Chapter Nineteen
Unable to face Lina’s silence and unnatural stiffness in his presence, Eliot had, once again, sought refuge at Granville. He couldn’t keep putting off talking to Bertran about the possibility of stopping his training and moving to Salmarin. But Bertran wasn’t home, so Eliot grabbed the chance to tell Renard about Hugo Lambert and all he’d learned of his birthright.
Renard’s brows drew together as he lowered his gaze to the dog stretched out against his leg. Stroking its silky ears, he said, “I can’t believe your grandmother has been keeping all this from you by taking your letters.”
“For at least three years. Lord Lambert said he’d sent his first letter after I’d turned sixteen.”
Renard shook his head. “So strange.”
They sat in the shade of the clump of trees in the small meadow behind the house, with Bertran’s three older dogs dozing in the balmy, summer day.
“What are you going to do?” said Renard.
Eliot raised his brows, his hand resting on the warm body of the softly snoring dog draped across his lap.
“About your father’s business.”
“I want to keep it, learn to run it.”
Renard’s gaze flicked away momentarily. “You’re planning on going to Salmarin, aren’t you? And stepping away from your training.”
Smiling sadly, Eliot finally said, “If I say I am, will you stop talking to me too?”
“What? Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“I spoke to Mother and Lina about leaving Deverell, getting away from Climence, and going to Salmarin. Mother said she can’t leave Climence, she’s still her mother. I don’t understand it, and she couldn’t explain. I want to go, but I won’t leave them alone with her. Mother said she won’t stop me going, and I asked her to at least think about moving to Uncle Leighton’s, and she said she would. But Lina doesn’t want me to go. She said she’d hate me forever if I do,” he finished softly.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean that.”
“Mother said the same thing. But she hasn’t spoken to me since.” Meeting Renard’s concerned gaze, Eliot continued, “Mother told me about meeting my father’s parents. My grandfather died soon after they married. After I was born, my parents took me to my grandmother.” His smile quickly faded. “When Mother said she lost touch with my grandmother, my first thought was Climence took those letters too.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” said Renard, shaking his head.
“There must be something about my grandmother, her whereabouts, at my father’s house in Salmarin.”
Renard raised his brows. “And that’s another reason why you want to go.”
Eliot nodded, blinking rapidly. “Somewhere, I might have a grandmother who loves. Me.” His voice caught, and he looked down.
As if sensing his sadness, the dog prised open its eyes, hauled itself to a sitting position and nuzzled his cheek.
After a while, Renard looked back at the house. “I knew there was every possibility we’d be assigned to mentors in different cities. But that you or I might, one day, live somewhere different, that’s never occurred to me.” He reached over to grasp Eliot’s shoulder. “One thing I do know, no matter the distance, no matter what happens, you’ll always be my brother. If it was me, if Climence was my grandmother, I know where I’d rather be.”
Eliot tried to smile but failed, so he nodded instead.
They walked back to the house, the dogs trotting ahead.
As Renard said, “Father’s home,” the dogs, having already caught sight of Bertran standing on the gravel path by the house, increased their speed.
“Ah, there they are.” Bertran held his arms out as the dogs bounded up to him. “You had them with you. That explains why they hadn’t greeted me on my return.” Leaning down, he patted them vigorously.
“We were down by the meadow,” said Renard. “They followed us and spent most of their time sleeping.”
Bertran chuckled. “Given the chance, I would have done the same on such a day. Eliot, it’s good to see you.”
“And you, Uncle Bertran. If you’re not too weary, may we speak? I’ve met with Lord Lambert.”
Raising his brows, he smiled. “Finally. Come, walk with me. Meetings involve a lot of sitting about and I relish the chance to stretch my legs.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” said Renard, patting Eliot’s back and heading for the door. “Oh. Don’t forget about Jack.”
The dogs trotted ahead of Bertran as he turned an enquiring look to Eliot.
“Jack managed to get past the guards.”
Bertran exclaimed, coming to a halt. “How? I’ve been assured the guards are a constant presence on the road by the mountain and leading to Aiqos.”
Eliot shrugged. “He made no mention of guards. He got to the tall-folk’s house and stole a dagger. He didn’t get away unscathed. He had a bloodied leg.”
“Good,” muttered Bertran, frowning. As he rubbed his chin, the bigger of the dogs, back by his side, whined while the two smaller ones fidgeted, sensing their master’s changed mood. He absently laid his hand on the dog’s head, shushing it.
“Jack didn’t go alone. When he stopped at Deverell afterwards, there were three men waiting for him. They must be Garlon’s men; they left together.”
“Now he’s stolen something, are they done?”
Eliot shook his head. “He spoke of a harp, Climence told him to take that next. It sounds as if this will continue until the tall-folk reacts.”
A heavy sigh fell from Bertran. “Foolishness. I’ll speak with the captain of the guard, tell him they should look out for four men travelling together in the general direction of the mountain. Now, tell me of your visit with Lord Lambert.”
Although Bertran had never met Hugo, Eliot was aware he knew of the letters for Marcelin had told Bertran in the years after Ruvane’s death.
As the two men and three dogs strolled away from the house, Eliot didn’t only talk about his visit, he also spoke of the papers he’d been given and his discussion with Marcelin.
Hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the grass they were walking on, Bertran remained silent after Eliot had finished. Finally, coming to a stop, he raised his smiling visage. “A lot has happened since I last saw you.”
Eliot struggled to look him in the eye. Knowing he had to broach the subject of his training, the sudden thick feeling in his throat made it difficult to get the words out.
Bertran laid a hand on Eliot’s shoulder. “You want to ask about your training.”
His head jerked up, eyes wide. After a few false starts, he said, “I want to learn my father’s business, not simply because that’s what he’d planned. But if I do that, I-I’ll have to give up my training. Uncle Bertran, I don’t want to disappoint–”
“Disappoint? Who will you be disappointing? Surely not me.”
“But you’ve put your trust in me to–”
“Eliot, Eliot.” Bertran shook his head. “You decided to become a trade advocate because of your second father, having no idea of your father’s business. If you’d known about it three, four years ago, you’d have decided to learn that instead. That you’ve found out now is neither here nor there. I assure you, you will not be disappointing me in the slightest. The only way you could do that is if you decided to become a wastrel.”
Bertran’s words filled him with a warmth, and Eliot had to smile. “It seems such a waste, though, the past three years.”
“Does it? You’ve already completed most of your training. The next stage, being assigned to an advocate, isn’t so much about book-learning but more for you to put that training into practice. If you keep abreast of the changes in law, think how much of an advantage you’ll have over other merchants,” said Bertran, winking.
Eliot’s mouth fell open as he raised his brows.
Bertran’s smile faded a little. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”
“I still wanted to talk with you about it.”
“And I thank you for that. Put aside whatever guilt you may be feeling, my boy. I wouldn’t have expected you to decide any different.”
They continued to walk, the inexplicable tightness in Eliot’s chest easing but not completely gone.
“So, what are Marcelin’s thoughts about this?”
“She said she understands and won’t stop me going.”
“But?” said Bertran after a pause.
This time it was Eliot who stopped walking, staring at the grass, browner from being under the constant glare of the sun. “I can’t leave her and Lina alone with Climence. Mother said she can’t leave Climence, she can’t explain why. The way Climence treats her, I don’t understand.” He couldn’t stop shaking his head, his brow furrowed.
“Your mother has a good heart. I’m sure Climence plays on the losses of her own past to take advantage of that. And having suffered loss herself, Marcelin knows the pain of it.”
Swallowing hard, Eliot said, “Mother said, after I was born, she and Father had planned on leaving, to be nearer my grandmother, my other grandmother. But.” He couldn’t finish.
“Yes, my boy, I know. Your father had talked to me about it.” Bertran also fell silent, his gaze distant.
Not for the first time, Eliot wondered how different his life would have been if his father hadn’t died. Scrunching up his face, he pushed the thought down, not wanting to face the unwanted either-or choice that always followed, either his father or Lina.
“And it’s not only Climence,” continued Eliot. “There’s also Garlon. I think he wants.” Eliot paused, not wanting to finish the distasteful sentence. “Mother said she can deal with him, but that’s my duty, Uncle Bertran, to protect her, to protect Lina. Mother said she’ll seriously think about going to live with Uncle Leighton. I can’t leave until I know she and Lina are safe.”
“There’s no need to rush, Eliot. Give Marcelin time, give yourself time. Moving to another city isn’t simply a matter of packing a few things and riding off. There are matters you need to address, such as tidying the loose ends of your training, and deciding what you want to take with you to Salmarin. I suggest writing to Lord Lambert to arrange a visit, for him to show you Ruvane’s business and to acquaint yourself with his house. At least then you’ll have an idea what to expect when you move to live there.”
Eliot stared at him before letting out a huge breath. “That’s so obvious, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. I was so fixated on starting to learn the business at once.”
“That’s because you’re young. Age has its benefits, you know,” said Bertran, grinning.