“More on him than in him,” Ritathan grumbled, wiping at his tunic.
“It will be some time before he learns any manners,” Rosalind said.
“Or needs to,” the Lord High Baron said, chuckling.
Halithe stared at her bowl, remembering the feel of a wooden spoon rapping her knuckles for any misbehavior.
“Eat,” the Lady urged.
Everyone dug in, accompanied by a clatter of dishes and the passing of plates.Roth cut thick slices of bread as Rosalind filled people’s bowls.The soup was good, thick and rich, with onion and a touch of garlic.There were crocks of creamy butter to spread on the bread and cold well water to drink.It was plain fare, but warming and perfectly lovely, except for the silence.
Everyone was fiercely concentrating on their food, except the Lord and Lady, who were focused on feeding the children in their laps.But the quiet grew steadily, everyone watching everyone else with considering glances.
Dalan laughed and waved pease-y hands in the air.
Halithe seized the moment, going with a tried and true gambit.A good way to get someone to talk?Ask about their children.“So cute,” she said warmly to the Lady.“Your son looks so much like you, while Lara takes after her father.How old are they?”
Instead of the warming smile she expected, she was met with suspicion and odd looks.Nothing changed, really, but there was a stiffening of shoulders all around.
“Our twins are ten months old,” Amrai said stiffly.
“Young, to be sure,” Aramal observed quietly.He reached over and offered Dalan a finger.Dalan glommed on, pulling and squirming in the Lady’s lap.“Let me take him,” he offered.“So you can eat in peace.”
“You sure?”the Lady hesitated.“He’s quite the mess.”
“Aye.”Aramal lifted the child easily and put him on his lap.Ritathan leaned back to avoid the mess.Aramal threw the mage an amused look as he kept talking.“These rough hands have tended babes before.”
“So you are from Athelbryght?”The Lady reached for bread and butter.“I have heard of their wines.”
“That’s not our only crop,” Aramal said as he let Dalan gnaw on his finger.“We have wheat and barley and fruit trees as well.”
“So you’re a farmer, then,” Lady Amari pulled her bowl closer and picked up her spoon.
“Farmhand, more like,” Aramal responded.“At least I was, until I decided to walk this path.”There was a subtle nod of his head toward Ritathan, who had his nose buried in his food.
The Lady hummed, giving him a nod.
“Very few crafts I haven’t put my hand to,” Aramal said.“There’s always a need.I’ve seen to livestock, and figured out how to fix most things.Not a blacksmith, mind, but I can…” he continued, his voice low and strong.Halithe ate, listening, watching as the tensions in shoulders and eyes eased all around.Heads nodded.More soup was dished out, more bread passed.
Halithe took another piece, even risked mopping up the last bits of her soup with some crust.No one scolded her; in fact the Lady held out the basket.“Another slice?”
“No, thank you,” Halithe said.“That was very good.”
“It was.”Aramal stood, Dalan still in his arms, scraping his chair back along the floor.
“And in thanks, I’d like to fix that chair.I think there is a workshop off that barn?”
Dalan waved sticky hands, kicking as Aramal held him out to the Lady.“There is, although sorely neglected, I fear,” Amari said as she took the boy from Aramal.“You are welcome to use what you find there.”
“Halithe, I’ll need another set of hands.”Aramal said, then put a hand on Ritathan’s shoulder as the mage made to rise.“No, Ritathan.Stay and talk.”
Halithe looked at Ritathan, who was settling back on his seat.At his sharp nod, she rose, bobbed the Lady a curtsey, then followed Aramal out into the sun.
Aramal seemed to know where he was going, chair in one hand.She waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.“Doesn’t it bother you?That they will be talking about us?”
“No,” he gave her a wry look.“I’ve always been better at the doing than the thinking.They’ve decisions to make and I’d just be drumming my fingers on the table.”He gestured ahead.“Here, look,” he said.
They’d come to a side door to the barn, the wood warped and cracked.It creaked open, scraping against the wooden floor to reveal a long room, lined with benches, worktables piled with broken things, and shelves covered in old tools.Halithe wrinkled her nose at the smell of rust and oil and animals, and lifted her hands to keep cobwebs off her face.
