Out of the Darkness

Her father and mother didn’t argue with her. In fact, they nodded solemnly. Leudast thought her likely right, too. He also nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “I’ll stay a soldier.” Captain Dagaric would be pleased. Marshal Rathar might be pleased. Leudast wondered if he’d be pleased himself. That depends on how long peace lasts, he thought. Of course, if war came again, a peasant village near Unkerlant’s eastern border wasn’t safe, either. But if war came again, was any place at all safe? One way or another, he’d find out.

After supper, Ealstan tried to read the news sheet and play with Saxburh at the same time. That didn’t work very well, because he couldn’t give either one of them his full attention. The news sheet didn’t care. His daughter did. “Dada,” she said, and managed to put a distinct note of reproach in her voice.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, son,” Hestan said.

“What other kind is there, for a Forthwegian?” Ealstan answered. That earned him one of Hestan’s slow smiles.

When he was talking to his own father, he wasn’t paying attention to Saxburh, either. “Dada,” she said again, and tugged at his hand. Laughing, he picked her up. She grabbed for his beard.

He managed to fend her off. “No, you can’t do that,” he told her. “That hurts.”

Hestan said, “You got some pretty good handfuls of mine in your day.”

“If I did, she’s giving you your revenge.” Ealstan tickled Saxburh, who squealed. “Aren’t you?” She squealed again.

“If you’re going to play with her, may I see the news sheet?” Vanai asked. Ealstan spun it across the room to her. As soon as Vanai started to read, Saxburh scrambled down off Ealstan’s lap, toddled over to her, and started batting at the news sheet. “Cut that out,” Vanai said. Saxburh didn’t. Vanai rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t want anybody reading-that’s what it is.”

“Maybe she thinks we’ll get too excited when we see that King Penda vows he’ll come back to Forthweg,” Ealstan said.

“Not likely,” Vanai exclaimed. “Who’d want him back, after he led the kingdom into a losing war?”

“That’s the line the story takes,” Ealstan said.

“I’m surprised the news sheet mentioned his name at all,” Hestan said.

“It takes the same tone Vanai did,” Ealstan repeated. “The feeling it wants to give is, Oh, he can’t possibly be serious, and who would care even if he were? It’s not a headline or anything-it shows up at the bottom of an inside page. That’s one more way to show nobody thinks Penda’s very important any more, I guess.”

His father musingly plucked at his beard. “You know, that’s clever,” he said after he’d thought it through. “If they just ignored Penda, people would hear about this vow of his anyhow, and they’d think, King Beornwulf is afraid. See how he’s trying to hide things? This way, they’ll go, Well, Beornwulf is king now, and Penda can make as much noise as he wants off in Lagoas. Aye, clever.”

“Mama!” Saxburh said indignantly, and swatted at the news sheet.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that,” Vanai said. “Are you getting fussy? Are you getting sleepy?”

“No!” Saxburh denied the mere possibility, and burst into tears when her mother picked her up.

“Most babies don’t start saying no till they’re a few months older than that,” Hestan remarked. “Of course, my granddaughter is naturally very advanced for her age.”

“I wish she were advanced enough to stop making messes in her clothes,” Ealstan said. “Is she dry?”

Vanai felt the baby and nodded. “I think she’ll go to sleep, too,” she said, putting the critical word in classical Kaunian so Saxburh wouldn’t follow it. But she’d done that once too often; her daughter had figured it out, and cried harder than ever. Vanai looked half pleased-one day, she did want Saxburh to learn the language she’d grown up speaking-and half annoyed. “There, there. It’ll be all right.” She rocked the little girl in her arms. Saxburh didn’t think it was all right; she went on wailing. But the wails grew muffled as her thumb found its way into her mouth. After a little while, they stopped.

“Almost like the quiet after the fighting’s over,” Hestan said.

Ealstan shook his head. “No,” he said positively. “That’s different.”

His father didn’t argue. He just shrugged and said, “You’d know better than I, I’m sure. How’s your leg these days?”

“It’s getting better. It’s still sore.” Ealstan shrugged, too. “When the rainy season comes, I’ll make a first-rate weather prophet.”

“I’m sorry about that. I’m more sorry than I can tell you,” Hestan said. “But I’m glad you’re still here to be able to predict bad weather before it comes.”