Fifteen

They arrived in Goldfell on the heels of a cold snap, brisk but not yet unpleasantly cold. Not after the nightmare that was hiking up the snowy mountain to Shadowfell and back down again.

Goldfell seemed so small. Had it always been this small?

The funny part was that it had gotten larger; there were entire streets that hadn't been there when he'd left. There were streets . The village had never been that organized, not really. Normally he could just barely see his parents' house from the village entrance but now it was blocked by other buildings.

Still it all seemed so small.

"Hope this goes quickly," he said before dismounting, taking hold of the reins to guide Strider, and forging on.

He got several looks, the kind always given to strangers, as Goldfell wasn't the kind of place to see strangers very often.

Finally an old man he didn't recognize stepped forward away from a dry goods shop he'd been standing in front of. When had they gotten a dry goods shop? "Can I help you, boy?"

"I'm here to visit my parents, Trina and Ovander Smithy." Because country names were pretty straight forward, and his father's family had always been blacksmiths.

Instead of the man nodding and leaving off, his face filled with suspicion and anger. "You think I'm fool, boy? You're not their son, you're a good ten years too old to be their son. What scheming are you about?"

"I—what?" Ninos asked. "Of course I'm their son. My name is Ninos. I was born in Melda's home; she was the midwife back then. I was blessed and named in the meadow at three. My parents lived in a blue, one-room house that they expanded when I was ten. They sent me off to study magic when I was five, after the plague and fire destroyed so much. Who do you think you are accusing me of being a liar?" He curled his left hand into a fist, the leaves and flowers bristling in support of his anger. "Where are my parents?"

The man looked at him like at least one of them was mad and all his fury had changed to pale-faced discomfort. "Still in the blue house. You'll know where to find it, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," Ninos bit back.

Stomach in knots, he shared a look with Sinn, who seemed as troubled as he felt, and led the way through the village, ignoring the increasing amount of staring as word of his arrival spread faster than the fire that had destroyed at least half of it.

You never talk about it much. Fire. Plague. That must have been devastating.

I'm sure it's shaped me more than I realize, but the sad truth is that I don't remember much of it. Everything was gone, everyone was sick or dead, and strange people in beautiful, bright blue clothes told me I was going to learn magic and took me away. I cried the first few days, I was so scared and confused, but children carry on because what else can they do? Children had little to no control of their lives, and it was sit there crying in his room or do something.

It was hard to begrudge entirely all the decisions that had led him to Sinn, though he would always resent the murder and attempted murder involved.

"Not what I was expecting upon arrival," he said quietly. "Just a simple 'hello' would have been nice." Instead of being treated like a threat by someone who hadn't even lived here when he'd been a child. Called a liar.

Past the array of new buildings he didn't know, he could finally see his parents' house, freshly painted the same blue he remembered, but with new berry bushes in the yard, a small garden, and even a young fruit tree that seemed to be struggling.

There was also a boy in the yard, not more than fifteen, tending to the berry bushes. He stopped and stared as they approached, eyes widening as he took them in, a reaction Ninos had come to accept was always going to be the predominant one. "Who are you?" The boy flushed, pale white cheeks going rose. "Sorry. I mean. Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Trina and Ovander Smithy."

The boy blinked. "You're looking for Mom and Dad? Why would fancy visitors need to see them?" He shrugged and turned to the house. "Mom! Visitors!"

A moment later Trina came bustling out wiping her hands on her apron, "Genn, there's no reason to yell like—Ninos!" She dropped her apron and bolted across the yard to sweep him into a tight hug. "Mercy alive, my boy, you didn't tell me you were coming!"

"You're Ninos?" the boy asked with a gasp, looking far more excited than made sense.

Ninos couldn't reply, though, wholly occupied with his mother, who was crying as she fussed over him. "Look at you, all grown and handsome. Silly thing, you should have written. I'd have made certain a proper meal was made. What in the name of Holy Shaa is all over your arm? Are they growing in you? That doesn't seem safe. What happened?" She froze, taking in Sinn, and Ninos hadn't thought he'd ever see his mother blush like a maiden at the summer bonfire but here they were. "Who is this?"

"This my partner, Sinn," Ninos replied. "Sinn, my mother, Trina. Where is Father?"

"Oh, he's down at the tavern, gabbing away the day like he does," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "Genn, run and get your father, tell him to bring dinner with him too, I'll not have my returned son and his lover eating week old soup."

"Mom, I like your soup just—"

"Shush yourself now. Come in, come in. Genn has the loft, but he'll sleep by the fire and you—"

"Mother, I have been sleeping on the ground for months now, all the way up to Shadowfell and then down here. I'll sleep by the fire just fine, please. Don't put Genn out. When did you get another son?"

She looked briefly abashed and guilty. "We weren't trying to replace you or anything, you mustn't think that."

He had thought that, and still very much felt that way, but he didn't say as much, just sat at the table as she all but pushed him toward it. Sinn took the seat beside him, and rested a comforting hand on his thigh.

"We got home from visiting you that one time, found Katen and her latest beau had died falling drunk into the river." The grim set to her face expressed all her opinions on that. "We had space enough, and always were sorry we couldn't properly raise you even though we didn't regret sending you on to a better life." She set down the same tea kettle, cups, and little pot of honey he remembered from when he was a child. One of his few memories from that age was that old, faded blue teapot with a chipped rim where the lid rested. "So we took Genn in. He has always wanted to meet you, you know." She smiled at Sinn. "I'm sorry, I've been fussing over Ninos and have ignored you entirely."

Sinn grinned, devastatingly charming as always. "I understand completely. I always get distracted fussing over Ninos."

"Oh, you," Trina replied, playfully slapping his hand before bustling away to get food.

"Behave," Ninos hissed.

"You know I'm not capable of doing that."

"I think you've just never bothered to try."

"So how did you two meet?" Trina asked as she returned with bread, butter, pickles, and cheese.

Before Ninos could answer reply with the story they'd come up with, the door opened, and his father and Genn came spilling in. "Ninos?"

"Father." Ninos got up to hug him. He looked so much older, but healthy and happy, which was all Ninos could have hoped for. Both his parents looked good, better than he could have hoped, given the tragedy that had provoked his leaving, the lowkey fear that such could happen again. "How are you?"

"Never mind me, boy. How are you? Are you home? Stopping by?"

"Stopping by. I'm headed for Corlock," he said, and as they all sat down with the dinner that Genn was holding, bought from the tavern, told them a simplified, slightly less dramatic version of events, adjusted to hide Sinn's true nature and ability to shift into a bratty, mouse-eating bird.

You cannot malign eating mice if you've never had one.

Oh, yes, I can.

"I'm so sorry about Kina," Trina said quietly. "That is appalling, I cannot imagine what compelled him." She sighed. "I'm glad you're all right, and I'm sorry Brandor was not. I'm glad he was there for you when we could not be. I stand by doing what was best for you, but it came at great cost for all of us. We have always missed you, Ninos."

"I've missed you, too," Ninos said. "I always thought I would come home, as I was supposed to."

"No!" Trina said vehemently. "I know that's what was said, what everyone decided, but it's your life, my dear boy. Mages traipse through here all the time now, there are two who will be here through winter. The village will be a proper town in a few more years. We want for nothing—nothing that matters, anyway. We're not hob-knobby rich folk who aren't happy without six bedrooms and eleven horses they never ride."

Genn snickered. "She got into a tiff with some of that sort a few weeks ago, when they stopped here on their way to Shallar. Were angry the tavern only had one thing on the menu, called it slop. Mama called them slop."

"They were slop, the ungrateful wretches. How long are you staying, my dears?"

"No idea, really," Sinn replied. "We thought we'd see what was going on, if we were needed, how long Ninos decided to linger. We do want to be on our way before the cold really comes and settles in."

Trina nodded adamantly. "Yes, nobody wants to be on the road when there's ice and snow about. You'll catch your death, and it makes for miserable sleeping besides. Stay a couple of days, get some rest, resupply, then you can be moving again. Maybe we can come visit in spring?"

"That should be enough time to bring the house up to your standards, Mother," Ninos replied with a smile.

"I should hope so," she said imperiously, and filled everybody's plates again without asking or prompting.

By the time the meal was finished and the talking wound down, he could barely keep his eyes open. He stood more or less useless as his father and Sinn worked together to get their bed made up for the night. "Thank you," he said to his father when they were finished.

"Of course," his father said gruffly. "It's truly good to see you again, my boy. You look well, and I'm glad for it. Get some rest. I'm sure we'll be inundated in guests tomorrow."

"Hopefully not that jerk who called me a liar when I said I was your son."

"Who on earth had the nerve?" Trina demanded

"I didn't get his name, some old man I don't think is originally from here standing around your fancy new dry goods shop."

"Large nose, thin beard, clothes in need of a proper washing?" Ovander asked.

Sinn barked a laugh. "That's the one."

"I'll speak with him. Showed up six years ago to help run the store, and absolutely nobody likes him. Thinks he knows everyone, acts like he's always been here, one day he'll get bored and go harass a different village." He clapped Ninos on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, my boy. We'll talk more tomorrow."

When he was gone, Ninos removed his outer layers and washed up for the night, then climbed under the blankets. After Sinn joined him, he shifted to rest with his head on Sinn's chest, enjoying the steady beat of his heart and his comforting warmth. This has been a strange day to be certain. I wasn't expecting them to be so supportive.

I'm glad people have met you with pleasant surprises so far, more often than disappointment. I hated to see you so stressed and afraid. If only we didn't have a certain cretin hovering over us like a storm cloud.

He's probably not even in the country anymore. Ninos yawned, sat up enough to kiss Sinn softly, then settled back down with a smile.

Surprisingly, he woke before his parents. Though maybe not so surprising at that. His father was a blacksmith and his mother a seamstress, two professions that most definitely could not be done in the dark. They weren't farmers to be up with the sunrise.

Ninos and Sinn, however, always woke early so they could be on the move as the sun was rising, if not before, to make the most of the daylight. The later they started, the more days got added to their trip, and as much as he enjoyed when the world was just the two of them and the problems of everyday life were as distant as the clouds, he was ready to be settled down.

So they woke, tidied up their bed, made tea, and by the time the sun was up he was out in the yard examining the fruit tree. A persimmon tree, to be precise, common in the area and dearly loved. This one, however, was struggling.

"I'm going exploring unless you need me," Sinn said.

" Try to stay out of trouble," Ninos replied. "I'll be fine, I'm just going to muck about the garden. You'll know if I need you."

Sinn kissed him, long and sweet, before slipping away to explore the village. No doubt to return with a satisfied smirk and stories to tell.

Do not let me be hearing stories of a bold raven causing mischief later tonight at the tavern when we're dragged there for dinner and to be gawked at endlessly.

No promises.

Ninos rolled his eyes before turning his attention to the garden. The vegetables were thriving and required nothing from him. The berry bushes he managed to do a bit of work on their roots, helping them work around some patches of rocky soil to much more useful earth.

That done, he turned his attention to the only plant that was struggling: the poor persimmon tree that would not survive the encroaching winter if he didn't help it. Why hadn't the mages who apparently lived here now done something about it? Maybe they hadn't had a chance.

Crouching down, he placed his left hand on the trunk, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He had only been listening a couple of minutes when a voice behind him asked, "What are you doing?"

Ninos lifted his right hand to signal that Genn wait a moment.

After a few more minutes of listening and helping, he withdrew and stood up. "I was examining the persimmon tree to see what was wrong with it."

"I've tried everything," Genn replied. "I'm usually pretty good in the garden. Nowhere near as good as a sylvan mage, obviously, but Mama always jokes all her sons love plants more than people." He grinned.

Ninos smiled in turn. "There was no way you could have figured this out, short of digging up the tree which likely would have killed it anyway. There's something buried in the ground that's making it hard for the soil to drain properly and that's hampering the tree. If you get a trowel, I'll show you where we need to dig."

An hour later, they had the object removed, an old metal chest that could have held just about anything, at least as old as the village. From the smell, it had also contained something rather unpleasant that hadn't helped the tree either.

Geen wrinkled his nose. "What is that?"

"Junk, probably held food or something once that has aged terribly. Not unusual to find things from the really old days, when this place was just a settlement, before it shaped into an actual village. We'll add it to the burn pile." With that cleared out, fresh, healthy soil added, and a bit of help from Ninos to give it a boost, the tree looked better than ever. "Come next fall, you shouldn't have any problems, and in a few more years it'll be ready to fruit."

"Amazing," Genn said. "You really are good at this—though, that reminds me, don't mages like you have familiars?"

"My plants are my familiar." Ninos offered his arm for closer inspection. "Not terribly traditional, but they certainly help and guide me like any familiar would."

"They're beautiful. I've never seen the ghost version of fairy ivy." He laughed. "Let alone attached to a person and growing alongside tiny begonias. I didn't know they could be so small."

"Specially grown. Would you like to the rose I created for my final graduation project?"

"I'd love to!" Genn said. "Then I can show you the garden I keep for old lady Wistra."

"She's still alive?"

Genn laughed. "She'll outlive all of us, Mama says. Come on."

Going to where they'd unloaded their horses, leaving the bulk of their things outside behind the house, he removed the Mourning Rose where it had still been secured to his bags. On horseback, it would be positioned to the side, where it was unhampered and could easily get sun and water and attention.

"That's beautiful," Genn said with a gasp. "How did you do it? I've never seen a rose that color. I wish I could grow one, it would make for a beautiful shrub by the door. Mama would be the talk of the town."

"She's grown enough we can take a cutting, there's a bud perfect for it right here, and I'll make certain it grows to the same color."

After they were done with that and had the cutting in its own pot and situated in a windowsill where it would live until it could be transplanted in spring, they headed off to look at Wistra's garden, and then to see the town garden, one place to another, until Sinn came and fetched them for dinner. "You're the talk of the town, darling. Apparently, the local mages are a bit miffed you're outshining them."

"They should work harder," Ninos retorted.

Sinn kissed him, still grinning. "Come along, plant people, dinner and being stared at all night awaits."

"You like the attention, don't try to pretend otherwise."

"I never said I didn't," Sinn said breezily. "Let's get going, you and your little miniature there. Your mother is having a marvelous day bragging about her sons and how good they are with plants and how you talk to trees and everything."

Ninos groaned, but even if he'd wanted to be upset how could he be when Genn looked so pleased? He hadn't been thrilled to hear there was another son in his place, but the role of big brother was growing on him.

He really couldn't wait for his own house to be fixed up so they could visit. Genn would probably love whatever garden he came up with, his mother would love fussing over the house, and his father would probably find the best local tavern and get all the good gossip.

"I hope Mother heated up some water, because between the two of us we're wearing half the dirt in the village."

Sinn grinned. "You're saying you need to get wet and—"

"Stop that!" Ninos hissed as Genn burst into giggles. "Not in front of my little brother!"

Unrepentant, Sinn offered his arm, and Genn fell into place on Ninos's other side as they headed back across the village to get ready for dinner.