“At the outset,” Gwen continued, “Cordelia and I did bide with them, for we could attend to thy thoughts e’en from that distance, and fly to thine aid if thou didst come near to danger. It did greatly trouble me, therefore, when thy thoughts did so abruptly cease.”

Cordelia nodded confirmation, her eyes huge. “She did weep, Papa.”

“Oh, no, darling!” Rod caught Gwen’s hands. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Nay, certes.” She smiled. “Yet thou wilt therefore comprehend my concern.”

Rod nodded slowly. “I’d say so, yes.”

“I therefore did leave the boys in care of Their Royal Majesties, and Brom O’Berin, and flew northward again. I took on the guise of an osprey…”

Rod rolled his eyes up. “I knew, when I saw that blasted fish-hawk that far inland, that I was in trouble!” Of course, he knew that Gwen couldn’t really shrink down to the size of a bird any more than a butterfly could play midwife to a giraffe. It was just a projective illusion, making people think that they saw a bird instead of a woman. “If I hadn’t shielded my thoughts, I probably would’ve seen through your spell!”

“An thou hadst not shielded thy thoughts, I would not have had to fly near enough to see thee,” Gwen retorted. “And though thou hadst disguised thyself, I knew thee, Rod Gallowglass.”

That, at least, was reassuring—in its way.

“Then,” Gwen finished, “ ‘twas but a matter of hearkening to the thoughts of that goodman who did ride beside thee.” Gwen turned to Simon. “I thank thee, Master Simon.”

The older man still looked confused, but he bowed anyway, smiling. “I was honored to be of service, milady—e’en though I knew it not.”

“And when thou wert taken,” Gwen went on, “I did summon Cordelia to me, to bide in waiting, in a deserted shepherd’s croft. Then, when thou didst burst forth from thy shield, I could not help but hear thy thoughts for myself.”

“Not that you were about to try to ignore them,” Rod murmured.

“Nay, certes!” Gwen cried in indignation. “Then, when thou didst come unto the tower chamber, I knew the moment of battle was nigh, and did summon Cordelia from her croft to fly to the tower; and when the unearthly device did cease to compel, and did commence to disenchant, I knew the time of battle had come. Then did I summon thy sons, that the family might be together once again.”

“Very homey,” Rod grinned. “And, though I was mighty glad to see you all, I don’t mind saying I’m even gladder to know the kids were safe, right down until the last moment.”

“Certes, my lord! I would not endanger them.”

Rod gave her the fish-eye. “What do you call that last little fracas we went through—homework?”

“Oh, nay! ‘Twas far too great a delight!” Geoffrey cried.

“Homework’s delight,” Gregory lisped.

“Papa!” Cordelia cried indignantly; and Magnus’s chin jutted out a quarter-inch further. “Twas scarce more than chores.”

“We’d fought each of them aforetime,” Geoffrey reminded him, “and knew their powers—save Alfar, and we left him to thee.”

“Nice to know you have confidence in me. But there could’ve been accidents…”

“So there may ever be, with bairns,” Gwen sighed. “Here, at least, they were under mine eye. Bethink thee, husband, what might chance an I were to leave them in the kitchen, untended.”

Rod shuddered. “You’ve made your point; please don’t try the experiment.” He turned to the Duke. “Ever begin to feel redundant?”

“Nay, Papa,” Magnus cried. “We could only aid thee in the ending of this campaign.”

“Truly,” Gregory said, round-eyed, “we knew not enough to bring the sorcerer to bay.”

But Rod had caught the sly glance between Magnus and Geoffrey. Under the circumstances, though, he deemed it wiser not to say anything about it.

“Now, mine husband.” Gwen clasped his hands. “In this last battle, I did hear thy thoughts at all times. Thine anger was there, aye, but thou didst contain it. Hast thou, then, so much ta’en this goodman’s advice to thine heart?” She nodded at Simon.

“I have,” Rod confirmed. “It worked this time, at least.”

“Dost thou mean thou wilt not become angry again, Papa?” Cordelia cried, and the other children looked up in delight.

“I can’t promise that,” Rod hedged, “but I think I’ll have better luck controlling it. Why—what were you planning to do?”

Whatever they would have answered was forestalled by the cooks, stumbling in with dinner. They set down the platters on the table, and the children leaped in with joyful cries. Magnus got there first, wrenched off a drumstick, and thrust it at his father. “Here, Papa! Tis thy place of right!”

“Why, thank you,” Rod said, amused. “Nice to know I have some rank around here.”

“I shall have the other.” Cordelia reached for the other drumstick.

“Nay; thou hast never favored the legs of the fowl!” Geoffrey’s hand darted out, and grabbed the bone before hers.

“Loose that!” Cordelia cried. “Twas my claim was first!”

“As ‘twas my hand!”

“Yet I came to the bird before either of thee!” Magnus laid a hand on the bone of contention. “My remembrance of our father, doth not bar me from this choice!”

“Uh, children,” Rod said mildly, “quiet down, please.”

“ ‘Tis mine!”

“Nay! ‘Tis mine!”

“I am eldest! My claim is first!”

“Children!” Rod hiked his volume a bit. “Cut it out!”

Gwen laid a restraining hand on his arm. That did it; his temper leaped.

Cordelia turned on her brothers. “Now, beshrew me an thou art not the most arrogant, ungentlemanly boys the world hath ever…”

“Wherefore beshrew thee? Thou art a shrew already!”

And the discussion disintegrated into wild shouts of accusation and counter-accusation.

Rod stood rigid, trying to contain his soaring anger. Then Simon caught his eye. Rod stared at the older man’s calm, level gaze, and felt a measure of strength that he hadn’t known he had. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that their bickering might make them look childish (as it should), but not him—if he didn’t start shouting with them. The thought checked his anger and held it. He was himself, Rod Gallowglass—and he wasn’t any the less himself, nor any less important, nor any less in any way, just because his children didn’t heed him.

But he did know how to get their attention. He reached out, grasped the last drumstick, and twisted it loose.

The children whirled, appalled. “Papa!”

“Nay! Thou hast no need!”

“Thou already hast one, Papa!”

“ ‘Tis not justice,” little Gregory piped, chin tucked in truculently over folded arms.

“But it does settle the argument,” Rod pointed out. He turned to Gwen, presenting the drumstick with a flourish and a bow. “My dear, you saved the day. Your glory is as great as mine.”

“But, Papa!” Cordelia jammed her fists on her hips, glowering up at him. “Thou’rt supposed to be a nice daddy now!”

“Why,” Rod murmured, “wherever did you get an idea like that?”