maybe we could discuss how we can help this young unexpected prodigy study.”
Seneo ruffled Dunwich’s hair kindly and went off humming another tune, a darker more melancholy and extremely more complex one.
Dunwich clapped his hands in excitement as he watched that strange man disappear.
“Want to be a chanter, my son?” uttered Varno as they walked home.
‘ I wouldn’t be surprised... I really I wouldn’t be surprised...’
***
During those hazy months of waiting, Eglade found she was expecting again. They’d spoken a lot, she and Varno, about how wonderful it would be to give Dunwich a little brother, or sister. As with him, they’d tried many a time but without success. Ten years had gone by since the birth of their first son. The discovery was welcomed by the Aelian with boundless joy, particularly after the decision to follow through on Dunwich’s talents and send him to Cambria to study. Seneo would return sooner or later, they were certain, and she’d have to see her beloved son leave their home.
Varno was less excited, but he tried to indulge his wife’s happiness. The money he earned was meagre. It barely went far enough for the three of them. Besides, an unexpected fear was brewing inside him, and he didn’t know how to manage it.
Dunwich had turned out to be anything other than his father’s son. What would another child be like, he wondered endlessly. Even smarter? So different to him? So slow in its growth?
He wasn ’t at all sure he wanted to find out.
He ’d known Eglade for sixteen years. She hadn’t changed in the slightest since the first day. As beautiful as ever. Tall, and with a presence that became increasingly striking. He instead was shifting dangerously towards middle age, and the wrinkles advanced ruthlessly on his face.
Varno realised he was wildly afraid of those years that passed. He would compare himself to her day and night. Timeless and perfect. And he felt anything other than perfect. Even his son was a thousand times better than him. More handsome, more intelligent.
More everything .
The idea of returning to the mercenary life didn’t sound as foolish as it once did.
J ust a few days to go to the birth of his son. Eglade knew, as she had with Dunwich, that it would be a boy. “Another man to look after...” she murmured with a tinge of disappointment, as they talked about what name to give him. Varno wanted to call him Edio, after his father, or Edrin, like one of his many brothers. He’d always liked that name.
“ You know, I had a dream the other night...” Eglade tried to say, but his mind was made up. At last, a name connected with his family! A first step towards normality, he thought in satisfaction.
Eglade gave birth in their bedroom and, differently from the first time, required her husband’s assistance. It was far more painful and laboured, despite all the herbs she’d prepared. But when she held the still trembling babe in her arms, no pain could compare with the euphoria she felt. Dunwich came in at the end of the lengthy ordeal and cuddled up at his mother’s side. He’d been in a permanent state of excitement since they’d told him he’d be having a little brother. Even Varno, with all his doubts, felt at that moment that he’d be able to overcome his reserves. Eglade was gorgeous with the newborn in her arms and her oldest son lying beside her. A scene worth painting. So it could never be forgotten.
To use as a shield against time as it slipped through his fingers.
“ I will call you Edio, my son,” Varno proclaimed proudly, stroking the black hair.
But, unexpectedly, the baby began crying, wailing and writhing in distress. Puzzled, Varno coughed nervously and tried repeating Edio . The name seemed to be a sort of torture for the young one. All the father had to do was whisper it and the child started screaming as if a knife were skinning him alive. Varno tried with Edrin, Nedrian and Edrinor, but the reaction was always the
Seneo ruffled Dunwich’s hair kindly and went off humming another tune, a darker more melancholy and extremely more complex one.
Dunwich clapped his hands in excitement as he watched that strange man disappear.
“Want to be a chanter, my son?” uttered Varno as they walked home.
‘ I wouldn’t be surprised... I really I wouldn’t be surprised...’
***
During those hazy months of waiting, Eglade found she was expecting again. They’d spoken a lot, she and Varno, about how wonderful it would be to give Dunwich a little brother, or sister. As with him, they’d tried many a time but without success. Ten years had gone by since the birth of their first son. The discovery was welcomed by the Aelian with boundless joy, particularly after the decision to follow through on Dunwich’s talents and send him to Cambria to study. Seneo would return sooner or later, they were certain, and she’d have to see her beloved son leave their home.
Varno was less excited, but he tried to indulge his wife’s happiness. The money he earned was meagre. It barely went far enough for the three of them. Besides, an unexpected fear was brewing inside him, and he didn’t know how to manage it.
Dunwich had turned out to be anything other than his father’s son. What would another child be like, he wondered endlessly. Even smarter? So different to him? So slow in its growth?
He wasn ’t at all sure he wanted to find out.
He ’d known Eglade for sixteen years. She hadn’t changed in the slightest since the first day. As beautiful as ever. Tall, and with a presence that became increasingly striking. He instead was shifting dangerously towards middle age, and the wrinkles advanced ruthlessly on his face.
Varno realised he was wildly afraid of those years that passed. He would compare himself to her day and night. Timeless and perfect. And he felt anything other than perfect. Even his son was a thousand times better than him. More handsome, more intelligent.
More everything .
The idea of returning to the mercenary life didn’t sound as foolish as it once did.
J ust a few days to go to the birth of his son. Eglade knew, as she had with Dunwich, that it would be a boy. “Another man to look after...” she murmured with a tinge of disappointment, as they talked about what name to give him. Varno wanted to call him Edio, after his father, or Edrin, like one of his many brothers. He’d always liked that name.
“ You know, I had a dream the other night...” Eglade tried to say, but his mind was made up. At last, a name connected with his family! A first step towards normality, he thought in satisfaction.
Eglade gave birth in their bedroom and, differently from the first time, required her husband’s assistance. It was far more painful and laboured, despite all the herbs she’d prepared. But when she held the still trembling babe in her arms, no pain could compare with the euphoria she felt. Dunwich came in at the end of the lengthy ordeal and cuddled up at his mother’s side. He’d been in a permanent state of excitement since they’d told him he’d be having a little brother. Even Varno, with all his doubts, felt at that moment that he’d be able to overcome his reserves. Eglade was gorgeous with the newborn in her arms and her oldest son lying beside her. A scene worth painting. So it could never be forgotten.
To use as a shield against time as it slipped through his fingers.
“ I will call you Edio, my son,” Varno proclaimed proudly, stroking the black hair.
But, unexpectedly, the baby began crying, wailing and writhing in distress. Puzzled, Varno coughed nervously and tried repeating Edio . The name seemed to be a sort of torture for the young one. All the father had to do was whisper it and the child started screaming as if a knife were skinning him alive. Varno tried with Edrin, Nedrian and Edrinor, but the reaction was always the
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