Thirty

Cyran suspected that Odos had used some sort of magic to put Kwes to sleep, the half-elf didn't stir as the older man spoke with the child.

“Little one, why are you out alone on the road? Your poor mother must be worried.”

“No, I…” Edun glanced at Odos and smiled a small smile, “Lady Rook said you might understand. My father was the only one who didn't think I was odd. I knew when he and my brother died, like a-a wind blew through the house. Mum is worried about what we’ll eat and why it’s taking them so long to come home but she was angry when I told her that they…” 

“That they weren’t coming back.” Odos studied the child with a sad expression. “She sent you to fetch them.”

“Yes. She said if I was going to curse them that way I could fetch them home or not come back.”

“Rook went ahead to his mother, didn’t she.” Grimgrip snapped the reins across the horse’s back and brought it to a trot. “Hammersworn had firm ideas about how children should be treated.”

“She was ten when her mother sent her away and many bad things happened because she was a helpless child alone in the world.” Odos looked ahead as grimly as the Rook had before she left them. “Is your mother still alive?” 

“Yes.” Edun tilted his head slightly, “Lady Rook said she would meet us but I didn't tell her where I live. My father always said not to. That made her smile and she said her uncle would know. He must live along the road.”

The dwarf rubbed his face. 

A question started to burn at the back of his mind and Cyran asked with a frown, “Can she speak to the dead?”

“It would require Uncle to allow her to, or for Vezar to do it for her. Never underestimate her ability to find out what she wants to know.”

“I liked her.” Edun was smiling faintly again, “There was something sad in her eyes but she tried to make me laugh and told me I didn’t need to be afraid of anything, her family would look after me.”

“We will.” Odos reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “She tried to make you laugh?”

“Her ears are pointed.” 

Grimgrip snorted.

“I haven’t seen that before and I asked her if she was an elf. She looked around like she was looking for who I was talking to and asked why I would think that, and I told her, her ears. She-” He clapped his hands over them and felt them while acting surprised as Odos started to laugh. 

The dwarf turned to see and grinned.

“She’s half elf and all mischief. But mischief and mayhem aren’t as different as people think.” 

“Oh.” The boy smiled a little wider. “She made me think of a bird even before she said to call her Rook. My father liked birds, but he said rooks do as much harm as good and you have to be careful of them.”

“That sounds like Lady Rook.” Grimgrip agreed, turning again to give the boy a smile.

“They’re friendly birds if you’re kind to them, if you’re not they have long memories.” Odos smiled warmly.

“How far did you get from your home, Edun Rookfriend?” Grimgrip let the horses slow.

The boy’s eyes widened and he studied the dwarf from behind, “Edun Rocan. I don't know, it felt like I was walking a long time.” 

“I don’t think we’re far.” Odos looked into the distance.

Cyran put on the circlet, the daylight was blindingly bright but there was a faint blue path. “There is a path. Should I ride ahead?”

“No, if you leave us behind your cousin will scold you for leaving us defenseless.” Odos’ lips twisted wryly as Cyran took the circlet off. 

“I’ll be more wary.” The dwarf glanced back with a sour expression, “I’d feel better if someone went ahead to protect the boy’s mother.”

“Why?” Edun’s brow furrowed. “Lady Rook was kind.”

“My little rook can be as vicious as she is kind, Edun. It depends on who is in front of her. Master Grimgrip is afraid that because your mother sent you out into the world, much like Lady Rook’s mother did, that she might be very angry with your mother.”

“Oh. And her father?”

“She’s angry with him too, little one.” 

The sad smile on the god’s face made Cyran start to consider encouraging his cousin to be more forgiving, and to start with her father. It might also benefit his own.