Merle inclined his head. “Thank you for being your father’s son.”
“See you around?” Bran asked Richard.
“Yes,” Richard grunted.
Shaking his head, Bran also walked away, into the city he now protected. Richard was concerned for the boy. Bran had cared deeply for Deirdre and now his heart suffered in her death. As Bran disappeared into the Bricks like the two homeless men before him, Richard recalled what it had been like when the wizard had bequeathed Arondight to him, knowing Bran’s hardships to come.
He hoped the boy had an easier time of it—both with the weapon and his heart.
“He is a tough lad,” Merle said. “You have no need to worry.”
“He is tough. I shouldn’t give him such a hard time.”
“Or the fairy, for that matter,” Merle said, glancing up.
Richard followed where Merle looked, into the boughs of the maple tree where Snedeker hid among several obstinately clinging leaves against the coming winter.
“Is it a poor choice to let him reside here?” Richard asked. “He has nowhere else to go now that his only friend is dead in Annwn.”
“I do not see why not,” the wizard said. “Charles kept his guide Berrytrill near at most times, including in this world, with little problem. I think it will keep you anchored to your new role and give you someone to talk to about all of this beyond just a sad and grumpy cockamamie washed-up wizard.”
Richard nodded, not quite sharing Merle’s confidence.
“Did Jack return to the store?” he questioned.
“He did,” Merle said simply. “It’s how I knew you had returned.”
Richard nodded, staring at the water. “You did well,” the old man whispered.
Richard knew what Merle meant. Long moments passed. The confidence the bookseller had shown him did little to change how he felt about his past and his future. The death of Elizabeth remained an ache deep in his soul. Richard knew it would never heal and the atonement in Rome did little to assuage it.
“I miss her,” he said simply.
“I know you do, Richard,” Merle murmured. “I know you do.”
Both men watched the golden light of the setting sun purple toward evening and eventual darkness. It was the end of another day. Neither said a word. Both knew it was not necessary. They had spent enough time with one another to know silence had more meaning than words sometimes.
After a while Merle turned to depart, leaving Richard to his own thoughts.
“I will open in the morning,” Richard offered suddenly.
Merle stopped and squinted.
“There are several dozen new books in need of repair and cataloging. Old books, centuries old, from the heart of Romania as well as ancient Germania and Gaul.” He paused to light his tamped pipe, pulling on the smoke. “Your room is how you left it.”
“Perhaps I can find jobs for my two homeless friends?”
Merle exhaled a white puff into the fall air.
“Perhaps.”
Richard watched Merle stroll across the busy street, his pipe emitting quaint puffs of smoke upon the salty breeze. Soon the city swallowed him too, lost to the busy ruckus of rush hour.
The sweet odor of the wizard’s leaf, however, lingered.
Richard waited a few minutes, breathing in cold air, and let the end of the day wash over him with its finality.
If he were to be lonely now, it would be on his terms.
Ignoring the growing darkness, feeling the Dark Thorn and its reassurance at being only a call away, he turned from Puget Sound, a man with more peace than he had experienced in years, and made his way back into Pioneer Square.
Back toward Old World Tales.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SHAWAWN SPEAKMAN grew up in the beautiful wilds of Washington State near a volcano and surrounded by old-growth forests filled with magic. After moving to Seattle to attend the University of Washington, he befriended New York Times best-selling fantasy author Terry Brooks and became his webmaster, leading to an enchanted life surrounded by words.
He was a manager at one of the largest Barnes & Noble Booksellers in the country for many years and now owns the online bookstore The Signed Page, manages the websites for several authors, and is a freelance writer for Random House.
He also contributed the annotations for The Annotated Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks, published in 2012.
Shawn is a cancer survivor, knows angel fire east, and lives in Seattle, Washington.