Free Seeker of Stars: A Novel by Susan Fish Page B

spoke truly, but it was an easier position to ignore than the one my brother was in. I felt sympathy for Salvi and tried to be friendly and to lighten our conversation over supper. Salvi seemed curious though suspicious.
    “Can I sleep on the moving bed with you?” I asked.
    “Why?”
    For once, I was prepared with words. “Salvi, I am far from home, and my family is doubly dear to me. It is like a gift to see you.”
    My explanation did not lighten the tension, but Salvi agreed I could sleep with them. “Though I’m sure you would sleep better on the king’s silk sheets,” he grumbled under his breath.
    As the stars came out, we climbed aboard the caravan. I was sad to see how feebly Taz moved. I watched how Salvi helped our uncle and was glad to see the kindness he showed him. Soon Taz was snoring.
    “Will your great chief mind you sleeping out here with us?” Salvi scorned as we lay back under the canopy of sky.
    “Probably.”
    There was a long pause, but I knew Salvi was still awake.
    “This is how it could have been,” I said, treading carefully on fine, invisible threads, trying to regain a way in.
    “What?”
    “Like Taz and our father. Only we would have met in the village, at the workshop.”
    Salvi had a smile in his voice, in the darkness. “Daria and I have those conversations.”
    “And Leyla?”
    “Sometimes.” Salvi’s voice was clipped, and I knew to retreat from such territory.
    “I was there, you know. In the village. A week ago.”
    Salvi rolled toward me, his voice eager. “How were they? How was Damus?”
    “He was so big I could hardly recognize him. They all were.”
    “But his foot—how was his foot?”
    “He was running about with the others.”
    Salvi relaxed again.
    “You have good sons, Salvi. I can only hope our son will turn out so well.”
    “Has the baby been born? Why didn’t—”
    “Not yet,” I interrupted. “At least I don’t think so. He wasn’t born when I left on this journey, though maybe by now …” I wanted my brother to speak, to ask more questions, to teach me, but he was silent. I had to ask.
    “Do you think I did wrong to come on this trip when the baby was expected?”
    Salvi laughed bitterly. “You want me to talk to you about right and wrong?”
    Suddenly I was angry. I had wanted to clear up the past with my brother. I had hoped we might forgive and move on and that I might continue my journey unfettered, but now anger bubbled out of a deep well I did not know was in me.
    “What do you mean?”
    Salvi shrugged as if to say that the conversation was pointless, but I grabbed his arm. “No. Tell me what you mean.”
    “I mean Leyla,” he said abruptly.
    “And who do you think was wrong there?” I asked sharply. Taz rumbled in his sleep and turned over, reminding us that our discussion needed to be conducted in whispers and hisses. Salvi didn’t speak, so I did. “You think I was, don’t you?”
    “And you think I was!” he shot back.
    “Yes. I do!”
    “And you’re so innocent and important.”
    “I never said that.”
    “Well, do you blame yourself?”
    With this opening to speak my heart truly, my anger settled. “Salvi, my brother. Please believe me when I say that so much of this is in the past for me—”
    “It isn’t for me!” he hissed.
    “Salvi, if I am truthful, I recognize that I was foolish and—yes—even wrong when I played with Leyla’s heart years ago. I should never have done it.”
    “Finally! You admit it! You broke her heart and acted the fool.”
    My anger flared again. “And you! You trusted me so little that you convinced Leyla against me and betrothed yourself to her—all without a word to me!”
    Salvi sighed heavily. “I know,” he said. “That is what bothers me. Is my Leyla stolen goods? Did I betray my brother?” His eyes glistened with tears in the starlight.
    “But you are so happy—with Leyla and your boys.”
    “I’ve always wondered—should they be your sons? Should Leyla