Sword-Maker(107)

“I want to go,” the boy declared.

I gestured. “Two streets over, third house on the left.”

Massou darted away.

Cipriana murmured something about finding Garrod and went away. Adara smiled at me and stripped wind-teased hair out of eyes. “You look a little tired. Would you care for something to drink? Eat?”

“Just ate.” I was oddly ill at ease. “How long will you be staying?”

“Until Garrod is ready to leave.” She shrugged a little, hearing how dependent it sounded. “He is a good man and treats Cipriana well. They care for one another. And it’s easier for Massou and me to stay with them. I can help with the baby.”

I smiled. “First grandchild.”

Her eyes glowed. “Yes. Kesar’s blood will be carried on.”

She had buried her husband on the road from the border to Kisiri. A strong woman, Adara; as strong, in her own way, as Del. Borderers have to be.

Wind blew grit in our faces. It gave me an excuse. “Best go inside,” I said.

Adara nodded absently, looking into my face intently. As if she sought an answer. I don’t know what she saw. I don’t know what she wanted. All I could do was wait.

She smiled a little eventually, sensing my unease. She put a hand on my forearm. A callused, toughened hand. But its touch was somehow tender. “A good man,” she said gently. “We will never forget you.”

I watched her turn toward the house. Watched her walk through the door. Saw the quiet swing of hips; the flicker of windblown skirts; a glint of bronze-colored hair. Heard the lilt of a woman’s voice lifted in soft song.

Don’t ask me why. I’ve never been one for music. But it touched something inside me, and I followed it anyway.

Adara turned, startled, as I stepped into the doorway. The song broke off in her throat; one hand was spread across it.

She was suddenly vulnerable. And something in me answered. “Are you all right?” I asked. “Do you need anything?”

Adara swallowed heavily. “Don’t ask that,” she said. “You might not get the answer you want.”

I glanced at a broken wall.

“They’re somewhere else,” she said, interpreting the glance.

“No, I just meant—” I broke it off. “It could be awkward, if they misunderstood.”

Adara smiled a little. “Yes.”

Shadows crept into the room, softening her face. Snow or no snow, a storm was brewing. The light had changed.

“I wanted to say something,” I told her.

Adara’s color altered.

It was harder than I’d thought. I’ve never been a man for really talking to a woman of things that have substance, of things to do with feelings, except for Del. And even that is sometimes uncomfortable, because we think so differently. But something about Adara made me want to help.

I drew in a deep breath. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll say it anyway.”

“Yes,” she said faintly.

“A woman like you needs a husband. You’ve been alone too long. Del might disagree … she’d probably say a woman is often better without a man—maybe, for some, she’s right—but I don’t think you’re one of them.”

“No.” It was a whisper.

“You shouldn’t be alone. I know there’s Garrod to help, but that’s not what you need. You need a man of your own. Someone you can tend; someone who can tend you.”

Adara said nothing.

I shifted a little. “All I mean is, there might be a chance for you. Here, in Iskandar. There will be plenty of men.”

A brief, eloquent gesture indicating herself. “I’m no longer a young woman, and I have two children.”

“Cipriana has her own life now. Massou will be a man soon enough; for now he needs a father. He’s quick-witted. A man could do much worse than to take you and the boy.”

She stared at me a long moment. Her eyes were full of thoughts. Of possibilities.

She shut them a moment. Then looked straight back at me and carefully wet her lips. “I think you’d better go.”

It took me aback. “What?”

Her mouth trembled a little. “This is not what I want to hear, this talk of other men. Not from you. Not from you.”

It wasn’t what I had intended. Somehow I’d made it worse. And for both of us; after too many weeks without Del in my bed, I was very aware of Adara. I’m not made for abstinence. I didn’t want Adara … but part of me wanted a woman.

Most of me wanted Del so bad it confused the rest of me.

Adara’s smile was bittersweet. “I didn’t think I could say this: I won’t be a substitute.”

It was cold water. The wind blew through the room, rippling the gauze of her skirts. Stripping the hair from her face, so I could see her pride.