“It’s not a man and it’s not an animal,” Lenar said stubbornly. “It’s a magic-made unnatural thing!”
“So’s that lamp up there, son,” Garrad said. “You going to destroy it, too?”
Lenar made a sound of disgust. “Sure. It hoodwinked you too. No wonder they’re talking about hobgoblins ruling here and making the people their slaves.”
Ree didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The trick he’d used to scare the soldiers away, using everyone’s fear of hobgoblins to make them think he was a terrible creature who was ready to eat them right there, had stopped other people trying to bring soldiers in. And it made Garrad’s son think hobgoblins were secret lords here.
“I ain’t hoodwinked, boy. Ree has lived here for two years. He’s as human as you and I, fur face or not.”
Lenar didn’t get a chance to answer, because Jem started, his voice tight with fury. “You think your father’s an idiot? You think he’d let something dangerous stay with him?” He was on a right tear, and he was going to say what he thought, no matter what. “Gods above. I love Ree. Ree and I . . . we’re closer than brothers and always will be. He’s never hurt me, and he’s gotten hurt for me. I’m no idiot, and I don’t think anyone could be that close to someone for more than two years and not know who they really are and if animal or man.”
Ree’s throat tightened, and his chest hurt. His eyes burned so much he had to blink to keep them clear. Jem couldn’t know what he was saying or how a man like Lenar would react. He couldn’t. His pride in their love made his heart want to burst, but he was afraid now they’d both be thrown out into the cold night.
Lenar made a choked sound, then a disgusted one. “What do you know about love, boy? That is not only male, it’s not even human.”
“You’d better believe Ree’s human,” Jem snarled. “He’s better than damn near all men I’ve ever seen.”
Jem stomped from the kitchen in full high and mighty temper, very pointedly not slamming the kitchen door and walked past him, not seeing him in the dark of the great room, after the light of the lantern in the kitchen. Before Ree could speak, Jem opened the door to their bedroom and went inside, closing the door softly behind him.
Ree closed his eyes. He should go to bed too. The chores would still be there tomorrow, and no matter what Garrad’s son thought about him, stalls still needed mucking out and cattle needed milking. Garrad would probably be kept busy with his son, so it would be Ree doing the milking. And he doubted Lenar or his fancy guards would do any of it, so they’d better think twice about throwing him or Jem out. Or Amelie, for that matter.
Garrad’s voice echoed, calmer and full of dry amusement. “You ain’t making a good showing of yourself, son.”
Lenar sounded as though he felt a bit guilty when he said, “I know, Father. I shouldn’t . . .” He cleared his throat. “The thing is . . . I think . . . your Jem might be my son.”
“I thought he might be,” Garrad said. “Your by-blow or my brother’s, only my brother was never that much interested in women, you know.”
Ree raised his eyebrows, wondering how Lenar would respond to that, but Lenar just sounded resigned. “I got married in Jacona, nearly seventeen years ago now. I thought I was going to be posted there until I was old enough to retire. I was already an officer. I was going to bring her to see you as soon as I got leave. Pretty little merchant’s daughter. Myrrine.” He made a sound half sob, half laugh. “She was expecting when my division was sent south to deal with a minor uprising. We were going to call my son Jem, after her late father. We were gone nearly five years, and when I came back I couldn’t find her.” There was real pain in his voice, real anguish. “Nothing I did . . . I thought she must have died, and the baby. It was a miracle for him to get here, somehow . . . And he’s attached himself to that thing. How can he be happy with that? How can he not want a family, children of his own?” He paused. “Do they . . . do they sleep together?”
“There’s two beds in that room,” Garrad said. “And they use one. But it ain’t none of my business, and it’s not yours either, son, leastways unless they tell you.” Garrad just sounded matter-of-fact when he said, “They ain’t said much about it, but I reckon Ree saved Jem from a lot worse than just dying back in that city. There’s a look Jem gets sometimes, and when he’s sick, he talks in his sleep, and some of what he says would curdle your blood.” A short silence, as though Garrad shrugged. “And when Jem talks in his sleep and calls his mama, sometimes he says Myrrine.”
“Then he is mine,” Lenar said. “He’s all I got. He can’t live with that—that—I’ll never have grandchildren.”
“And you’re all I got, and I thought you were dead.” Garrad’s dry amusement came back. “Did you have him because you wanted to have grandchildren?”
“No, I was young, I—”
“You’re still young, son. And even if you weren’t, it don’t justify making Jem into something he ain’t. ’Sides, Ree and Jem . . . Ree brought Jem in, and Jem was dying of consumption. Ree risked getting killed so he could bring Jem in to get help. And then he helped me too. I’d tripped and fallen on that damn rug your mother made, and Ree nursed me and Jem both. Then they both worked hard as any ten men to get the farm back working again. Fact is, if you were to kick them out tonight, I’d have to sell most of my animals and give them the money. They bought those animals with the furs of the creatures they killed in the forest. And they never asked for anything.”
“It’s not right, Father,” Lenar insisted. “It’s just not. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t see enough of it in the army, but . . . with an animal?”
“Ree ain’t an animal.”
Ree couldn’t listen any more. There was too much, and all it made him think was that Lenar was right. Who knew when the animal would take over?
He padded across to the bedroom and slipped inside. Jem sounded like he was asleep, and Amelie too. The old painting on the wall, of Garrad and his brother when they’d been young, made Ree think about families and how he couldn’t have one, not of his body. Nor would Jem as long as they were together. The two young men in the old picture looked happy and relaxed, and so like Jem it hurt.
Ree felt as if something inside him had frozen. Carefully he removed his clothes, all of them, even the boots with their warm felted lining. Jem belonged here. It was Ree who was in the way, Ree who would be a problem for them all the time. Ree who would make Jem’s life difficult. He touched Jem’s face, where it curved in the moonlight, and felt the close-shaved blond beard. The idea of never touching Jem again, never seeing Jem again made him hurt deep inside. But it was just him. He was a hobgoblin. They had no real feelings. Not like people.
“Ree, get in bed,” Jem said and smiled a little, but he didn’t wake up. Not fully. He didn’t move as Ree left the room.
Ree had forgotten how miserable cold he could get, even through his fur. He ached with it, and his feet hurt with each step on the frozen ground. Instead of going far into the forest, he curled in one of the abandoned burrows near the farm. He shivered and dozed till first light, and then he thought he should hunt.
A rabbit, he thought. They were sort of a fuzzier smell than cats and not musky like foxes. He was starving. But he remembered how nasty raw rabbit was, and it made his stomach clench and bitter bile come to the back of his throat.
Some wild hobgoblin he was. Hobgoblins did not use fire. They were animals. But his stomach refused to believe him, and he knew better than to force it. Later. When he was hungry enough.