Paks explained her errand.
“Good,” Arian said. “I’d like to see a Kuakgan again myself. Last year, when we were trying to find the source of the poison, I was so upset—I would like to learn more about them. Maybe we could do something to heal the enmity between elves and Kuakkgani.”
“I don’t think that’s likely,” Kieri said. “Lessen it, maybe—with my elves—but ending it would require them to change long-held notions about the proper way to interact with the taig.”
“Maybe that’s not the only proper way to interact with the taig,” Arian said.
“If it was, elves could heal iynisin wounds,” Paks said. “And they can’t, can they?”
“No.”
“Yet what Master Oakhallow did for me, besides removing the bit of iynisin weapon left in me, all involved the taig. I don’t understand it; I was asleep for some of it.”
“Dorrin told me about the Kuakgan healing one of her squires’ injuries,” Kieri said. “The lad’s father had the same objection to that healing as the elves: mixing the natures of plants and other living things. And from what I hear, the boy’s thumbs did look woody at first. But the tendons healed in his legs, and he has thumbs. Finally his father accepted it … what else could he do? Cut the lad’s thumbs off again?”
“What was the poison?” Paks asked.
“Last year? Melfar, hidden in a cake of farran. It was a wedding gift; cooks had used it to flavor pastries for the feast.” Arian’s head drooped. “Every pregnant woman who ate it lost the child.” When she looked up again, her expression was angry. “It was an elf who did it. An elf who tried to kill Kieri later.”
“And who, I’m certain, arranged my mother’s death and my capture,” Kieri said. “But she is dead now, and we are here with two healthy babies and a paladin. Who should not be hearing such dark things.” The babies had waked, their little faces contracting into a mass of red furrows.
“Ah, youngling.” Paks scooped up the girl, who was nearer her side of the bed. She nuzzled the baby’s hair. “You, littling, you are so lucky.” To Kieri’s surprise, the baby’s face relaxed, and Paks began to sing softly. “Sweet one, little one, your mama’s a queen, sweet one, little one …”
Kieri picked up his son, then sat on the edge of the bed. “All’s well, lad,” he said, and yawned deliberately. “Oh, we’re sleepy, all of us, aren’t we … or are you hungry?”
“They’re probably hungry.” That was the midwife in the doorway, hands on her hips. “I came up to wake the queen and find a roomful of chatter—”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Arian said. “And I’m hungry.”
“I’ll tell them to send something up,” Kieri said, handing his armful to the midwife. “Come on, Paks.” Paks grinned and laid the girl in Arian’s arms.
“Has anything been found in Kolobia to explain how the magelords were enchanted or by whom?” Kieri asked as they made their way downstairs.
“Not that I know,” Paks said. “But I haven’t looked at everything. I would expect the elves to know. You said they talked about three kinds of magery.”
“They don’t know who, or how, but the magery—I suppose they can sense it. I can tell if magery’s being used.” He told the first servant he saw to send a meal up to Arian’s chamber and another to prepare a room for Paks.
Near sundown, a man in a Kuakgan’s dark green leaf-patterned robe came to the palace gate while Kieri was on his way back from a trip to the King’s Grove to give thanks for the births.
“It is not more poison, is it?” he asked Kieri. “You must be the king, with this retinue.” He glanced at the King’s Squires.
“I am the king,” Kieri said. “Kieri is my name. And no, it is not more poison. The paladin Paksenarrion asked Master Oakhallow to find a Kuakgan who could travel to meet her here. The Marshal-General of Gird has been wounded by iynisin. Come inside; Paks will be glad to see you.”
“I was not sure how hard it would be,” the Kuakgan said. “Usually the elvenhome repels us.”
“I have no quarrel with Kuakkgani,” Kieri said.
The Kuakgan looked at him, brows raised. “You—but it’s not your elvenhome; you’re but half-elf—”
“Yes, it is, now,” Kieri said. “It is complicated and I will be glad to tell you about it later, but you need to talk to Paksenarrion first.”
They went inside together and found Paks sitting with the same doorward, demonstrating how to darn holes in the man’s socks. He was barefoot, working on one sock while she did the other. “Now if you reinforce the heels when you knit them—”