Gratia
sat in a small wooden chair, her back to the mage. She was shocked into silence
by what the old magic-user had just said, yet a funny smile twisted her lips.
“And
that is why I travelled to your home valley. I knew that I had to see you.”
“So
you knew that I existed?”
“Yes,
I knew.”
“But
how, I don’t understand–”
“I
have my ways. Etruschan sent word of your birth... and other happenings.” He looked
away with an uncharacteristic frown.
“You
do not hate me for that, do you?”
“Oh, my dear girl, no! Of course not! You were not to blame. It was a course of
nature. Never feel guilty about
that.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Easily
said, m’lord.” The mage raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Grandfather,” she
corrected, the words feeling strange to her. All the blood family she had ever
known were her father and his mother. Wroguard’s father had been hanged by
town folk for theft and she knew nothing of her mother’s family. Yet she had
never felt any loss. Her camp was all the family she desired.
“Oh, my sweet thing. We have so much to catch up on.”
For
the next few hours they sat companionably together and talked. It turned out
that Chalice’s mother had been deeply in love with another when she fell
pregnant with Gratia’s mother. Unfortunately, when her lover learned of her
conception he left the camp with another woman. Chalice’s mother, Kalimny, had
been so distraught that she had gradually slipped further and further into
depression and nothing anyone did could help. Shortly after the birth, Kalimny
drowned herself in the pool and left the baby to be raised by her grandparents. They mistreated her out of spite for the suicide of their only child. They had
both passed away by the time Chalice was nineteen.
Gratia
asked why Cathchart hadn’t returned to take care of his daughter and unhappy
wife. He had left Kalimny when she was four months pregnant to fight in a
battle between a group of good magic users and a very powerful, but evil, sorcerer. He had not realised that his wife was in such distress, otherwise he
would have returned immediately.
After the battle had been fought and won, he returned to the camp and news of his wife’s death. He had been devastated, yet the grudging grandparents had turned him away claiming that he was the cause of their daughter’s depression. They said that if he ever tried to take their granddaughter from them, they would have him evicted from the Romany group. The camp, too, believed that his absence and lack of attention towards Kalimny had caused her to take her own life. Rather than disrupt the peace of the camp, he left.
In the time he had been with the valley camp, Etruschan had become a close friend and promised to look over Chalice and report on her progress to him at every opportunity. He had not seen his daughter since his departure, when she had been no more then an angel in swaddling cloths. He had been on his way to the camp to see her when the news of her death broke.
For a long time he had wept openly. Then Etruschan told him of the birth of his granddaughter. He had abandoned his journey to the camp until Gratia had been old enough for him to talk with her. That is why he had given her the bracelet. Although he and Etruschan had been close friends, he was not the traditionalist the old gypsy soothsayer had been. Cathchart, like Wroguard, did not believe his daughter’s spirit had passed into that of his granddaughter, yet he wasn’t angry with his friend for driving Gratia from the camp.
After the battle had been fought and won, he returned to the camp and news of his wife’s death. He had been devastated, yet the grudging grandparents had turned him away claiming that he was the cause of their daughter’s depression. They said that if he ever tried to take their granddaughter from them, they would have him evicted from the Romany group. The camp, too, believed that his absence and lack of attention towards Kalimny had caused her to take her own life. Rather than disrupt the peace of the camp, he left.
In the time he had been with the valley camp, Etruschan had become a close friend and promised to look over Chalice and report on her progress to him at every opportunity. He had not seen his daughter since his departure, when she had been no more then an angel in swaddling cloths. He had been on his way to the camp to see her when the news of her death broke.
For a long time he had wept openly. Then Etruschan told him of the birth of his granddaughter. He had abandoned his journey to the camp until Gratia had been old enough for him to talk with her. That is why he had given her the bracelet. Although he and Etruschan had been close friends, he was not the traditionalist the old gypsy soothsayer had been. Cathchart, like Wroguard, did not believe his daughter’s spirit had passed into that of his granddaughter, yet he wasn’t angry with his friend for driving Gratia from the camp.
On
leaving the room, Gratia caught sight of the maid again through the corner of
her eye. The plump woman stood with an oddly smug expression, she must have
thought Cathchart had scolded her for addressing him without the proper title.
“Shall
we dine my dear?” He asked absently as they turned for their quarters.
“Yes,
I should like that very much Grandfather,” she said with a smile. The maid’s
expression dropped in embarrassed shock.
Gratia
grinned to herself as they began to walk.
