There were few of her thoughts that she could explain to Leesil while others were present. When she looked away from him, she found Aunt Bieja watching the two of them. Magiere's discomfort rekindled.

Her stout aunt cocked an eyebrow at Wynn's words. Magiere was grateful that it offered a way to avoid both Leesil's and her aunt's curiosities.

"Are these lentils," Magiere translated for the young sage. "Wynn doesn't speak much Droevinkan as yet, only Belaskian."

"Ah, we don't get much of that foreign tongue this far off the main ways," Bieja replied. "I remember a little of it, but I'm half a life out of practice."

The young sage pointed to the cook pot as she looked to Bieja for approval, who nodded. Wynn grabbed a folded cloth nearby with which to grip and lift the pot's lid. She smiled broadly, replaced the lid, and set to digging through her pack and pulling out small pouches.

"May I?" she asked Aunt Bieja in Droevinkan, and switched to Belaskian as she spoke to Magiere. "Tell her this one is rosemary."

Magiere did so, and Aunt Bieja chuckled as she examined each of Wynn's herbs. The two women exchanged one- and two-word questions and answers in mixed tongues. Chap inched closer to sniff the pouches, though this turned out to be a ploy to nose his way toward the cook pot. Leesil stepped in to grab Chap's haunches and pull back the struggling dog.

Bieja still wore the same purple dress Magiere remembered, though now it was far more faded. Several times Magiere had sent money when she was fortunate enough to find a land-bound merchant heading inland toward Droevinka. She should have known Bieja would give such coins to the village instead of spending it on herself.

The sight of her aunt's kind face, with its broad dimples and wrinkles, filled Magiere with guilt. She'd never sent word of purchasing the Sea Lion, yet nine years later, her aunt welcomed her as if she'd been gone but a moon.

Magiere felt Leesil's hand slide up her back again, and he whispered, "You all right?"

"It's good to see her," she answered.

It was a half-truth and the lesser part of all her thoughts. When she reached up to touch Leesil's shoulder, Aunt Bieja glanced at them again. Magiere neither pulled away from Leesil nor removed her hand. Leesil, not noticing they were watched, stripped off his charcoal scarf and shook out his white-blond hair.

Magiere tensed, forcing herself not to look toward her aunt this time.

Superstition ran deeper here than even the back ways they'd worked in Stravina. She wasn't certain how her own flesh and blood might react to someone of Leesil's unusual ancestry.

"Whatever you're making smells wonderful," Leesil said.

Chap yipped in agreement, which earned him a pat on the back from Wynn. The sage looked happier than Magiere had seen her in some while. The hut was warm and dry, and the scent of lentil stew was mouthwatering.

"Supper for all, though we'll need to stretch it a bit," Bieja answered, and after a moment's hard appraisal of Leesil's hair, she turned to gather more things from her shelves. "Then I think you have much to tell me."

Magiere took a deep breath.

She hauled the bench to the table for Leesil and herself, and they were all soon enjoying the luxury of well-seasoned stew, some late pears, and a loaf of black forest bread. Wynn made small noises of contentment as she ate. Magiere realized the meal was not far from the food served back at the sage's guild. Only halfway through the meal, a loud belch came from under the table, followed by the licking of chops. Chap had finished before anyone else.

The closeness around the fireside table wore away Magiere's first impressions upon stepping into the hut. She'd barely finished a few spoonfuls when Leesil pushed his emptied bowl back.

"So, what exactly was that mob about back there?" he asked of Aunt Bieja.

Magiere stopped eating and stared at him.

"Magiere hasn't told you?" Bieja asked. "About why she left?"

"She wasn't happy here… wasn't well liked because of her father. But she didn't mention anyone trying to run her off with pitchforks."

Magiere dropped her spoon into the bowl, shifting on the bench. "Leesil-"

"No, I want to know what's going on."

Wynn's attention swung back and forth around the table as she tried to follow the conversation. However, Bieja's glare was purely for Leesil.

"Auntie," Magiere said, hoping Leesil would remain quiet, "we've come to find answers about my mother… and my father. And there's much to tell you-"

"I can see that for myself, girl," Bieja answered, and folded her hands upon the table.

"I'm not sure where to start," Magiere continued. "For now, we need to know what you know. Things you might not have told me. Little things that seemed not to matter might help. Especially about my father… anything from the first time you ever saw him."

Magiere waited as her aunt pondered for a moment.

"Perhaps family matters are best left to family," she finally said.

"No." Magiere settled her hand on Leesil's forearm. "They are part of this… It's not just me anymore."

Again, Bieja hesitated. "There were three of them."

"What?"

"I told you… your father took your mother when he first came here as lord of the fief, but three of them came that first night. Two noble… but the last was a masked thing in a char-colored robe. He's the one who maimed Adryan with no more than a slap."

"Adryan's face?" Magiere asked. "His scars… no one would talk about it."

"You can blame that on Yoan," Bieja growled. "Along with the rest of the hog swill poured out over the years. Oh, some truth was well known enough, but he said we'd best keep quiet or invite more misery. And all else that followed, I was forced to obey. " She shook her head and mumbled something under her breath. "Adryan tried to protect your mother. They were betrothed-at least he thought so."

Magiere sat silent, chilled inside even near the fire. Through the childhood suffering, the one person she had trusted was Bieja, but her aunt had kept secrets.

"What do you mean forced?" she asked. "I've never seen you give in to anyone's wishes unless they fit with your own."

"I lived in fear for Magelia," Bieja said. "My sister was my only companion, and they took her. Sometimes servants came and told us stories of her walking in the courtyard, heavy with child, but she was never allowed out, and we weren't allowed in. I tried many times, sneaking as close as I could, but never saw her and got beaten down twice by patrolling guards. The rest concerning your father you already know. One night, one of those noblemen who took Magelia came to me. His shirt was stained with blood when he brought you within hours of your birth, as well as the armor, the amulets, and that sword. He said they were gifts from your father. He also brought Magelia's blue dress for you. That frightened me more than anything else. The next day, a man-at-arms brought your mother's body down for me to bury, and that was the last we saw of anyone from the keep. I guess they left in the night, though we didn't know it for a while. Not for certain until the next lord assigned to this fief arrived a half moon later."

Bieja closed her eyes a moment.

"I tried to hide you at first and managed for a time. When Yoan found out, he wanted you exposed, cast out in the woods to die for fear of what ill-fortune you'd bring down on the village. I used your sword to hold him off, and told him the village might face worse if we killed a noble's child, forsaken or not. I would have said anything to save you, but fear is the only thing these fools understand. So Yoan and the others let you be-for the most part. But you were still a reminder of those men's ill-favor upon us, especially to Adryan."

Magiere looked away, not wanting to hear any more. Bieja had lied to her for years, but Magiere couldn't escape the image of her aunt holding Yoan off with the falchion.