Seraphim

Seven

"Adren!" the boy's father called. "Are you annoying our guest?"

Sevalyn made her clenched hand loosen on the woolen blanket. I need to move on. I'm already too obvious. She tried to move her legs, but they barely responded.

Adren still cheerful, turned to the old man. "Of course not, father."

"Aye, I'm sure, I'm sure. I've raised you boy, and I know that that's an impossibility."

Sevalyn instinctively let herself slip into the praen. She observed Adren and his father, noting the quality of the glow that shone through them. Adren was young and healthy. He seemed bright and blue. But his father...

"Father, I think she might be from Isdrasil."

Sevalyn jerked out of her thoughts. She thought she saw Adren's gaze flicker towards her momentarily.

"Ah, that's quite a ways away." The old man turned to her. "Are you from Isdrasil?"

Sevalyn thought for a moment. She could say that she wasn't, but her denial would only look suspicious. A lot of people were from Isdrasil. She said, "Yes."

"I knew it!" Adren crowed. Then he looked slightly reticent. "Sorry for badgering you about it. I've been dwelling on it while you've slept, and I suppose I've gotten rather too curious."

Sevalyn suddenly felt unsure. She'd never known how to accept apologies gracefully—they'd come rarely enough at the monastery. She deliberately prevented herself from saying "oh, um, well," and forced out, "You are forgiven."

Adren nodded, a new, amused half-smile gracing his lips. Sevalyn wondered if he could be amused at everything.

"Go and chop the wood outside, Adren. There's too much of it for an old man," his father told him. Adren inclined his head and left without complaint, and the old man turned to her. His movements were surprisingly fluid, considering what Sevalyn had seen of his praena.

"Don't let Adren bother you. He's a good lad, a good man, despite how insufferably talkative he can be." The old man laughed. "He'd make a better bard than a farmer, I'd warrant. But when it really comes to it, he's as responsible and hardworking as any a young man. More than most."

Sevalyn nodded slightly. She felt like she should say something.

The old man was unfazed by her silence. "You call for one of us if you need anything, alright?" He got up and walked out the doors.

Sevalyn laid in thought. There was so much Adren and his father didn't know. They didn't know who she was. They didn't know that the monks would soon be searching for her. How long would that take? They would find the missing skiff soon enough. How obvious would her flight across the desert be?

And Adren and his father didn't know about praena. They didn't know that the old man was close to death.

Should I tell them?

The monks would search the land surrounding Isdrasil before crossing the desert, she was sure of it. That would take them a while. And if she told Adren and his father who she was and why the monks were after her, they would be far worse off when the monks came asking after her...

As for the old man's condition, it would be kindest if they knew nothing at all.