?Ready for the crowd, Captain?? Sylvia greeted while keeping both boys firm in hand up the gangplank.

?Aye, ma?am, Master Corinsson and his family is aboard as is Mistress Buie,? he announced with a bow.

With Miriam following close behind, Beata bundled up against the chill in her arms, her group was all aboard. ?So, we were the ones holding things up??

?No, no, by no means, my lady. You did have the furthest to travel this morning.? Contrary to the reassurance, though, he called to make ready to sail and bowed his leave.

Sylvia shared a smile with Miriam who knew its full meaning and laughed lightly. ?Well, then,? to Aidan and Cian, ?let us see ourselves to the cabin and then spend some time on deck, shall we??

?I don?t want to,? Cian pouted. He was holding her hand in tight little fingers. Forest eyes kept to the boards of the deck.

?Miriam, will you take Aidan on to the cabin and see to arranging things? It is going to be a tight fit this voyage over for all the people we have.?

?We will manage, ma?am,? the woman reassured and reached to claim Aidan?s hand who gave himself over readily to her care.

?Let?s take a walk, Cian, just you and me.? He still did not lift his head, but went along with her just the same. Her mind labored with what to say. Kieran would have known. He always knew what to say to Cian. He understood him better. ?I am glad to be sailing home again.?

He looked up at her with his face bunched in on itself in doubt. ?You are??

?Yes, though, I did not think I would.? If nothing more, she could share some of her own feelings on the matter. ?I was afraid of the hurt inside knowing your father would not be there.?

?It does hurt. Right here.? He pressed a little hand at the center of him.

Sylvia kneeled down on the deck to look her son straight in the eyes. ?I know it does. It hurts ever so much. But time will change that hurt into fond memories.?

?It will?? hope raised his voice in pitch.

?We cannot be afraid to be happy either. Your father would not want you to be sad and hurt so much in missing him forever. You are allowed to be happy and still miss him. It does not have to be one or the other.?

She could see his mind struggle to work out this possibility. He shook his head, ?But you have not been happy, mama. I heard you cry.?

?It comes to me sometimes at night, that hurt you talk about. But I am getting better.? She kissed his cheek. ?You will, too.?

Cian?s hands pressed on her shoulders. ?How can I get better, too??

Sylvia smiled at her son, so very much like his father with the brown hair, forest eyes, and expressive mouth. ?You will find a way. You can play and laugh. You can enjoy sailing home like you used to.?

Wind blew strands of hair into his eyes, ?How did you get better??

?I said I am getting better,? she corrected. A thought over the past weeks and particular the past evenings, and she smiled at the friendships, old and new, that helped her. ?I have friends I talk to, and they help me work through the hurt or let me forget for awhile and we talk about other things. I have tried to do some of the things I used to do.?

He chewed on the corner of his mouth as he thought, and seeing her own familiar gesture in her son, brought to her attention recently by a friend, gave her a smile. ?It won?t dishonor him to play on the ship??

?Not one bit. In fact, I think you honor him by doing so.? She felt the need to add. ?You will still feel the hurt inside sometimes, Cian, but being you and being happy is the best way to honor your father.?

A smile crept from the boy?s mouth to his eyes and he asked conspiratorially, ?Can I climb the rigging??

Sylvia stood, ?Absolutely not.? They shared a laugh and a hug, and Cian went to claim his brother from the cabin for a round of playing on the foredeck. Sylvia turned to watch sea and wind carry her away from Rhydin. The canvas snapped happily in the cold breeze and she hugged herself against its chill.

As ever, she felt torn in twain in the leaving and the staying. A glance to the open sea ahead was all she gave before she spied others of the returning group coming out into the cold air. Avery had found the boys, or vice versa, and joined in the game. Cian was smiling freely, lost in the distraction of friends and play, and not worrying that his father was not there to watch.

Ewan knew better not to reply, but Kiema offered ?I have little to pass my hours there except the usual of my trade and study on,? she cut off and started again, ?I could sit offer a touch of my gift to him to ease the time. Or maybe I should offer it to you.?

?Kiema, I know full well how that taxes your strength while in Palendies.? Sylvia shook her head. ?No, I think I will have to strike some bargain with Lord Keefe in the time Cian spends. Kieran knew when to have Cian there and when not to. Keefe does not have that luxury.?

?I will be spending some time with my family, I hope, as well as seeing to my baronial obligations,? Ewan grinned to Sylvia, who gave him a patronizing but humored smile back.

Sylvia snapped her fingers, ?That reminds me. I wish to speak to your cousin Gaerwyn about a personal matter.?

Ewan?s brow rose in question at that, ?I will ask that matter of course, because I would be remiss in my duties if I did not.?

?Somedays I do forget that all matters are not personal when it comes to you, Ewan. It is vexing at times.?

He only smiled to her scowl and waited for her to continue. Kiema was curiously amused. ?I know it is not my business, but I do so like to hear secrets.?

?Don?t be ridiculous, Kiema, it is nothing of the sort. I simply want to speak with Gaerwyn about his trade in Rhydin and if he could use an extra hand at his warehouses or on one of his vessels, or somewhere.? Sylvia frowned at the both of them. ?The way the both of you act, you?d think I was inviting a boat of invaders into Yransea.?

Kiema and Ewan both laughed, and it was not long before Sylvia?s more reserved laughter joined in. Ewan nodded, ?I will send my cousin to speak with you. Would tomorrow evening be convenient??

?Yes, that would be fine, thank you. Now before you all continue to tease me with imagined plots, I am going to seek some sleep.?

Ewan bowed to her and just at that moment felt the familiar shuddering of the ship and the change of the roll in the seas that meant they had crossed the portal. ?Good night, Your Excellency.?

Kiema curtsied and made her good nights to the Baroness is similar fashion. They were in their homeworld. Customs, traditions, and expectations were in place once again. Ewan felt the call of home pull ever stronger inside. When he smiled to Kiema he could see the opposite feeling was occurring for her. She was trying to pull away.

?All will be right, Kiema. We will find a way.? He offered and a rested a comforting touch to her shoulder.

?Maybe,? she turned a weak smile to him, ?I will find it in my dreams.?

?Maybe,? he returned, and they both looked out to sea.

Under the cover of a rain-soaked and foggy day, he left Rhy'din and its spies and assassins behind, with a small crew of bearded sailors and a stealth designed to slip away unnoticed. The Norskmann had dared to sail ahead of them all, Sylvia, Ewan, and all the others going to Seansloe Manor, and he plied his way into unknown seas. As he felt the unfamiliar shuddering of the ship and the change of the roll in the seas he could only guess that meant he had crossed the portal. No other explanation lent itself to that change. He smiled to himself and tacked on.

He had been on the fringes of her lands twice before, once in the mountains on patrol during wartime, and another time too when he could not join in festivities there. But he had learned something about the coast, and the manor roads in his brief visits. He had learned some about the people of her lands too. Cautious. Maybe even suspicious. And he was sure in assuming that since Kieran?s death, everyone would be even more so.

Guthorm was hardly foolish enough to sail a drakken into the public port and so he changed course when it came into view and sailed well out from it, out of sight and around. With his smallest drakken, Hekla, and its shallow draft, he picked instead a river?s mouth some miles upland, and, sliding silently upstream, with the briefest of crew manning a few silent and rhythmic oars, he made the first leg of his circular and secret approach towards the manor.

When the ship slid up onto the sandy beach, his men portaged it on rollers into the scruff of woods. There hidden from view, Hekla and those bearded sailors would wait for his return.

******

He did not have to wait in his hiding place too long. Crouched low under cover by the side of the manor road, he let several supply wagons pass by him. He was so close, he could hear the folk talking of the Baroness?s arrival. Of who was with her. Of the coming celebration for Cian. Of the preparations at the manor. No one saw him there. He had dressed himself in dark brown, tunic and leather breeches. The sword scabbard he wore was brown. The long sword?s blade was blackened and the grip, brown and tan sharkskin. A long dark brown and hooded woolen cloak draped his shoulders and hid the brightness of his hair from view. It also shaded his eyes, and so he waited in the deepest shadows of the hillocks and tall grass, the fallen leaves and the trees?a highwayman laying in wait.

It was a carriage, not a wagon, that carried the Baroness home with her children and the minstrel. No mention by the wagon folk of Ewan traveling with them. Guthorm counted that as luck. Oh, he was happy even as he was unsure of how this would turn out. By need, this had to be quick. And successful. With continued luck, the driver would not have a powder gun or a plasma blaster, or a fire marble or...whatever else. The Norskmann had not come all this way to give a gift and be killed instead, or to spend his time wounded or shackled in a Seansloe prison.

The carriage rumbled and hoofbeats clattered on the road. Guthorm gathered himself for the attack?and Sprang Ahead! and Sprinted Fast onto the road! With sword drawn high he shouted a warcry and in accented Common at the driver, ordered the man to jump down and clear of the carriage even as the Norskmann grabbed the near horse?s bridle and the poor beast shied into his harness mate, bumping and stumbling to a skittish, white-eyed stop!

The highwayman pulled the reins out of the driver?s hands and then dragged the stunned and stuttering man clear out of his seat and tossed him into the grass by the side of the road.

Ewan gave his mother a hug just as they came inside the door and that started off the many exchanges of greetings among the entire family. The children did not hesitate long after saying their hellos to dash off upstairs and begin their wonderful make believe worlds. Gaerwyn and Ewan clasped hands, then a half hug, ?Good to see you, redbird.?

?Saying that nickname may cost you your tongue someday, cousin.? Ewan snapped.

Gaerwyn chuckled, ?Not today??

?Not today, because the Baroness has request of your presence this evening, and if you are of use to her, then you get to keep your tongue. Fortunate is it not?? Ewan grinned and suffered the jab to his ribs from Storm?s finger.

?Come now,? Maeve started to direct all into the parlor, ?let?s all have a sit and I will get some tea.?

However, Lenika made motion for Maeve to do the sitting and she would get the tea. Gaerwyn caressed Lenika?s hand as she went by to the kitchen, and Ewan lifted a brow but did not question how that courting was going. Gaerwyn turned the topic to the previous matter, ?Do you know what the matter is??

?Personal matter of her own, and I am sure she will have no trouble telling you.?

The merchant captain scowled, ?I was hoping for some insight as a family courtesy, so I do not go in unprepared.?

Ewan nodded, ?No, I understood that, but I rather like the idea of you facing the Yran Rose unprepared.?

?Ewan,? Maeve chided with nothing more than his name, but he could hear the string of criticisms of his current teasing manner.

?Very well, all I know is it has something to do with your trade in Rhydin and if you could use an extra hand in the warehouses or on one of your ships.?

The man rubbed at his chin, ?I gather she has someone in mind??

?It is rare for her to bring something of that nature up out of mild interest.?

?Well, I might at that, but I won?t know until I meet the person.? Gaerwyn looked suspicious of the entire topic.

Ewan rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, ?Naturally, Gaerwyn. So go meet with her tonight after dinner. You can travel with us to the manor.?

Lenika returned with the tea and the topic changed with it to how everyone had been doing, secrets kept, half truths given, and all was merrily done.

The continuous demands she stop shouting only further convinced her that the man was insane. Irritated tappings stopped, but she did not stop gripping the dagger, and even loosened it some.

As they stood opposing one another, Guthorm looking for all things a highway rogue, furtively glancing about for reinforcements, and Sylvia perplexed out of all notion, the others began to make quiet commentary. She did not pull her gaze away from the Norseman, but called to the driver, "Take them on to the manor. I will walk the rest of the way."

"Very good, m'lady," and he leaned from his seat to be sure none were hanging out the side before snapping the reins and the horses into motion. A worried pair of forest eyes peered out from the passing carriage window, and she gave Cian and reassuring smile.

That smile contorted in question, revealing the pattern of her thoughts. She felt the ire inside rest into a cooling pool of temper, ready to swell up once again at any provocation.

Now it was just Guthorm there before her, and she questioned again, "Why are you here? And just what danger are you thinking my shouting is going to bring upon us?" Her mind worked better, so she believed, while her body was in motion, and so she began to walk. It was up to him whether he would join her or not. "Did you bring danger with you? Have you come to seek sanctuary in my homeland?" Each question rang false. Thorm would never seek sanctuary anywhere, she was rather confident on that point. "No, could not be that, so what is it?"

She did not look at him, for she did not want to seek truth in his gaze or expression. She wanted to hear it in his voice, and to that she listened as keenly as the rustle of leaves tugged free of their branches to float down and grace the ground. It felt dull against the hurt his spoken intent to visit after Kieran?s death. She said nothing to that nor bade him to think differently, there was nothing to gain there. Guthorm spoke with urgency, and as punishment for his earlier haste as well as now, she took her time in returning conversation.

As the road curved around to reveal the outer walls and open gates that revealed an outer bailey, she gave nods to the guards who watched her companion in narrow eyed analysis. ?You have strange ideas, Guthorm: the thought you would not pass my guards or in some fashion you would be harmed more than detaining, but I have never been able to convince you otherwise. You, perhaps, have not become accustomed to a split life: to be one thing in one place, and something different in another.? The bailey was alive with movement as guards changed places and conversed by quick exchanges on varying paths. Kitchen pages and other young people were found to gawk moments at the tall man in company of their lady, only to be pushed or clouted back into service.

Sylvia waved Colwyn on from the door where he stood tense and prepared to take the queue that there was danger. But as she had signaled all was well, he turned to open the doors wider in welcome. A turn of her head up towards Guthorm did not prevent her from climbing the few stairs to the main keep. ?You are friend here, though we must play opposing roles in Rhydin. I suggest next time you visit, you arrive at the door and do not alarm my children.? The consequences were not spoken.

With the doors opened, she had to pause and take the deep breath that centered her as well as drew in the feeling of Kieran from the stones of his home. It was always there like the thrum of one?s heartbeat light touched beneath the wrist. Violet eyes cast up to the stone finial of the Yransea coat of arms and then down to the foyer. She stepped inside.

More greetings passed by way of nods and motions of hands, but she continued to the heart of Guthorm?s purpose. ?So, you speak of custom, things that must be done for me and other for my children. Just his boys, is it? Not his daughter?? It was a harmless query to understand the custom, not criticize it.

Hallways were not as busy as the courtyard, so progress through their straight lengths and the curve of stairs was unnoted by few other than mute statues, sharp eyed portraits, and hazy hued old tapestries. Colwyn came around a corner and bowed to Sylvia before speaking, ?Is Her Excellency?s guest staying??

The sarcasm could not be avoided, ?If he behaves himself, then it is up to him.? A grin offered to Colwyn to set him at ease, ?But for now he has need to speak with me. Have refreshments brought to the solarium, please, Colwyn.?

The man bowed his head and walked by with purpose to his steps, and Sylvia turned for a doorway that opened into a wide room with windows upon its southern wall that brought light in as well as warmth. ?Come and sit, Guthorm, and tell me of this custom.?

He watched her choose a chair that, out of sheer luck, put her left side to the southern windows. He claimed one that he scooted so that he could face her without having the glare in his eyes.

"I have long wanted to speak with you, Sylvia. In town, it was not possible." In fact, months ago, Guthorm had left that chance meeting feeling cheated by fate. Having spoken in the crowded Inn only in halfs before she had left, he had done nothing for her comfort and support. Her husband newly dead was a weight she bore with silent grace. But he could feel her desperation and dismay. It was palpable. Once, in the days of stomp dancing, they had been godt friends. Now, over a year had past without words they might have spoken in friendship. Most like, months after Kieran's death, he figured he had missed her need for comfort. But he did have else to say to her. He had waited long enough.

"I think that underneath the busy of this place and the comings and goings of your servants, there are troubles born of Kieran's death, and you are left to wrestle them." Guthorm spoke without haste, carefully weaving his native thought into Common. "Some, they are of keeping this hus going. Orders for giving at winter's coming, supplies for purchasing, food for hunting and storing for your table, guests greeting and keeping, travels and your children to raise and care for. I think you must be very godt at all that and at the same time, with or without a man's council.

"I also think that a Baroness now must watch her back against men who would offer kind smiles for her misfortune and promises of support against her enemies, all while sharpening their swords to betray her." He read her sidelong in his sliding gaze. "I doubt very much that this is news to you.

"Sylvia, all the time I have known you, I know you to be a stubborn and wilful woman. Where I kom fra, such women take their dead husband's power and play it well without them. They are counted clever, able and cunning. Norsk women are strong, like their men. But, I think...."

It was precisely then that Colwyn interupted with a serving tray of fruit and nuts, and meat and cheese piled generously between oval slices of hearty brown bread. Behind him trailed a girl with a tall, glazed pitcher and two tall ceramic mugs. Suddenly, the sunny room smelled of apples. Guthorm waited as the girl poured gently steaming cider for her Baroness and then himself, and as Colwyn placed the tray on a little table between them. Small, decorated plates that bore that same coat of arms were offered for the food and Guthorm accepted the hospitality of Yransea with a nod and sincere thanks. Lingering by the door and staring at the Norskmann even as Colwyn bid her out, the girl was called a second time, and turned and bolted like a startled doe in the woods.

Guthorm blew on the hot cider and took a drink. His hand wrapped itself completely around the delicate tall mug, dwarfing it, and in that confident, strong grip...his fingers were not comfortable using the curved stem handle...he felt as if this was a very foreign and interesting place for him to be in.