“They are?” Lenthan was still confused.
“I’m leaving!” stated the astrologer.
“Promises, promises.” Paithan sighed, sipped at his wine.
“Yes, of course, rockets are important. Otherwise how’s he going to find us?” demanded the old man.
“He who?” inquired Paithan.
“The he who has the ship. Pay attention!” snapped Zifnab testily.
“Oh, that he who.” Paithan leaned over to his sister. “He owns a dog,” he said confidentially.
“You see, Lenthan-may I call you Lenthan?” inquired the old man politely. “You see, Lenthan, we need a big ship because your wife will want to see all the children again. Been a long time, you know. And they’ve grown so much.”
“What?” Lenthan’s eyes flared open, his cheeks paled. He clasped a trembling hand over his heart. “What did you say? My wife!”
“Blasphemy!” cried the astrologer.
The soft whir of the fans and the slight rustling of the feathery blades were the room’s only sounds. Paithan had set his lapcloth on his plate and was staring down at it, frowning.
“For once I agree with that fool.” Aleatha rose to her feet and glided over to stand behind her father’s chair, her hands on his shoulders.
“Papa,” she said, a tenderness in her voice that no one else in the family ever heard, “it’s been a tiring day. Don’t you think you should go to bed?”
“No, my dear. I’m not the least bit tired.” Lenthan had not taken his eyes from the old man. “Please, sir, what did you say about my wife?”
Zifnab didn’t appear to hear him. During the ensuing quiet, the old man’s head had slumped forward, his bearded chin rested on his breast, his eyes dosed. He gave a muffled snore.
Lenthan reached out his hand. “Zifnab-”
“Papa, please!” Aleatha dosed her soft fingers over her father’s blacked and bum-scarred hand. “Our guest is exhausted. Paithan, call for the servants to help the wizard to his room.”
Brother and sister exchanged glances, both having the same idea. With any luck we can smuggle him out of the house tonight. Maybe feed him to his own dragon. Then, in the morning, when he’s gone, we’ll be able to convince Father that he was nothing but an insane old human.
“Sir …” said Lenthan, shaking off his daughter’s hand and catching hold of the old man’s. “Zifnab!”
The old man jerked awake. “Who?” he demanded, glancing around bleary-eyed. “Where?”
“Papa!”
“Hush, my dear. Go run along and play, there’s a good girl. Papa’s busy, right now. Now, sir, you were talking about my wife-”
Aleatha looked pleadingly at Paithan. Her brother could only shrug. Biting her lip, fighting back tears, Aleatha gave her father’s shoulder a gentle pat, then fled from the room. Once out of sight in the drawing room, she pressed her hand over her mouth, sobbing. . . .
. . . The child sat outside the door to her mother’s bedchamber. The little girl was alone; she’d been alone for the last three days and she was growing more and more frightened. Paithan’d been sent away to stay with relatives.
“The boy is too rambunctious,” Aleatha had heard someone say. “The house must be kept quiet.” And so Paithan had gone.
Now there was no one for her to talk to, no one to pay any attention to her. She wanted her mother-the beautiful mother, who played with her and sang to her-but they wouldn’t let her go inside her mother’s room. Strange people filled the house- healers with their baskets of funny-smelling plants, astrologers who stood staring out the windows into the sky.
The house was quiet, so dreadfully quiet. The servants wept while they worked, wiping their eyes on the tips of their aprons. One of them, seeing Aleatha sitting in the hallway, said that someone should really be doing something about the child, but no one ever did.
Whenever the door to her mother’s room opened, Aleatha jumped to her feet and hied to go inside, but whoever was coming out-generally a healer or his assistant-would shoo the girl back.
“But I want to see Mama!”
“Your mama is very sick. She must stay quiet. You don’t want to worry her, do you?”