but instead found his feet taking him to the Hall of Mysteries. He had avoided it for the past two days. For some reason he didn’t want to see Rohan again. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he felt he had failed the high priest in the effort to save lives. Maybe because of how angry he had been at Rohan when he had tried to urge Anduin to come away from the wreckage. But now he stood before the hall, took a deep breath, and went inside. At once, as always, the Light offered comfort. Even so, he still did not wish to speak with anyone, and ascended to the upper level where there were fewer people. At one point he heard a soft voice and winced slightly as he recognized it as Rohan’s. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed, hoping that the dwarf wouldn’t notice him. He heard the tread of feet approach and then fall silent, and a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.
Anduin did not reply, but felt a gentle warmth stealing through him. Softly, Rohan said, “Ye’re a good lad, Anduin Llane Wrynn. Ye’ve a good heart. Know that even if it breaks, it will mend again.”
And as the dwarf withdrew, Anduin realized that there had been no magic performed on him at all. And yet he felt better.
Healing, it would seem, took many forms.
When he returned to his rooms, he found Wyll waiting with a note from Magni asking Anduin to come to his quarters. Anduin was confused but immediately went.
Magni was waiting for him. The room in which he greeted Anduin was surprisingly small and cozy, very dwarven in its snug feeling, unlike the large, airy, human rooms. A brazier burned cheerily, and the table was piled with simple but hearty fare. Anduin’s stomach growled quite audibly, and he realized he hadn’t eaten for several hours. Ever since Aerin’s … death, he had not had much of an appetite, but now, looking at the assortment of roast meats, fruits, breads, and cheeses displayed on the table, it seemed to return with a vengeance. Life, it would appear, did go on. The body had needs that had to be satisfied, even if, as Rohan said, one’s heart was broken.
“There ye are, lad,” Magni greeted him. “Pull up a chair and dive right in.” His own plate was already piled high, and Anduin did as he was bid, enjoying the roast lamb, Dalaran sharp, and grapes.
“I wanted tae have a few words wi’ ye afore the ritual on the morrow,” Magni said, reaching for his tankard and downing a big swig of ale. “Afore the earthquake, I had a wee chat with Aerin.”
The food stuck in Anduin’s throat, and he reached for his own glass of juice to wash the suddenly tasteless food down.
“She said she’d never seen anyone try harder at sparring, and she’s trained quite a few warriors. But … she also said the weapons weren’t yer friends. That ye dinna have a real feel fer them.”
The human prince felt his face grow hot. Had he so greatly disappointed Aerin?
“An, being the sharp lassie that she is … was … Aerin knew a born warrior when she saw one. And one that wasna born tae it.”
The king took a bite of a crisp apple and chewed, watching Anduin’s reaction. The boy put down his knife and fork and simply waited to hear what Magni had to say. Something kind but dismissive, no doubt. Something to make it sound like Anduin hadn’t disappointed him.
“I’ve also been talking wi’ Rohan,” Magni continued. “If ye can get past his terrible jokes, th’ fellow has a lot of wisdom. He couldna say enough about ye—how ye seemed tae thrive whenever ye visited. How ye felt compelled tae go to the aid of those who’d been harmed. How ye worked long past the time when ye should have dropped from exhaustion.” He took another long pull on the tankard, then set it down and turned to face Anduin with his whole body. “Lad … have ye ever considered that ye just might not be cut out fer the life of a warrior? And that there’s summat else that might be just exactly what ye’re supposed to be doing?”
Anduin stared down at his plate. Given what Aerin had told him about how Magni wished that he had had a son, not a daughter, he wasn’t sure how criticism of his father would be