"But is that what Father would have done? Is it a man's decision, or a boy's?"
Lenora rarely snorted, so it took him by surprise when one escaped her. "That's the last thing you should be worried about. Men are often boys, and women are sometimes girls. We are what we are."
Garin frowned, not sure he agreed, but unable to refute it.
"But if it's us you're worried about," she continued, "we'll be fine. Corbun and Naten are still around, and even when they start their own families, all three of them will be close by." She grinned suddenly. "And don't forget that I can take care of myself and Ma both if I need to."
He sighed. "I suppose so."
She squeezed him tight. "Take the night; think about it. You can always make the decision tomorrow. And, no matter what you decide, I promise Father would be proud of you."
She pulled away and headed back toward the house.
His eyes stung for a moment. Wiping at them, he bent to pick up the bucket from among the pigs and followed after her.
The traveler glared across the table. "You can't keep me bound here forever."
Bran smiled back at him, all of his teeth on display. By some stroke of luck, he'd managed to keep most of them through the long years. "To the contrary. The terms of the Binding Ring very much say I could."
Aelyn's eyes narrowed further still. "I can't harm you. But I could bundle you up and transport you across the kingdom if I have to."
"If you think you could manage it."
Bran took the bottle and raised an eyebrow. Aelyn's lips curled in a sneer, but he held his glass forward yet again, and Bran splashed in another helping of the marsh whiskey, then refilled his own.
"Say what you will about Hunt's Hollow," he opined, "but you can't deny we have the finest whiskey in the whole of the Westreach that's made with swamp water."
Aelyn coughed and dribbled the whiskey he'd been drinking back into his cup.
Bran smiled again and drank his down, sighing as the fire crawled into his belly. His smile was coming looser the further into the bottle he went, and he was almost starting to enjoy his surly company.
"So, my old acquaintance, what brings you to Hunt's Hollow?"
The traveler wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glimmering as he looked up. "You know very well what. I've come to fetch you for King Aldric."
"Why? You're Gladelysh. You're not his subject. You serve at Queen Geminia's pleasure."
"It is, shall we say, a convoluted chain of command."
"It always is in the courts of royals."
Aelyn exhaled in a sharp huff. "I serve as Gladelyl's emissary to Avendor."
Bran raised an eyebrow. "That does little to elucidate the present situation. But an emissary — surely that's a waste of your varied talents."
"Strange to hear you speak of wasted talent."
Ignoring the barbed comment, Bran drank back his mug of whiskey, then poured himself another. "Hunt's Hollow has a hallowed history," he said, swirling the golden liquid in his cup. "Do you know how the town earned its name?"
It was Aelyn's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I barely knew what it was called before this journey. But I'd guess a man stumbled upon a meadow and found it adequate for hunting." He shrugged. "Most names lack artistry."
"This isn't one of them. There's a tale told by the elders of the times before the village began, before any of the Bloodlines had settled these wildlands. Then, this was only marshland, and considered a place best avoided."
"As it still is," the traveler muttered.
"Yet its few visitors told tales of marvelous things, and chief among them, one prey worthy of only the greatest hunter: the Phantom Doe."
Aelyn snorted. "As likely a folk tale as any I've heard."
"The Phantom Doe was a legendary beast, said to be as clear a blue as a glacial peak. The hunter was young and eager to prove himself, and he'd tracked the tales across the Westreach to these very swamps. At times, he thought he'd glimpsed his quarry, but mostly, there were only ordinary beasts and the stinking mire."
"A fact sadly still relevant."
"But with every mile, he grew nearer to the eastern mountains, and the danger grew. So it was that the hunter wasn't caught unawares when he came upon a clearing and saw the greatest of all beasts the East has to offer."
"Let me guess," Aelyn said drily. "A dragon."
Bran grinned. "The dragon was longer than a seaworthy ship, and its head went higher than the tallest tower. Each talon was as long as a spear and as sharp as a sword. His mane of spikes bristled with each movement of his flat head as he tasted the air with his flickering, forked tongue. Dragons hunt by taste like snakes, and this one had tasted prey on the wind."
"A dragon." The traveler shook his head. "As if this tale could grow more unbelievable. The ancients might write of such beasts, but no one has seen one in generations. More likely, our ancestors were having a laugh at their descendants' expense."
Bran shrugged. "The dragon was real to the hunter. He crouched in the hollow of a tree, quivering and trying to remain still and silent, for a dragon's hearing and sight are almost as keen as its sense of taste. But the dragon knew he was there. Slowly, it crept toward the hunter, and no tree would be able to hide or protect him once the dragon caught wind of him.
"But as the dragon loomed over the hunter's hiding place, something darted through the brush at the other end of the clearing. The hunter watched in amazement as a doe, shining the brilliant blue of a cloudless sky, leaped over the tall grass to dart into the woods. The dragon, hearing the doe, whipped its head around and roared as it set off in pursuit. The hunter yearned to follow the doe himself, but fear kept him behind the tree until long after the beat of the dragon's wings had faded away.
"When both beasts were gone, the hunter exited the hollow and looked around. No longer did he wish to hunt the Phantom Doe, for he had realized it was a spirit sent by Mother World to protect this place. So he decided to settle a town in that clearing, the place that would later become the very town we sit in." Bran spread his arms and grinned. "Hunt's Hollow."
Aelyn shook his head. "A diverting tale to explain a backwater town. Now, was there a point to my torment?"
"The point is, you came here seeking a legend and found a man." Bran held up his hands helplessly. "And sometimes, that's all you get."
Aelyn leaned close. "Maybe you're just a man. But your name is bigger than you, and it's time you remembered that. The King of Avendor has need of you, not Brannen Cairn."
"Even kings can be disappointed. And disappointment is nothing I'm not used to."
The traveler cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. I never liked when he smiled, Bran thought.
"And what of the disappointment of your long-lost lover?" Aelyn asked softly.
He stiffened. "What does she have to do with this?"
The traveler's smile grew, like an angler feeling the hook set in a fish. "Nothing directly. But wouldn't she be sad to hear what you've become? A drunken old chicken farmer, hiding from his name and deeds."