Still humming, she wrapped the loaf in cloth to carry it back to the tree dwelling that she shared with her grandfather along with an astonishing houseguest almost too beautiful to be real.
Cuirin’nên’a—daughter of great Eillean, a greimasg’äh like Brot’ân’duivé—was the mother of Léshil. A few like Leanâlhâm’s uncle, Sgäilsheilleache, said he should be called Leshiârelaohk, but Léshil did not like that name, given or taught by the ancestors. For Leanâlhâm, Cuirin’nên’a’s presence was a constant reminder that Léshil had left.
It had been a long while since Leanâlhâm had seen him, for Sgäilsheilleache and Osha had gone to guide him on a great journey. Yes, that woman called Magiere went as well, and the odd majay-hì who followed them.
Magiere was a human like Leanâlhâm had always imagined, barbarous and violent. But for as much as Leanâlhâm would have preferred her gone at first—leaving only Léshil—there was more to Magiere. She was fierce in word, and as with Sgäilsheilleache, her word was her oath. If she gave her word on anything, it was as hard, fast, and unyielding as the gruesome sword she carried.
At first Leanâlhâm had not cared much for Magiere, beloved of Léshil.
Before he came, Leanâlhâm believed she was the only one of mixed blood among her kind. Then Léshil, knowing almost nothing of his mother’s people, walked in from the outer world. He could not even speak the language. Well, he could speak it very badly. But otherwise, to Leanâlhâm, he appeared completely unburdened by the human taint in his blood. He was funny in an odd way, and he was kind ... and handsome.
There was not a day since Léshil left that Leanâlhâm did not think of him. He was like her, and in thinking of him, those were moments that she did not feel so tainted.
Today at least the sun shone brightly through the trees, and even in missing him and her uncle, Sgäilsheilleache, she felt a rare contentment. So long as Sgäilsheilleache watched over Léshil, no harm would come to him.
Leanâlhâm turned across the enclave’s central green and then slowed to look hesitantly beyond the tree dwellings. She spotted no eyes watching her from the forest. No majay-hì had come to stare at her as she hurried off for home.
The dwelling she shared with her grandfather was on the enclave’s outskirts. As she approached, movement among the outer trees made her freeze. She backed up, hoping it was not a majay-hì peering out at her and reminding her that she did not belong here.
Instead the great Brot’ân’duivé stepped out into sight.
Leanâlhâm’s contentment did not return.
She did not exactly fear him, but like Cuirin’nên’a, he had eyes that pierced her and tried to peel her open to see all that lay within. His rare jests always seemed to mask something darker. He was anmaglâhk—and a greimasg’äh to be revered, and rightly so. But she did not enjoy his visits the way her grandfather did.
Another figure stepped from the trees, and Leanâlhâm tensed all over.
It was Osha, and she immediately searched for a sign of anyone else following the greimasg’äh. Osha had gone with Sgäilsheilleache, so where was Léshil? Had he come back?
Feeling herself flush, she could not help calling out, “Osha!”
It was an unseemly display, but again she looked out into the forest. No one else stepped from the trees as Brot’ân’duivé glanced her way. Perhaps her uncle and Léshil had fallen behind.
She did not know Osha well, though she liked him. While he was not handsome, there was kindness in his eyes, which were a bit widely set in his plain, long face. Best of all, he never stared—or frowned—at her oddly colored hair and eyes. He did not even seem to notice such things.
Osha only nodded once to her without a smile as he followed the greimasg’äh toward Leanâlhâm’s home. She waited several breaths, but neither Sgäilsheilleache nor Léshil appeared out of the forest. And Osha looked awful.
His forest gray cloak was dirty and tattered. He looked thin and exhausted and ... forlorn. Fear rose inside Leanâlhâm, and another unwanted word escaped her mouth.
“Grandfather!”
Before Brot’ân’duivé reached the entrance of her home, its front drape whipped aside, and there was Gleannéohkân’thva. His owlish face wrinkled even more under a wary frown, for she seldom called out like this.
At the sight of Brot’ân’duivé and Osha, he exhaled, “Oh, my girl, it is only ...”
His eyes narrowed as he trailed off. She knew she should not pester the greimasg’äh, but she could not stop.
“Where are Sgäilsheilleache and ... and Léshil?”
Brot’ân’duivé stood looking at her grandfather. But Gleannéohkân’thva chose not to start the jibes with which they often greeted each other. This frightened Leanâlhâm even more. Osha stood silently behind the greimasg’äh and looked at no one.
Brot’ân’duivé did not meet Leanâlhâm’s eyes. “We can talk inside,” he said.
“No!” she cried. “Where are they?”
Grandfather held out a hand to her. “Shush ... now come.”
The hint of sharpness in his voice made her feel cold. Fear turned to panic as she took his hand.
“Osha?” she asked.
He did not answer, and then her grandfather ushered her inside. While Osha and Brot’ân’duivé entered, Grandfather pulled her down beside him.
Cuirin’nên’a appeared from the back room with her shining hair hanging loose. At the sight of Brot’ân’duivé and Osha, she halted where she was, watching them cautiously.
“You have bad news,” Grandfather said calmly. “Best tell us before we imagine even worse.”
“There is nothing worse,” Osha whispered.
Leanâlhâm pulled her hand from her grandfather’s grip, set both hands in her lap, and stared at her fingers. Whatever Osha had to say, she did not want to hear it, and she wished he had not come.
“I should—” Brot’ân’duivé began.
“No,” Osha cut him off. “This is my task.”
As Brot’ân’duivé fell silent, Leanâlhâm glanced between those two. No one but her grandfather dared speak that way to the greimasg’äh. She became so afraid that pain filled her chest before Osha even spoke.
“Sgäilsheilleache is lost to us,” he said, his voice shaking. “He died honorably, serving his oath of guardianship without wavering. I ... I performed burial rites myself, with Léshil and Magiere’s help. And I have brought my jeóin back to our ancestors.”
He dropped to his knees upon the moss-covered floor. Taking a bottle from inside his cloak, he set it before himself.
Knowing it contained a small amount of her uncle’s ashes, Leanâlhâm stared at the bottle.
“Where is my son?”
Cuirin’nên’a’s sharp demand made Osha look up as well as Leanâlhâm. She thought she might die if Osha answered that question. She dropped her gaze again and the floor appeared to waver in her sight, though the room around her seemed to roar.
She choked and could not breathe. But if Léshil was ...
“He is well,” Osha whispered.
But that respite did nothing for Leanâlhâm now.
Whether at home or away to fulfill some necessary purpose, Sgäilsheilleache was the wall between her and almost everyone else. He was gone. How could it be?
The room fell silent, and all she did was sit there, seeing nothing, even when Osha suddenly appeared beside her on one knee. He did not touch her, but his face was close to her ear.
“I am sorry.... I am so ...”
He was close enough that she could feel pain emanating from him, and for a moment she clung to it. Focused on his loss, she might not have to feel her own, but the lull did not last.