Page 171 of Silverbow
That made three singers among Leon’s children, a Warder in the Vale, and a Silverbow running through the dining room. Oryn scratched at his jaw. Perhaps the old things really were coming anew. He needed to return to his search for the Treesinger.
He watched archers and robbers for a long enough that he’d lost track of who was what, pondering where to go after delivering Enya to the Vale. They hadn’t spoken any more of what would come after, not since he’d made the offer for her to remain in their company. He didn’t have any idea what she would choose to do, where she would go, after handing the eggs over to the Nine on High and that was enough to sour his good mood.
“Children, children,” Alsbet called as if suddenly remembering herself. “Lady Enya was healed by Lady Alloralla only hours ago. We must let her rest.”
Dothebelle, who clung to Enya’s back, looked as if she might start wailing when Alsbet raised her eyebrows. Enya whispered something to the girl, a promise for tomorrow, as the other children let out their final whoops and calls of who’d won. Alsbet’s brood began to sprawl on the rug and Enya settled between them with her back to the flames as the calls for stories began.
“Perhaps Lady Enya would favor us with a story of Estryia,” Alsbet said.
Oryn watched her chew her lip, casting around for something to say. “I’m afraid I don’t know any stories you wouldn’t have already heard from a gleeman or a court bard.”
“Perhaps you could tell us something of your home?” Alsbet prodded.
Oryn held his breath, poised to intervene, but Liam smiled and nodded beside her. Enya caught his eye and some silent conversation passed between them. She turned back to the young, eager faces gathered around her.
“Far from here in the southern foothills of the Greenridge Mountains, there was a farmhouse called Ryerson House,” she began.
“What are they like?” Dezamri asked of the mountains.
“Compared to the soaring peaks of Tuminzar, the Greenridge Mountains are little more than anthills,” she smiled. The boys swelled with pride for their home. “The Greenridge Mountains get their name because they are almost always green, covered in patches of forest and grassy valleys.”
“Are there snowcats?” Orhuck asked.
“No snowcats.” The boys looked rather disappointed. By dwarven standards, a wilderness without snowcats wasn’t very wild at all. “Behind Ryerson House, to the north, lay Greenridge Forest. To the south the Queen’s Road, and to the east and west, pasture for the horses and a sprawling apple orchard. But the most beautiful part of Ryerson House was the stable.
“In the house lived Lord Ryerson, his daughter,” she laid a hand over her heart at that, “and Master and Mistress Ashill, who looked after us all. Tuckedin the stables was a cozy apartment where Stablemaster Marsh and his son Liam lived.” Liam nodded to indicate himself. “And above them in a loft lived a loyal old Captain of the Guard who protected us all.”
Oryn caught Colm’s eye. Neigel Marwar was not a knight they’d ever heard of, but the captain of Maia’s Queen’s Guard, a man sure to wear a vow mark, would need a new name.
“Ryerson House was a lower house. We collected no tithes and leased no lands, but we produced the finest horses for the lords and ladies of the realm.” The children glanced to Oryn as if to confirm and he gave a nod. “Every spring, we had a stable full of foals, but summer was what we always looked forward to. When the babies were big enough, and our own pasture worn out, we’d herd everyone up into the mountain passes and turn them loose to graze. Stable hands would camp with the herd all summer, to watch for wolves and bears and make sure no one wandered off.”
Oryn watched the shadow of memory flicker across her face and for the first time, realized the mask of anger had vanished. He studied her, trying to piece together what had taken its place. It wasn’t contentment, not exactly, but he took in the lines of her face, the set of her shoulders, and landed on resolve. It was a quiet, steely resolve that had probably been there all along, buried beneath the rage and guilt and grief.
“Liam and I had to stay behind at the house for our lessons and the harvest. We would help the men swing scythes and bundle hay for the winter, but when it was finished, my father would take us up to camp for the last weeks of summer. It was there that I learned all the important things a lady must know,” she said, turning to the girls and shooting an apologetic glance at Alsbet. “How to fish, hunt, track…” The girls giggled.
Liam cut in. “One time, when we were camping, we had all settled down to dinner, but Enya decided she wanted to ride off to chase the sunset. Of course, she didn’t tell anybody, and when she went to get her horse from the picket line, she couldn’t reach. Instead of asking for help or giving up, she cut the whole line and set all the horses loose. It took us all night to catch everyone on foot.”
That drew laughs from the rug, Enya included. As he watched her push a lock of copper hair back behind her ear, Oryn wasn’t convinced the Silverbow had ever stopped trying to catch the sunset.
“That same summer, Liam dropped a torch and set my father’s tent on fire,” she said to more hoots of laughter.
“Did you get in trouble?” Gitaela asked.
“Oh yes,” Enya answered. “Loads. We had to stack firewood and haul water for the rest of the time we were there.”
“We would have had to do that anyway,” Liam answered.
“It sounds like a wonderful home, dear,” Alsbet said.
Enya’s throat bobbed. “It was.”
“What happened to it?” One of the children asked.
Enya hesitated, her eyes scanning the sitting room as if she might find the right answer tucked behind the furniture. “It…”
Liam shifted almost imperceptibly to rest a knee against hers in a show of quiet solidarity. “It was lost in a fire.”
“Will you go back there one day?” Bargitelin asked.
