Circe's Gifts

Chapter 40

Dylan stood at the window, staring out at the sky and wishing he could find a way to join Tiernan. He should have left just after the hawk and followed as best he could. He'd never find him now.

He paced back toward the chair where Pet still rested or at least tried. He had taken two steps before his injured leg started to give way and he grabbed at the table where Prince Druce worked.

"You should have a healer look at that leg," Prince Druce suggested.

"No, no." He buried the anger that he had thought to turn on the man. It wasn't his fault that Dylan felt so useless. "This is an old injury. Circe would have fixed it if there had been any hope."

Druce nodded, looked back at the paper he was working on, and then up again. He offered a slight smile. "Working on a proclamation about street cleaning seems rather useless."

"It fills the time," Dylan offered with a wave of his hand. "It doesn't hurt, and it means there might still be a future where it is important."

"Sit down," Druce said, waving toward the chair.

Dylan stumbled over to the nearest chair and sat down again. Pet left his chair and took one nearby, quiet, but interested in what was going on.

"I think you should still have a healer," Druce decided. "At least for some of your other wounds. A healer possesses a bit of magic, but it's very specialized. Most of their work is with poultices and herbs. We have one in the fortress. I imagine she's done all she can for the wounded from battle." Druce stood, and Dylan started to protest, but he lifted a hand and silenced the cat. "No. We may well need you for the fight, Dylan. I think you're at least as valuable to what's going as any number of the men who have already been treated."

"Don't argue, cat," Pet added. "We've far too much work to do."

Dylan finally nodded, uncertain why he disliked the idea. Maybe he feared the healer would do something Circe could not. He didn't want to lessen his image of her. Druce went to the door and sent someone for the healer and then came back to his table. He glanced once out at the sky and back again, then pushed the papers aside.

"I cannot play at this work any longer," Druce admitted.

"Why aren't you with your father?" Pet asked.

"We thought it was too dangerous after last night," Druce replied. Dylan was amazed at the astuteness of a question that he'd not considered. "We're lucky that we both survived last night, and that was only due to your help, Petkin."

"There wouldn't have been an attack except for us," Pet reminded him.

"Maybe not last night," Prince Druce agreed. "Instead it would have come someday soon and with no warning at all. I don't think we have any reason to complain of your presence. Are you feeling better? The servants will bring up the midday meal soon. I hope that you two will join me?"

"It is an honor," Pet said. He seemed to understand this stuff about rules and etiquette which Dylan found amusing and a little frustrating. "I don't eat any meats, though. Not the sort of thing that mice are interested in."

"Mouse. Cat." Druce stopped and shook his head again. "Even having seen Petkin change and change back, I can't quite accept."

"Can you accept Tiernan, then?" Dylan asked. That stopped the Prince who frowned slightly. "It's obvious that Circe's gift has stayed with him."

"Ah. True. I keep wishing to see him fly back without considering the full implications of those thoughts. I can accept Tiernan with the ability to become a falcon. I think that's far better than the only alternative I've been offered, which was believing him dead."