A Promise Broken Page 16

  Eiryn nodded, but when she tried to speak she found that the words stuck in her throat and wouldn’t come out. Anou-minnoi patted her cheek and told her it was all right and just to wait for him there. So she did. She watched him walk over to the pair of kerisaoina and gaodansaoina who were clearing away the equipment and she heard snatches of what they were discussing. They were too far away and speaking too softly for her to catch more than a familiar word here and there, though.

  Feeling cold and exposed standing under the arch as she was, Eiryn looked around for a good, little hiding place, but there wasn’t really anywhere that would keep people from seeing her. She settled on huddling in the shadows beside the wall and recited farakaoina to herself. Orryn-minnaoi had suggested it once; ao’d said it could distract her, but getting it to do so took a lot of work. And, when Anou-minnoi walked back towards her and broke her concentration, her fears almost flattened her onto the ground.

  “Innas left with Orryn-minnaoi,” Anou-minnoi said. He started to squat a few paces from Eiryn, but she squeaked and flew up into his arms. Though she didn’t know how, she knew the old man had more trouble sitting down than he let people know and surely the ground would be even worse for him. She didn’t want Anou-minnoi to hurt because of her. He stayed standing, and put his arms around Eiryn for a moment. Then he pushed her away gently and looked at her. “How does Innas want to be addressed?” His voice was very grave and serious, and it did very little to put Eiryn at ease.

  Combing her hair into place, she said, “Ao.”

  Anou-minnoi nodded, though he didn’t look any less serious and it scared her more and more. “Ao got hurt,” he said. Eiryn shrieked and started to cry. The old man let her. He gave her a hug, but when she tried to pull free he let her go. Eiryn didn’t know what to do except cry. She felt bad because she was supposed to be a lady and all grown up and she was certain that Keilan-minnai would call her silly and tell her to stop crying, but she didn’t know how to make herself.

  Anou-minnoi was simply there. He didn’t loom; he didn’t talk; he didn’t try to hold her. He was just there and when she did throw herself at him to sob into his shirt, he only hugged her and made soft noises that weren’t farakaoina or anything at all.

  When she was all out of tears, he let her go again and knelt down to look at her. “I don’t know how, but ao went with Orryn-minnaoi because Orryn knows a very good doll doctor.”

  Anou-minnoi reached out to brush past her cheeks and Eiryn realised that she was crying again. She rubbed at her eyes furiously with her fists, but not for very long because Anou-minnoi had untied his sash again and was wiping her face with it. “Shh, safai,” he said. “Innas will be gone for a few hours, but then ao’ll be back to you.”

  But Innas wouldn’t be her mother’s doll anymore and Eiryn didn’t know how to explain, so she just cried and let Anou-minnoi guide her back inside, humming his farakaoina of invisibility that she couldn’t use and today she didn’t care about that. No one paid attention to them until they got to the door to Arèn-minnoi’s chambers and then the farakaoina fell away. The rooms were empty, though. No one was there.

  Anou-minnoi asked a passing kerisai to please find Arèn and ask him to return home, but he stayed near Eiryn. While they waited for her uncle to appear, Anou-minnoi played silly games with her and told her weird stories and asked her about the shadowy creatures in the walls.

  By the time Arèn-minnoi strode in the room, Eiryn was feeling a little better. Her uncle looked harrowed, though, and thoroughly unhappy. And his hair was all messed up and untidy like he hated it. Eiryn tried to hide under the table.

  “What’s this about a doll?” Arèn-minnoi asked and he sounded angry. Eiryn whimpered, which caught her uncle’s attention. He looked around until he’d found her. He fell to his knees beside the table and gently pulled Eiryn out from under it and into a hug. Eiryn stood very still, and then began to cry all over again when her uncle muttered gaodansaoina that she didn’t understand in her ear.

  And then, because Anou-minnoi asked her to, she told her uncle what had happened at the demonstration and it was Arèn-minnoi’s turn to go very still. If he hadn’t been holding her, Eiryn would have bolted to Anou-minnoi and hid behind the old man instead. She’d never felt so tense in all her life and it scared her even more than seeing her uncle’s hair all messed up by the wind.

  “Arèn,” Anou-minnoi said gently. “You’re hurting her.” He wasn’t, but since the words made her uncle let Eiryn go and gave her some space to breathe in, she didn’t want to contradict the old man. Her uncle might accidentally squash her again. “We’ll need to do some research into what happened. I think it best you excuse yourself from the situation.”

  “Y-yes. Of course.” Her uncle’s voice quavered. Eiryn’d never heard it go so high before unless her uncle was singing a farakaoina, but he wasn’t singing one now.

  “Eiryn, child, are you all right?”

  Unsure, she gave a quick, terse nod, but she didn’t think he noticed.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” With a sigh, her uncle cupped his hand against her cheek. “Shall we stay here today and eat lots and lots of cake for dessert tonight?”

  “And crab?” she asked, not sure whether to be dubious or hopeful. Arèn-minnoi never let her have crab just for asking.

  “All the crab you can eat. We’ll ask for it especial.”

  Eiryn beamed up at her uncle and then remembered that Innas was badly hurt and needed help and Janyn had broken his promise. If she’d never given him Innas, he wouldn’t have broken his promise. If she’d never given him Innas, everything would be just the way it always was, except her uncle wouldn’t be trying to fix his hair with his fingers, Radèn and Janyn wouldn’t be in trouble for fighting and Innas wouldn’t need any help from anyone.

  “It’s all right, asafai.” Her uncle would have hugged her again, if Anou-minnoi hadn’t stepped in between them. “What are you doing?”

  “Give her some space, Arèn.” Anou-minnoi didn’t sound angry and neither did her uncle, but Eiryn still sneaked into the bedroom while they were discussing whether or not she should ‘get some space’. Eiryn didn’t want room. She wanted Innas back. She felt cold and empty, like she was a hollowed-out crab leg. Shivering, Eiryn pulled the blanket off her uncle’s bed and wrapped it around herself. She didn’t really want to be alone, though, so she shuffled back into the main room, the big and heavy blanket trailing behind her, and settled near the hearth which was glowing too-bright embers.

  By the time Keilan-minnai knocked on the door with Innas in her hands, Eiryn felt warm again and she was feeling much better. It was also late in the afternoon. Anou-minnoi had stayed with her and Arèn-minnoi all along and played many games with them. He’d taught Eiryn a game with shells for two players, but she couldn’t make sense of it at all without her uncle’s help. It would’ve been a wonderful time if she hadn’t felt so miserable. Eiryn was surprised to find that Radèn was following Keilan-minnai. He looked angry, though his face softened a bit when he saw Eiryn. She went over to hug him despite how angry he seemed, but when he winced she let him go very quickly.

  “Violence never solves anything, Radèn-doi,” Anou-minnoi said.

  “It made me feel better,” the boy growled.

  “Did not!” Eiryn shot back and then bolted to the safety of her uncle and Anou-minnoi beside the fire in the hearth.

  But Radèn only laughed. He tried to, because he was soon clutching his side and complaining that it hurt. Privately, Eiryn thought that if she hadn’t made him laugh, he wouldn’t be hurting. Everyone else would probably tell her that it wasn’t her fault, and the adults would blame Radèn for it, if she said anything aloud. She didn’t want to deal with that.

  Keilan-minnai came over and held out Innas. “Here you are.”

  Eiryn took the doll gingerly. Innas wasn’t as soft as ao had always been and Ei
ryn was sure that the stitches were all wrong, but she thanked Keilan-minnai for looking after Innas and buried her feelings deep, deep down where Keilan-minnai wouldn’t see them. Eiryn tried to be grateful, but all she wanted was Innas back the way ao’d been before that morning.

  She let everyone’s attention shift away from her to Radèn-minnoi and she snuggled back into the blanket with Innas when the boy gave everyone his story of what had happened. When he raised his voice, she winced. When he started to rant about how horrid Janyn-minnoi was to people, she screamed and hid herself under the blanket, wrapped tight around her head so she wouldn’t hear a thing.

  Something soft wiped at her face which startled her, but it was only Innas holding a handkerchief and drying her tears. Keilan-minnai’s alto buzzed softly in the background, a farakaoina that Eiryn hadn’t heard before most likely, but it was Arèn-minnoi who was holding her doll and who was kneeling in front of her with a soft smile on his face.

  “Don’t cry, asafai,” said a voice so like her mother’s it startled her before she realised it was actually a touch too light. “If you keep crying then I’ll cry too and I’ll be all wet. I don’t like being wet because I’m not a fish.” Innas dabbed at Eiryn’s eyes again and this time it made her laugh, just a little. “There is the beautiful young lady I saw this morning,” said Innas-Arèn and the doll dropped the handkerchief and kissed Eiryn’s forehead. Eiryn burrowed against her uncle and this time she didn’t cry as she snuggled against him and asked him whether Radèn was all right.

  She didn’t cry when Arèn-minnoi told her that the boy was in a lot of trouble with his parents and that Janyn was too because he’d promised on the Balance. She didn’t cry when Radèn joined them for a game or when Keilan-minnai left to return to her own chambers, and she didn’t cry when Anou-minnoi suggested they play something else. He wanted to play a game wherein they had to guess at farakaoina as quickly as possible: Eiryn and her uncle against Anou-minnoi and Radèn. Innas was fast asleep in her arms, but ao still wasn’t her Innas anymore.

  “Ery!” Eiryn cried. Arèn put down the quill he’d been holding and strode into the bedroom. His niece was lying on the floor, blankets and sheets all tangled about her like a storm-tossed sea and she was crying. In a moment, he was beside her and hugged her close.

  Pushing down the confusion that Eiryn hugged him back almost immediately instead of hesitating, Arèn stroked her hair and asked, “Did you fall from the bed?” He tried to keep his voice gentle and soft. Amaru would have snapped something at him, but his sister’s daughter only nodded against his shoulder. “Did you have a bad dream?” She nodded again.

  Arèn couldn’t recall what his mother would do; he couldn’t recall anyone in his family having had bad dreams. Perhaps if he distracted her, he could help her forget her distress. The moon was high and bright and he worried that the girl wouldn’t have enough sleep if she spent most of the night awake. He couldn’t see Eiryn’s doll either, and perhaps that was the trouble. Perhaps she’d dropped it in her sleep.

  He held Eiryn tighter with one hand and cast the other amid the tangle to see if he could find the toy. He also tried to shift the blankets around so that it was easier to pull Eiryn out of them afterwards. “Do you want to go back to bed?” Arèn was moving around too much to be sure that his niece had nodded against his shoulder, so he asked for confirmation. “Eiryn?”

  “No!”

  At least that was a very clear ‘no’. Arèn didn’t think he’d ever heard the girl sound so firm about something she didn’t want to do and, guiltily, he hoped it was something that would last. He’d help it if he knew how. Eventually, he found Innas, but he gave up on untangling all the blankets carefully and just lifted those along with his niece. Making sure to keep the material from trailing where he could trip over it and keeping Eiryn close enough to comfort her at the same time proved a minor challenge, but Arèn managed to return to the main room without incident and minimal tears in the fabrics.

  As he settled at his desk again, he positioned Eiryn on his lap and draped the blanket in such a way that it covered both of them pretty comfortably. “I do have to finish writing this report,” he said, stroking Eiryn’s hair over her ears. It stabbed at his heart to hide any part of her, but he wanted her to feel safe. “It’s about what happened today, so you can help me if you’d like.”

  Arèn wondered if his niece could feel the way his heart fluttered in his chest as he spoke. He was used to speaking cautiously and taking care which emotions he tinged his voice with, but he’d sooner argue with the faslaeraoina than soothe an upset child. He hoped that the suggestion would help her, distract her. Or, if nothing else, that it would give him something he could work with.

  After a moment’s consideration he produced Innas without commentary. Anou’d put him up to pretending to be the doll that afternoon and his niece’s laugh had been worth it thousandfold, but he could not do it again. Not twice in one day. Eiryn hugged the toy tightly and still didn’t say a word. Hoping that she’d talk once she was ready to, Arèn returned to his report. He picked up the quill he’d been writing with, then put it back down. He’d offered to let Eiryn help, but how could she if he didn’t involve her? So Arèn held out the paper for her to read. He was still only halfway down the first page of what he’d wanted to write.

  Whenever his niece stumbled over a word or struggled with his handwriting, Arèn helped her. He’d forgotten that she’d only officially begun learning to read that year, but she wasn’t doing badly. No doubt his sister had started to teach her already. Amaru had struggled with reading in the beginning herself and his sister had always been incredibly frustrated that people had taken over for her when she’d struggled. Worried that Eiryn might be the same, Arèn only helped his niece when she seemed to be struggling too much or far longer than on other words. He hoped that was the right approach. The girl was already vulnerable; he didn’t want to make things worse. Reading the report did seem to distract her, at least, and when she struggled through a particularly difficult word on her own, he kissed her hair. “You are a brave, beautiful and smart young lady —” His heart clenched when he felt the girl tense against him, but he continued speaking. “— and I am very blessed to know you. You were very brave and kind when you lent Janyn-minnoi your doll.”

  She only sniffled.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Janyn hurt Innas. Because I gave aon to him.”

  If he could have, Arèn would have pulled her closer to him and given her a hug. As it was, he didn’t quite dare and kissed her hair again instead. He was silent as well, unsure of what to say. If he told Eiryn that Innas was just a doll, he’d only be adding injuries and he didn’t want to dismiss her feelings. This was why he’d never wanted children, and he tensed up so much that Eiryn squeaked at him. He stuffed the thought into a box and resolved not to think of it again. He had a child, regardless, and she was hurting. He’d do his best and that would have to do.

  “Well…” he started, dragging his thoughts back to the girl’s words. Eiryn had given the boy her doll freely. “What would you have done if he’d been telling you the truth and you hadn’t given him Innas?”

  ‘I don’t know…”

  She looked so fragile. It seemed a wonder that the girl didn’t hear the way his heart was breaking for her. In his gentlest voice, Arèn said, “I think you’d have been very cross with yourself. It wasn’t your fault, asafai.”

  “Was so.” Arèn winced when her foot connected with his leg, but he did his best not let the girl see or hear that she’d hurt him. Eiryn seemed to notice anyway, or else the stress had gotten too much for her as she started to cry again. Arèn made soothing noises the way he’d heard Dernyri do when he was younger until his niece was calmer again.

  “Why is it your fault?” he asked. He hated himself for asking, for making the girl sniffle again and try to curl up into a ball on his lap. She was getting too big for t
hat, but Arèn scraped the chair back to give her more space and tried to help her as much as he could. With a farakaoina he kept the ink bottle from tipping over his desk when it rocked and threatened to fall.

  “Because.”

  “That’s not a very good reason, is it?” His niece was silent. “Oh, Eiryn…” he sighed and brushed a hand over his hair. “Is it because Janyn keeps telling you things like that? You shouldn’t believe him, asafai. You shouldn’t.”

  Again, Eiryn didn’t answer and Arèn squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he should be doing, only that something needed to be done. Perhaps it was the gaodansaoina blood in her, though he shuddered away from the thought as soon as he’d had it. He knew better than that, but… could it hurt to talk to someone? Dernyri had always known how to make people feel better. It wouldn’t be too long before the gaodansaoina merchants would be in Lir again. It was worth a chance.

  But first he had to deal with the report for this emergency meeting that had been called for a week hence. Because Eiryn couldn’t read what he was writing, Arèn tried to voice his thoughts aloud and encouraged her to correct him where he was wrong, but not halfway through his work he found she’d fallen asleep against him. Arèn didn’t dare wake her, and if his handwriting was messier and less legible than usual he didn’t care.

  The next morning, Arèn woke his niece to tell her he’d probably be gone most of the day. Then, because he wasn’t sure whether she’d go back to sleep and forget, he wrote a note for her and asked Mayry-minnoi to go to his chambers and stay with Eiryn for the morning. Surely that would be enough to keep the girl from bursting into tears at the sight of him when he came back. He didn’t know what else he could do. She had to learn he wasn’t going to disappear on her.