Raven's Shadow (Raven #1)(12)

"Alinath," said Tier in a gentle voice that made his sister pale. "Seraph is my guest here and you will not sharpen your tongue on her."

"I can take care of myself, both here and on the road," said Seraph, though his defense touched her - as if the words of a solsenti stranger could hurt her.

"No," said Tier, his voice firm. "If you'll house us for the night, Mother, we'll start out tomorrow morning."

Tier's mother and sister exchanged a look, as if they'd discussed the situation while Tier had left them alone to retrieve Seraph.

Tier's mother smiled at Seraph. "Child, is there a hurry to find your people? If you cannot tarry here until I pass from this world into the next, could you not stay with us as our guest for a season so that we might not lose Tier so soon after we've found him?"

"A Traveler might be harmful to business," said Seraph. "As I said, there is no need for Tier to escort me. I am well capable of finding my people by myself."

"If you go, he'll follow you," said Alinath with resignation. "It may have been a long time since I've seen my brother, but I doubt that he has changed so much as to go back on his sworn word."

"Stay, please," said his mother. "What few people who will not eat from the table where a Traveler is fed will be more than compensated for by the new business we'll get from the curious who will come to the bakery just to catch a glimpse of you."

Seraph was under no illusion that she'd be a welcome guest. But there was no doubt either that they wanted her to stay if that were the only way to keep Tier for a while.

"I'll stay," she said reluctantly and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. If she were here then she wasn't fighting demons and watching people die around her because she hadn't been able to protect them. "I'll stay for a little while."

"Where is my brother?" Alinath's voice sounded almost accusing, as if she thought Seraph had done something to Tier.

Seraph looked up from sifting the never-ending supply of flour, one of the unskilled tasks that had fallen to her hands. She glanced pointedly at the empty space next to her where Tier had spent the last three weeks mixing various permutations of yeasted bread. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, as if she hadn't noted that he hadn't taken his usual place this morning. Then she looked back at Alinath and shrugged.

It was rude, but Alinath's sharp question had been rude, too.

Alinath's jaw tightened, but she was evidently still intimidated enough by Seraph's status as Traveler not to speak further. She turned on her heel and left Seraph to her work.

Tier didn't return until the family was sitting down for lunch. He brushed a kiss on the top of Alinath's head and sat down across from her, beside Seraph.

"Where were you this morning?" Alinath asked.

"Riding," he said in a tone that welcomed no questions. "Pass the carrots please, Seraph."

The rhythms of the bakery came back to Tier as if he'd not spent the better part of the last decade with a sword in his hand instead of a wooden spoon. He woke before dawn to fire the ovens and, after a few days, quit having to ask Alinath for the proper proportion of ingredients.

He could see the days stretching ahead of him in endless procession, each day just exactly like the one before. The years of soldiering had made him no more resigned to spending the rest of his life baking than he'd been at fifteen.

Even something as exotic as his stray Traveler didn't alter the pattern of life at his father's bakery. She worked as she was asked and seldom spoke, even to him. Only his nightly rides broke the habits of his childhood, but even they had begun to acquire a sameness.

He ought to sell the horse, his mother had told him over dinner yesterday, then he could use the money as a bride price. There were a number of lovely young village women who would love to be a baker's wife.

This morning he'd gotten up earlier than usual and tried to subdue his restlessness with work - to no effect. So as soon as Bandor had come in to watch the baking, Tier left and took Skew out, galloping him over the bridge and up into the mountains until they arrived at a small valley he'd discovered as a boy. Once there, he'd explored the valley until the lather on Skew's back had dried and his own desperation loosened under the influence of the sweet-grass smell and mountain breeze.

Part of him was ready to leave this afternoon, to take Seraph and find her people. But the rest of him wanted to put the journey off as long as he could. Once it was over, there would be no further escapes for him. He wasn't fifteen anymore: he was a man, with a man's responsibilities.

"You're quiet today," said Seraph as they worked together after lunch. "I was beginning to think that silence was a thing that Rederni avoided at all cost. Always you are telling stories, or singing. Even Bandor hums all the time he works."

He grinned at her as he kneaded dough. "I should have warned you," he said, "that every man in Redern thinks himself a bard and most of the women, too."

"In love with the sound of your own voices, the whole lot of you," said Seraph without rancor, dumping hot water in the scrubbing tub where a collection of mixing bowls awaited cleaning. "My father always said that too many words cheapened the value of a man's speech."

Tier laughed again - but Alinath had entered the baking room with an armful of empty boards in time to hear the whole of Seraph's observation.