Aldric Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Aldric stayed kneeling by the cot. The lamp burned low between three faces — his sibling's, the keeper with the wires, the guide who had brought him in. One of them had sent word to his mother. One of them had kept his sibling breathing through long winters. Before dawn, he had to know which was which. He let go of the thin hand and stood up. He walked to the small healing house at the edge of the shelter, where dried herbs hung above white doors. He took down one bundle, then another, until he found what he wanted — a folded slip tucked behind the stems. A bird's leg tag, fresh. Only one person here sent birds. He carried it back inside and set it on the blanket. The guide's face did not move. The keeper's hand did. A small flinch, fingers closing on the wires. "You sent the last one this morning," Aldric said. The keeper did not deny it. The guide drew a knife and stepped between the keeper and the cot. "Out," he said. The keeper went, and the cold took the doorway, and the lamp steadied. Aldric followed the keeper out as far as the cleared ground. A bright cloth had been spread between two stones — a picnic blanket gone stiff with frost, flowers faded under ice. The keeper had been camped there, apart, watching the small house from a polite distance. Aldric kicked the nearest boot over. It was frozen through. From the lining slid a leather pouch, and from the pouch a letter sealed in red wax. His mother's mark. He did not break it. He left it lying in the snow where anyone could see, and walked back inside. Dawn came pale through the glass. Aldric sat with his sibling's hand in his again. The wires lay coiled on the blanket like something returned. His mother would know by noon that her hand had been cut off, and she would come, or she would not. It did not matter now. He had found the one she erased. He had named the one she planted. The search that had taken his years was finished, and what began in its place was smaller and warmer and his to keep. Outside, the wind softened. Inside, his sibling breathed easier. Aldric did not let go of the hand. The years of careful searching had ended in a small warm room, and that was enough.