Seventh Son

CHAPTER 27

  After breakfast, Sepp took Bibby outside to play; Cat strongly suspected that it was as much to escape his brother’s teasing about the burnt-on crust on the bottom of the porridge pot as it was to entertain his niece. He was still wearing his other-world’s clothes; the jeans and t-shirt somehow suited him.

  She helped Guy with clearing up the dishes and straightening the cottage, but the longer they worked, the more strained the silence between them became.

  What now, Cat, what now? Guy was almost fully cured, he no longer needed her help. Sepp was returned, and the mystery of his disappearance cleared up. Cat no longer had a role to play in this world. She was stuck on an alien planet, and the space program had been discontinued. She could not even go home, and carry on where she had left off; the travelling bowls were broken…

  Guy cleared his throat.

  “Cat—Catriona?”

  Cat looked at him. There was a serious, uncertain expression in his eyes; he swallowed convulsively.

  “There—there is something I—I want to—just come, please,” he finished abruptly, then turned on his heel and strode through the door into the workshop.

  Cat was puzzled. What was he up to now? She followed him into the workshop and found him bent over the trap door that had hidden the bowls. Oh! The last remaining bowl! What…?

  Guy straightened up, the dish cupped in his strong, slender hands, glowing its eerie turquoise blue. He stepped over to the table and placed it carefully on the canvas surface. His head bent, he stared into the curved bowl for a long moment, then raised his head, and looked straight at Cat.

  “This is yours. I will not keep you here, I will not hold you. If you want to leave, this is your path. If you want to go,” his voice wavered slightly, “then go.” His gaze turned back to the bowl on the table, and he half raised his hand as if he wanted to take it back, retract his offer. But he refrained, held back, and then abruptly straightened.

  “Farewell, Catriona,” he said, in a barely audible voice, and without looking at her, his back ramrod straight, he walked out of the shop.

  Cat blinked. He had given her no time to respond, no time to think. No time to feel, to sense what she needed to do.

  Averting her eyes from the bowl on the table, she turned and slowly walked back into the cottage. The rocking chair called to her from the corner. She leaned back into it, and it cradled her back, gently, kindly, as she softly swayed back and forth. Guy, Bibby, Sepp. Ryan, Nicky, Ashya. Ouska, Uncle. Guy, Bibby. Guy.

  It was nearly an hour later that Sepp and Bibby came back in the house.

  “I think she needs a nap,” Sepp declared, “she’s getting cranky. Where’s Guy?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cat, slowly and softly. “He—walked out.”

  “Oh!” Sepp gave her a searching look. He picked up the baby, took off her shoes, and put her into the bed, tucking the blankets around her. She fussed halfheartedly but quickly gave in and snuggled into the pillows.

  Sepp sat down on the bench, leaning backwards onto the table with his elbows, and directed his turquoise gaze at Cat, giving her a long, straight look. She met his look with one of her own, then drew a deep breath.

  There was one more thing she needed to know.

  “Sepp? Who, or what, is Karana?”

  He looked surprised.

  “Karana? How… Oh, I suppose you heard us call the babe that. It’s nobody in particular—it’s just a pet name we have.” He sounded a little embarrassed. “It’s a private family name; we don’t—don’t usually use it in public. If you heard us say that, you are probably the first one outside of our family. Father used it, for Mother; I think he was the one who gave it its meaning.”

  “So what does it mean?”

  Now Sepp looked distinctly sheepish.

  “If you must know,” he said, avoiding Cat’s eyes, “it means ‘My Dearest Love and Delight of My Heart’. Sentimental, I know,” he said defensively, “but that’s Father. That’s how he was. Guy is so much like him in that way; everything is drama. And Father is the one who made up the word, so that’s what it means.”

  Cat looked down at her fingers, pleating and unpleating the fabric of her skirt.

  “Did—did Guy ever call her that?”

  “Who? His wife?” He snorted. “I doubt it. Mind you, I wasn’t there when they were private together, of course, but—I just doubt it, that’s all.”

  Cat felt a blush rising in her cheeks, but she had to know.

  “Sepp—did he love her?”

  The young man’s eyes were serious.

  “I think he tried,” he said quietly. “He tried his hardest. He was flattered, and probably infatuated, for a while—a very short while. After that—you cannot love an empty shell. And that’s what she was—still is—a hollow, empty, perfectly formed shell. Oh yes, she’s very beautiful—like a statue. Just like a statue. Cold, and hard. She doesn’t have half the beauty you have. You’re alive, and warm, and… Well, I know he sees it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him, ever.”

  Her head, her face blushing fiercely, came up at that.

  “But—he wants me to go!”

  Sepp frowned.

  “Why do you think that?” he asked.

  “Come, look,” she said, getting up from the rocker and leading the way into the workshop. “See? He put it out, for me to use.” She gestured at the bowl.

  Sepp started back at the sight of it, then pulled himself together and stepped closer.

  “It still frightens me,” he admitted. “But, Cat—what exactly did Guy say?”

  “He put it there, and said that it was for me, and if I wanted to leave, I should leave.” She suddenly paused. She knew. Why had she not known before? She knew. Her heart filled with a warm, bubbly, light feeling that expanded and spread through her whole body. “Sepp!” she cried, delighted with him, delighted with herself. “Sepp, it won’t work! The bowl won’t work, because it only works for someone who wants to leave—and I don’t! I am staying! I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying here!” She was so happy she could have hugged him. She did not know what she was going to do with herself in this strange world, this world of magic and Septimi and small children who had second sight, but she knew she belonged there. She would stay, she would find a place to live, she would move in with Ouska and learn her craft, she would…

  Cat suddenly became aware of an odd look on Sepp’s face. An intent look, half puzzled, half determined.

  “Cat,” he said slowly, as if thinking aloud, “Cat, do you think it might work for me?”

  And again, Cat knew.

  “It’s Nicky, isn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question. She considered. “I won’t ask what happened—you will tell me some other time. Yes,” she said, positive now, “the bowl will work. Take it, and when you get there, be careful. But you will know what to do.

  “Oh, and one thing—” she had no idea where this sudden thought came from, but she knew it was important to tell him, “Nicky is terrified of mice.”

  And this time she did hug him, one tight, strong hug, from sister to brother.

  Then Cat stepped back, picked up the glowing turquoise bowl from the table, and held it out to Sepp.

  “Goodbye, Risyl!”

  “Goodbye, Cat.” He reached out for the bowl, and as his hands touched it, she just saw his eye close in a wink. And then he was gone.