ON THE SECOND night, when the men went into the caves to become their true selves, Rowan stayed behind with Ash. He didn’t say anything until Skink came back and took Flax away, naked and scared but eager, too.
Rowan nodded toward the cave entrance after they were gone. “He’s a fine singer, that one,” he said.
Ah, Ash thought. That’s why he’s stayed with me. To have the “Flax will join us” conversation. He was a little light-headed with hunger and he found it vaguely funny.
“Yes,” he said. “Mam’ll be pleased as a bear cub with a honeyfall. You’ll be able to perform all the duets, now.” He waved expansively. “All the difficult stuff that needs more than one voice.” He found he was avoiding the word “song” as he would avoid using a sore finger. That made him both sad and angry. “All the songs you couldn’t do while I was with you.”
Rowan looked down at his hands, fiddling with the flute he carried everywhere. “I won’t say that hadn’t occurred to me,” he said. “But it’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
He paused, as though waiting for Ash to prompt him with a question. Ash kept silent. Rowan sighed. “We’ve missed you,” he said.
“I’ve been gone two years,” Ash said. “You know where Turvite is. You could have visited.”
“We did,” Rowan said. “We went back this winter past, but you were gone, and Doronit wouldn’t answer any of our questions. If it wasn’t for a man named Aelred, we wouldn’t have known if you were dead or alive. He told us you’d left with a woman named Martine.”
It was a question.
“Yes,” Ash said. What could he say? Tell the whole story — Doronit’s use of him, the attack on Martine’s life, his decision to reject everything Doronit stood for? That was past, and no sense going over it. “She’s Elva’s mother. Little Ash’s grandmother. That’s how I met Elva and Mabry.”
At the word “grandmother,” Rowan had relaxed, no doubt imagining some white-haired old dodderer instead of the brazen seducer he had feared. Ash smiled, thinking of Martine’s calm beauty and the times he had forced himself not to desire her.
“When you leave here,” Rowan said quietly, “to sing the songs… do you want me to come with you?”
Astonishment kept Ash silent. This was one thing that had never occurred to him. He had imagined, when he first felt the power in his casting stones, joining his parents back on the Road. But he had never imagined his father joining him. He didn’t know what to say.
“Will I need you, to sing them?” he asked finally.
Rowan went very still, and then shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“Well, then,” Ash went on, suddenly sure. “I’ll be going into the middle of this fight. Better for you and Mam to be a long way off. Where I don’t have to worry about you.”
Rowan looked rueful. “Where you don’t have to safeguard us?” he asked. “No, don’t answer. You’re right. You have more to concern you than us, now, and that’s as it should be.”
Ash wasn’t sure if he’d offended his father or not. He never did anything right, it seemed.
“Your mother wanted you to go to Doronit. She said it would be the making of you. I wasn’t so sure, but she was right.” As usual, Ash thought. You always think she’s right. “From what you’re not saying, it may have been unpleasant,” Rowan added, “but it’s made you grow up.”
That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Ash wanted to shout at him. Why look so sad?
Rowan stood up and clapped him on the shoulder, then started to undress, getting ready to join the others in the caves. He hesitated, his eyes unreadable in the firelight. “Did you find anyone to love, since you’ve been gone?” he asked.
Ash thought of Doronit, Martine, Elva, Bramble… “No,” he said. “Other things have concerned me.”
He hadn’t intended it as a rebuke, but his father stiffened.
“It’s a hard road, when the gods hold the reins,” Rowan said. “Take care of yourself.” Then he walked into the cave, disappearing behind the entrance fire like a spirit.
Ash sat for a while, staring into the narrow sky above the clearing, and wondering why he felt both loved and lonely at the same time.