. He had taken a woman to wife, but there were no children of this union. It was important to this man that he have a son to walk in his footsteps, to train as he had trained, to become as him.”
Caelan opened his mouth, but he could not speak. His heart felt like a stone in his chest, too heavy to beat.
“These traditions are