Chapter Thirty-Seven

Eliot sat back, his hunger well sated, and rested his hand on his belly.

The conversation momentarily died down, and the women started to rise to clear the remains of the meal.

“One moment,” said Aridai. “I thought it best we eat first before I tell you what I myself only found out as we arrived here.”

When Aridai turned his smiling countenance to Eliot, he stiffened, feeling a sudden knot in his belly, knowing what the tall-folk was about to say.

“Eliot knows we are his family.”

Silence fell as their attention swivelled to him.

Words failed him as he struggled to hold their gaze.

Sela was the first to speak. “Then I am free to tell you, you look so like your father. When I saw you outside, I thought.” Shaking her head, she wiped away her tears.

Magen, sat beside her, put his arm around her.

“Yes,” said Arodi softly, sadness clouding his features. “It is as if Ruvane is, once again, here with us.”

Eliot blinked rapidly, trying to hold back his own tears.

“But this is not a time for sorrow.” Arodi straightened. “Finally, we can welcome you to our family. Your family.”

Mahol held out his hand. “Cousin,” he said, grinning.

“We have much to catch up on,” said Magen.

“Yes, we certainly do.” Whatever nervousness Eliot had been feeling had completely gone. “When my mother told me I had cousins–”

“Ah.” Aridai sat back. “I was about to ask how you knew.”

“Dear Marcelin.” Sela had managed to compose herself. “How is she?”

“She is well. She is the one who told me to return your cat and your belongings, even though she didn’t know you lived here.”

“I’m surprised my father doesn’t know,” said Renard.

“None outside of Aiqos know,” said Aridai. “We decided to live here after.” His voice faded and he looked at his brother who held his gaze then nodded.

Arodi got to his feet. “Renard, come, I will show you our horses.”

“Thank you, my lord. Next to Master Aridai’s horse, my Tas looks like a pony.” As he stood, Renard placed his hand on Eliot’s shoulder, and nodded firmly as if to reassure him.

Magen and Mahol joined them as they walked out the back door.

“Eliot, come.” Aridai beckoned him to follow as he headed out the kitchen. “There is much I must tell you.”

Inexplicably short of breath, Eliot, his hands on the table, pushed himself up. Startled, he looked at Sela who’d placed her hand under his chin to tilt his head up.

She didn’t say a word, but her smile spoke volumes, and it had the added effect of calming him.

Crossing the entrance hall, Aridai paused to pick up the dagger and the still-covered harp, which had been left on the table. The cat, tail held high, trotted ahead to lead the way.

Eliot followed Aridai through a doorway and down a short passageway. The intricate patterns on the wall hangings beckoned him to look closer, but his nervous excitement had narrowed his focus to the tall-folk’s broad back.

Aridai pushed open the door at the end of the passageway and disappeared into the room.

Standing just inside the doorway, Eliot’s gaze traversed the room, which reminded him of Leighton’s cosy study.

Aridai indicated the wide-armed chairs in the middle of the room. “Come, sit.” Taking the cloth off the harp, he caressed it, and the figure opened its eyes.

It said something Eliot did not understand but recognised as the tall-folk language.

Aridai replied, and the figure closed its eyes once more. Placing it on the shelf against the wall, he made his way to the other chair. When he’d settled himself comfortably, the cat jumped up on his lap, purring loudly. Aridai stroked the cat, his brow furrowing.

By now, Eliot’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears.

“It is strange,” said Aridai softly. “I have waited many years to speak with you, to tell you of your father, your family. But as you already know, I now do not know where to start.” He chuckled.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the purring cat, when a sudden thought jerked Eliot upright. “My lord–”

“Eliot.” Aridai tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry. I mean, Uncle.” His own smile widened. “Mother told me of Father’s parents, that she’d lost touch with Father’s mother. Is she, I mean, do you know–?”

“Your grandmother still lives in Aiqos. Mother Arditha wrote to Marcelin, kept writing even when there was no reply, until we learned she had remarried. Bertran kept us informed, especially about you,” he said in reply to Eliot’s furrowed brow. “Because she hadn’t received any letters, Mother Arditha believed Marcelin wanted to distance herself because of her grief. And after she had remarried, Mother Arditha thought it best not to remind her of the loss she had suffered. Is something the matter? You seem, upset.”

“Mother didn’t know about the letters. She wrote but said she didn’t get any replies. Climence, her mother, she hid the letters, I know it. It’s her way.” Eliot quickly mentioned the letters Hugo Lambert had sent which neither he nor Marcelin had received, and how Marcelin had discovered Climence had been taking them.

Aridai shook his head. “There are no words to explain such behaviour. That she still harbours her resentments after all these years.”

“Have you met her?”

“Once, not long after Ruvane had wed Marcelin. I was in Mariosha as part of a trade delegation, and Ruvane wanted to introduce his wife. We arranged to meet in the city. Climence had come with Marcelin. I found your mother a charming, gracious woman; it was easy to see why Ruvane had fallen in love with her. I do not believe she got her good graces from her mother,” he finished with a raised brow.

Eliot had to smile at Aridai’s perceptive words.

Aridai sat back in his chair, his long fingers slowly stroking the cat’s head; its eyes were half-closed, it’s purring a little quieter. The tall-male’s gold-flecked hazel gaze lingered on Eliot before focussing on the window behind the young man.

Something in Aridai’s expression sent a slight chill shivering through Eliot.

“Many times, over the years,” said Aridai, his deep voice soft, “my brother and I have reflected on whether or not we should speak of this to you.” He fixed his gaze on Eliot. “What do you know of your father’s fate?”

The unexpected question startled him. “He-he died. On his way home from Salmarin.”

After a long pause, Aridai spoke. “We were with him, Arodi and I.”

“What?”

“There had been a trade meeting in Salmarin. We travelled together for some of the way before parting company, Ruvane and his men returning to Mariosha while we returned to Aiqos. Not long afterwards, we were hailed by Ruvane’s apprentice, he was wounded. Their company had been attacked, Ruvane had been taken. We left the apprentice with our people. With two guards, Arodi and I rode with haste in the direction of Mariosha.

“We found them, some were injured, a guard dead. They described the bandits, said another guard had given chase. Arodi is a good tracker and soon we saw the bandits near the low mountains to the east, they were riding away. As we got closer, Arodi spied a couple of horses near what we discovered to be a cave. We stopped, told our guards to chase after the bandits.”

Aridai closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and sat still for a moment.

Clasping his hands together, Eliot gritted his teeth to stop himself demanding the tall-male continue.

Finally, Aridai continued speaking. “We entered the cave. There was a man I did not recognise, a very pale man.”

Eliot’s breath caught. So, Kashar had been involved.

“The guard also was there. He simply stood to the side, doing nothing to stop the man.”

“My-my father?” whispered Eliot.

“Ruvane was, there were broken bottles around him. Ruvane, he was.” Aridai squeezed his eyes shut.

A finger of ice traced its way up Eliot’s spine.

“That man.” Aridai’s voice was hard. “He was laughing, kept saying he finally had proof of his success, no longer would any scoff at his work. I have never felt such anger. I grabbed him, demanded to know what he had done to Ruvane. He would not stop laughing. I threw him aside. But there was nothing I or Arodi could do for Ruvane.”

Eliot’s chin trembled; his body sagged under the weight of a sudden heaviness.

“I do not believe in taking life, but not once have I ever regretted the death of that man.”

Eliot raised his head. “He died?”

“It was not my intention to kill him, but when I threw him from me, he hit the wall and broke his neck. We left him for the animals; he did not deserve a burial.”

Despite his sorrow, Eliot felt no remorse at Kashar’s death, in fact, he was glad the man had paid for what he’d done to Ruvane.

“Arodi went to Ruvane,” said Aridai softly. “I turned on the guard. He was already scared because of what he had witnessed, I am sure. I demanded to know why he had failed to help Ruvane. He begged me not to hurt him, the words fell from him like rocks down a hill. He said cli-he said the pale man had paid the bandits to take Ruvane, had paid the guard to make sure they took the right man, to bring him to the cave where the pale man waited. He paid the bandits and they left, then paid the guard but told him to stay and witness his powers.”

So many thoughts swirled around Eliot’s mind, vying for attention. Until one clamoured louder than the others. The pale man’s powers; to turn one thing into another. Eliot’s eyes slowly grew wider as he remembered when he’d told Marcelin about Tulash, and wondered if Kashar had turned someone or something into… His breathing quickened. He stared at the cat. “My father, what happened to my father?”

It took Aridai some moments to reply. “Eliot. This is not easy to tell or to hear.”

Eliot gripped his hands tighter, raising his gaze to meet Aridai’s concerned one.

“The pale man, he did not kill Ruvane. He, he turned him into. This.” He looked down at the cat, dozing on his lap.

Numbness suffused Eliot’s body. His father was alive. For the past month, he’d unknowingly had his father with him.

“You, you do not seem shocked by what I have told you.” Aridai looked as mystified as he sounded.

“My father’s alive,” whispered Eliot. “All these years, I thought he was dead but.” He frowned. “What was in the casket? All I remember of his funeral was the casket, being told he was in the casket, but no one would open it.”

“We told the guard not to say anything about the pale man, about Ruvane. To say, instead, that he’d pursued the bandits, that he saw Ruvane try to escape but he fell off the cliffs that are further to the east. With no safe way down, he couldn’t get to the body. He agreed, said he wanted to forget all of it. We had no choice but to trust he would keep his word for speaking of what truly happened would point to his own guilt.

“Thinking of Marcelin’s grief pained us, but how to tell her, her husband had been changed to a cat? Mother Arditha does not know either. We were worried what the shock might do to her. But tell me, why do you seem so accepting of your father’s fate?”

“I don’t want to, but.” He stopped, rubbing at his chest. Although the pieces had quickly fallen into place for Eliot, he still didn’t want to believe or accept what his father had become. “Mother told me of a pale man who’d been at court. She doesn’t know where he came from, but he was always speaking of changing things, of turning one thing into another.” He didn’t want to talk of Tulash just yet, and slowly got to his feet. Standing by Aridai’s chair, he extended his hand and drew his finger against the cat’s fluffy cheek; it tilted its head slightly. “He cannot be changed back?”

Aridai sighed. “Arodi and I, we have spent many years travelling, searching to find one who might free him. At first, he was still Ruvane, he understood us, tried to communicate with us. But with the passing of time, he has become more cat-like. I fear we are losing the human-self that is Ruvane.” His voice dropped to a whisper as pain crossed his face.

“Is that why you named him Reuven?”

“We could not call him his given name, neither could we call him anything else.”

Eliot crouched down so he was eye-level with Reuven. Resting his chin on the arm of the chair, he stroked the cat’s head. It briefly opened its eyes then continued to doze. “I don’t know which is worse. Believing my father to be dead or seeing him alive as a cat. I’m happy he’s alive, I truly am.” He looked up at Aridai. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll still never be able to ask his advice, I’ll never hear his voice, his laugh. I still can’t be with my father.” His voice broke as he laid his forehead on the arm of the chair and finally gave in to his tears.