the old man look up and start a bit, but he kept playing. After a moment, Tier moved on, but his steps were slower.
He stopped in front of a home marked by sheaves of wheat carved into the lintel over the doorway and by the smell of fresh-baked bread.
"Home," he said after a moment. "I don't know what kind of welcome to expect. I haven't heard from anyone here since I left to go to war - and I left in the middle of the night."
Seraph waited, but when he made no move to continue she said, "Did they love you?"
He nodded without looking away from the door.
"Then," she said gently, "I expect that the men will bluster and the women will cry and scold - then they will feast and welcome you home."
He laughed then. "That sounds about right. I suppose it won't change for putting it off longer."
He held the door open for her and followed her into a largish room that managed to be both homey and businesslike at the same time. Behind the counter that divided the room in half were tilted shelves displaying bread in a dozen forms and a burly red-headed man who looked nothing like Tier.
"May I help you, good sir?" asked the man.
"Bandor?" said Tier. "What are you doing here?"
The big man stared at him, then paled a bit. He shook his head as if setting aside whatever it was that had bothered him. Then he smiled with genuine welcome. "As I live and breathe, it's Tier come back from the dead."
Bandor stepped around the counter and enveloped Tier in a hearty embrace. "It's been too long."
It was odd to see two men embracing - her own people were seldom touched in public outside of childhood. But Tier returned the bigger man's hug with equal enthusiasm.
"You're here for good, I hope," said Bandor, taking a step back.
"That depends upon my father," Tier replied soberly.
Bandor shook his head and his mouth turned down. "Ah, there is much that has happened since you left. Draken died four years ago, Tier. Your sister and I had been married a few years earlier - I'd taken an apprenticeship here when you left." He stopped and shook his head. "I'm telling this all topsy-turvy."
"Dead," said Tier, his whole body stilled.
"Bandor," said a woman's voice from behind a closed door. The door swung wide and a woman came out backwards, having bumped open the door with her hip. Her arms were occupied with a large basket of rolls. "Do you think I ought to do another four dozen rolls, or are the eight dozen we have enough?"
The woman was taller than average, thin and lanky like Tier. And as she turned around, Seraph could see that she had his dark hair and wide mouth.
"Alinath," said Bandor. "I believe you have a visitor."
She turned toward Tier with a polite smile and opened her mouth, but when her eyes caught his face no sound left her lips. She dropped the basket on the ground, spilling rolls everywhere, then she was over the top of the counter and wrapped tightly around him.
"Tier," she said in a muffled voice. "Oh, Tier. We thought you were dead."
He hugged her back, lifting her off the floor. "Hey, sprite," he said, and his voice was as choked as hers.
"We kept it for you," said Alinath. "We kept the bakery for you."
Alinath pulled back, tears running freely down her face. She took a step away from him and then punched him in the belly, turning her shoulder to put the full force of her body into the blow.
"Nine years," she said hotly. "Nine years, Tier, and not even a note to say that you were still alive. Damn you, Tier."
Tier was bent over wheezing, but he held up three fingers.
"We received nothing," she said angrily. "I didn't even know where to send you word when Father died."
"I sent three letters the first year," he said, huffing for breath. "When I had no reply, I assumed Father washed his hands of me."
Alinath put her hands to her mouth. "If he ever got your letters, he didn't say anything to me. Darn my fiendish temper. I'm sorry I hit you, Tier."
Tier shook his head, denying the need for apology. "Father told me that someday I'd be sorry I taught you how to hit."
"Come with me," she said. "Mother will want to see you." She tugged him from the room, leaving Seraph alone with the man at the counter.