You must be sure to support her as best you can."
Stomach twisting, Fallon gazed at his father helplessly. How to ask if he'd introduced Lord Surclere to a cold marble wife and daughter? Impossible to guess whether the Kellian man knew of his father's fixation, or what he might do about it.
And they were starting for Kole tomorrow.
"I'm not sure I can leave you," Fallon said, betrayed into a high, panicked note.
"My boy, what is this?"
"I—"
"If you are concerned about the creature they are hunting, don't be. Lord Surclere, while he acknowledged that no travel is without its dangers, has assured me that there is no intention of exposing the Duchess or her students. The Sentene are experts in these matters, and, upon my word, if ever I met a person I'd trust you with, it's Lord Surclere."
Fallon was entirely unequal to telling his father that it was his safety that was the problem: that Fallon didn't dare to leave him unprotected. Vannon DeVries' overwhelming grief and withdrawal from society made him an object of pity. But if it were known that he held affectionate conversations with two lumps of stone, sympathy would turn to derision—and consequences. Madness in even a minor mage was not taken lightly.
"You'd best not let Uncle hear you say things like that," Fallon said weakly. "He's always insisting Kellian bewitch people."
"Geralt!" Fallon's father snorted. "Would he have me meet a man of singular knowledge and competence, and not acknowledge the privilege? His private misfortunes need not colour my opinions."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, well—" Fallon's father glanced toward the door, then gave Fallon an embarrassed smile. "We can discuss that on the way home. Shall we collect your things? I will look out my old travelling trunk and we'll see if it can manage everything you need. And, ah, I must give you a list of places to see in Koletor."
Fallon's father talked happily of friezes and columns all through the afternoon. It was the most like his proper self Fallon had seen him since Auri's miscasting, and he had to wonder at the transformation. One thing everyone said of Kellian was they hardly spoke, and it was difficult to imagine the taciturn Lord Surclere in lively conversation about art. But probably Fallon's father had done most of the talking.
It wasn't possible. The plan had never included leaving the city. Certainly hadn't envisaged a teacher as burdened as he, the power of her focus lost, her casting limited by a physical fragility which surpassed Fallon's own. And no plan could ever involve leaving Father at risk of exposure.
After achieving what he'd thought impossible, Fallon would have to give it up.
CHAPTER SIX
Rennyn felt like a child sneaking a tart from the pantry, and realised that seeing The Black Queen was the first true indulgence she'd managed since being injured. Tomorrow they'd leave on the Uncle Hunt, but she felt she'd earned at least a night to pander to her curiosity.
It had gone very well so far. They had arrived nearly late, and walked unremarked through a rapidly emptying foyer. Rennyn was dressed in some of Seb's clothes, with her hair caught into a tail, and her brother had added the most minor of illusion spells to make her look more like a boy.
The door that belonged to Captain Medan's key was up only one flight of stairs, and the little cup-shaped balcony beyond was conveniently toward the back of the playhouse, away from the glow of the stage. Seated in the rear pair of the four chairs, they were in no danger of catching a casual eye and were comfortably out of the heaving press below.
The strange, tall room throbbed with excitement, rowdy but good-humoured, and Rennyn could not even regret that her first time at the theatre was to see a play that was sure to annoy. Her main concern was being able to hear anything, as a flushed man came onstage to welcome everyone only to be drowned out by jeers and cheers and the shout of someone objecting to a shower of peel
Stomach twisting, Fallon gazed at his father helplessly. How to ask if he'd introduced Lord Surclere to a cold marble wife and daughter? Impossible to guess whether the Kellian man knew of his father's fixation, or what he might do about it.
And they were starting for Kole tomorrow.
"I'm not sure I can leave you," Fallon said, betrayed into a high, panicked note.
"My boy, what is this?"
"I—"
"If you are concerned about the creature they are hunting, don't be. Lord Surclere, while he acknowledged that no travel is without its dangers, has assured me that there is no intention of exposing the Duchess or her students. The Sentene are experts in these matters, and, upon my word, if ever I met a person I'd trust you with, it's Lord Surclere."
Fallon was entirely unequal to telling his father that it was his safety that was the problem: that Fallon didn't dare to leave him unprotected. Vannon DeVries' overwhelming grief and withdrawal from society made him an object of pity. But if it were known that he held affectionate conversations with two lumps of stone, sympathy would turn to derision—and consequences. Madness in even a minor mage was not taken lightly.
"You'd best not let Uncle hear you say things like that," Fallon said weakly. "He's always insisting Kellian bewitch people."
"Geralt!" Fallon's father snorted. "Would he have me meet a man of singular knowledge and competence, and not acknowledge the privilege? His private misfortunes need not colour my opinions."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, well—" Fallon's father glanced toward the door, then gave Fallon an embarrassed smile. "We can discuss that on the way home. Shall we collect your things? I will look out my old travelling trunk and we'll see if it can manage everything you need. And, ah, I must give you a list of places to see in Koletor."
Fallon's father talked happily of friezes and columns all through the afternoon. It was the most like his proper self Fallon had seen him since Auri's miscasting, and he had to wonder at the transformation. One thing everyone said of Kellian was they hardly spoke, and it was difficult to imagine the taciturn Lord Surclere in lively conversation about art. But probably Fallon's father had done most of the talking.
It wasn't possible. The plan had never included leaving the city. Certainly hadn't envisaged a teacher as burdened as he, the power of her focus lost, her casting limited by a physical fragility which surpassed Fallon's own. And no plan could ever involve leaving Father at risk of exposure.
After achieving what he'd thought impossible, Fallon would have to give it up.
CHAPTER SIX
Rennyn felt like a child sneaking a tart from the pantry, and realised that seeing The Black Queen was the first true indulgence she'd managed since being injured. Tomorrow they'd leave on the Uncle Hunt, but she felt she'd earned at least a night to pander to her curiosity.
It had gone very well so far. They had arrived nearly late, and walked unremarked through a rapidly emptying foyer. Rennyn was dressed in some of Seb's clothes, with her hair caught into a tail, and her brother had added the most minor of illusion spells to make her look more like a boy.
The door that belonged to Captain Medan's key was up only one flight of stairs, and the little cup-shaped balcony beyond was conveniently toward the back of the playhouse, away from the glow of the stage. Seated in the rear pair of the four chairs, they were in no danger of catching a casual eye and were comfortably out of the heaving press below.
The strange, tall room throbbed with excitement, rowdy but good-humoured, and Rennyn could not even regret that her first time at the theatre was to see a play that was sure to annoy. Her main concern was being able to hear anything, as a flushed man came onstage to welcome everyone only to be drowned out by jeers and cheers and the shout of someone objecting to a shower of peel
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