“She’s my aunt, too,” reminded Will. “Is Tally a nickname?”
Arrogan snorted. “She’s so many generations removed you’re probably more closely related to the people in the village than you are to her. Not that it matters; she isn’t human. And the reason I don’t use her name is that she might choose to show up if I do.”
“How did that happen, exactly? If you don’t mind me asking,” said Will. “She has to be at least half-human, doesn’t she?”
The old man wiped his face, which did little to clean it, but did serve to smear the blood all over his cheeks, giving him a barbaric appearance. “There are no half-fae. I guess I’ve neglected your education in certain matters. The fae can’t have children. Their realm is rife with magic, and it’s thought that besides making them nearly immortal it also renders them unable to reproduce with one another. That’s why they like humans so much.”
“So you were seduced by one of them?”
“Oh, hell no!” protested his grandfather. “Her mother was human too, but she gave birth over there. If you’re born there, you grow up fae. Even if you just live there long enough, it will change you, though not as much as if you grow up there. The reverse is true as well, though it never really happens. If one of them gave birth here, the child would be human.”
Will managed to sit up and regretted it. Everything hurt. “That makes no sense.”
“I agree with you on that. When I was young, there was a scholar—I think his name was Angus—who spent a lot of time studying them. It was his opinion that the fae realm didn’t originally have any fae in it, that they were the product of people who had gotten lost and trapped there.”
“So how did she wind up being born there?” asked Will.
Arrogan scratched his head and when his hand came away, he had another long splinter of wood in his fingers. He tossed it away before answering, “That’s another one of those things that goes firmly under the category of ‘none of your damned business.’”
Persistent, Will kept probing. “Does it have anything to do with that hat with the antlers?”
His grandfather stood up, pointedly ignoring him. “Today’s a special day. You’ve made a start at becoming a wizard, and it’s also your first serious attempt at murdering me. That deserves a special meal. What do you think I should cook?”
Chapter 19
The next two weeks were unusual. Although Will felt much better the next day, Arrogan insisted he couldn’t resume training for at least a fortnight. “Your will has to recover. While it isn’t something you feel, like a torn muscle or an injured joint, it’s just as serious,” his grandfather had told him. As a result, he had been placed on the wizardly equivalent of light duty, which was a misnomer. Light duty for a wizard was apparently heavy physical labor.
Arrogan set him to clearing brush that had grown up in the front yard of the house, with strict instructions not to touch the brambles that protected his garden to the rear. When that was done, he was put to work collecting and chopping more firewood for the upcoming winter, even though it was far too early to be worrying about that in Will’s opinion.
He also had more time to practice his scholarly pursuits, namely reading and math. He didn’t mind the reading, but the math made him long to be doing something else.
After the first week of ‘light duty,’ Arrogan called him to his bedroom.
That in itself was unusual; Will had never been permitted to even see what lay beyond the door to his grandfather’s private room. What he discovered shocked him, for the room was easily twice the size of the only other room, the one he had spent the last several years living in.
It was also clean. Not clean in the way that Will was used to, though. It was spotless, without a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Will couldn’t imagine where his grandfather would have found the time to keep the room in that condition. The man spent almost all of his waking hours outside or in the front room with Will. Another mystery to add to the list, he thought.
The furnishings were impressive. A massive, four-poster bed dominated one end of the room while an ornate, hand-carved wood desk occupied the other. In between, the walls were dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were filled with leather-bound tomes of all shapes and sizes.
“What the hell?” Will blurted out when he first entered.
“What did you expect?” asked his grandfather.
He didn’t answer for a second; he was too busy taking in the view. Will’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as his eyes roved back and forth. Then he replied, “Something like the other room, only smaller and smellier.” Pointing at the bed, he complained, “That thing is big enough for three people! Why did I have to sleep on the floor all those months?”
“Because it’s my damned bed,” retorted the old man. “Get your own.”
“I can’t believe you,” said Will, disgusted. “You’ve kept me living like a dog while you slept in your little palace.”
“Wrong tense,” said his grandfather. “You’re still living like a dog. The only reason you’re in here now is because the entrance to my workshop is over there.” He pointed to an expensive-looking rug in the center of the room.
Ignoring the old man, Will walked closer to examine the bed. The coverlet on top of it was fancier than any other article of bedding he had ever seen. Two large pillows were at the head of the bed, and the material that covered them was of a sort he didn’t recognize. Unable to help himself, he reached over to touch one with his fingers. It was smooth to the touch and softer than anything he had ever felt. “What sort of fabric is this?” he asked.
“Silk,” stated Arrogan. “Keep your hands off it.”
Will noticed that the two pillows were different. Both were silk, but while one was fairly simple and undecorated, the other had frills around the edges. “Why do you have two pillows?” He leaned over to pick up the fancier of the two.
“Stop!” commanded Arrogan, making no attempt to conceal his anger. Will found himself paralyzed once again. “Touch that pillow, and I’ll take your hands off and use them to make bookends.”
A second later the paralysis ended, and Will stepped away, noting a pained expression on his grandfather’s face. Trying to kill him doesn’t bother him in the least, but threaten his precious pillows and he’s furious, noted Will silently. I’ll never understand the man. He started to say as much, but a second glance at the old man’s face made him uncertain. Reading Arrogan’s expressions was never easy. Is he angry, or something else?
Arrogan turned away, then bent over and lifted the edge of the rug. Underneath was a trapdoor. He lifted it, exposing a wooden ladder that led below. “The workshop is down here,” he said flatly.
“You have a cellar?”
“No, I just like confusing people, so I built a false door in the floor,” responded the old man dryly. With a word, he created a globe of light that hovered above his head and began to descend the ladder. As he went, he waved at Will. “Follow.”
Will twisted the corner of his mouth up for a second, then answered with obvious sarcasm, “I can’t. You said you don’t have a cellar.”