But, after the summer during which they had become lovers, he vanished once more. His last words explained that he had to leave on his father’s business, but he promised to return. Marie had waited more than a year before bowing to family pressure. She married young Brendan, a man she eventually came to care for deeply, but who could never set her heart racing the way Caleb had. Years went by and Caleb didn’t return.
But whatever the reason for his long absence, Marie had wed, and birthed two sons – one who had died as a baby before Caleb had appeared again – without warning, three years ago at the Midsummer’s festival of Banapis.
Her heart had soared at the sight of him, and while she chided herself for allowing the memories of a silly girl to overwhelm her, she had still sought him out as soon as she knew of his arrival.
That night she had indulged in far too much wine and dancing, and it had been the most fun she could remember since before her husband’s death. After the boys were sound asleep, she had slept in Caleb’s arms.
And the next day he was gone once more.
Since then she had grown used to his ways – appearing without notice and then vanishing. He had made no promises and she had asked for none. Yet they had formed a bond and she was certain that no other woman waited for him. Why she felt so certain she couldn’t say, but she was sure.
‘Staying long?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’ she asked.
‘A number of things. I have a message to deliver to the ruling council, and they may take a while to consider their answer. So, a few days, perhaps a week.’
‘Anything you can talk about?’
He smiled. ‘Not really. Let’s just say it’s another of my father’s very important missives.’
‘Yet you delay to come to the festival with me?’ She wore a knowing smile on her lips.
‘A day will make no difference.’ He grinned at her. ‘Besides, I have my own business here.’
‘Oh, do you now?’
‘Yes,’ he laughed. ‘As you well know.’
As they approached the town square, several people greeted Marie. ‘Well,’ she whispered after returning their greetings, ‘we can discuss that business, later.’
Caleb looked at the unusually large crowd gathering and asked, ‘More people have arrived?’
‘Some,’ she answered. ‘A shipping concern out of Shamata has put up a building on the edge of the south road, near the old stone bridge. They have three new families and some single men from town working for them. They’re making Ellie’s pa real nervous. I think that’s half of the reason he’s marrying her off to Miller Hodover’s boy, Grame. He wants to make sure that he’s secured the grain shipment contracts up to Land’s End and Krondor.’
‘As good enough reason for a marriage as any, I guess,’ said Caleb, ‘if you ignore love.’
She glanced at him to see if he was being serious and found that once more she couldn’t quite read his mood. Sometimes Caleb was as easy to read as a child. At other times she had no idea what he was thinking, and disappointingly this was one of those times.
They carried the kettle over to one of the large wooden tables borrowed from a nearby inn and placed it on the spot indicated by one of the women overseeing the feast. One of the other women looked up, ‘Marie, Caleb,’ she said, smiling a thin welcome.
‘Tessa,’ returned Marie.
The woman, florid-faced with ale-bloom cheeks as if she was a heavy drinker, had a jowly face set in a painful smile. ‘Brought another kettle of your nice little soup,’ she remarked, her tone condescending. Tessa was the miller’s wife, and soon-to-be mother-in-law of Ellie. She was well attired and took Marie’s hand disdainfully, patting it softly, and giving a slight nod. ‘We understand, dear.’ Her tone couldn’t have been more patronizing.
Caleb’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. He said, ‘That’s just the start.’ He pointed to a fire-pit set burning at the opposite edge of the square. ‘We’ve also brought that ox being roasted.’ He winked sidewise at Marie so Tessa couldn’t see. ‘And that wagon,’ he added, indicating the wagon that was rolling into view. ‘It carries two barrels of dwarven ale from Dorgin, as well as six cases of Ravensburg wine.’
Tessa blinked like a barn owl caught in lantern light. ‘Really?’ she said.
Caleb said nothing, merely inclining his head with a slight smile. The now-flustered miller’s wife muttered something under her breath, gave a pained smile, and hurried off.
Marie turned to Caleb and said, ‘Why did you do that?’
Caleb shrugged. ‘I remember how she annoyed you at the last Banapis festival. Besides, last year all I contributed was a brace of partridges and some rabbits.’
‘No, I meant why did you say we when you were the one who brought the ox and the wagon?’
Caleb said, ‘Well, because I brought them for you.’
Marie was silent for a moment before a small smile crossed her lips, but her eyes showed no humour. ‘I thank you for the gesture, Caleb.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he said. ‘Now, shall I fetch bowls and a ladle?’
‘No,’ said Marie, her tone neutral. ‘I’ll return to the house and fetch them myself. You find the boys and make sure that they’re staying out of trouble, will you? I’m worried about them.’
He nodded, and moved away from the table. Making his way through the quickly gathering crowd, Caleb found himself both amused and surprised at the changes he had seen in the town since his childhood. Though his family had never lived in Stardock Town, they had visited it frequently.
Caleb’s father’s relationship with the ruling council of the Academy was strained, at best. Caleb had heard Pug complain about them frequently enough to fully understand the reasons behind the estrangement, but they were his father’s reasons, not his own. Magnus, his older brother, was a magician like their parents, but Caleb had been the odd child out – the one who possessed no magical ability at all.
The rest of his family viewed Stardock through a haze of political strife, but Caleb saw it simply as the place where he used to have fun as a child. In Stardock he had found children like himself – ordinary boys and girls who were concerned with ordinary things like growing up, learning to love, to hate and to forgive, trying to avoid work and finding playmates. All the day-in, day-out things that Caleb had never encountered before.
Caleb had benefited from his unusual upbringing in many ways. Much of Caleb’s childhood had been spent attending tedious classes designed for students with magical ability. Only now could he see the wisdom in this, for unlike most people without ability, he could at least sense the presence of magic. And, as the most powerful enemies facing the Conclave of Shadows were magicians, Caleb counted this ability as a good thing.
The children of Sorcerer’s Isle, and even those he lived with on the island in the Great Star Lake, were caught up in magic – even their play involved it, often to the annoyance of their teachers. For most of his childhood, Caleb had been a solitary child. While he was a good runner and as adept with a ball as any boy his age, he often stood alone, watching others play the games of illusion in which he could never partake, except as the object of a cruel child’s joke. His possessions often moved away when he reached for them, or items suddenly appeared to trip him up without warning.
The wounds of childhood were, at times, the deepest. As he grew, Caleb became less isolated from the other children, as their interests shifted from one thing to another. But even when he was at the heart of the mischief, he still felt different.
There had been only two places