“Fortunately for you, Captain,” Clodagh said, handing him a cup of hot drink and a hunk of bread, “we’re extremely merciful around here. Sprinkle a little of this on your bread. You’ll see how tasty it is.” She passed over an herb jar and, unusually compliant, Torkel shook it over his bread.
Dr. Fiske smiled at his son as one of the marmalade cats jumped into Torkel’s lap and began purring. For a moment, Torkel stiffened, wavering briefly between rejection and acceptance. He took a sip of the drink and a bite of the bread. After several more sips and bites, he gave a deep resigned sigh and finally relaxed, leaning back in his chair, the cat firmly in charge.
“Look here,” O’Shay began tentatively, appealing to Clodagh, “if there’re that many Petaybeans come home to roost, d’you think we could have a latchkay to celebrate?”
“The very thing,” Aisling agreed happily.
“Now that,” Scan said, “is one of the best ideas I’ve heard in days. It would undoubtedly settle a lot of qualms and answer some of the questions you haven’t thought of yet, Dr. Fiske, Steve.”
“Well,” Yana said, rising, “since confusion has died down to mere chaos, I’d really appreciate a decent bath and change of clothes.” She looked askance at the riddled remainder of her shirt.
“I’m not exactly as clean as I’d like to be either,” Scan said. Also rising, he took Yana by the arm and began leading her to the door. Then he stopped. “You wouldn’t mind dismissing that guard now, would you, Captain Fiske?”
“I will,” said Whittaker Fiske, rising and doing exactly that.
Yana could not believe the relief that washed over her as she and Sean stepped out into the fresh air. The whilom guard had dispersed like snowmelt on a hot day. She inhaled, half expecting the previous days’ exertions to result in a paroxysm of coughing.
“You won’t have that trouble ever again,” Sean said as he guided her toward the path to the hot springs.
“Wait, I’ll need clothes,” she said, half towing him in the direction of her house.
“There’s always something left about at the springs,” he said, and pulled her back to his side, grinning with a boyishness that surprised her.
Laughing, she let herself be held. “Is it wrong of me to want to wash some of Petaybee off?” She asked, buoyant with relief and with his presence.
“You can never wash Petaybee off completely, Yanaba Maddock. Not now! You’re stuck with us, love.” And then he threw back his head and gave an odd call.
Two curly-coats broke out of a nearby copse and trotted up to them.
“Local transport,” Scan said. When the curlies stopped beside them, he lifted Yana to the back of one before he vaulted astride the other.
“You just called and they came?” Yana asked, bubbling with laughter, as she laced her fingers tightly into the mane. She knew little about riding, but she felt no fear.
“Sure thing,” Scan said, grinning like a fool. “Let’s go!”
To her surprise and delight, Yana found the curly-coat’s rocking gait to be extremely comfortable, its fur soft on bare skin. She tried not to see how fast the terrain sped by as they went hell-for-leather down the forest track to the hot springs.
They reached their destination in moments, sliding off the mounts, who then wandered away as amiably as they had come. Sean was discarding his clothing and stood before her, sleek, faintly silvery-tan, waiting for her to shuck off the tatters she wore. Then she held out her arms toward him.
Smiling with luminosity to his silver eyes that made her breathless, he enfolded her in his arms, pressing her head into his chest so that she could hear the beating of his heart.
“You’ve heard what Petaybee had to say. Now hear what I have to say to you, Yanaba Maddock.” He tipped her head back to look at him. “You are courage, you are beauty, you are honor, you are strong and kind. You are also loved. By more than I.” He bent to kiss first one eye and then the other, then her forehead. “Petaybee healed you because it had need of you. I have my own need of you, and of the child you carry for both of us.” He touched her breast then, gently but as if in benediction.