that Piven was simply biding his time with his skills. More recently he had begun to catch his adopted son deep in thought, a darkness haunting the youngster's face, giving it shadows that shouldn't be there at his age. But Piven refused to discuss those haunted moments.
To be fair, as he matured he also refused to take credit for all the brightness that his skills did bring. Curing the leprosy had been an astonishing feat that Greven still struggled to comprehend. How had Piven done that? He had simply passed his hands once over the afflicted areas and the eruptions that had once so plagued Greven's life had instantly begun to recede until only the lightest of scarring could attest to the fact that he had ever suffered the disease. And the scars continued to lighten. The tremor alone told the truth of what he had been...what he still was.
In the last few moons, though, the moments of shadow had increased. Not so noticeably that it had become an issue but sometimes he would catch Piven standing alone outside, as if caught in a trance. And when Greven would call out to Piven, and the boy would turn and look at him...there was something odd about it. It wasn't frightening so much as unnerving; he couldn't fathom what the boy was thinking. He sometimes wondered if Piven knew the truth when he looked at him like that.
The most recent of these events had occurred six days previous, when he had risen to give Piven the news that Bonny, their donkey, had gone lame. Piven always rose first, curiously enough, and had set the oats on to cook, stirring dutifully to release all their gluey starch. After Greven had told him about the donkey Piven had gone outside, saying he would milk Belle, their cow. Greven had let him go, thinking the boy was upset about Bonny, but not long after he'd walked up to the hearth and found Piven in one of his dark trances, his face pinched in a frown. Greven had said his name loudly but Piven had not reacted, or even given the impression he'd heard. But moments after that the boy had returned, beaming a smile that looked full of the warmth of a thousand suns. "You don't have to destroy Bonny. I believe she will recover," Piven had said.
Right enough, the swelling around the beast's leg had begun to dissipate when Greven went out to check. He'd shaken his head. He had thought he would be slitting the animal's throat. Instead, he was giving it a fresh nosebag of feed. Now the leg had healed.
Yes, life with Piven was good.
However, as if Lo himself had decided to intervene, word had arrived from Master Junes at Minton Woodlet that there was a nice couple looking to speak to him - an older couple from Medhaven who seem to know you from your youth, Junes had added and for some reason Greven's internal alarms had begun to sound. He didn't know why but he found it worrying that these people were interested in his child. In Piven. Did they know? He felt anxious and fearful.
"But it must not show!" he admonished himself. And it wouldn't. His gray-peppered hair was tied neatly back into a pigtail. He had clipped his beard this morning and he had on his best shirt. He looked tidy, clean, respectable...not at all like the once-wandering leper who had crept through the forest with a five-anni-old boy and a strange black raven for company.
He left the cottage. It was time to face them. If worst came to worst, he and Piven could go on the run again, but he needed to know what they were up against. He needed to know if Emperor Loethar had discovered his secret.
Piven disappeared into the shadows of the forest but once he knew he was no longer visible he turned and watched the cottage. He may be young in summers, he thought, but no one realized, perhaps least of all Greven, how much older in his mind he truly was. In fact, Piven was keenly aware of his own curious maturity and he deliberately tried to keep it hidden as best he could. Initially he had been embarrassed by his own perceptive ability but now he realized it wasn't a gift. No, to him, the new knowledge, the increasing sense of purpose that was still tinged with confusion but nevertheless gnawed at him relentlessly, had a far darker