Chapter Thirty-Four The Fourth Lesson #2
After a moment of prolonged silence, she wondered if they had heard her at all. She parted her lips, thinking of repeating herself.
Then Father pushed down his sock and ripped the silver chain off his ankle.
For a brief moment, she flinched, thinking he was about to fling it in her face, as the spectator had done with the pendant watch during the final match, but he clutched it with trembling fingers and lifted his linen shirt.
A pouch was tied about his waist, and he clawed at it frantically until it came undone.
He held both the chain and the pouch toward her.
She looked at him, slack-jawed. “What are you doing?”
“These are all the coins I have left. We can pawn this chain. If there are people chasing you for money, then take this and send them away. Or is it not enough to get you out of trouble?”
It was difficult to make out his rambling, but realization dawned upon her, and she pushed his hands back to his chest. “No, Father. I am fine.”
“You’re not,” he cried, clearly frustrated.
“You cannot stand before me looking like that and tell me you’re fine.
I am not clever, but I am not stupid. If you don’t want to tell me what troubles you, I understand.
But you mustn’t lie. If you’re in danger, I’ll help you. I can try. I can think of something.”
“No, Father.” She choked on her words. She had been a fool to not remember her state, to not think of how frightened he would be at the lumps of black and blue deforming her.
“I’m fine. No one is after me, not anymore.
I’m safe, I swear it. My wounds are only temporary—I’ve been told I’m a quick healer. I came only to apologize to you.”
She took the chain from him and returned it to its rightful owner, tying the clasp firmly around his skeletal wrist. Then she pressed his pouch onto his palm, curling his fingers over it. She folded her own fingers over his, holding him tight.
He halted, unused to the affection. He heaved a deep breath. “Will you keep coming to see us anyway?”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
Father looked too sad to continue, so Mother spoke in his stead. “We’d like it if you kept coming to see us anyway. It’s been nice having you around and seeing how you’ve grown. But we understand if you don’t want to. I’m sorry we keep causing you so much trouble.”
Lythlet stared wide-eyed at them. It occurred to her then the story she had unwittingly told them in the intervening years since she’d left home—the message left behind in the negative space of her absence. “Is that why you think I never came to visit?”
“Isn’t it?” said Father, rubbing his face tiredly. “I was never a good father to you. I’m a halfwit and I always have been. Never knew how to give you better things to do with your time than stealing books or whittling away at blocks of wood at the smithy.”
“And I...” Mother began and ended in a single breath, instead pressing her head into Father’s shoulder. He stroked her hair. After a moment, she finished her sentence in a whisper, “I’m not much pleasant company on most days.”
“We figured you didn’t like us much. We’ve only caused you trouble after trouble,” Father said softly. He held up his wrist, eyeing his birthday gift. “If you could somehow find a way to afford this, you could’ve done even more had you been born to a better family.”
“I have never once been sorry to be born to you,” Lythlet interrupted.
She went on her knees before them, tears brimming in her eyes.
“I never came visiting for years because I was ashamed of myself. The thought of confessing that I hadn’t been doing well for myself kept me away from you.
I feared my existence would continue adding to your burdens.
Taking care of me as a child was difficult on the both of you, and the last thing I wanted was to repeat that.
I know you did your best for me. I do not grudge you, at all, for anything you lack.
You are my father and mother, and you always will be, and I hold no regret against you. ”
Father began to weep, futilely hiding his sobbing behind a hand. She—awkwardly, nervously—extended her fingers to wipe away his tears, feeling his wrinkled eyebags and hard cheekbones for the first time beneath her fingertips.
“I,” he said, struggling hard to get the words out, “hold nothing against you either. I don’t know why you keep talking about being a burden, but I’m sorry if we ever made you feel that way.
We were happy when you started coming around.
It was good to see you again. Good to know you were doing so well. We were proud of you.”
Her heart pricked in regret, but she forced herself to smile. But what he said next softened the sting.
“We still are, I mean. Proud of you. You did well for yourself for a long time. And even though you’re in a rough patch now, I’ve seen what you could do since you were a child.
You knew how to read so much so quickly.
My smithmates used to say they admired how you never gave up no matter how hard they sparred with you.
You never let them knocking you off your feet stop you from dusting yourself off and picking up your spear again.
The forge-master once said you had the willingness to learn bone-deep the value in rising over and over again.
I’ve always known you’d do better than me, and I don’t think I’ve been proven wrong yet. ”
“So will you keep coming to see us?” asked Mother, shyly.
Eager bashfulness filled her words, and Lythlet stared incredulously. Somehow, they appeared younger then, as if someone had smoothed out their wrinkles and darkened their hair.
She nodded, a genuine smile stretching across her bruised face. She blinked away tears.
“Yes,” she said at last, a little shyly. “I would like to.”
· · ·
L YTHLET LEFT WITH a lightened heart, leaving Father and Mother behind with the promise of visiting again soon.
But a tinge of apprehension rose as she stepped over the threshold of The Steam Dragon, thinking of the remaining things she had to attend to.
Runt’s oversized head bobbed up, large obsidian eyes scrutinizing Lythlet. The giant mongrel lay still, black brows shifting in belabored thought.
Lythlet smiled wanly. Poor thing can’t recognize me with all my wounds .
Then Runt bounced to all fours and nearly bowled Lythlet over with one tremendous leap. Writhing in unbridled joy, Runt left black fur all over her cloak. Lythlet laughed at the happy, snuffling noises reverberating from Runt’s throat.
“You sweet girl. You still know me, don’t you? But I’m sorry to say I have some bad news: I don’t think I’m in a position to get a house on the ground any time soon. I won’t be able to take you in, not now, and perhaps not for a long time.”
In response, Runt licked her chin and tried to climb her as if she were a tree.
Lythlet burst out laughing, wrapping her arms around Runt’s neck.
“Kilinor bless you. If you aren’t a manifestation of divine love, I don’t know what is.
I have nothing to offer you, but I can come to you as I am, and you will love me still.
” She pressed her face into Runt’s fur, smiling.
“Day by day, I am learning there are many who will do the same.”
With a wave of her hand, Runt obediently sat on the floor, tail thumping, hind legs twitching in anticipation, and Lythlet indulged in some hearty belly rubs. Schwala joined after a moment, scuttling out from the kitchens.
“About time you showed up!” cried Madame Millidin, appearing behind Schwala. “I can’t believe you left your dog alone for so long. Desil was bad enough, but at least he showed up days ago to beg off. And I thought you were the responsible one—goodness gracious, what happened to your face?”
Madame Millidin froze in her spot, recoiling at the sight of her.
Lythlet hesitated. “I was beaten up by some bad folk.”
Madame Millidin sucked in her breath. “Is that what happened to Desil, too? He didn’t want to talk about it.
Only popped in to apologize and say he needed time to rest, and then he disappeared until just an hour ago, when he came to fetch some food and tea for himself.
He didn’t seem much in the mood for talking, so I didn’t ask.
But looking at you now—goodness. What mess did the two of you get yourselves into? ”
Lythlet said nothing, letting Runt snuggle on her lap. Schwala tried to squeeze his way on, too, but to no avail.
Madame Millidin stared at her with a growing frown. Then she called over her shoulder, “ Adan! Adan! Inimeyi kalou batarang !”
A commotion could be heard from the kitchens, and Mister Millidin soon emerged, holding two long wooden rods pierced through all over with thick rusted spikes. He tossed one to his wife. “ Evaya? ”
Madame Millidin nodded at Lythlet’s direction, hefting the spiked pole easily. “Quickly, Lythlet. Who needs a good beating, and where do we find them?”
Lythlet stared in bewilderment.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. You think The Steam Dragon could survive this long without us knowing how to chase off lowlifes?
Come, hurry, we have a few hours before the dinnertime rush starts.
Bring Runt along; she’d tear apart a man or five for you.
Schwala’s useless in a fight, but he can cheer us on from a distance. ”
“Thank you,” she spluttered, “but they’re in gaol now.”
“Oh,” said Madame Millidin, lowering her bat dejectedly. “Well, let me know if that changes.”
Absolutely not , thought Lythlet, thoroughly alarmed by the teahouse-master’s unexpected proposal.
“We could make one for you if there’s ever need,” Mister Millidin offered shyly, gesturing at the spiked weapon.
Or perhaps I will , thought Lythlet, struggling to hide her excitement as she eyed the bat.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I suppose that can wait. For now, I would like to take Runt for a walk.”
“Take Schwala, too,” was all Madame Millidin said, walking away with her spiked bat and disappointment.
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