Krystal held my hand as we walked toward the stable. I felt the strong, supple fingers, the warmth under the hardness and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the stabbing in my eyes subside and wondering how long everything I looked at would remind me—and Krystal—of the death of chaos, and of all the deaths that had ensured it.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the square-faced cow peering from the pen beyond the stable, and a goose arching its neck in a hiss from beyond the new, and already ramshackle, henhouse.
“A goose…I still don’t…” I turned and glanced back toward the kitchen door where Rissa just shrugged. I tried not to smile.
Weldein waited, mounted as the squad leader. Beside him, Tamra rode Rosefoot, somehow fitting, and using her now-limited senses to compensate for her blindness, though they were good only near her in our greatly order-reduced world. Some of the gray had left her hair, but not all. Behind them were mounted Jinsa and Haithen.
Krystal’s hair was black and silver, with more silver than black. I had done what I could, with the few shreds of order and skill I had left, but no one would ever mistake us for less than middle-aged.
“Glad to be home,” Krystal turned and spoke slowly so that I could see her words.
Although I caught them, the effort left spears stabbing through my skull, and I felt guilty as I could feel Krystal sense my pain. “I’m glad you’re glad.”
I closed my eyes to relieve the stabbing she felt, and the early winter wind slashed out of the north, out of a clear blue-green sky, and we held each other for a moment, and I left my eyes shut until we stepped away from each other.
“I’ll be home tonight.” Her lips exaggerated “home.”
“And tomorrow night?” I asked playfully.
The ground vibrated with the impact of hoofs, and the carriage, drawn by matched chestnuts, stopped in the middle of the yard. On the front seat were the driver and a guard with both a blade and one of the Hamorian rifles that were going to become all too prevalent, I feared. Their gray leathers matched, and so did their boots. A single recently painted A adorned the glass of the carriage door, and I had to smile, because the letter matched the inlaid one that Wegel had carved for the desk. Antona opened the carriage door herself and half stepped, half vaulted into the yard.
Krystal looked at me and shook her head. “You will have a busy day.” She touched my wrist and spaced the words evenly.
By the barn, Weldein sat astride his mount, grinning.
“Master Lerris?” Antona marched up to me, then turned to Krystal, and, I presumed, introduced herself. That was the feeling I got from Krystal, along with some muted amusement.
I watched Krystal as she spoke, catching the key words and guessing at the rest. “He did mention that he was undertaking a dining set for you.”
“…he has been…involved…in saving…world—or something…”
Once more, when I had to concentrate on Antona’s words, the stabbing in my eyes intensified. Krystal winced inside, but her face remained calm. I tried to keep my expression undisturbed.
“He…took…time…from his woodworking.” Krystal was trying not to grin—that I could sense—and ignore the discomfort I created.
Antona finally smiled at her, but erased the expression and looked at me. “When will it be ready?”
“Less than a season.” I shrugged.
“You promised…a season ago.” She brushed something off the sleeve of the green silk shirt.
I had to look at the ground. I had promised.
Antona turned to Krystal again. I couldn’t catch too much of it, but she was clearly suggesting that Krystal use her powers to keep me in line and to ensure I delivered the goods.
Whatever Antona ended with, it had some effect. Krystal laughed beneath a solemn nod, and behind the carriage driver, Weldein rolled his eyes. So did Haithen. Jinsa just grinned.
I watched Krystal as she answered.
“I do have…commissions, but I am certain that he will undertake the commission of your dining set at his earliest haste.”
Antona looked from her to me. “Not too much haste.” She winked. “In anything.” Then she inclined her head to us. “I look…to seeing your workmanship…all your commissions.” Once more, I missed some of what she said, hopefully not anything important.
She turned and reentered the carriage. We watched as she and her small entourage departed.
Krystal was still smiling as she turned to me. “All my commissions?”
I shrugged.
“You will have to expand the house.”
“You have plans.”
“I always have.”
I hugged her again, and Weldein rolled his eyes. So did Tamra, but she reached out and held Weldein’s arm for a moment, as though she were not still blind most of the time. She had plans also.
I stood in the yard as the five rode down the drive toward Kyphrien, watching until I could see them no longer. The goose stretched her neck in a hiss as I walked into the shop, but geese hiss, and at least I couldn’t hear her. Besides, what would I do about it anyway?
Wegel had picked up the broom and was sweeping the floor around his space, somewhat cleaner than the area around my bench.
I picked up the length of cedar from the corner of the workbench, taking comfort in the wood, a soothing that helped reduce the pain of those knives behind my eyes. I studied the cedar, realizing that I now knew the face that the wood held, and that the image I had of my father would hold, and I could only hope that he would have been pleased.
Then I picked up the knife.