The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [40]
"I can count on one hand the times she made good on that threat," Seregil retorted with a grin.
Adzriel laughed. "I've always said I should have beaten you more."
"You're probably right."
To his surprise, old friends and relatives crowded in around his horse as soon as they reined in at the gate. As he'd expected, his other two sisters weren't among them. But his uncle was, and Akaien smiled and waved to him as if he'd only been gone a few days. He hadn't changed much. He was tall and dark like Seregil's father, but with a ready smile and warmth in his grey eyes that Seregil had seldom felt from Korit i Solun.
Kheeta's mother, Aunt Alira, was the first to embrace him when he dismounted. "It's about time you came back, you rascal!" she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. She made a show of feeling his arms and shoulders. "And skinny as ever!"
"You haven't changed a bit either, Auntie," he replied, hugging her tight.
"And this must be the golden-haired lover I've heard so much about," she said, looking Alec's way just as he lifted Sebrahn down, then staring as she saw the rhekaro's eyes. Her fingers twitched as if she resisted making a warding sign.
Alec hitched Sebrahn up on one hip. Sebrahn clung to him like a porie, his large eyes alert and darting from face to face.
Not an auspicious beginning.
And what if he starts singing?
But then Akaien was right there in front of him and all other thoughts fled as he grabbed Seregil in a fierce hug. For just an instant Seregil was surprised that he was nearly as tall as his uncle. Akaien's arms were as hard and wiry as ever from his smithing work, and his large hands scarred and stained. Seregil could smell lingering traces of smoke in his hair.
"Uncle!"
"My boy!" Akaien pulled back and looked at him. "Look at you, Seregil, still the image of your mother."
"Just the thing a man wants to hear," he replied wryly as Kheeta i Branin claimed him for an embrace. He was Seregil's age but looked younger, even with the distinctive white streak in his dark hair showing under his sen'gai.
"You look better this time around, except for this mess," his friend said, roughing Seregil's ragged hair. "Is this some new Tirfaie fashion?"
"Plenimaran, actually," Seregil told him with a laugh, then noticed that Alec had hung back, still holding Sebrahn, while everyone else was greeting friends and loved ones. "Alec, tali, come meet our uncle. Uncle, I present to you my talimenios, Alec i Amasa of Kerry."
"I'm glad to meet you, Uncle Akaien," Alec said, setting Sebrahn on his feet and clasping hands with the older man.
Akaien smiled as he looked Alec over. "Well, I like your braid better than my nephew's style. Apart from the color of it, you look as 'faie as Seregil. Adzriel said you looked more Tir but I don't see it."
No one but Seregil caught Alec's slight wince; Alec was as sensitive to that well-meant observation as Seregil was to his own old nickname. Some effects of the alchemist's purifications still lingered. Alec had looked completely 'faie when the man was done with him, and although the magic or whatever it had been had faded a bit, he still looked more Aurenfaie than he had.
"Who is this little one?" asked Akaien.
"This is Sebrahn." Alec pulled back Sebrahn's hood. The rhekaro's hair had grown out halfway down his back since the last trimming, and he was dressed in a white tunic and trousers of 'faie cut that Yhali had given him. He was still barefoot, though, refusing all efforts to make him wear shoes.
"Well, now." Akaien held out his hand, showing no surprise at the color of Sebrahn's eyes. "Greetings, little stranger."
Sebrahn slowly reached out and brushed his fingers against Akaien's, and Seregil breathed a sigh of relief. Akaien was a highly respected member of the clan; if he and Adzriel accepted Sebrahn in front of the others, then perhaps this would be an easier stay than he'd expected. Indeed, others were already crowding around quietly to get a better look, as if Sebrahn were a newborn babe being