Slowly, she nodded. And then, as the loneliness hit home, said tremulously, “It will be an empty house. Cannot Shahar come home to serve in Paras Derval?”
“He can,” said Paul quietly. “Oh, Vae, I am so sorry. I will see that he comes home.”
She did weep, then, for a little while. She hadn’t wanted to. But Finn had gone impossibly far, and Dari now as well, and Shahar had been away for so long.
They stayed the night. By the light of candles and the fire, they helped her gather the few belongings she had brought to the cottage. When it grew late they let the fire die, and the lios slept in Dari’s bed and Paul in Finn’s again. They were to leave at first light.
They woke before that, though. It was Brendel who stirred and the other two, in shallow sleep, heard him rise. It was still night, perhaps two hours before dawn.
“What is it?” Paul asked.
“I am not sure,” the lios replied. “Something.”
They dressed, all three of them, and walked out toward the lake. The full moon was low now but very bright. The wind had shifted to the south, blowing toward them from over the water. The stars overhead and west were dimmed by the moon. They shone brighter, Paul saw, in the east.
Then, still looking east, he lowered his glance. Unable to speak, he touched Brendel and Vae and then pointed.
All along the hills, clearly visible in the light of the moon, the snow was starting to melt.
He hadn’t gone far, nor been invisible for long—it wasn’t a thing he could sustain. He heard the god go off in the guise of a stag and then the other two, walking slowly, in silence. He had an impulse to follow but he remained where he was among the trees. Later, when everyone had gone, Darien rose and left as well.
There was something, like a fist or a stone, buried in his chest. It hurt. He wasn’t used to this body, the one he had accelerated himself into. He wasn’t used to knowing who his father was either. He knew the first discomfort would pass, suspected the second would. Wasn’t sure how he felt about that, or about anything. He was naked, but he wasn’t cold. He was deeply angry at everyone. He was beginning to guess how strong he was.
There was a place—Finn had found it—north of the cottage and high up on the highest of the hills. In summer it would have been an easy climb, Finn had said. Darien had never known a summer. When Finn took him, the drifts had been up to Dari’s chest and Finn had carried him much of the way.
He wasn’t Dari any more. That name was another thing lost, another fragment gone away. He stood in front of the small cave on the hill slope. It sheltered him from the wind, though he didn’t need shelter. From here you could see the towers of the palace of Paras Derval, though not the town.
You could also look down, as it grew dark, on the lights in the cottage by the lake. His eyes were very good. He could see figures moving behind the drawn curtains. He watched them. After a while, he did begin to feel cold. It had all happened very fast. He couldn’t quite fit into this body or deal with the older mind he now had. He was still half in Dari’s shape, in the blue winter coat and mittens. He still wanted to be carried down and be put to bed.
It was hard not to cry, looking at the lights, and harder when the lights went out. He was alone then with only moonlight and the snow and the voices again in the wind. He didn’t cry, though, he moved back toward anger instead. Why was he allowed to live? Cernan had said. None of them wanted him, not even Finn, who had gone away.
It was cold and he was hungry. On the thought, he flashed red and made himself into an owl. He flew for an hour and found three night rodents near the wood. He flew back to the cave. It was warmer as a bird and he fell asleep in that shape.