Kingfisher

Pierce said, “Sage?”


She turned quickly, startled. He smiled; she didn’t, couldn’t yet, he

guessed. She was very thin; her gray-green eyes were haunted by what she had

seen. The lovely, heavy, champagne-gold hair he remembered looked dry and

unkempt. The beauty of her face existed only in his memory as yet: it was

hollow, pained, shadowy with sadness.

“Pierce,” she breathed. Something in his eyes brought the faintest color to

her face, the barest hint of a smile.

“You were amazing,” he said. “Yesterday. What you did with that knife.”

“You took it out, showed it to me.”

“I stole it. From this place, actually. I never knew why before.”

“It’s a powerful magic,” Tye said. He was cutting fruit into a blender,

pulling peaches, strawberries, oranges out of his enchanted garden behind the

bar. “It goes where it wants, finds who it needs, does what it must.” He

scooped ice into the blender and splashed liquid from some bottle over it,

adding a scent of melon. “Pierce is right. You were brave to recognize what

you had to do.”

“I don’t feel brave,” she said ruefully. “I’m just a woman who lost her

husband, out looking for a job.”

Tye ran the blender, poured the thick, colorful concoction into a glass, and

passed it to her. “Good riddance to the husband.”

She nodded at that, raised her glass. “Good riddance. Thank you, Tye.”

“So you’re looking for work here?” Pierce said.

“I thought—it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I used to be able to cook. At least I

think so. Before I met Todd.” She swallowed a sip of fruit and ice, then

another. “I had forgotten what tasting is like,” she sighed. “This is so

good. It’s like learning to walk again, remembering my life before. Todd fed

me enough real food to keep me alive, but he made it taste so dreadful, I

never wanted more.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“He owned the old bank building; we lived upstairs. It’s mine, now. For what

that’s worth. I hate being in it. But I’m not afraid of it. I might clean it

up, open it again. But first I need to find out what I can do in a kitchen.”

I can cook, Pierce thought, and saw, with wonder, his life take yet another

turn. He had left this magical backwater once; life had brought him back. He

had found the family he needed, but he did not need to become a knight. He

could sand a floor, paint a wall, put a restaurant back together, help create

new memories in the face of the woman beside him.

“Ella’s in the kitchen, probably prepping for tonight,” Tye said. “She’s

between meals. Why don’t you go and talk to her? She’ll be happy to see you,

anyway, after what you did to help get rid of Stillwater. She was getting

pretty worried about Carrie. Take that with you,” he added, as Sage put the

glass down. “It’s good for you.”

She smiled then, a thin, tremulous thing, but genuine. Pierce watched her

cross the dim room, push open the kitchen doors to a sudden stream of light.

He lingered, riffling through his own memories of her, letting thoughts roam

idly between past and future.

“Do for you?” he heard Tye murmur; he shook his head. Then he heard Tye’s

voice again, still soft but oddly shaken. “Holy shit.”

His mother walked into the bar.

He heard the couch lurch as the two knights rocketed to their feet. She nearly

walked past Pierce without seeing him, so riveted she was by her tall,

flaming-haired son with his ice-blue eyes, and by the darker shadow behind

him. Then she seemed to feel the tug from the bar, the pull of heartstrings,

and her attention veered. So did her step. Pierce felt his throat close as she

came to him, threw her arms around him.

“I have missed you so much,” she exclaimed, kissing his eye, his jawbone. “

I had no idea you would get into so much trouble in such a short time. I

chased that demented sorceress clear up into the northlands.” She lowered her

voice, pitched it to his ear. “Is that your father?”

“Yes.”

“So strange. I almost didn’t . . . I suppose we’ve both gotten older.” She

loosed Pierce, took his arm, walked to Leith through the twenty-odd years of

distance between them both. She stood silently, gazing with wonder at Val. She

turned to Leith; Pierce saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. “When I was so

busy not forgiving you, I forgot that one day I would need to ask our sons to

forgive me. One because he never knew you. The other because, for all those

years, I hardly knew him. Forgive me?” she said to Val.

“What’s the alternative?” he asked, and she stared at him, tears sliding

down her face. Then she laughed, and he put his arms around her.

Patricia A. McKillip's books