Warlock's Last Ride

"Yes … He was in good spirits, wasn't he?" Magnus frowned toward the stairs, brooding.

"He was putting on a good face." Alea's tone sharpened. "You don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?"

"If that were all it was, no …"

"You don't think he's grieving enough?"

"You could say that." Magnus turned back to her, face creased with worry.

Alea stared at him in surprise, then realized what he wasn't saying. She touched his arm gently. "It's denial, Magnus. It will wear off."

"I hope so." Magnus turned to the stairs again. "I do hope so."

IT LASTED THE rest of that week, at least. The siblings agreed it would be better that Rod not stay in the house where he and Gwen had been young parents, so they moved back to the castle. It had happy memories, too, but they weren't so overwhelming. Rod seemed quite cheerful, quite relaxed about the matter, friendly and amiable, and went right to the room he had fitted out as a study (it had been the tower magazine). On his way, though, he told one of the servants to set up a bedroom for him in the room next door.

Other than that, he seemed quite content, poring over his books, adding a few lines to his history of Gramarye, or wandering around the castle with a very peaceful, contented look.

Magnus didn't like it. "You don't suppose he's gone back into shock, do you?"

Alea frowned. "He passed that almost at once and went into denial."

"He still is," Cordelia said. "One of us must speak to him and make sure of it."

Magnus didn't wait to be appointed. Dreading the conversation, he fell into step with his father as he wandered through the great hall. Frowning about, he said, "We must be thinking about Christmas."

"Christmas?" Rod blinked up at him. "It's scarcely September!"

"Aye, but the Yule log should be cut soon so that it may season well. Did we not always do that at the end of summer, Dad?"

"No, we usually waited till October," Rod said, but not with any sign of nostalgia, simply reporting a fact.

That gave Magnus gooseflesh. "Dad—I am glad that you are so peaceful…"

"But you wonder why?" Rod gave him a keen look. "It's because I know she's not really gone, son."

Denial! "But, Dad … she is no longer here …"

"No, she's gone away—but I know where."

Magnus stared at him. "You do?"

"Of course—to Tir Nan Og. Everybody knows that."

Magnus froze, as much as he could while still keeping pace with his father. Then he said, "Well, yes, every Celt knows that the dead go to the Land of Youth—but they stay there, Dad."

"Exactly! So all I have to do is find Tir Nan Og, and I'll have found Gwen." Rod's gaze strayed from his son's. "We only know it's in the west. I've been working through the old legends, but that's all I can find out about its location."

Magnus struggled within himself, weighing the kindness of letting Rod keep his illusions against the possibility of a "cure," of putting his father back in touch with the real world by confronting him with the truth—that his mother was dead, gone no doubt to Heaven, not Tir Nan Og, and couldn't come back. But he saw the look of peace on Rod's face, remembered his past spells of delusion, and opted in favor of sympathy.

When he told his siblings, Cordelia nodded with satisfaction and said, "The dream will sustain him until denial passes."

"Yes," said Gregory, "but then comes anger, and he is likely to seek her out to scold her for leaving him."

"A possibility," Geoffrey admitted, "but let us see him across that bridge when he comes to it."

So, when all was said and done, they did nothing—but they kept a close eye on their father while they did it.

So did Alea, reminding Rod that he had promised to introduce her to his horse. Agreeably, Rod took her on a tour of the stables and brought her to the stall where his oldest friend spent his time with mechanical patience.

The black stallion stood with his head over the stable door, munching a mouthful of hay. Alea stared; if Rod hadn't told her what Fess was, she would never have guessed.

"You can stop the charade, Fess," Rod said. "She knows what you really are. He doesn't swallow the hay, Alea— just lets it fall out of his mouth. Horses aren't known for their table ma

"One must keep up appearances, however," the black stallion reproved him.

Alea had to fight to keep from jumping out of her skin. Even forewarned, it was a shock to hear a horse speak.

"Ever concerned for the honor of the family," Rod sighed. "Fess, this is Alea, Magnus's companion."

"I am honored to meet you, Damsel Alea. I have heard of you from Gregory's reports."

"Well, I'm here to set the record straight." Alea managed a smile. "This kind gentleman tells me you were Gar's tutor—excuse me, I mean 'Magnus.' Gar is the alias he assumes when he lands on a planet to start another revolution."

"A wise precaution, and one that preserves the family's reputation," Fess agreed. "I was indeed Magnus's tutor and found him an excellent student."

"But as naughty as any little boy?"

"Rarely," Fess said. "He was aware that he had to set an example for his younger brothers and sister. In fact, one might say he seemed to feel responsible for their behavior."

Alea frowned. "I'll have to make sure he doesn't feel that way any more."

Rod smiled. "Good luck. Habits of thought that start that early are awfully hard to shake."

"Surely he realizes they're grown now!"

"Yes, but I do not think he acknowledges that they have become capable of assuming responsibility for their own lives," Fess told her, "especially since, when he left Gramarye, they were all still adolescents."

"He wasn't much more than that himself." Rod shook his head. "How could I ever have let him go?"

"Did you have a choice?" Alea covered a laugh. "I can imagine anyone trying to keep Gar from doing what he thought right!"

"It would have been counterproductive," the horse agreed. "You speak as one who knows."

"Oh, I've never known him to do anything he knew was wrong," Alea said. "Foolish, perhaps, but not wrong."

"And you attempted to stop him?"

Alea remembered Gar's exasperated search for a government on a planet where there seemed to be none. "No. But I did try to explain why it wouldn't do any good."

"Did he listen?"

"Of course not! But he found the facts for himself."

The horse nodded. "He is still Magnus, under the layers of experience he has accreted."

That, Alea was glad not to dispute—but the more they talked, the more she learned about the child who had been Magnus, and how much of that little boy was still there, carefully hidden and protected, inside the giant she knew.

As they discussed Fess's memories, though, Rod began to look nostalgic, then sad. Realizing that immersion in the past might not be the best thing for him at the moment, Alea ended the conversation and left the stable, telling Rod of her first meeting with Magnus. He was fascinated, so she went on to detail their wanderings on her home world of Midgard—and realized that it wasn't the wonders of the giants and dwarves that interested Rod, but the deeds of the boy who had grown into a very effective social engineer.

OVER THE NEXT few days, she had a chance for a conversation with each of Magnus's siblings and their spouses—though she kept avoiding Allouette. Rod strolled about the castle with a distant gaze and a soft smile; she came across him several times and, not liking his look of not being quite there, engaged him in conversation to bring him back to the here and now. Rod always proved capable of drawing laughter from her, and she returned the favor.

On the third evening, when the others had gone up to bed, she and Magnus sat by the fire talking a little longer— or rather, Alea talked, trying to draw Magnus out of brooding. Finally, exasperated, she said, "You're really not the most cheerful companion right now, Magnus. What's wrong?"