“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. I was the one who broke it.”
Malcolm had been a puzzle ever since they met, a fussy, delicate man who knew so little and so much. Raithe understood Malcolm had lied to him, or at least avoided the truth. What Raithe found surprising was that he didn’t care. Maybe it was the lack of smugness. Raithe saw no malice, greed, or spite in Malcolm. He had no idea what benefit his friend might have gained from the deception. There didn’t appear to have been any. And there was an overwhelming sadness and sympathy that spilled from the man, a sense of guilt that had Raithe feeling sorry for him.
“Malcolm? Who are you?”
At this, the onetime servant who Raithe first imagined as a weasel or a fox—the man who turned out to be a bit of both—frowned. “I can’t tell you.”
“It’s not exactly like I’ll be repeating it to anyone, you know.”
Malcolm sighed. “Don’t confuse can’t with won’t. That question can’t be answered in any way meaningful to you, maybe not to anyone—not yet. Perhaps one day there will be someone capable of understanding the answer. Perhaps one day there will be someone who doesn’t need to ask.”
“So you don’t know everything?”
Again, the smile. “Yes and no.”
Raithe smirked. “Seriously?”
Malcolm looked squarely at him. “I’m being honest here, and you have no idea how rare this is.” He smiled. “It’s not my fault you can’t understand what I’m telling you.”
“I’m about to die—be nice.”
Malcolm nodded. “Sorry. I suppose I could explain a little better.” Malcolm picked a pebble from the floor. “If I let this drop, I know it will fall. I also know it will fall right about here.” He pointed to the spot just below his hand. “We both know that, right? We both know this absolutely, but…” He let go of the pebble, and before it hit the ground, he brought his foot over and knocked the stone aside. “Things can change from moment to moment. Most of the time I’m right, but on occasion, someone’s foot gets in the way. Does that make any sense?”
“How is that different from what anyone does? We all have expectations that don’t always—”
“I don’t have expectations. I know. I know everything that will happen—unless it is altered. I realize this seems like a fine line of difference, but it isn’t.”
“You mean you’re like Magda the oracle?”
“In a way, but while I would say I know a good deal more than any tree, I’m far less wise.”
Raithe made a point of looking him over. “I’m guessing you aren’t human. Are you Fhrey? Is that why you didn’t know our customs?”
“I once told you the Fhrey, the Dherg, and the Rhunes were all related. They are. The differences came later. The Fhrey had it the easiest and lived longer as a result. The Dherg found solace in caves and were stunted, and in more ways than they’re willing to admit. Humans had it the worst of all. I’ve been late getting to them. You’re going to change all that. I’m sorry about this, about how things turned out. If it were possible…” He sighed. “Never mind.”
“Can you tell me one thing?”
“Not about Persephone, is it?”
He shook his head. “About my sister and my mother.”
“Oh.” Malcolm nodded. “You want to know if you’ll see them again?”
“I think about it. I think about it a lot. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to express my thanks. I don’t know how the afterlife works. Don’t know if I’ll go to Alysin, Rel, or Nifrel. And I don’t know where my mother and sister are.”
Malcolm thought a moment. “They gave their lives to save you. You’re giving your life to save everyone else. I suspect the afterlife will look kindly upon all of that.”
“You don’t know? Or you can’t tell me?”
He smiled. “You’re going to find out for yourself very soon, but I don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”
“Can you at least tell me your real name? It’s not Malcolm, is it?”
“It is now. I’ve been Malcolm for a few hundred years.”
A few hundred?
“Names are temporary things, like clothes. They serve to make us look a certain way but are quite trivial and can be changed. It’s like you’re asking me what my real shirt is.”
“What was your first shirt, then?”
“That was a very long time ago,” Malcolm said, but Raithe wasn’t satisfied and stared until Malcolm sighed. “Turin,” he finally said. “Turin was the name of a very young, very innocent, very stupid person.”
Raithe looked across at the forge where Roan drew out the glowing metal to begin the hammering. “And you’re certain this is the only way to make the world right, Turin?”
“Unless someone’s foot gets in the way. Speaking of feet…” He stood up. “I need to have a talk with Nyphron and make sure he keeps his on the ground, and doesn’t do anything rash.”
“I’m guessing that’s a full-time job.”
“It is with most people.” Malcolm took two steps then paused, and looking back, added, “Including myself.”
* * *