Clatan 18th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Of all of the things that Darin had expected to be doing on St. Skip’s day, introducing the son and heir of the local baron to a crime lord was not one of them. However, as Darin watched Reggie and Joshua shake hands, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. Of course if you’d asked him six weeks ago what he planned on doing on St. Skip’s day, he would have had to pause for a second to remember what day it even was, and told you that he expected to spend it either at home studying or at one of his friends’ with maybe a jaunt over to the Boar.

What he wouldn’t have told you was that he was going to be going out for a night on town with several of the wealthiest, most influential boys under the age of eighteen in the entire town.

When he’d seen Joshua off that morning just a month ago, confused, bewildered, and–just generally wondering if maybe someone had gone a few rounds on him, he had expected to see Joshua in class on Monday morning. Then he hadn’t, he didn’t see him again until the following Saturday. And it involved another rescue, though from nothing more serious than Darin’s friends and the catcalls that they gave the “pretty boy” who had rode down their street on a white horse. And that rescue was admittedly safe enough for Darin, all he had to do was point out that the young man on the white horse was the son and heir of the local baron and even Neal’s trap had slammed shut.

After he’d gotten Joshua away from Neal and them, Joshua had offered Darin the most peculiar not-an-explanation explanation that Darin had ever gotten for what had happened the previous weekend. From that had come an inquiry about tutoring and if Darin would be willing to take on another student for tutoring.

And as if some sort of magical portal had opened up with that conversation, Darin had gone from being an outsider on the outside looking in to being an outsider on the inside looking forlornly out. Instead of going from his tutoring sessions home to the empty cottage where he would spend his evening studying, he was now fielding invitations to go out drinking in some of the best taverns in the city, to go riding or hawking or hunting or attend entertainment.

Except, of course, that Darin didn’t have a horse or a hawk, he didn’t know how to hunt, he could barely afford a cup of the cheapest beer in those taverns and the masques and entertainment was all high brow, classical stuff. And whenever Darin offered one of those protests, Joshua just shrugged it off. Darin could ride his other horse. That one didn’t actually need a hawk to go out hawking. That they weren’t really “hunting” anything, it was the wrong season for it, mostly it was just an excuse to get out of the city and out from under the eyes of their parents. Joshua always picked up Darin’s drink at the tavern.

As for the masques–well, all Joshua would say on that subject was that it was culture and good for him. (That one rather sounded like Raven trying to coax peas into Johnny, in all honesty.)

Darin sort of wondered why Joshua was bothering, he could spend the next two years being Joshua’s shadow and what would it prove? But you couldn’t say that to Joshua, he was incredibly good at somehow not hearing any protest that Darin could offer.

“So that’s Reginald Rose?” Joshua asked after they had shaken hands and politely mouthed formulas of things they didn’t really mean at each other. “I thought he’d be–um.”

“Oh, he can be. That’s Reggie on his day off.” Darin smiled.

“And he makes my father cry himself to sleep.” Joshua said wonderingly but with a laugh. Darin shot him a look. “Joke. It’s a joke.” A strange one. But then again, Darin had never met the baron and if he had his way, he wouldn’t, ever. Maybe it was one of those jokes that made more sense if you knew the person involved.

“Are you ready to go?” Joshua asked. Darin shrugged but followed as Joshua lead the way back up the street.

—

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is the sixth tavern we’ve been kicked out of tonight.” Darin pointed out to Josh after the disgruntled tavern keeper took his broom and turned to head back inside.

“And the night is still young.” Someone from the front of the group declared drunkenly.

“What’s wrong, Princess,” Constantin slurred. “You turn into a turnip or somethin’ at midnight?”

“You moron, it was a cabbage.” Edouard protested.

“I’m pretty sure it was a pum’kin.” Charlie countered.

“If you think it was a pum’kin, you need another drink.” Edouard told him.

“Now all we need is a tavern that lessus in.” Constantin thrust his fist into the air and pointed vaguely forward. “For-red marsh!”

“So when’s this end?” Darin asked, glancing up at the narrow sliver of moon in the sky.

“It’s a pub crawl. It ends when we pass out, run out of taverns, or the guard gets called.” Joshua told him cheerfully. What in Wright’s name have I gotten myself into.

“And it looks like it’s the third option.” A completely sober voice that caused Darin’s stomach to sink somewhere down in the vicinity of his shoes. He didn’t even have to turn to see the black and red guard uniform to know who it was walking out of the shadows behind the tavern.

Of all the bad stinkin’ luck…

“Let’s go, you two. Looks like your friends will have to catch up.” Colby told them gesturing toward the front gate of the square.

—

Joshua slumped in the wooden chair in a nicely appointed office in the guard’s station. A frozen expression of vague pleasantness was plastered on his face. He hadn’t said anything since the guardsman had opened the door to the building, any genuine good humor long since vanished.

“What’s the matter?” Darin asked.

“We know most of the guards, there are ones that you can negotiate with–there are ones you can’t. He’s firmly in the ones you can’t.” Joshua told him. “We’ll have to stay here until our parents come get us.”

“That may be a while.” Darin muttered. Joshua looked up at him. “My parents are dead. I hope Sara-Beth’ll work as substitute.”

“I wish my sister would work.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest. “Unfortunately I don’t think they let eleven year olds come bail you out of gaol.” Darin looked at him for a moment before Joshua sighed and slumped further. “You–don’t know my father.”

Darin flashed back to what Josh had said in the alley behind the Boar. “They’ll tell my father.” memory whispered.

“Well, isn’t there anyone else you can ask? A servant, your father’s steward?” Darin asked.

“Cox would be worse.” Joshua whispered, before Darin could ask why, the door to the office opened and a man not dressed in a uniform came through and made his way around the desk. Passing close enough to Darin for him to easily smell the miasma of wine lingering around him.

“M’lord,” He bowed his head to Joshua. The captain ignored Darin entirely. “I understand the urge to get rowdy sometimes but must you boys leave a swath of destruction behind you every time you do?”

Joshua said nothing.  “What would your lord grandfather think?”

“The same Lord-grandfather who helped burn down a tavern at Camford?” Joshua sneered coldly. The guard captain blinked slowly, apparently being saved from wringing another soggy thought from his obviously underused brain, by a tap on the door.

“Captain, sir, the boys’ sisters are here.” Colby told him.

“I asked for parents, Guardsman Rose!” He thundered, the wine smell around him seeming to billow out with the word.

“Mr. Capshaw is an orphan, sir, if you insist upon making him wait until his parents arrive, you may never use your office again. As for Lord Joshua, well, perhaps you should talk to her yourself.” The captain grumbled and got to his feet.

“Not you!” He exclaimed from the doorway.

“Why not me?” A strange female voice inquired cheerfully. “Whoa, boy, what’d you do, drink a wineshop outta business, Miguel?”

“You are not Lord Joshua’s parents.”

“Obviously.” Though Darin couldn’t see the speaker’s face, a smirk was obvious in her voice.

“Cousin Miguel, mother and father are at the Finessas for their Saint Skip’s day dinner, I thought it would be just as easy, when the boy arrived, just bring Madame Cox and come myself.” A younger female voice interjected. “And I know that father has on record his permission for my brother and I to be released into the custody of any of our upper servants.” That must be Elizabet, Joshua’s sister, Darin decided.

“But she isn’t a servant.” The captain said triumphantly.

“Please don’t lean toward me when you yell, Miguel, I’m getting tipsy off the fumes.” The woman, Madame Cox? said.

“This evening, Madame Cox is serving as my companion, that makes her technically a servant.” Elizabet told him sunnily.

“She’s got you, old boy. You couldn’t think your way outta this one sober, and it’s painfully obvious you’re not that. Just release the kid, then you can go back to drinking yourself flat.” Madame Cox told him.

“Fine! Rose! Get the Wright-be-damned papers and get these–women–out of my guard station.”

“See you on Sunday for brunch, Miguel.” Madame Cox called after him as he stormed off.

I am nothing more than a little boy inside that cries out for attention yet I always try to hide

Darid 20, 1513 – The Black Boar Tavern, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Darin sighed as he rounded the corner, these tutoring sessions were almost more of a pain than they were worth. But it was something that Sara-Beth couldn’t object to as a way for him to earn pocket money, though she still glared something fierce if he so much as put a clipped copper in the cookie jar that they kept their savings in. She could immediately tell, no matter how full it was, just by looking in the jar. Even if he buried his two coppers in the bottom she seemed to be able to tell.

But some of the dunces he was trying to tutor had more bone than brain matter in their heads. However, they were wealthy dunces and paid very well for his pain. And if he could continue to tutor some of the kids and pay for all of his expenses, that would ultimately save Sara-Beth some money. And as Reggie had pointed out, when Darin had talked with him about it, these were the men whose fathers would be looking for people to hire when he graduated. If he ingratiated himself to them by helping their sons graduate or even get into Camford, he might find that translating into employment later, if not as a scribe or even steward, maybe just as a private tutor.

Still, trying to pound old Reman into Benoit Coudray was like trying to pound gruel into a brick. It was all just sliding off the side. And his mother was a high ranking Reman noblewoman, one who still spoke with a Reman accent! Surely this couldn’t have been Benoit’s first exposure to the language.

He’d never be quite sure what alerted him to the man in the  pass-through, nor for that matter why he instinctively knew to duck behind the stables as the man crested the mouth of the alley. But he was very glad for whatever it was otherwise he might have run smack into Jan Leekbee. Leekbee’s boss, Marcinak, was one of Reggie’s chief rivals with a long and bloody history to mark his rise to the top.

Darin knew from listening to his friends that nothing good would bring Leekbee down here to the Boar. He preferred to do is drinking in the Reman wine bars up in the merchant’s district. No, if he was here at the Boar, it was for business. And Leekbee’s business was blood, the spilling of it usually. Sometimes just a little like beating the shit out of someone, sometimes a lot of it, like a murder.

Biting his lip to the point of pain, he pressed himself closer to the rough brick of the stable, feeling it catch in his coat and pull at his hair. A peek around the corner of the building showed him just standing there, looking first one way then as his head swung back to reveal the point of that absolutely ridiculous handlebar mustache, Darin pulled back around the corner with a whispered Hail St. Brandi hoping the man hadn’t seen him. But nothing indicated that he had.

Why is he just standing there, there was no indication that he had turned back down the pass-through, it was almost as if he was standing guard. Darin’s blood turned to ice in his veins. There was only one person that Leekbee would stand guard for and that was even worse.

If it was rare for Leekbee to be at the Boar, for Marcinak to be at the Boar was almost unheard of. He had lackeys for that, like Darin’s buddy Neal. Besides, given that the Boar was just a little way down the street from Reggie’s house, he could see the second story walkway from where he stood, it was really taking his life–or at least his hide–into his own hands to come here. Reggie guarded his territory with careful ruthlessness and would not take kindly to Marcinak’s presence.

No, this could not be good at all. Darin took a deep breath and listened for the clatter of wooden shoe heels on the cobblestone, thankfully Leekbee was the sort of muscle who thought the world ought to tremble with his footsteps rather than the sort who crept through it on assassin’s feet. He did hear it after a turn, but it seemed to be getting further away and somewhat echo-y as if the other man had turned down the pass way. Darin edged down the wall, ready to bolt like a rabbit back to the dubious safety of the alley if he heard the sound of shoes coming his direction.

Instead he heard hushed, but heated voices punctuated by the soft thud of a fist hitting meat. The likelihood that Marcinak was down in this alley beating a side of beef or something was laughable, even if there was an eerie lack of reaction to the beating.

He reached the other edge of the stable wall and peered around it. Through the cobweb seemingly undisturbed by Leekbee walking through it, he could see Leekbee’s dove-gray coat and a sea green one in the ornate style currently favored by the nobles. The very identifiable hair told him that he was right on one of the pass-through’s occupants, it was Marcinak.

The other, however, Darin couldn’t make out, only being able to catch a glimpse of ash blonde hair and white shirt that could belong to anyone. Or anyone blonde at least.

Even a quick dart across the mouth to trade rough stone against his back for rough plaster, told him nothing more. Even though his instincts were screaming at him to run for home, for Reggie’s, for the still crowded market across the street where one boy could easily lose himself in the press, wherever they were clamoring for him to go, they were all clamoring for him to go as fast and far as he could.

But as if his feet had somehow taken to root, he couldn’t pick his feet up and move. He knew too much already, but he didn’t know enough, pulling his coat tighter around him as the first heavy drop that the sky had been threatening for hours, plinked down square on the top of his head, he stayed.

He ducked back for the stable once more, it was a shorter dash to get to the alley that way, none too soon as Leekbee turned once more in his direction, though his attention seemed fixed on the man that Marcinak was dealing with. Certainly the blonde muscle didn’t show any indication of coming toward Darin.

His heart kicking at his ribs like a caged animal, so loud the ones he was watching would surely hear it pounding soon, Darin watched as the man–no, boy, he was  turned on his heel and walked away from him, his hands dropped to fists before crossing over his chest. Darin’s mouth went as dry as the Dousa Desert as his stomach sank like a stone. It can’t be! Not…

Marcinak said something in a croon that Darin just couldn’t quite make out–giving credence to Reggie’s theory that he was half bigfoot–but he could definitely make out the malice and danger in the sound. Still the blonde boy was turning in this direction. But before Darin could confirm what he half suspected and half dreaded, Leekbee started back toward the mouth of the pass through and Darin was forced to bolt back for the safety of the alley mouthing prayers that he hadn’t been spotted.

Silently hyperventilating, he pressed himself against the stable wall and held himself still. But when the footfalls reached the mouth of the alley, they seemed to turn the other way without so much as a hesitation his direction. He peeked out from behind the wall once more to see the backs of the two men heading away from him down the street, toward where their horses were probably tied up at the market.

As soon as they were far enough away that they wouldn’t likely hear him over themselves, he gave himself a quick sign of the plumbbob and ducked out of hiding and into the pass through. Face down on the cobbles lay the blonde boy. He didn’t seem to register Darin’s presence until Darin kicked a loose rock out of the cobbling and it clattered loudly as if some sort of spell had been holding all the sound in while Marcinak had been there and now that it was gone, everything was amplified.

The blonde pushed himself, painfully, to his knees and then clambered to his feet without so much as a groan of pain, something that Darin wasn’t sure he would have been able to manage in his place. Pushing the thick blonde hair back from his face, the other boy suddenly pressed his palms to his temples and started to crumple forward. Darin darted to one side, catching him, barely, by the arms, but the blonde jerked back at the touch and stumbled back, starting to fall backward.

Darin caught his arms and slowed his descent so that he only sat down hard, rather than falling backward and potentially doing himself even more harm. “My lord, it’s me, Darin.” Joshua, for that was who it was just as Darin had suspected, blinked once-twice-three times slowly as if trying to clear his vision.

“C’mon, m’lord, we need to get you to the hospital, it’s just a short way.” And it was, just the length of the dormitory wing of the Boar and across the street.

“No!” Joshua yelped. “No, I can’t–I can’t go there, they’ll tell–they’ll tell…” He pressed his palm into his ribcage.

“Tell who?” Darin asked peering into Josh’s strange mercurial eyes.

“My father.” Joshua whispered. “They’ll tell my father.” His eyes dropped away from Darin’s and he wiped the blood still leaking from his nose with the back of his hand. Darin didn’t ask if that was bad or why it might be. He liked to think he knew genuine fear when he heard it, if Joshua didn’t want his father to know then Darin would just have to figure out some way to get him the help he obviously needed without going to the hospital where they might tell his father.

Darin bit his lip and dropped his head before it came back up hard. “C’mon, can you walk?”

“I told you, I can’t go to the hospital.” Joshua said, not moving from where he was.

“I’m not taking you to the hospital, my sister’s a nurse. I’ll take you to her.” She could patch Joshua up, for Darin couldn’t leave him here. That just wasn’t something you could do with your Lord’s son, leave him bleeding in an alley behind a shitty tavern. And the baron was hardly going to come down to this part of town and ask every nurse, wisewoman, and old granny who knew how to put a salve on some wounds and bandage ribs if they had patched up his son.

Though how did Joshua really expect that his father wouldn’t notice that his face was completely worked over? Sara-Beth was good, but she wasn’t exactly Morgan le Fay and he wasn’t even sure that Morgan could heal wounds wholesale in just a few hours.

Darin offered the other boy a hand, which he took reluctantly, but once on his feet again he was steadier and seemed to prefer to walk unaided.

“Is it far?” Joshua whispered as Darin lead them out of the pass-through and into the back courtyard of the inn. “Your sister’s house?”

“Nope, not a whole lot further than the hospital is and less stairs.” Darin said. And it wasn’t, after cutting through the courtyard and down the small gap between Clayton’s house and the Boar, it was just diagonal across the street. Joshua looked curiously at the chickens scratching at the grass for seeds, the cracked umber plaster of the houses but strangely not disdainfully.

“Here we are.” Darin said as cheerfully as he could manage. Darin pushed the door to the house open and stepped back so that Joshua could proceed him into the gloomy interior. Sara-Beth had been sitting on the bench with a mending project in her hand and got to her feet with a welcoming smile at least until she saw Joshua. Then she winced and shot Darin a look. “My Lord, this is my sister, Sara-Beth–Sara-Beth, this is Joshua.”

Her head once more swung toward Darin and mouthed “The baron’s son, Joshua?” Darin nodded. “He didn’t want to go to the hospital, I was hoping–um…” Darin shrugged.

“That I would patch him up?” Sara-Beth asked. Darin shrugged again. “My lord.” She turned to Joshua who simply rubbed at the blood still leaking from his nose. “May I ask how this happened–and if I am likely to get in trouble for helping you?”

“No, I give you my word that I will not tell my father how I came to be patched up, not that I truly believe that my father would think to inquire after it.” Joshua said. “And…” He trailed off, eyes turning to where Darin stood.

“I’m gonna go over t’Neal’s, SB.” Sara-Beth nodded.

“Please have a seat, my Lord.” She gestured at the bench she’d recently occupied and hurried off toward the pantry where he knew she kept her medical kit. Darin shot one last look at Joshua and then left without a word.

He hadn’t really expected Sara-Beth to still be awake when he got back long after dark. He hadn’t been able to find out anything about what interest Marcinak had with the Baron’s son and heir, even pumping half the coppers he had in his purse into ales for Neal over at the Boar. Still, maybe it was for the better, he wasn’t exactly in any position to be meddling in the affairs of criminal bosses or noblemen. All he could do with both was hope he was standing far enough away from them when they inevitably fell that he didn’t get hit.

“You were out late.” Sara-Beth said.

“Aye.” Darin agreed. “It was always one more toast afore you go, Darry.” He shrugged, it had been like that, only it was him suggesting one more round every time something got promising. He didn’t have to tell her that. “So, what’d you do with his lordship. I assume not drown him in the river.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Sara-Beth said. Darin nodded, somebody notice he was missing. “Beside, he’s a sweet kid, I wouldn’t want to.” Now that stopped Darin short and he blinked at her.

“Sweet? M’lord? He’s a bully and a jerk.” Darin said.

“How much of that might be a defense though, Darry?” Sara-Beth asked. “His lord-father probably doesn’t have a whole helluvalot of use for a sweet son. An’ his lady-mother is one of those de Ganises. Those gotta prove they’re man ‘nough to spit in Grimmy’s eye and have bigger balls than any man alive de Ganises.” Darin blinked and thought for a second …well, maybe… Nah I still don’t buy it.

“So what did you do with him?” Darin asked after a long moment of them both staring at the dying fire.

“He’s asleep in my room.” She was just trying to bewilder him tonight. First calling Joshua sweet, then telling him that he was asleep in her room. Sure it was probably better than putting his lordship in Darin’s cubby, but why had he even agreed to sleep here? Which when he had stopped his head from spinning long enough to take a breath he asked with the very next one.

“I didn’t. He asked if he could. And I would like to keep an eye on him, he got–hit pretty hard.” Sara-Beth told him after a moment’s hesitation.

“I guessed as much.” She didn’t have to tell him everything he knew, but that went both ways. She gave him a sharp look and he looked right back at her.

“Darry…” She sighed. “Look, I hate to put you out for the night, but I have to be up early for my shift and you don’t have class, so…” She trailed off.

“Nah, go ahead and take my bed. I’ll take the sofa, don’t sweat it.” He smiled at her.

“Okay, could you keep an ear out for Josh, I heard him having a nightmare earlier. I think it was just a general nightmare and not related to an injury, but just to be safe, if you hear him, wake him up and make sure he gets a cup of water or something.” Sara-Beth levered herself up off the couch and headed toward his cubby, pulling the curtain closed.

Darid 1, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Mama!” Raven tried to ignore her daughter for a moment as she juggled two bottles of hard cider and a plate of rarebit around the chair and onto the table. “Mama, he’s doing it again!”

“Is he still wearing clothes?” Raven asked cracking the cap off the bottle on the table.

“…Aye.” Anna-Marie said from her place somewhere behind Raven’s left shoulder.

“Unless he’s naked or the house is on fire, mama isn’t home right now, baby.” She handed the bottle to her companion with a sigh.

“Don’t chew on my dolls, Johnny.” Anna-Marie scolded. Johnny made a petulant whimper.

“Share your toys, Anna-Marie.” Raven told her without looking as she cracked open the second cider.

“Mama’s not home right now so I can be mean to my brother.” Anna-Marie told her smartly, before giving a little humph. “Here, take this one, you already chewed on it.” Raven shook her head and looked at Sara-Beth who was leaning back in her chair as if her back hurt. It probably did, if Sara-Beth was anything like her, her feet hurt, her back hurt, her shoulders and arms hurt. The nuns had run them both since before dawn that morning.

“Little brothers.” Sara-Beth took a long draw off the cider and sighed.

“Yours driving you nuts again?” Raven asked, taking a drink herself before settling the bottle between her knees and squirming down a little further into the chair.

“He told me last night that it’s better for him to quit school and start bringing in money before I work myself into an early grave than for him to keep on with his schooling.” Sara-Beth shook her head, a few more strands escaping her crown braids and falling into her face.

“Well, not to side with Darin, but you do sorta look like shit warmed over, SB.” Raven shrugged. Sara-Beth looked past her shoulder at the kids on the floor. “Don’t worry about it, they’re my kids. Nobody can yell at me.”

“Except your husband.” Sara-Beth pointed out.

“Okay, Eric can yell at me. But he won’t. I yell back and I’m louder.” Raven grinned at her friend. Sara-Beth’s smile was tired. She was only a couple of years older than Raven was, but right now the gap seemed larger. It only made sense though. Raven was lucky, while her mum and dad were up in Avilion, they were still both alive, she had sibs and so did Eric they could ship Anna-Marie and Johnny off to when they got to be too much or they just needed a holiday. With what Eric’s carpentry shop brought in, she could afford to take less hours at the hospital.

Sara-Beth’s parents and her step-father were all dead and she only had Darin, who pitched in as much as she would let him, but if Sara-Beth was anything, it was pig-headedly stubborn, and so as much as she would let him was not nearly as much as he was willing to do. Raven snuck a glance at Sara-Beth’s profile.

“I want him to get that education. Why doesn’t he understand that?” Sara-Beth sighed and drew another long swallow.

“Because he’s a boy.” Raven offered. “Even Anna-Marie knows at her age that boys can be dumb as rocks sometimes.” Anna-Marie giggled. “Seriously, though, Sara-Beth, you raised a good kid there. Good kids are not likely to sit on their thumbs when they can be doing more to help. And he wants to help you.”

“Well, he can help me more sticking it out one more year, getting his education finished, and getting a job doing something that pays well.” Sara-Beth picked up a toast corner and nibbling it.

“I don’t blame him for wanting out of there. He has to put up with Brother Loki every morning, I’d rather be stuck on morgue duty in high summer during a plague than have to face him very often.” Raven shrugged and reached for a toast corner herself.

“I could understand if his reasons were something like that.” Sara-Beth told her. “I wouldn’t let him quit, but I could understand. No, he wants to quit because of me. I am giving him a chance that not a lot of people get and he’s trying to throw it back in my face.”

“Oh, woe is you. You have a brother who cares about you. Who doesn’t want your gift of education, room, board and et cetera at the expense of your health. Whatever shall you do?” Sara-Beth looked at her sourly. “Most people can’t do it all on their own.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone to fall back on.” Sara-Beth said.

“You could.”

“Oh, do not.” Sara-Beth scowled. “Raven, I do not need the hassle of a love-affair on top of everything else.”

“What hassle, Sara-Beth?” Raven asked.

“Besides I don’t have enough time to sleep where would I find enough time for a romance?” Sara-Beth leaned back in her chair with a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“And you wonder why your brother wants to quit school.” Raven pointed out ruthlessly.

“Besides, guys aren’t exactly lining up around the block with roses for me. As you, yourself, pointed out, I look like shit warmed over.” Sara-Beth was perfectly capable of being equally ruthless back.

“I know somebody who’d love a chance with you, as long as you’re still breathing he’d take you back.”

“Raven, no, no. No.” The other woman folded her lips. “And a couple more nos for good measure.”

“Sara-Beth,” Raven began.

“No. What’s between Reggie and me is in the past. It’s history. And as the priests like to quote Father Hugh as having said “those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.” I like to think I’m smarter than that.”

“Sara-Beth, he loves you. He still loves you. He’ll love you when you’re both old and gray and crippled up on canes. No matter how many busty, beautiful women come in the intervening time.” Raven bit her lip. If Raven had been in possession of a magic wand that she could wave and suddenly fix all the things that she thought needed fixing, which would probably take more power than was possessed by the Emerys and even Morgan le Fay, she would start with fixing that.

“Except neither of us will live anywhere near that long. I’ll work myself to death and his ‘work’ will catch up with him.” Sara-Beth told her bluntly. Now it was Raven’s turn to make a sour face and glare across the distance between the two chairs.

“You wouldn’t have to work so hard if you had someone to fall back on, and maybe he could get out of the business if he had you.” Raven offered.

“The only way you get out of the business is by dying, besides, in case you’ve forgotten, he “had” me once.” Sara-Beth rubbed at her hand staring straight ahead of her.

“Yeah, but he was young and dumb then.” Raven offered.

“And he’s older and still dumb now.” Sara-Beth snapped. Sometimes watching Sara-Beth was like watching someone bricking themselves into a cellar. All of those walls weren’t going to protect her, they were just going to keep people out. And maybe those were people who she would miss or people that she would never get to know, but her life would have been so much richer for having known them. Shutting everyone out shut you in. How could she not see that?

The clock over her shoulder chimed, echoed a moment later by church bells from somewhere in town, signaling that her lazy time was more or less over and she needed to put the finishing touches on dinner.

“Where’s your brother?” Raven asked, noticing that Anna-Marie was alone at the dollhouse that Eric had carved for them.

“He went to his room.” Anna-Marie told her, disinterestedly.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Raven asked looking at the door, hoping for the wood piercing gaze that her mother always seemed to have.

“You didn’t tell me you were home.” Anna-Marie smiled up at her mother. “Besides, he wasn’t naked when he went and the house wasn’t on fire.” Smart-ass. Raven thought. Of course she’d take after my side of the family.

“Why don’t you go set the table and then keep Sara-Beth company.” Anna-Marie bounced to her feet after setting the dolls away inside the dollhouse without complaint. Well, that was different than she had been, especially at Anna-Marie’s age. Raven and her sibs might have done everything that her mum had told her to do, but it was delivered with a healthy dose of whining and more than a bit of back talk.

“So how is school for you,” Sara-Beth asked.

“Kinda boring. I learned you don’t want to wear plaits to class.” Raven noted, her eyebrow quirking upward. Why would she have learned that?

“And why’s that?” Sara-Beth asked.

“Cause Romeo tied the ribbons from Gretchen and Latisha’s plaits together during religions class then dipped the end of Serena’s plait in the ink well all through penmanship.” Anna-Marie said shaking her head. “Although I don’t think Romeo would do that to me.” Sara-Beth made an interested noise.

“He pulled my hair during recess last week and you can still see the Sminese burn I gave ‘im.” Anna-Marie grinned impishly. “He might be dumb, even for a boy, but I think mama’s right and pain teaches what mamas can’t.”

“You really shouldn’t be giving boys Sminese burns.” Sara-Beth scolded.

“He really shouldn’t tie girls plaits together or dip ‘em in the ink well or pull my hair.” Anna-Marie said with perfect eight-year-old’s logic. “If some stinky boy hurts me, why shouldn’t I hurt ‘im back?” Her bright green eyes were sparked with the same light that Raven had always been told her own sparked with when she was digging her heels in for a fight.

“Well, because some boys have annoying mamas and they tattle.” Sara-Beth spread her hands.

“Romeo prob’ly would tattle.” Anna-Marie thought for a moment. “Is Romeo’s mama annoying?”

“Didn’t you set a place for Sara-Beth?” Raven interjected before Sara-Beth had to struggle through the morality of telling someone else’s daughter that yes, Romeo’s mama was annoying. In fact given what Raven would call her usually, annoying was damned near a compliment.

“Was I ‘posed to?” Anna-Marie looked back and forth between Sara-Beth and Raven.

“Of course. And don’t protest.” Raven said to the back of Sara-Beth’s head. “Your brother is perfectly capable of cooking up something–or at least reheating some stew. And if he doesn’t want to, he probably has the pocket money to go to the Boar and get something.”

“I’d point out that the food at the Boar comes with it’s hazards.”

“But I’d just point out that Darin has an iron stomach and is more than a match for it.” Raven told her.

“Mama! Johnny’s in ‘is braises ‘gain.” Raven sighed, why was it that Anna-Marie was perfectly capable of taking any boy on the playground to task, but at home, she just tattled to Mama. Then again, I probably don’t want my eight year old practicing her Sminese burn technique on my three year old.

“He’s fine, now go call Papa Bear, this is ready.” Anna-Marie hurried to the back door as Raven dished up the three plates on the table and dumped Johnny, who true to form was running around in his braises just as Anna-Marie had said into his chair with a bowl of mush.

“Did Darry ever put a girl’s plaits in an inkwell?” Anna-Marie asked Sara-Beth curiously. Sara-Beth shook her head with a laugh.

“No, Darin’s never been much of one for pranks.” Raven glanced at Sara-Beth as something slipped into her voice.

“He wouldn’t have anyway, Darry’s too nice.” Raven said.

“He did get into a couple of fights cause other boys were being mean to girls, though.” Sara-Beth pointed out.

“Aren’t you gonna ask Papa if he ever dipped girls plaits?” Eric teased, his deep voice rumbling.

“They had ink when you were in school, papa?” Anna-Marie asked her eyes wide and innocent.

“Your daughter.” Eric shot a mock glare at Raven who gave her best impression of Anna-Marie’s innocent expression.

“Of course they had ink when Papa was in school.” Raven said. “He was just tired all the time from having to chase down the deer and stuff to write on cause it was before paper.” Anna-Marie covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

“Done, mama!” Johnny announced. His bowl was still half full, Raven could see it from where she was sitting.

“Are you sure? Cause I still see supper in there.” Johnny picked up the bowl and dumped the rest of the mush onto the floor.

“Done, mama! Down!” Johnny told her.

“You get down when Mama finishes her dinner, you know the rules.” Johnny kicked his feet and pounded his fists for about as long as it took for Raven’s eyebrow to quirk upward and then the boy fell silent, though if that glint in his eye was any indication, this wasn’t over.

If you came right down to it, neither of her kids were Eric’s kids in personality. Eric was hound friendly and so kind and sweet it was really a surprise he didn’t melt in the rain. Nope, if Raven wanted someone to blame for her twisted little children, she’d have to look in the mirror.

It was really best not to give Johnny too much time to think about whatever it was that he was planning, so Raven tucked into her dinner, leaving the conversation to Sara-Beth, Eric, and Anna-Marie.

“Say good-night to Sara-Beth, Johnny.” Raven instructed from where she was cleaning up the wooden bowl and spilled mush as the boy toddled off in the direction of the toys.

“Night-night!” The little boy looked up at Sara-Beth with a grin. It was always good to remind her that kids weren’t always nightmares, even hers. And once the bowl and plates were in the sink with Eric helping Anna-Marie was them, Raven walked outside into the soft summer night with her friend.

“I love having dinner with your family.” Sara-Beth commented. Raven looked at her. “No, really. Your kids make me giggle. Darin’s too serious by a half. It’s good to be around people who don’t take life too seriously.”

“Well, maybe your kids will be pranksters.” Raven shrugged. “You need more laughs in your life.”

“Your kids are charmers, but I need a far better reason than just that kids might make me laugh to have a few.” Raven probably had a retort to that, but just then the door cracked open.

“Mama?” Anna-Marie asked.

“What? I’m trying to say good night to Sara-Beth.”

“You said to tell you if Johnny was naked. Papa’s chasing him all over the living room an’ he’s running ’round naked as a jaybird.” Anna-Marie said. Sara-Beth held up a hand to forestall whatever Raven was about to say.

“I really do need to go, I have to work tomorrow.” The other woman told her. “You go chase your son.”

“Thanks.” Raven said, somewhat sourly, pulling Sara-Beth into a hug. After Johnny was cornered and captured and forced to endure a bath–might as well add insult to injury–Raven handed Johnny over to Eric to be put to bed. Which wasn’t ever an easy task, in fact she finished helping Anna-Marie with her copywork and into bed herself before Eric emerged from Johnny’s room with a more than slightly harried expression on his face.

“So,” she asked over her shoulder. “How long do you suppose we have?”

“With that kid, maybe five minutes, maybe an hour, maybe five hours.” Eric shrugged. “I don’t remember Anna-Marie being quite this troublesome.”

“She was–differently troublesome.” Raven got up, ignoring her protesting feet for the moment. “All kids are, so far as I know. Even the not troublesome ones are troublesome in their not-troublesomeness.”

“Darin?” Raven nodded. “Same old, same old?”

“Yep.” Eric nodded. “If it would help any, have Sara-Beth tell Darin that if he finishes school and can’t find anything but sweeping stables for an apprenticeship, I’ll give him one.” Raven noted that away, it probably would help. “I would, I mean he’s a good kid and works hard, not that he’ll need it, though.”

“Yeah, try and convince him of that.” Raven agreed. “But thank you, anyway.”

“So, because I’m such a generous soul, do I get a reward?” He asked leaning in close to kiss her.

“I’ll think about it.”