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Chapter 18. The Answer to Grief |
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og returned to the island long after sunset, exhausted and more than a little demoralized. He had spent all morning and all of that day and evening searching for Pendaran without success. If his brother had brought him through Lion’s Arch, there was no trace of him. The guardian of the town portal recorded no one arriving at that late hour let alone anyone resembling Belenus, Morisedd or Pendaran. Of course, there was ample evidence they had departed by water, stealing one of the skiffs used to ferry workmen or others that were not given access to the sigil. By daylight one search party scoured the mainland shore for signs of the missing boat and found it late that morning drawn up on a natural beach and partially hidden behind driftwood and rocks. It was roughly a mile from Lion’s Arch. No clues pointing to the location of the kidnappers remained. Shikai performed a finding ritual soon after he returned that night and all she could glean was that Pendaran was at sea. It was better than discovering he was dead, but it also meant he was out of reach and could end up anywhere. Mog lingered at Xiang Yi’s tent feeling miserable and powerless as they discussed their next move. How could Belenus have sunk so low? With a mixture of anger and grief, he slumped to his tent, the frenetic activity of the day finally catching up with him. He wanted a bath for he stank of sweat and the sea, but when he finally reached his home, it was all he could do to pull off his boots and strip down to his undergarments. Feeling a little self-conscious about Lemony walking in on him in his state of undress, he crawled into his bedding and rolled onto his side, almost immediately falling asleep. “Mog,” came Lemony’s voice. Her hand was on his shoulder gently nudging him awake. He blinked in the dimness a few times sensing her concern before groaning and rolling over to face her. The little monk smiled down on him, a tray of food and a jug of ale beside her where she knelt. A softly flickering lantern dangled above them from the central brace of the tent’s roof. “Hello,” she said when she saw he was awake, “Xiang Yi told me you didn’t stay for supper. Can’t have you going hungry after all that hard work today.” Mog was a little taken aback. He was unaccustomed to having anyone look after him. Even during the times he had traveled with Armand, what they shared by way of comforts was whatever either of them had at hand at the time. “I were jus’ tired, Lem,” he croaked, smiling wanly. It seemed ages since his last meal, and then he realized in his haste to help find Pendaran he had not eaten a morsel since the last time he had seen the man. The smell of the meaty stew drew a plaintive growl from his belly, as if it chided him for neglecting his bodily needs. “I know you feel guilty about Belenus, but there’s no need to punish yourself for what he did,” Lemony said gently, “No one blames you. Understand?” “I feel terrible. I shoulda warned yeh,” Mog replied, his grief and anger reignited by her earnestness. “You did. I didn’t listen.” “I’m sorry. I ne’er wished anythin’ bad fer Penny. I knew he were a good man.” Lemony sighed sadly. “No one is blaming you for this, Mog. You aren’t responsible for what your brother did.” She was giving him her stern healer look now, which he often found amusing. The only thing less threatening than Lemony on a bad day was Lemony on a good day. He adored her like everyone else. This time, however, he sensed her grief and concern. She was also tired and fraying at the edges. She might not have been on the mainland searching as he and the others had, but she had definitely been pushed to her limits. Mog propped himself against his traveling trunk as he often did if he sat up to read or jot down the words to an old song lodged in his memory from the time before the Searing. He would be the first to admit he was rather hopeless that way, saving what little scraps of his homeland he could. It was strange to him sometimes how little he mourned the passing of his home and yet the thought of a treasured stanza of poetry or a beautiful melody fading from memory forever was unbearable. “Here, sit up wi’ me,” he said, scooting over to make room for her. Lemony smiled and sat down beside him, lifting up the tray and laying it across her lap. She broke the little loaf of crusty bread in half and made him take his share before she leaned back and munched on hers. Within moments the two of them were devouring the stew and washing it back with large pulls of the ale jug. Lemony then curled up contentedly against him and began to doze off. “How’re Teleri an’ Mabane,” he asked her before she slipped away. “Bad,” she murmured, “Xiang Yi gave her mandrake tea so she could finally get some sleep. He had one of his servants go stay with them to take care of Sabina through the night. Mabane is distraught. He doesn’t understand how his uncle could do this to them. I don’t really understand, either. Belenus, I think we suspected, was a scoundrel. We let him come among us because it was temporary and he was your brother. But Morisedd… none of us imagined he would do something like this.” “Grief does strange things t’ people,” Mog said. Lemony sighed sadly, closing her eyes. “The answer to grief is not to make more of it. I’m so angry and disgusted with Morisedd. I loved him and I trusted him with my life. And gods, why does Pen have to keep suffering like this?” “I’m sorry, Lem.” Mog frowned, feeling her sadness now as if it were his own. His talents were a curse sometimes and though he chanted a mantra to steady his mind, tears stung his eyes as her grief crested and overflowed. “I can’t bear to lose anyone else,” she sobbed. He had no answer for her, no trite words of comfort. What had happened was terrible and it did not help that it had come on the heels of losing her dearest friend and before that her lover. He did not even want to think about what the Searing might have taken from her as well. Poor little bird. He gathered her up into his arms and rocked her gently like a child as she spent the last of her energy in grief. Weary though he was, he stayed with her until at last she was asleep. Only then did he dare move to bring her to rest in her small mound of bedding. Mog drew her blankets up beneath her chin, remarking how drawn and frail she looked in the pale lantern light. He felt so helpless and useless. All that long day he had racked his mind trying to outwit his brother and now he felt he had failed his new friends. How much better off they would have been if he had never come into their lives. He had to fix this somehow, and then he had to be on his way before someone else was hurt. “I’m sorry, Lemmy, I really am,” he said quietly, a lump of grief catching in his throat as he extinguished the lantern and went back to bed.
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