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one corner, near the mural, two figures sat in the only upholstered chairs in the room. The
lamp on the table between them had not been lit, so Kale’s eyes, accustomed to the
outdoor brilliance, could not make out who they were.
Two women’s voices seasoned the atmosphere with a dash of lighthearted conversation.
One of them chortled, her humor evident in the robust music of her laughter. The other’s
laugh came reluctantly and sounded rusty, as if not often used. Kale recognized the
second as her former mistress. The first was unknown to her.
Kale stepped forward to stand beside the wizard. He patted her on the shoulder and left
his hand resting there in a comforting manner. She breathed deeply, smelling the old
wood and the pine oil polish she remembered rubbing into the bar and banister. The
pleasant scent of smoke from the fireplace mingled with a faint fragrance of stew from
the kitchen.
The women stopped speaking.
Kale’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light. She could now see the squarish form of her
marione owner, Mistress Meiger. The other woman stood, and Kale sighed her relief.
This was not her mother. This woman was taller by several inches than Mistress Meiger,
but just as round. Her brown and gray hair hung over one shoulder in a thick braid.
Simple homespun material made up her neat but plain blue dress. A white bib apron
covered the front. The woman moved closer with hesitant steps.
In every way that her mother was elegant, this woman was not. Her double chin did not
rise haughtily. Her mother’s back held her exquisite figure erect. This woman stooped.
Her mother’s finely chiseled face reflected her moods in beauty. This woman’s tears ran
down wrinkled cheeks.
She held out a hand. “First, I want to tell you I love you. Second, I must explain why it
was necessary to hide you in a safe place.”
Kale’s eyes shifted to Mistress Meiger and then to Wizard Fenworth. Both wore
expressions of concern.
The woman took Kale’s hand and pulled gently, guiding her to the seat she had just left.
Mistress Meiger vacated her comfortable chair and bustled out of the room through the
door to the kitchen. Wizard Fenworth took a seat on a wooden chair by one of the few
windows. The woman, still holding Kale’s hand, sat in Mistress Meiger’s chair.
“You’re my mother?” Kale’s voice came out in a whisper.
“I’m Lyll Allerion.”
“My mother?” Her voice rose in volume by just a little bit, but the squeak made it seem
louder in her own ears.
Lyll’s face wrinkled in puzzlement. “Yes, Kale, I’m your mother. I had to leave you here
when your father was taken captive by Risto. I knew Risto would try to find you, and use
you, to coerce your father into following his evil ways.”
Kale nodded slowly. “And where did you go?”
“To find Kemry, of course.”
“Kemry?”
“Your father.”
“Oh.”
Kale sat still, absorbing this information. She studied the hand holding hers, then the face
of this woman who said she was Lyll Allerion. Laugh lines radiated from the corners of
her gentle hazel eyes, but her lips were pursed in a worried moue. Yet even with a frown,
this mother looked loving, approachable.
“Did you find him?” Kale asked.
Tears welled in Lyll’s eyes. “Yes, but I could not save him.”
“He’s dead?”
Lyll shook her head. “Asleep—in a trance.”
“Risto?”
Lyll nodded.
“Then there’s still hope.”
The older woman sighed, her shoulders slumping.
Mistress Meiger returned, carrying a stack of linens. She placed these on a table and
hurried to the o’rant woman’s side. “Lyll, you’re exhausted. To bed with you. We’ll bring
you a tray at noonmeal.”
Lyll caught a sob in her throat. She nodded mutely, fighting for a moment with her
emotions. She inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. “Yes, you’re right, Mern.”
Kale helped Lyll stand. The older woman gave her a hug. “We will talk later, dear child.”
She sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye with a plain handkerchief. “I know you don’t
know me, and I can’t ask you to love me. But I hope we can bridge the gap of too many
years apart.”
“Of course you will,” said Mistress Meiger as she took Lyll’s arm and led her away.
“Kale’s always been the best of children. Her heart’s full of grace. I never understood
her. But I always admired her warm and generous ways, ways that reminded me of you,
Lyll.”
Kale watched her former owner walk her “maybe” mother up the stairs, then sank into the
cushioned chair. She glanced over at Fenworth. He’d dozed off. Only a stubby tree sat in
the chair. The minor dragons slipped out of their dens. Metta climbed to her shoulder.
Dibl sat on her knee. Gymn went to the old wizard and took up a post, peering out from
Fenworth’s branches. Ardeo flew to the table to stand beside the unlighted lamp.
Kale’s eyes rested on Dibl, and a smile grew on her lips.
“Yes, it is rather odd. Now I have two mothers when before I had none.”
Metta trilled on her shoulder.
She answered. “I like this one better too.”
Two young marione girls entered the tavern common room from the kitchen. They
looked to be about five and seven. Kale knew immediately that they had come to prepare
the room for the dozen or so customers who would soon show up to eat noonmeal. But
the girls stopped just inside the door and nudged each other, pointing toward the tree in
the chair by the window.
Dibl hopped in delight, and Kale had to stifle a giggle as the two serving maids
cautiously crept up to Fenworth. They circled the oddity from a safe distance.
“It’s a tree, Cakkue,” said the smaller.
“What’s that in the branches?”
Both girls stared at Gymn, who stared back, not blinking.
“Is it real?” asked the littler girl.
“I don’t think any of it’s real, Yonny.”
“I think it’s a lizard.”
Dibl rolled off Kale’s knee, down her leg, and continued to somersault once he hit the
floor.
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