Little Rose

Saga was grateful she’d ended up close to her home. After her run, she didn’t have the energy to cast Haste again. Even walking, she arrived home before long, and Dapper appeared on her shoulder as she approached, tapping away about his day. He’d told Miss Lessa she was coming, and a meal was ready for her. Saga could have kissed the beatweaver right then.

Sure enough, Miss Lessa was waiting in the kitchen when Saga entered through the side door. The Housewoman took one look at Saga, put down the plate she’d been cleaning, and embraced her tightly. The gesture was a surprise to Saga, but not unwelcome, and she returned the hug, burying her face into the older woman’s shoulder. They stood there for a long moment, the silence of the kitchen broken only by Saga’s ragged breaths. She didn’t allow herself to cry then, that would have been too much, but her shoulders trembled, and Miss Lessa patted her back and made soothing sounds.

Eventually, Saga found the strength to pull away. She knew her eyes were probably red, but she gave Miss Lessa her best smile anyway as she apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m fresh from the road and here I am getting sweat and dirt all over your dress.”

Miss Lessa glanced down at the dirt that had found its way onto her clothes, then clicked her tongue. “It’s fine, Lady Saga. Tomorrow’s laundry day anyway.” She looked back up at Saga, searching her face. “What happened? I didn’t understand Dapper enough to get the full story, but it’s clear you went through something terrible.”

Saga looked down at the floor. She didn’t know how much it would be safe to tell the Housewoman, given that her grandfather was working on a cover story for Master Dorrin’s death, and it hadn’t sounded like they’d settled on the bandit idea yet. “Master Dorrin is gone,” she finally said, deciding to tell the truth, but give as few details as possible. “I’m…I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” She met Miss Lessa’s gaze, and she didn’t have to force the tears to well up. “I’m sorry, Miss Lessa.”

The woman hugged her again, though only briefly this time. “Nonsense. You can speak to me if and when you ever feel the need. Until then,” she gestured out of the kitchen, “there’s a meal waiting for you in the dining room.” She squinted at Saga. “You’d best go to sleep as early as possible. It’s a while yet til high moon, but you look like you need the rest.”

Saga nodded, smiling at the woman’s concern. “Of course, Miss Lessa. I intend to do exactly that after I speak with my parents. Are they around?”

“Your father is waiting for you in the dining room.” Miss Lessa smiled wryly. “It seems you’re not the only one in need of a late meal tonight. Your mother is around here somewhere, shall I fetch her for you?”

Saga shook her head. This was perfect. If there was anyone in her family she could open up to about the decision looming over her, it was the Craftking. “No, but I appreciate it.” She hugged the woman again. “Really, thank you.”

Miss Lessa patted Saga’s back as she returned the hug. “Not at all. Now, go eat before you pass out.” With that, Saga was shooed out of the kitchen, and she made her way down the hall to the dining room where, as promised, both a meal and her father waited.

Papa looked up as she entered, his face stoic as he observed her. He didn’t get up and rush to her like Miss Lessa did, though Saga had to admit that would have been out of character for him. Still, she could see the concern etched on his face, and she gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m home, Papa.”

To her surprise, he did stand up and move to give her a hug. She hesitated at first—it had been years since they last had a moment like this—but then she doffed her hat and threw her arms around him. Even as an adult, her arms were too short to reach all the way around his broad chest, and it made her feel small despite having a head on him these days. It was an oddly welcome feeling, one that made her feel safe and secure like she hadn’t in a long time.

Papa was the first to break the silence, though he didn’t let go of her. “Tale sent a letter. I’m glad you’re safe, little rose.”

He hadn’t called her that since she enrolled in the Academy. She buried her face in his chest, once again resisting the urge to sob. It still didn’t feel like the right time. “Did he tell you…everything?”

She felt him nod. “His group is…” he paused, and she looked up to see him making a face while he chose his words. “They act with a high degree of autonomy, but I’m still their king. He’s trusted me with what I need to know, including the origins of their order. I received the full story as he did.”

On any other day, Saga would have ribbed her father for using such relatively flowery language. He wasn’t a public speaker, and he preferred simple words, but he was as well-read as his position demanded. Today, she just nodded. “Did he tell you about the offer?”

He hesitated, then nodded, finally letting her go and gesturing for her to sit. “Let’s eat first.”

She raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, sitting before a plate of seasoned chicken, tubers, and vegetables. Her mouth watered the instant she looked at the plate, and she immediately tucked into the meal. Her father had a similar plate, and the two ate in silence for a time. Dapper, for his part, busied himself across the room, tapping away at seemingly random intervals and occasionally shifting to a new location.

After the food was gone, Saga leaned back in her chair, stretched, then looked to her father. Despite how hungry she’d been, he still had somehow finished his bigger meal in less time. It didn’t surprise her, of course. Her mother sometimes affectionately called him a tunnelmaw, a subterranean rodent with a seemingly bottomless stomach.

“Are you alright?”

His words shocked her out of her thoughts, and she blinked. “I’m sorry. My thoughts are a little scattered.”

“Understandable.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. “So, I know you have something to discuss with me. Lor is in bed, and I trust Lessa and her people not to pry, so speak freely.” He paused. “Within reason, I think.”

She nodded, and her mind raced with what to ask him first, but she decided to start from the beginning. “What do you think about me being a Keeper?”

He opened his mouth to immediately reply, then closed it, appearing to consider his words. He sat there for a time, staring a hole in the table with his brow furrowed. “I am conflicted. As Craftking, I trust Tale’s judgement. If he thinks you’re a good fit, and he’s right about the threat, then I agree. We need good people, now more than ever.” He trailed off.

Saga looked at him, encouraging him gently to continue. “But…?”

“As your father, I’m terrified. This is why I didn’t want you to attend the Academy.”

His words hit her like a physical blow. As he’d promised at the time, Papa hadn’t brought the topic up since he’d relented and allowed her to enroll. She’d known it still bothered him, but she never understood why. She raised both eyebrows, not knowing whether she should be sad or angry, and feeling both emotions tug at her. “Papa, you promised…”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know. But I owe it to you to be honest about my feelings. I know I said I wanted you to be a blacksmith, but the truth is that I knew you’d do well and end up being recruited as a Keeper.” He met her eyes. “They lead dangerous lives, Saga, especially the Retrievers. What kind of father would I be to let my daughter run off and risk death for her city?”

Without thinking, Saga placed a hand on his forearm and offered him a smile. Not her best smile, the one she used when she wanted something. Just an honest, small, tired smile. “A good one.”

He seemed to flinch at her words, and his eyes shined a little brighter in the room’s candlelight. Was he about to cry? His hand covered hers and gripped it tight. “Does that mean you’ve made your decision?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I still don’t know if that’s the life I want, not after the week I’ve had.”

“Makes sense. I want to protect you, but I also want to protect the city. I can’t decide for you.” He bowed his head. “Just know you have my blessing either way.”

She nodded, her smile widening at him. “Thank you, Papa.” They sat there in silence for a moment before Saga remembered she had other questions. “What do you think of this threat that Grandpapa was talking about? The one from Adressa’s story?”

“It worries me,” he said frankly. “I believe his warnings, but until we know more, there isn’t much I can do to prepare the city.”

“What are you going to do?”

Papa smiled at her. “I’ll do what I can, but in this case, it’s Tale’s job to get me the information I need to do my job.” His eyes dropped from hers. “He’ll probably send a Retriever to look into it.”

Of course, she should have known. The city, if not all of Chorana, was at stake. Of course they’d send someone to gather information despite the danger. She gathered from her conversation with Gem and her grandfather that Master Dorrin had been one of their best agents, though since he was rarely gone from the Academy for long periods of time, it was possible he was retired from that line of work. Once again, she felt that now familiar pain rising in her chest. It was still dulled, thankfully, but it still brought tears to her eyes.

This should have been a simple mission for him. It’s my fault.

A loud thud shocked her out of her spiraling thoughts, and she blinked the tears away to see her father’s fist on the table, his eyes stern. “None of that.”

She hesitated. “What?”

“I’m not so clueless, despite your mother’s jokes, that I don’t recognize your guilty face.” He leaned in, his face hard, but somehow not unkind. “Listen to me, Saga. I know you blame yourself for Dorrin’s death—“

“How!?”

“Because I know you ,” he stressed the last word, pointing at her with the same hand. “That man has done more for this city than you’ll likely ever know, and I can’t even give him the hero’s funeral he deserves. He sacrificed his life for all of us, if Tale has it right. Even if you hadn’t been there, without knowing more about what killed him we have no way of knowing for sure that you being there brought him harm. Until we have information proving otherwise, and I doubt we will, you bear no responsibility in his death. There is not a thing you could have done to save him, and if you’re going to be a Keeper, that’s a hard truth you’re going to have to accept. Don’t demean his successes by blaming yourself for his loss. You won’t be able to save them all, Saga, it’s impossible.” He dropped his hand to hers and squeezed it hard. “But I know you’ll do your best anyway, and that’s what’s important.”

She blinked once, then twice, staring at him in shock. She’d rarely heard him speak at such length, and the intensity with which he did so…

So, this is Craftking Vance.

She wiped the tears out of her eyes with her free hand and nodded at him. “Yes, my King.”

It was his turn to blink, then blush, and she had to repress a giggle at his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, “I didn’t mean to—“

She flung her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Papa. I love you.”

“I love you too, little rose.”