Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(47)

"Lehr can't go," the Guardian growled.

Lehr's eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline, but before he could give whatever retort was doubtless on the tip of his tongue, Papa said, "I agree. It's too dangerous."

Lehr clenched his fists. "I'm not a child. I know how to protect myself from plague. I won't touch anyone. I won't share food or clothing. Mother said to get Brewydd, and that's what I'm going to do." He got to his feet, and the Guardian rose up with him, blocking him in.

Lehr is right, Jes told him. Father needs Brewydd, and Lehr is not stupid. He knows how to protect himself.

He received a picture in his head of someone dying. Their face lay in the shadows so he couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, but he could feel the Guardian's consuming grief.

Brewydd will be there, he reminded him.

"Jes?" His father's quiet voice penetrated the internal argument.

<Brewydd will be there,> agreed the Guardian before withdrawing slowly. Brewydd would not let Lehr get sick.

"Brewydd will be there," Jes told Papa, and heard Lehr's relieved breath.

"Let me go," Lehr said to Papa. "I can do this."

Papa rubbed his face wearily. "All right. All right. Get a good night's rest and go in the morning. Take this map." He folded it and handed it to Lehr. "You can see the shortest route there."

Jes got up and began to go down the ladder stairs so Lehr could get past him.

"I want to talk to you, Jes," Papa said.

Jes nodded and jumped down to the floor, bending his knees so that he hit softly and didn't wake up Hennea or Rinnie.

Lehr, coming down behind him, said, "Thanks," softly.

Jes nodded and scrambled back up to his parents' loft. "Papa?"

"Close the door and sit down, son."

Jes shut the door, then took up Lehr's place because, with the door shut, there was no room for him where he'd been sitting.

"Remember the smith we helped on the way back?" he asked. Jes knew it wasn't really a question, but he nodded. "When the Guardian said he scented a mistwight, I asked him how he knew what it was."

The Guardian didn't like this conversation, and Jes did his best to think soothing thoughts at him.

"You told me you didn't know."

"I remember," said Jes. "I didn't know."

"Did the Guardian?"

It's all right, we were going to talk to Papa about this, remember? All he got for an answer was a turbulent rush that wasn't quite an answer.

"Jes," said Papa, with just a hint of power in his voice.

It was enough to pull Jes's attention back to him. "He remembered," Jes told him. "But we're not sure how. It makes him upset." He took a breath. "I don't think he wants to remember."

"Are you sure he doesn't know more?" asked Papa gently. "I asked the Guardian, Jes, and he had you answer me. I think that he might know more about it, and doesn't want you to - "

The Guardian pushed Jes away so far that he never did hear the rest of what Papa wanted to say.

" - know." Tier paused to adjust to the jumpy feeling that made him want to move away from the man who sat at his feet. Jes was gone, and only the Guardian was left.

"I don't want him frightened," said the Guardian.

"It's dangerous to keep secrets," said Tier. "Your mother was worried about you. She told me that it is important that you and Jes stay close to each other."

The Guardian stood up in a graceful show of strength that reminded Tier of watching an animal you thought was a dog and realizing it was a wolf instead. Jes and the Guardian didn't move anything alike.

"There are some things he doesn't need to know," said the Guardian.

"He's right," Tier said in some surprise. "You are afraid."

The Guardian hissed.

"You can't lie to me," Tier said, keeping his voice soft though his heart rate had picked up. "Everyone is afraid sometimes. It's all right if Jes is afraid, too. What is not all right is for you to hide things from him. You need to trust him more."

"You know nothing," the Guardian snapped. "You are a Bard - blessed, not cursed."

Tier raised an eyebrow. "You are not cursed. You were just given a rocky field to harrow. Seems to me that you are doing well at it. But you need to work as a team, or you'll not make it, son."

"I'm not your son," said the Guardian. "Jes is. I am the demon he is cursed with."

It was said without a flicker of emotion, but no parent could fail to hear the cry in those words.

"You are my son," said Tier, leaning close enough to the Guardian that his breath turned to frosty mist. "I love you. I worry for you."

"You worry for Jes," said the Guardian, turning his head away.

His absolute certainty suddenly reminded Tier of himself as he confronted his father two days before he went to war. His father had turned and left Tier standing with his despairing cry still echoing. "You love the bakery more than you love me."

He considered this volatile young man who was his son, then said the first thing that came into his head. "You remind me of my sister Alinath. No one ever convinced her of anything she didn't want to be convinced of."