"A wise precaution, and one that preserves the family's reputation," Fess agreed. "I was indeed Magnus's tutor and found him an excellent student."
"But as naughty as any little boy?"
"Rarely," Fess said. "He was aware that he had to set an example for his younger brothers and sister. In fact, one might say he seemed to feel responsible for their behavior."
Alea frowned. "I'll have to make sure he doesn't feel that way any more."
Rod smiled. "Good luck. Habits of thought that start that early are awfully hard to shake."
"Surely he realizes they're grown now!"
"Yes, but I do not think he acknowledges that they have become capable of assuming responsibility for their own lives," Fess told her, "especially since, when he left Gramarye, they were all still adolescents."
"He wasn't much more than that himself." Rod shook his head. "How could I ever have let him go?"
"Did you have a choice?" Alea covered a laugh. "I can imagine anyone trying to keep Gar from doing what he thought right!"
"It would have been counterproductive," the horse agreed. "You speak as one who knows."
"Oh, I've never known him to do anything he knew was wrong," Alea said. "Foolish, perhaps, but not wrong."
"And you attempted to stop him?"
Alea remembered Gar's exasperated search for a government on a planet where there seemed to be none. "No. But I did try to explain why it wouldn't do any good."
"Did he listen?"
"Of course not! But he found the facts for himself."
The horse nodded. "He is still Magnus, under the layers of experience he has accreted."
That, Alea was glad not to dispute—but the more they talked, the more she learned about the child who had been Magnus, and how much of that little boy was still there, carefully hidden and protected, inside the giant she knew.
As they discussed Fess's memories, though, Rod began to look nostalgic, then sad. Realizing that immersion in the past might not be the best thing for him at the moment, Alea ended the conversation and left the stable, telling Rod of her first meeting with Magnus. He was fascinated, so she went on to detail their wanderings on her home world of Midgard—and realized that it wasn't the wonders of the giants and dwarves that interested Rod, but the deeds of the boy who had grown into a very effective social engineer.
OVER THE NEXT few days, she had a chance for a conversation with each of Magnus's siblings and their spouses—though she kept avoiding Allouette. Rod strolled about the castle with a distant gaze and a soft smile; she came across him several times and, not liking his look of not being quite there, engaged him in conversation to bring him back to the here and now. Rod always proved capable of drawing laughter from her, and she returned the favor.
On the third evening, when the others had gone up to bed, she and Magnus sat by the fire talking a little longer— or rather, Alea talked, trying to draw Magnus out of brooding. Finally, exasperated, she said, "You're really not the most cheerful companion right now, Magnus. What's wrong?"
"I'm worried about him," Magnus told her, "about Papa."
"Yes, I know what you mean." Alea frowned. "He doesn't seem to be quite here all the time, does he?"
"No—and he's far too happy being wherever he is."
"You're worried that he might decide to stay there?" Alea shook her head. "He has children here, Magnus. Each of you gives him a stake in the real world. But he does have to work his way through his grief."
"Yes, if it doesn't unhinge him," Magnus said. "I hadn't thought to mention it, but he hasn't always been of excellent mental health."
"You mean he's had bouts of insanity?" Alea stared. "Surely not!"
"His psyche has taken a real battering over the years." Magnus's gaze strayed to the fire. "The worst was when his enemies managed to feed him a chestnut made of witch-moss."
Alea froze in horror.
"We all ate them," Magnus said, "but a quarter of Mama's genes were made of witch-moss anyway, and ours were an eighth, so it did us no harm. With Papa, however, it sent him into delusions, and it took Mama a while to figure out how to cure him."
"He … he wasn't dangerous, was he?"
"He could have been, I suppose," Magnus said, "but we had elves watching him wherever he went, and I was old enough to shadow him and come running when I was needed. Mama restored him to his senses—she was always a very stabilizing influence."
"And she's not here any more," Alea whispered.
"No. I'm not sure Papa realizes that." Magnus held up a palm. "Oh, I'm sure he won't become a danger to anyone— but I don't think it's good for him to be lost in the past."
"Give him time," Alea counseled. "Give him time."
THE NEXT MORNING, a mental clamor awakened Alea. She sat bolt-upright in bed, hearing Magnus and his siblings exchanging emergency cries: He has saddled Fess! He rides toward the gatehouse! Stop him!
Alea scrambled to pull on a dress, rammed her feet into her boots, and ran down the stairs.
She came out into the courtyard in time to see Magnus dashing to the gatehouse tunnel just in time to cut off Fess. The great black horse drew to a halt.
Alea ran to join him. Cordelia and Quicksilver beat her to it, but not by much. Alain, Geoffrey, and Gregory came up right behind her with Allouette behind them.
"You've come out to see me off!" Rod smiled around at his children and in-laws. "That's awfully good of you."
"Not at all, Dad," Magnus panted. "Planning to … be gone long?"
"As long as it takes." Rod reached behind and slapped a bulging saddlebag. "Don't worry, I've packed the necessities."
"Yes, and you're quite adept at hunting and camping, I know." Magnus glanced at his brothers and sister, all trying to hide their alarm. He glanced back at Rod. "So if you've packed that much, you must be planning a long trip."
Rod shrugged and said again, "As long as it takes."
"May I… ask your destination?"
"Tir Nan Og."
The siblings froze and Alea shared their horror. Tir Nan Og may have been the Celtic Land of Eternal Youth—but it was also the Land of the Dead.
Rod saw their fear for him and leaned down with a gentle smile. "She's out there somewhere, children. She's gone to Tir Nan Og, and someone somewhere among the living will know where it lies."
Cordelia's thought fairly shrieked: Denial!
Magnus was very still for a moment. Then he said, "Of course."
Cordelia whirled to glare at him in disbelief. Quicksilver looked to be on the verge of rage, and the brothers stared at Magnus as though he'd taken leave of his senses—but the alarm faded from Alain's face. He lifted his head slowly, then nodded.
Magnus darted a look of appeal to them all that clearly said, Trust me, then turned back to his father. "Yes, of course, you have to go search for her. It's fitting, after all."
Rod frowned. "Fitting?"
"Of course," Magnus said, "You spent the first thirty years of your life looking for her. It's appropriate that you spend the last in the same search."
Rod nodded, pleased. "I'm glad you understand."
"It does give your life a certain symmetry," Magnus said. "You will—write home often?"
"Oh, of course." Rod frowned, concerned, and leaned down to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't for a moment think that I'm leaving you." He turned to his other children. "You know I love you all very much, and if you have the slightest need of me, I'll be back in a second—but I have to do this."
Allouette stifled a sob, and Cordelia swallowed tears, but they both nodded.
"How shall we reach you if we need you?" Quicksilver asked.
"By telepathy, of course," Rod said, "and you can always ask the elves where I am. I'm not foolish enough to think that I can go wandering through Gramarye without a pixie having an eye on me every step of the way."
"The Wee Folk have always been your allies," Magnus agreed, and stepped aside, reaching up to clasp his father's hand. "Go well, Dad."