Chapter Two My History . . . And A Frightening Discovery-2

After a decade of nonstop procreation I finally arrived. My father was so happy he could have burst. My mother was just relieved. Six healthy children is a lot to expect from a woman. Not that she minded the attempts – I get my lusty nature from her – but by the time I came along, she was ready to lapse into the role of grandmother.

They named me Minalan, after my maternal great-grandfather, and proceeded to spoil me only as a boy with five older sisters could be spoiled. My childhood was cushy, comparatively speaking. My sisters took turns babying me and torturing me, depending on the sister, her mood, and the position of the stars. Mama was strict but benevolent (she had raised five spirited daughters, so I didn't get away with much), and Dad tried to be stern but usually ended up being as indulgent to his only son as he was to his daughters.

He did make me work hard, though; running a bakery is hard work in the best of times, and no hands ever went idle. Father worried initially that the over-dose of female attention would soften me, but by the time I was five it was clear that I was as sturdy as hardtack and had the spirit of a spicy pepper roll. Dad relaxed. He had his heir. Until that fateful day.

* * *

When one of the village men shook me awake the next morning, I had been dreaming about Talry and my parents. The sun was well on its way toward noon. Tyndal was snoring beside me, almost as tired as I was from an evening's work that had not ended until dawn. It was a mark of how exhausted I was that I had not responded to the wards that should have alerted me to his presence the moment he crossed my threshold.

"Begging your pardon, Master Minalan, but Sire Koucey and Sir Cei would like to see you. They're in Micit's barn," he said when I finally came downstairs. With that the villager, whom I didn't recognize (a thick man wearing a brown woolen cap and tunic that was the unofficial uniform of the Bovali peasants) turned and left. He also wore a thick leather coat over his tunic and carried a five-foot spear like it was a hoe, so I assumed everyone was still on alert from the attack.

I glanced at my snoring apprentice and decided to let him keep sleeping. There was no reason we should both be falling off our feet. I quietly picked up my weapons belt and tip-toed down the stairs, where I took a moment to put myself in order. I put on my 'business' cloak, a dark blue woolen mantle that I had paid a local lady to embroider with stars and moons and all sorts of meaningless arcane symbols.