I look at him and wonder if he’s serious or joking.
“I’m not interested in amnesties or bargains, Nathan, for me or for her. I despise all that. And I hope you do too. We each do what we have to do. Maybe that applies even to Soul, I don’t know, and I don’t much care about him, except I’d like to see him die.”
And the cold way he says all this makes me realize that my father is as capable of killing a man as he is a rabbit, with no more regrets, possibly fewer.
“There’s a meeting in Basle at the Red Gourd in five days. Celia will be there.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“I should go back and tell them.”
“No. You should stay with me. We go back together or not at all.”
I look at him, uncertain as to why he says that. I ask him, “Don’t you trust me?”
He looks me in the eye and I see the same black triangles turning slowly in his as in mine. He says, “I want you to stay with me. Is a week of your life too much to ask?”
I shake my head once and feel tears fill my eyes.
He turns away. “Good.”
I finally do the thing I’ve wanted to do for so long. I pull the Fairborn out of my jacket and hold it out to him.
He takes it from me and slowly pulls the knife out of the sheath.
“It’s not a happy object, is it?” he says.
“It’s yours.”
“Yes, I suppose. My grandfather had it for a time.”
“It recognizes us, our blood. It won’t come out of the sheath for anyone else.”
He slides the knife back in and places it on the ground by his side.
It feels over too quickly after all the effort to find the Fairborn and return it to my father.
“I won’t kill you,” I say.
“Perhaps not. We’ll see.” He turns and lies down. I put another log on the fire and sit watching it and watching my father, and I realize that I am happy here with him.
The Alliance
Nearly a week has gone by. It feels like a lifetime in some ways and like just a few hours in others. My father and I have done so much hunting, walking, running, and just being together, and now we’re ready to go back to the Red Gourd for the meeting tomorrow.
“Are you sure you want to?” Marcus asks me.
“Yes. There’s Annalise.”
I’ve told him about her, about how I like her, and he’s not commented on that. As with most things he just listens and doesn’t give his opinion. I guess I’m like that too.
But now he says, “Annalise . . . the situation was like that between me and your mother. It’s not a good situation, Nathan. Not in the long term. At the beginning we were so involved in each other, we lived for nothing but the next time we were to see each other. We kept meeting and it was never enough. It was a miracle we managed to keep things secret for so long. I wanted her to leave with me but she couldn’t survive like this”—he waves his hand at the trees and river—“and she was wise enough to realize that. She married that man instead, which was less wise. Her marriage was a disaster.” He pauses and looks into the distance. “I admit I didn’t help but . . . at the time my main concern was to be with her at least a little.”
He turns to me. “You should learn from us, Nathan. Look at yourself. You are like me. I’ve been looking for your mother in you and”—he shakes his head—“I don’t see her at all. I see me. I see Black.”
And I know he’s right. I am like him and even more so now that I’ve spent time with him, but when I’m with Annalise I feel that side of me, the White side, come to the surface.
I say, “I know what you’re saying but—”
“You look like me, you have the same Gift, you have the same loves and desires and possibly the same limitations.”
“What limitations?”
“Living in a city. Being with people. Being in buildings.”
“I admit I have a problem with buildings. But I’m OK with lots of people. Some I really like.”
“I liked your mother. Look where that ended. You’re a Black Witch, Nathan. You’re darker than most Black Witches I know. You shouldn’t have anything to do with them, with White Witches. You should leave the girl.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”
We’re silent for a while then I ask him the same question he asked me. “Are you sure you want to go? Risk losing this beautiful life?”
“It’s time I risked things for you. I’m getting old, Nathan. Not very old but before I get too old I want to spend some time with my son.”
a a a
*
We go back to Basle through another cut that doesn’t involve getting wet.
“How many cuts do you have?” I ask.