Kendath bit back a "thank gods" before it could quite escape his mouth. He shook his head at her. Dia alone had been demonic enough. How did Merrin survive, with what seemed like ten of them running around her home?

"You missed a spot," he said, and tapped his finger against a smudge on her cheek. It could have been dirt. Then again, it could have just as easily been manure, as she didn't seem to mind poking around the horses. He glanced around the camp. The last of the campfires sputtered out, plunging them into moonlit darkness. Somewhere amid the closest circle of bedrolls, a maternal voice scolded in hushed whispers. Then quiet.

"T'mor wants you to sleep." He glanced at Merrin, then began making his way toward the wagons. "Hurry now, before the horses decide to take a piss on our bedrolls."

It wasn't until later, much later, lying drowsily under the thin blanket, that Kendath felt the full weight of Merrin's words sink in. They'd be at Riversmeet tomorrow. His stomach clenched. He'd skipped supper.

_________________

The next morning, Merrin woke up before Kendath for the first time. She lay, wide awake and alert, staring up at the predawn sky with a sense of impatience whose source eluded her.

Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and listened to the waiting silence. Kendath, beside her, rolled over but did not wake. Merrin looked at him, wondering at the absence of his ever-guarded expression, in slumber. He did not smile, quite, but she could almost imagine...

A corner of her own mouth twitching up at her preoccupation with the sight of him - Kendath almost carefree, happy, not like she'd ever known him before now - Merrin pulled her gaze away and looked across the landscape blanketed with dew. The river continued its steady course. The rays of purple dawn touched the closed faces of wildflowers. The distant ridge began to have a faint silhouette.

Memory flooded back and Merrin hugged her knees tighter to her chest, feeling warmth spread to her fingertips. Today! Today was home! Today was Jayen and Mama and Da and the twins and Rhie!

Somehow, she made it through the agony that was a leisurely breakfast, even choking down (at T'mor's insistence) a respectable amount of her own. Somehow, she clung to the wagon seat all through the day, watching the ridge grow unobtrusively bigger and bigger, nearer and nearer, until they were actually climbing it. Climbing it, until at the top -

It was no breathtaking panorama, the spread of Riversmeet in the valley below. The houses, thatched with straw and crawling with vines, were a cluster around the single road that dipped down to sweep through the dell. The rivers, Seiren tumbling over a last rocky fall before rushing in to meet with its sister, could have swept away all that was the village in a heartbeat. But Merrin had never seen anything so beautiful. She gave a little shiver of pure excitement, and T'mor grinned at her. "We're not even there yet."

All she did was grin back. The little train of wagons crested the ridge, paused to enjoy the sight, and started slowly down the other side. Merrin could pick out individual features - the way the well, hung with the same vines as the rest, still squatted in the middle of their tiny square; the trim garden behind the general store; the weather-beaten sign on their one inn. Once, it had borne a bright picture of a blue fountain beneath a roof, but now all that was visible were the words The River's Bed. She realized she was pressing her feet against the floor of the wagon, as though somehow to make it descend faster.

They had finished the dive into Riversmeet's dell - and the sun was still brightly spilling over the view, though it was near to dropping behind the opposite ridge - and were passing the first houses, and the first men were straightening to wave to T'mor. They nodded to him, then let their eyes follow the train of wagons back in growing astonishment.

"Ye building yer own army, lad?" One guffawed and mimed a tip of his hat to the cluster of young mothers in the second wagon. T'mor grinned and mimed one in return.

It was the owner of the general store, a wiry man with a coarse black beard faintly reminiscent of a sea captain, who looked past T'mor to Merrin and let loose a frank - "Well, I'll be! Is it little Merrin, back after all? And who've you brought with you, then?"

"Not for too very long," laughed Merrin, her grin threatening to split her face in two. "They're - friends, who need a place to stay."

"Haven't you turned into quite the little lady! Well, go on then, your brothers are surely waiting." He waved his broom at them, and resumed sweeping his front porch.

Merrin managed to stay on the wagon seat until they turned the one bend in Riversmeet's road, and she could glimpse the tanner's house, the washing hung out in the back, the gnarled little gate securely fastened to a new picket fence -

"That's cheating, Adasin!"

"T'isn't! Master Cuthare told me! 'Sides, I win anyway."

The twins' shrill voices floated over the tops of the thick hedge, and Merrin leaped from the wagon seat as T'mor grinned after her. She stopped at the gate, for just a moment, watching them.

At four years old, the twins had been identical. Down to the same pout, the same persistent cowlicks, everything. Now, Merrin could tell it was shorter Liand who stood with his arms folded, looking surly, and Adasin opposite holding two wooden swords and looking loftily sure of himself.

"There isn't such a thing as cheating," he explained. "See, if you win, you win, and it's the other fellow's problem."

"There is so! I -"

By some instinct, they both turned at the same time, and Merrin darted through the gate, unable to restrain herself.

The twins looked at Merrin. Merrin looked at the twins.

"I'm home," she said.

Adasin cocked his head, staring at her. Liand started to his feet. He didn't take even a moment.

"Oy!" he yelled. "It's Merrin!"

Next moment, Merrin was in the middle of a confused pile of shrieking twins, unsure whether she was laughing or crying, and somehow there was something furry with a large wet tongue in the mix, who didn't give up until he could give her face a swipe. "Of course it's me," she said, having decided she was laughing, holding them at arm's length. The dog romped frenziedly, panting.

"Oh, this is Dragon," Adasin introduced airily. "He isn't actually, he's a coward."

"What took you so long?" Liand wanted to know. "We kept telling Rhie you'd be back."

Merrin couldn't begin to summarize it. "We - I -" she started to say, and then T'mor came in to ruffle several unruly heads.

"Miss me?" he inquired. "Oh aye, I ran across a certain Merrin in my travels, and I wondered if she was the one you kept talking about. Dragon! Get off!"

Merrin turned, looking over her shoulder for Kendath. "Wait right there," she said, fixing the twins with a look, and darted once more out the gate, searching for him. "Kendath! We're here!"

_________________

Dusk mingled with the bright afternoon. Its rays lit the cottages with nimbuses of scarlet, and in the rosy light the people of Riversmeet surged forward to greet the refugees.

“Good crop this year, what say you?”

“Why, aren’t you a skinny little thing! Come to supper, I insist.”

“Bermin, ma’am, Bermin Weaver at your service. Where are you from?”

Kendath, overwhelmed, slumped against the side of the wagon. Merrin was nowhere in sight. He spotted T’mor, broad shoulders towering above the others. T’mor was making his way through the crowd, pausing to exchange a greeting here or a grin there, and as Kendath watched, the smith pushed through a tiny picket gate and—

There was Merrin. He almost didn’t spot her, tackled as she was by a pair of… ah, the twins. Beyond her sat the house, small and tidy like every other house in Riversmeet. Smoke curled from its chimney. Behind it, a row of hung linens waved cheerfully in the breeze. It was a quaint sight, comforting and strangely familiar, and many seconds lapsed before Kendath could register the fluttering in his stomach as panic. Merrin’s laughter floated over the hedge. He forced himself to inhale. Exhale.

A gaggle of laughing children darted by. Kendath looked back toward the refugees. Smiles widened their faces, and those smiles were the first he’d seen from them in a fiveday. His gaze slid down to himself—his travel-worn tunic, his mud-spattered boots. His weapons belt, bristling with blades, still hung from his waist. Slowly, slowly, he undid the clasp and slid it off. He tossed it into the wagon behind him, where it dropped like a coiled snake amid the bundles of blankets. He found the corner of a quilt and tugged it over, obscuring his belt from view.

Someone called his name. Merrin burst through the gate, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement, but before he could quite catch up to her he felt himself knocked backward by an explosion of fur and wagging tail. The creature sprang back, barked, and attacked him again.

“This your dog?” he gasped, frantically backpedaling.

_________________

In cheerful disobedience, Adasin followed Merrin as the dog did, with Liand in tow. He cast the confusion of wagons and horses and children a contemplative glance, but arrived in time to give a mighty heave on Dragon's collar. It passed from twin to twin, and in passing Liand firmly shut the gate while his distressed pet let out the first of a series of plaintive yips.

"Hello," said Adasin, deciding to get to the point and sticking out a hand before Merrin could quite get around to introductions. "I'm Adasin. That's Liand. Merrin's our sister. The dog is Dragon, but he's actually not. Not a dragon, I mean."

Catching up, Liand wordlessly stuck out a hand as well, dutifully managing a "Pleased to make your acquaintance," that sounded vaguely as though his mother had spent long hours drilling it into his head. Merrin grinned over the tops of their heads. "You won't remember which is which," she added. "Say 'twins' and you'll get both."

_________________

Kendath spent a full five seconds staring down at Adasin's hand, then another five seconds staring down at Liand's - or was it Adasin's? Maybe that was Liand and that was Adasin. No no, because Liand had introduced himself first...

They - the twins - were waiting. Kendath picked his arm up and inched it forward. He took hold of one sweaty hand, then the other. "Uh. Pleased to make your acquaintance too. I suppose." Adasin or Liand or whoever still didn't let go of his hand. Curse it, what else was there to say? "My name is..." What was his name again? A cough. "Kendath. Yes. I'm Kendath."

He caught sight of Merrin's grin and returned it with what he hoped was a spine-chilling glare. This wasn't funny.

_________________

"Nice to meet you," responded Adasin brightly. "C'mon, it's almost dinner, and Mama made blueberry pie, and she said that if we were good -"

"Hey! Not without me!" T'mor's bellow sounded over the cacophony, from where he stood squarely in the midst of the crowd on the road. He was already sending those who had come from the little village by the sea to stay with any who had room - one party had already started in the direction of the inn. It was tiny, but so were the houses. "She can't start until Da's home anyway!"

Adasin muttered something under his breath about waiting and waiting and he wanted pie. Liand tugged on Merrin's hand. "Who are all the people?" he wanted to know. "Are some coming here?

"I'll tell you later," said Merrin, finding that difficult to summarize as well. "No, I think Mama will have time enough making room for me and Kendath, and -"

"Come for dinner," interrupted Adasin impatiently, and opened the gate without quite releasing the frantic dog.

Merrin captured Kendath's hand with her free one, Liand having spoken for the other, and followed. Dragon proved a slight impediment, bounding back and forth like an overgrown rabbit.

"What's all the noise, then? - Adasin, if you touch that, you will do twice the chores for a week - for goodness' sake, someone quiet that dog!"

The woman who bustled out onto the tiny front veranda of the tanner's house, drying her hands on a dishcloth, was clad in the same neat print dress Merrin had known her whole life. Perhaps Caire Tanner had aged in five years, but she was still a busy mother and wife, and there were only a few more strands of grey in her dark hair. "Is T'mor back? That boy! Can't even come in to say hello!"

Merrin disentangled herself from dog and twin. "T'mor's back," she managed, breathless. "Oh, Mama -"

There was a moment, for which even Dragon quieted the slightest amount, while Caire Tanner's hands froze on her apron. On impulse, Merrin leaped the steps to the veranda and found her mother quite able to hug her as tightly as the rest.

That done, Merrin found herself held at arm's length and thoroughly looked over. "You've hardly grown an inch, then! That city food - you haven't been eating enough, have you? - and your clothes are a sight, Merrin! Five years, and you haven't written in months! And your hair!"

Merrin would have been more shamefaced if she had not spotted the threat of tears glistening in her mother's eyes. "It never would braid," she said. "I missed you."

"I should hope you did!" But there was a smile there, scolding or no. Merrin grinned back and pulled her mother down the steps. "This is Kendath," she introduced, giving him an encouraging smile.

There followed a long moment of appraisal. Finally, the formidable Tanner matriarch placed her arms akimbo and pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You haven't been eating either, have you? Merrin, your brothers' washing is never half this bad."

Gods, it was good to be home.

_________________

What, if?

Was the dominant question lurking in Garthag`s mind as he stared quietly up and down the street, only a small distance away from the home of Merrin and her family. He had seen many villages such as this and wondered how many of them must have suffered the same fate as his own. Would this village be submitted to such a decadent fate with time? What if it had been this village instead of his, which had been burnt to the ground, would then Merrin have become a selfish person like he had?

It seemed quite an interesting thought, but he snapped out of it, reminding that he did not deal with what might have been. Quiet, abandoned and far from home he helplessly gazed around at the lively village of Riversmeet. The name was surely fitting, well why on earth would you even name it Riversmeet, if there was no river to speak of? The natural beauty made the location quite an appealing place to settle down and the very fact the village still stood, stated that it remained safe from Meiltha invasion quite conveniently. Nothing like home lest you counted the one road leading trough the village, but at least it seemed like an ideal place to take a breather from battling their foes.

After gazing at his surroundings, Garthag chose to look around at the residents of the village and found himself even more alienated to this place, again. His snow white, albeit ragged and dirty, robes stuck out within the midsts of the peasants and their modest village. Quietly his eyes scanned around for simple, daily life activities yet never once did he attempt to make a conversation with anyone.

If he`s eyes ever did meet with someone`s, he could still show his rough, cold exterior and see the apparent fear or suspicion glaring back at him in the eyes of the villagers. Indeed, the very sight of his robes must have somewhat alienated him in an instant from all those around him. He, as it seemed, was beyond the villagers meager comprehensions of the world at a large. It was not only the way he himself acted, cold and unreachable, but the distrust for magic user in general, that ran deep within the world`s population for they could not understand the powers at the mage`s command.

Unannounced something suddenly bumped into Garthag and judging by the height of of it, the stature of the being behind him was not much and he turned to gaze around. A child stared back at him, laying on his back in the mud with what was at first an angered look as, if he had assumed to have run into someone familiar. The sight of the mage in white towering above him with cold piercing eyes turned the child`s face array and it seemed clear to both of them, that who was unwelcome here. Garthag sighed deep as the child began to stumble up, but did not bother aiding him in the effort yet allowed his guard to drop for a brief moment.

He smiled, slightly, apologetically and turned away with a blank mask back on his face. The boy, and those who had witnessed the event, seemed confused albeit at first they had been horrified at the mages reaction. The stereotypical fear had washed away and left a silent confusion to fill the void remaining in Garthag`s wake, who headed for Merrin and Kendath. The two had been joined, partially tormented probably, by whom no doubt was Merrin`s mother or so as his logic allowed him to dictate. Now that he was here and introductions seemed to be taking place, he might as well throw his own name as a courtesy. Yet he could not wonder the reaction of Merrin`s mother to the sudden appearance of a mage and disturbingly enough how the two had come to contact with him, which would make for quite the tale by to be told.

Silently approaching Garthag stopped besides Kendath and before the man could get a word out of his mouth after Merrin`s blabbering, Garthag saw it fit to open his mouth before Kendath displayed his own awkwardness towards the situation he had been dragged into. Not only did Garthag assume so as the man had previously spent a life of murder hardly getting to know anyone except fellow Meiltha. Also having witnessed Kendath`s more recent antics within the refugee camp had confirmed, that Kendath was not at all home in such places. He might have found himself at complete ease on a dark alleyway, lurking within the shadows or perhaps a silent wood might have made the qualifications.

"Well unfortunately our journey has allowed less food and rest than granted to the daily dwellers of a normal village such as this. It would appear I have been quite rudely, if not on purpose... ignored and left without introductions as of yet. I am Garthag, a lowly mage these two graciously picked up with them on their travels."

He spoke with an unfamiliarly polite tone of voice, even to himself lest he had forgotten how it was like to be polite. Afterwards he displayed a calm expression as he turned to face the reactions he received and truth be told inside his own head was laughing at his own words. He had sounded a bit too theatrical, even for his own tastes, but looking at the emotions registered on the duo`s face he could not help admit it had been worth it.

Yet his own act was a simple reminder of the duality he lived, he smiled, but he wasn`t smiling. It was a facade, he might have smiled out of courtesy or to simply fit in, but these days he had hardly anything to smile about. However at least he actually found this whole charade amusing.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

If the twins had been intimidating, then Kendath found Merrin's mother perfectly terrifying. The scrutiny seemed to drag on for eons, and when it finally ended he felt as though he'd just walked through an inferno of dragonfire. He cast an oblique glance at the woman, who'd turned away, then at Merrin. His attempt to unclog his throat failed miserably. "Is she joking? She's joking, right?"

Garthag, out of all people, had rescued him. Kendath's glance darted to the mage, then back at Merrin. Desperation pitched his voice an octave higher. "Merrin, I don't think she likes me."

_________________

"Mama! Adasin was going to eat the pie!"

"I wasn't! I was pretending to eat it! Rhie! I was pretending!"

Circumventing the need for a reply from Kendath and nearly drowning Garthag's introduction, Adasin emerged once more in pursuit of a distressed five-year-old with red curls that could have seen snow recently for how much flour they contained. Rhie managed to reach her mother first. "He was gonna eat it!"

"I didn't touch it! I swear, mama!" Evidently the threat of double chores for a week was enough to alarm Adasin.

"Well, if there are finger marks in that pie, we'll know, won't we? Rhie, you're a mess! Liand, go help your sister get washed. It's nearly dinner." Caire shooed away her offspring and turned back briefly. "Well, come in, then - we can't eat until your father's home, Merrin, and T'mor back from wherever he's gotten off to, but come sit down, you haven't said near enough in your letters. Well?"

And she was sweeping back inside, an anxious Adasin in tow.

"Of course she likes you," said Merrin, slipping a hand into Kendath's. "There's nothing to worry about, I promise." She grinned up at him - the pure delight of being back made her feel as though she could have floated feet off the ground. "And dinner will be good, if I know Mama."

She was proven right the moment they stepped inside. The smells wafting from the spacious open hearth set into one wall of the kitchen were mouth-watering. Merrin stopped to drink it all in with her eyes.

The bottom floor of the little house - the top floor consisting of nothing but a loft where the twins, Rhie, and previously Merrin, slept - bore evidence of the time she'd had been away. The large room, which was kitchen, dining room and sitting room all in one, boasted new rag rugs that Merrin did not remember, and the old rocking chair in the corner was now a gleaming new one. The same two shelves of much-loved books were still on the mantle above the fireplace, opposite the hearth. The last rays of sun were slipping through the open windows, whose neat white curtains were pushed aside to let them in. Two doorways in the east wall were Merrin's parents' room, the other Jayen's, and T'mor's when he was home.

"Now, I wasn't thinking of feeding extra -" Caire was bustling over her dinner, "but the boys eat so much I think we'll have enough left over. Come, sit down!"

Merrin meekly did so, indicating with a gesture for Kendath to follow, and throwing him another grin over her shoulder. He looked woefully anxious.

"Where's Jayen?" she asked, unable to contain herself any longer, once they had taken places along the broad oaken table.

"I was right!" said Adasin triumphantly, marching along one side laying out the plates. "I bet Liand you'd ask before dinner. Jayen's always late, he'll be home later." He rolled his eyes. "It's Mirie, all the time. Mirie this and Mirie that."

"Mirie - ?" Merrin cast a questioning look at her mother.

Caire turned, pausing in her preparations for a moment in order to smile fondly. "If you would answer our letters," she scolded mildly, "you would know. Jayen and Mirie are engaged, just since Midsummer."

Merrin sat back, at a loss for words. Jayen was getting married?

"Don't fret, Merrin, you'll just see how happy he'll be to learn you're back. He worries like a mother hen, that boy."

Adasin leaned in confidentially to whisper, "As long as he isn't busy kissing her."

_________________

Kendath let Merrin pull him over the threshold. Within seconds his head was spinning. At first it was the smell—after five days of bread and cheese, his nose had never encountered anything more heavenly. Then it was the sight—the blazing hearth, the row of chairs, the paneled walls that glowed, rosy with dusk. But most of all, overwhelmingly…

The patter of feet against the floor. The clatter of plates on the wooden table. The din of voices, shrill with excitement. Kendath had never seen so many people, so many happy people, crammed into so small a space. And there were more? Father? Jayen? He followed Merrin and might have gotten lost if his gaze weren’t so firmly nailed on the anchor of her head. She sat down. The table seemed very, very tiny. Was there extra space? Keenly self-conscious, he lowered himself into a chair just as Liand—or was it Adasin?—swept by and deposited a plate in front of him.

Thanks, he meant to say, but couldn’t find his voice. Was he supposed to be doing something? Helping? That woman’s name—Madam Tanner? Mistress Tanner? Did it matter? What if—

Merrin grinned at him. Kendath, reminding himself how to breathe, forced himself to grin back. Her smile chased the color into her cheeks very vividly, he noticed, then stopped himself. Curse it, curse it, curse—ah. He rooted his stare on the nearest shiny piece of furniture, which happened to be the rocking chair. Had Mistress Tanner seen that? What would she think? What would the rest of Merrin’s family—He stifled a groan.

_________________

Dripping, a significantly cleaner Rhie bounced in and zigzagged past the dog - who had found his way inside - a cutlery-laden Adasin, and her mother, to where the much-coveted blueberry pie sat on a windowsill. "Did he touch it?" she demanded.

"I told you I didn't," muttered Adasin.

"No, he did not. Go sit down, dear, you're in mama's way."

Adasin enthusiastically let the rest of his cutlery clatter to the tabletop and made a dive for Rhie's hand. "Look, Rhie! It's Merrin! You know who Merrin is, don't you, Rhie?"

Quite suddenly, Rhie was mute and wide-eyed. She shook her head, curls bouncing, one thumb straying toward her mouth.

Merrin held out a hand. "You could sit beside me," she offered.

She was carefully appraised.

"Don't let her show you her dolly," said Adasin.

"I'm too old to play with dolls," said Rhie in high disgust, and climbed into the chair without further ado. "That's for little kids."

Merrin managed to keep a straight face. "This is Kendath," she said, indicating him across the table. The look showed her just how ramrod-straight he seemed to be sitting in the chair, and the intensity with which his gaze was boring into something somewhere past her shoulder. She reached across to touch her fingertips to his, trying to catch his eye. Were they really so intimidating?

"Are you gonna get married?" piped Rhie with what seemed suddenly unnecessary volume, planting her elbows on the table and gazing solemnly across at him. "Like Jayen and Mirie?"

Merrin found her eyes irresistibly drawn toward her mother at the hearth. She snatched her hand away, sure she was turning red. "Ah - no -" she said, suddenly breathless. "I mean - maybe - look, Adasin needs help with the forks, why don't you go and -"

"Da's home!" whooped Liand from the doorway. "Can we eat now?"

Merrin stared across the table at Kendath as Rhie flew to say hello. "Sorry," she managed, somehow unable still to suppress a grin, shaking her head helplessly. "At least it wasn't the twins."

---

"Right, so you're over at the smith's - see, there?" T'mor pointed across the square. The pair of teenage boys, both clutching bundles to their chests, nodded silently. The wagons, emptied of possessions, stood in the middle of the road as dusk deepened. "Just tell him T'mor says you're to stay the night, and I'll be at home."

A nod from each, and he saw them in the right direction and swung up to drive the first wagon off the road. The horses were content to have their halters looped around fence posts and eat straw, behind the Tanner house, which was fortunate, because T'mor wasn't quite so willing to wait for his own dinner. He jogged back to take care of the second one, lost in contemplation of food that was not bread and cheese - blueberry pie not least.

The second pair of horses did not appreciate having to wait. He had to back them a full five yards before they would do anything but balk, and in swinging the wagon around, cast a brief glance over his shoulder and found that he was endangering pedestrians.

"Want to come for dinner?" he shouted at Adeila over his shoulder. "It smells good so I'm thinking it tastes good, too."

_________________

Kendath pulled his gaze away from the rocking chair - it wasn't that interesting, anyway - and attempted a smile that, with any luck, didn't gift him with lockjaw. He found it difficult to meet Merrin's gaze, since he was certain her mother had to have noticed by now and especially after - "Is that Rhie?" He nodded at the head of jouncing curls, surprising himself with his memory. "The littlest one?"

But before Merrin could answer he barreled on, "And your... da." His glance shot toward the door, where the last beams of sunset were spilling through. Were those footsteps he heard on the veranda? "Maybe you should... go... greet him."

_________________

Garthag, unlike the Kendath, seemed to be quite comfortable with the setting around them. He did not seem to mind the constant blabbering of the family nor the very fact, that he was shunned. None seemed to talk to him and thus he promptly decided to mind his business, staring out of the window with a thoughtful face.

In truth he was trying very hard not to laugh at the clumsiness of Kendath`s stumbling words and the very fact how awkward the poor man must have felt. To think, that Kendath, who had braved numerous dangerous from dragons to sea monsters was not struck stiff in horror by an ordinary family. No doubt, Kendath, had never known the meaning of such a thing. Having become a Meiltha might have isolated him from such concepts as family as it had done to Garthag in his quest for power. Yet in the least Garthag had known the bond, that existed within a family, but all that remained seemed like a bitter memory yet one that allowed him to adapt to this atmosphere.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he desperately attempted to hide it as a cough, but did not even gaze at anyone else afterwards. Yet he could feel a burning yet panic stare scorching the back of his neck a moment later.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Adeila hesitated. She had been intending to go make sure Melia and her four boys had gotten settled in somewhere and find out whether or not Cael's coughing had ever subsided, but as far as she could tell, more or less everyone was already being taken care of. It was remarkable how quickly and enthusiastically the townspeople had responded, acting as though it were every day that a caravan of refugees showed up for supper. She could see why T'mor and Merrin were so fond of their hometown.

But even still, she hated to be more of an imposition than was strictly necessary. She had seen quite a few people go into the small home, and she doubted that T'mor's mother had cooked with the intent of having guests. Besides, it was not as though they didn't have food still in the wagons. She could manage perfectly well on her own.

"I think your mother already has more than enough mouths to feed," she started to say, but the mention of food had not escaped her companion's notice. Almost before T'mor had finished speaking, Svit had eagerly clambered down from Adeila's shoulder and just as quickly taken up a position on T'mor's. Adeila tried to look reproachful and succeeded for all of about five seconds. Sighing resignedly, she began to follow T'mor.

"Only as long as you are certain that your mother will not mind...."

"Yes," said Merrin. "The littlest one."

The confusion at the door - Adasin, Liand and Rhie contesting for space - made her hang back, as well as her mother's shout from the hearth. "Don't come in with your dirty shoes on!"

"Da, guess who's here! Da!" Adasin was nearly drowned by Rhie's squeal as she was hefted into the air. "It's Merrin, Da!"

"Keep hold o' your apron, Caire, m'not coming in with my shoes on. What's that? Merrin? Where, now?"

Entering in his sock feet, wearing the same faded work clothes he had since Merrin could remember, Daevydd Tanner managed to make his way over the threshold despite his three insistent offspring. Rhie was in one arm, quite small next to her Da's considerable bulk. Merrin thought her smile might split her face in two.

There was perhaps more grey in his beard, trimmed short, than there had been in the past, but the firelight and the fading sun showed Merrin the same Da she knew.

"See, Da? It's Merrin!"

"By all the gods, it is! Lass, we missed you!" He put Rhie down and Merrin ran for the hug that still made her feel small.

"I missed you too," she said, muffled, inhaling the smell of his clothes - pungent, but more welcome than anything in the world.

"Let's eat, Mama! T'mor's outside, look!"

---

"Mind?" said T'mor, deftly turning the wagon and situating it in an unoccupied patch of grass. "Of course she won't mind. She cooks for all of us, you know, that's enough food for an army."

It only took moments to unhitch and tie the horses, where they dug into the piles of straw he dropped with eagerness, and then T'mor gave the pair one last pat and made eagerly for home, the aroma of dinner acting magnetically. "I will admire you greatly if you remember everyone's names," he said as an aside to Adeila, opening the gate. "Liand's the quiet twin and Adasin is the loud one, but other than that they're nigh impossible to tell apart. And the little one is Rhie. Jayen will be here later."

He leaped the steps to the veranda on the heels of his father and stuck his head in the door. "Oy, I know I'm not half as interesting here, but 'Hello, T'mor! Nice to see you back!' is always appreciated."

Merrin giggled, still muffled, and was released from the all-encompassing hug. "Hello, T'mor," she said. "Nice to see you back."

"Not you. Greetings, Da. Is dinner ready, Mama? I could eat a horse. Oh, and this is Adeila." He introduced her with a flourish. "Resident angel. Er, healer."

"Goodness! More?" said Mistress Tanner from the table, where she had placed a sizable tureen of fragrant soup and a basket of brown bread. "Sit down, T'mor, you're holding up dinner. Adeila, did you say?" She wiped her hands on her apron and bustled over. "Pleasure to meet you. I hope my girl hasn't been any trouble? Well then, sit down - Liand, the chairs from the fireplace, please - and we'll start."

T'mor and his father made beelines for the table, Merrin following, and with some rearranging, room was made for everyone. "Now, boys, don't grab for the food," reprimanded Caire. "Say the blessing, dear."

"Er - gods bless this food - and pass the soup."

Adasin grabbed for it before this could be accomplished, subsiding when Merrin raised an eyebrow at him. She had Rhie on one elbow and him on the other, Kendath across.

"Don't take all that bread! There won't be enough!"

"Liand, that's my fork."

"Please pass the soup?" Giving up, Master Tanner planted his elbow on the table with an expression of resignation. "Who's this, then?" he said, extending a large, calloused hand to Kendath. "Y'haven't introduced me, lass."

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The first impression of Merrin's father, framed in the doorway against the setting sun, was one of absolute terror. The man was enormous - as large as T'mor, perhaps larger - and if his glare in any way rivaled Mistress Tanner's...

Kendath's stomach did a backflip.

Master Tanner had barely ducked through the door when Merrin and Rhie hurled themselves into his arms. Kendath watched, fascinated. Amrinev's smile hadn't stretched as widely. The village men around Dey'tarn had known how to smile, but their smiles had waned year after year, after the coming of the Meiltha. Tanner's smile - his flushed cheeks, his twinkling eyes - was a sight that Kendath had missed for years.

Warm aromas wafted from the food as everyone dove toward the table. Kendath found himself sandwiched between T'mor on one side and Adasin on the other, and was almost knocked over when the latter made a grab for the soup. Garthag and Adeila sat a little ways down, the dog had found a comfortable bed right between his boots, and Rhie to his relief was all the way on the other end of -

A large hand had somehow found its way over his plate. Kendath looked at it, then at its owner. Belatedly he registered that Master Tanner wanted to shake his hand. "Kendath," he said, and obliged, trying not to glance at Merrin. "Sir."

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