"Yes, but this is his home world." Rod frowned with a trace of anxiety. "That might impair his objectivity."
"Not a bad thing, so long as it doesn't impair the clarity of his vision," Fess said. "Besides, giving him the charge was the only way you could be sure he wouldn't leave again."
"Well, I do want him around until I find Tir Nan Og," Rod admitted. "Something secure in knowing all your children are in shouting range when Christmas comes."
"You also have the young lady in mind, have you not?"
"Yes." Rod nodded, feeling part of the weight settle back on his shoulders. "They're so right for each other, but both bound and determined not to see it."
"They are ready for the final stages of working through their recovery, Rod."
"Been doing a little mind-peeking, have you?"
"I am not a telepath, Rod; though I can communicate with you and your offspring, I can broach no one else's mind. No, I have simply listened to every word that was said and remembered them all."
"And put them together into patterns the two of them thought they were hiding? I can't criticize that." Rod gazed off into the trees. "I know what maimed Magnus—but I wonder what trauma made Alea so shy of romance."
"Whatever it was, Rod, it taught her that men are not to be trusted—though Magnus seems to have taught her that he, at least, is."
"The exception that proves the rule—but she only needs one." Rod nodded. "Of course, she's still denying her own beauty—but nobody ever accused Magnus of being handsome. Not after he grew up, at least."
"Ugly men are no less apt than handsome ones, to fall in love with beautiful women."
"Or plain women with handsome men," Rod agreed, "not that that has anything to do with these two. Whatever is attracting them to one another, it's not physical beauty."
"No, Rod, I think Magnus admires Alea for her character—courage and steadfastness, perhaps even compassion."
"Yes, but whether she knows it or not, she has her own kind of classical beauty, and I don't think Magnus is immune to it."
"I beg to differ, Rod. I do not think your son admits to the physical attraction he so obviously feels."
"Obvious to you, maybe," Rod countered, "not to some of us who don't notice the miniscule clues you seem to find. Okay, so there's some physical attraction between them, but I think most of what binds these two is shared danger that they've survived together."
"And in the process, learned that they can depend upon one another absolutely," Fess agreed.
"They have no doubt that they can count on one another when the chips are down." Rod nodded. "It's when the chips are up that they might have trouble."
"Perhaps, Rod, but that is no longer your concern."
"You kidding? The kids will always be my concern. However, I will admit there's nothing I can do about it right now." Rod shrugged the invisible weight off his shoulders and plucked another chord on his lap-harp. "I think I could manage another chorus of 'My Only Jo and Dearie-O.'"
"Why not?" Fess asked. "Only the wild things are listening."
"Look, I'm trying not to think about Magnus and Alea. At least the birds won't be critical." Rod began the rolling strum that underscored the words and began to sing, very softly and almost on key, "
'Thy cheeks are of the rose's hue, My only jo and dearie-o …"
Truly enough, the birds did not criticize. Some of them, however, did remember urgent business elsewhere and left the vicinity.
IT BEGAN AS a rather somber breakfast, and Alea noticed that Magnus pointedly did not take the chair at the end of the table. His brothers and sister must have noticed it, too, because they seemed to be very wary, poised and waiting for him to try to order them about. She had a notion of the shouting match that would ensue and braced herself for it. But Magnus said very little, only spreading preserves on a roll and cutting his meat, glance flicking from one face to another, seeming relaxed and alert. Alea wondered that his siblings failed to notice how tense he was underneath the calm exterior—but apparently they did not; there must have been some rule in this family of telepaths that they not read one another's minds the least little bit without invitation or dire necessity.
Gregory turned to Magnus, and the mildness of his voice belied the tension in his body. "I take it you do not approve of the care Cordelia and I gave our mother, Magnus."
Alea sensed the anger that surged through Magnus at Gregory's impudence and the reminder of their mother's death, but felt also the immense tide of guilt that welled beneath it. None of that showed in his face, though. He was calm and urbane as he answered, "You did all that you could, my sibs, save to talk her into going to an off-planet hospital, and I'm sure that was not for lack of trying."
Slowly, Gregory nodded. "Mama could be most stubborn when she wished."
Geoffrey watched all three like a cat about to pounce.
"Besides," Cordelia said sharply, "what could an off-planet hospital have done? They knew nothing of witch-moss."
Magnus nodded. "If they had even caught the deterioration of her genes, they would have had no idea what to do about it—and when she died, they would have fought to keep her body as a specimen for research."
Cordelia shuddered, and her brothers winced.
"No," Magnus said softly, "I cannot fault your care in the slightest, nor her determination."
Brother and sister looked up in surprise. Then Cordelia frowned. "Why this attitude of blaming, then? Whom do you censure?"
"Myself," Magnus said, "for not being here."
Instantly, Gregory relented. "You would have caused strife by your mere presence, brother. After all, you could not have accepted Papa's authority as easily as the rest of us."
Magnus frowned, unsure what he meant but quite sure he resented it.
Cordelia's voice was low. "Even as you say, you could have done no more than we—but you would have ranted at Papa to do something, anything, and wasted Mama's strength with your pleas."
Magnus sat immobile.
Silence stretched taut in the room. Geoffrey grasped the edge of the table as though to vault over it—but Magnus finally nodded. "Perhaps I would have."
Cordelia reached out to place her hand over his. "We missed you sorely, brother—but we all understood your need to seek your destiny."
Magnus gave her a weary smile and nodded. "How ironic it will be if it turns out that destiny is here!"
Cordelia glanced at Alea but as quickly glanced away and said, "It could not have been, if you had not brought it home with you."
Magnus frowned, not understanding, but Geoffrey laughed softly. 'Perhaps Papa is right—that your years of helping people rid themselves of tyrants and learning how to govern themselves have equipped you to ward the people of your homeland—even when that warding is simply to watch and do nothing."
This time it was Magnus who glanced at Alea; she managed a tremulous smile for him. He took that smile and gave it to his brothers and sister as he said, "Yes. I have, at least, learned some patience between the stars."
They all laughed then, and began to discuss the gossip of the day as they ate. They seemed to relax more and more as the meal went on, even beginning to trade quips.
"We shall have to see elf-sentries posted throughout the kingdom," Gregory said.
Cordelia laughed, a light and skipping sound. "They are already there, brother, all over. We have but to tell them what to watch for."
Geoffrey turned to Magnus, and there was an edge to his voice as he asked, "How think you we should deal with Papa's wandering, brother?"
Alea could feel Magnus's urge to give an order and the effort it cost him to bite it back. "I think he is no danger to himself or anyone else, Geoffrey, and is old enough to take care of himself. If I am wrong, I have no doubt the elves are capable of dealing with any difficulties until one of us can arrive."
"Surely they already know to keep watch over the Lord Warlock," Gregory agreed.
"Yes, and to pass word of his misadventures back to the Puck," Cordelia seconded.