Rohr bellowed, “Small matter? Who could name changing the course o’ my destiny as such?”
“We do as we maun in answer to duty, lad, and go where bidden. Did I no’ raise ye knowing as much?”
Deathan blinked. His brother was not one to speak of destiny. Despite his bold and somewhat argumentative spirit, he tended to take things as given.
He would be given leadership of the clan some day—many years in the future, Deathan hoped. His father was, aye, still vigorous and not likely to surrender the reins soon.
“What is it?” he called again into the room. Thunder rumbled overhead once more, seeming to wring a response in echo from the very stones. Neither man acknowledged him.
“I should ha’ been told o’ this months ago!” Rohr hollered. “As soon as ever ye knew.”
“’Twas no’ months ago, but weeks I was mysel’ informed. And what was to be done about it, save gi’ obedience?”
Rohr threw up his hands. “Did ye no’ think I would need to accustom my thoughts to such an—an intrusion?”
“I thought ye would obey as ye ought!”
“Aye.” Rohr seethed. “’Tis wha’ ye ha’ always wanted fro’ me—obedience. Nay of consideration nor feeling. Just blind obedience—”
“Lad, ’tis a decree from the king. How can the obedience owed be anything but blind?”
Deathan took several steps into the room. As the storm began to roll off over the dark hills, their voices grew louder. Would they disturb Mother where she lay?
“I will no’ obey,” Rohr said levelly.
Da’s eyes flashed. “Ye will. If no’ at my behest, then at that o’ the king.”
“Curse the king!”
Da drew himself up farther, impossibly tall. “List to wha’ ye say! Am I to wash yer mouth out at the soap pot?”
Rohr took a step toward his father. “I should like to see ye try! I am no’ a boy anymore, to accept yer discipline but a man grown.”
“Ye be my son and sworn to me in fealty. So long as ye be under my roof—”
With sudden dignity, Rohr asked, “Do ye ask me to leave?”
“Wha’?” Da roared. “Would ye go?”
“I will tak’ naught but my sword and my pony—those surely I ha’ earned. And aye, I will go before I do yer mad bidding.”
Da blinked. Deathan did not know if he believed the words Rohr spat at him or not.
Deathan did not even know ifhebelieved.
The two men stared at one another, both breathing hard.
“Ye would no’,” Da said, his voice a low throb. “Surrender yer home. Yer birthright. And to swerve a simple duty.”
Rohr’s lips curved bitterly. “’Tis no’ simple. And ye should ha’ told me, old man.”
“What duty?” Deathan asked. What terrible thing could it be that made Rohr resist so hard?
Still they heeded him not. Rohr spun on his heel and, nearly walking through Deathan where he stood, marched out of the room, his eyes blank with fury.
Like the storm outside, he withdrew. That did not mean the disagreement had ended.
Chapter Two
