Kinrove’s upper lip curled in scorn, briefly baring his teeth. For that instant, he looked like a snarling dog. “Now you come, asking this? Now? After my dance is but a shadow of itself, after so many of our warriors died in your ill-planned raid? After you have wakened the hatred and wariness of the intruders against us? Now you ask this of me, when all of my strength, every hour of the day, is barely enough to hold the intruders back from the ancient ones? No longer can I send sadness and discouragement rolling into their den. All of my focus must be only on defending our ancestors. And even so, it is not enough! Daily they press against me, daily they make small inroads. But you ask me to divert my strength and focus it on you, to reunite what Lisana foolishly halved!”
Soldier’s Boy had listened to Kinrove’s rant with a bowed head until he spoke disparagingly of Lisana. Now he lifted his gaze and our eyes locked with Kinrove’s. “The fault lies not with Lisana!” he thundered. “Had she not split me, how could the plague have been spread to the very heart of the soldiers’ nest? Had she not split me, would not you even now be watching your back lest the Kidona send magic against you while you are defending against the intruders? It is not her fault that her success has been incomplete. Instead, it is as you accuse me. The first time I stood before you, I should have asked you to make me into a whole again. If I had, so many things that have gone wrong would never have come to pass!” Here he spared a glance for Likari, still sleeping in Olikea’s arms. Olikea’s entire focus was on her son, however. I do not think she even heard what Soldier’s Boy was saying.
“I cannot go back to that day, and do what was wise. None of us, no matter how much magic we hold, can do that. So. Because I have waited, will you now wait? And in a season or a year, will we look back and mourn that we did not do now what we should have done?”
Kinrove’s scowl had only deepened. “It is so easy for you to say, ‘do this now.’ You think not at all of how much magic it must cost me, let alone the time and the preparations that must be made. Do you think I will wave my hand and it will be done?”
Actually, Soldier’s Boy had believed just that. Or so it seemed to me from the sinking disappointment that flooded through him. He took a deep breath. “What does this require then, Greatest of the Great Ones?”
Soldier’s Boy’s apparent humility and outright flattery seemed to placate Kinrove. He leaned back in his chair. He tapped his lips with his steepled fingers and for a few moments seemed lost in thought. Then, as if even such a sedentary activity demanded it, he gestured to a feeder to bring him food. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And bring a seat for Soldier’s Boy, and food and drink.”
Feeders and their assistants sprang into action, serving not only Soldier’s Boy but also hurrying to supply Olikea with a comfortable bench and offering her food and drink as well. A large chair was toted out to me, draped with soft blankets and cushions. No sooner was Soldier’s Boy seated in it than a table was placed before him. A ewer of water and one of sweet wine, two glasses, a tray of sticky little balls of sweet meat and grain, a bowl of thick soup and two freshly baked loaves were set out before me. At the sight and smell of the food, Soldier’s Boy’s ability to think fled. He felt his hands start to shake and his throat squeezed tight with hunger. Yet, for one long moment, he sat still. When he realized that he was waiting for Olikea to serve him, to fill his glass and arrange the dishes and suggest to him which he should taste first, he shook his head and then all but dived into his food.
He had eaten at Kinrove’s table before. Even so, the exquisite tastes and textures nearly overpowered him. In each dish were ingredients designed to nourish a Great One’s magic, and as he ate, he became more aware of the intricate web of magics that emanated from Kinrove. The Great Man had not exaggerated the effort he was expending. He was the center of the dance that protected the ancient trees, but he also controlled the magic that surrounded his summer encampment with a strong boundary. He held a magical shield between himself and Soldier’s Boy, one that at a flick of his finger could become deadly. There were other, smaller magics at work, including the ones he worked to deaden the small pains of his abused body, and others that Soldier’s Boy could not quite trace. As he watched Kinrove eat, he perceived that every movement of the Great Man’s body served two purposes. His gracefulness was not something that Soldier’s Boy had imagined. Every movement he made, every gesture of his hand, how he lifted his glass or turned his head, all of them meant—something.
