When Cassion said that Hart had nobility in him, Hart said, with a smile in his voice,
"The nobility would be on my father's side." His father was a Venora, a noble of Rynmere, and Hart smiled lightly at the immortal.
"I would guess," Hart said, the smile no longer in his voice,
"That there is something noble in me." The thought that there was nobility in him, though, and that it should be acknowledged by him, was difficult.
But, he thought, Cassion wasn't likely to describe qualities in him that weren't there.
Hart looked at him for a long moment, when Cassion said that his decision about Joy wasn't a mistake. Then he nodded, gratefully.
"Thank you," Hart said.
When he'd thanked Cassion before, the immortal had mussed Ruari's hair.
Then, Cassion did some magic tricks for the kids. Hart looked for Wren's card, and Wren looked at Cassion, taken by surprise. "How did you do that!" Wren said, more and more surprised by Cassion's magic the more Cassion did it.
Ruari was too little to get the magic tricks, not knowing that a card that was here shouldn't magically be there. The two year old did know, though, that chocolates weren't meant to be in ears. She looked indignant when Cassion brought the chocolate from her ear, nearly as indignant as she'd looked when he'd mussed her hair. But despite her indignance at the immortal, Hart noticed that she -and Wren- liked him, as well.
Smiling because of Cassion's tricks, Hart thought about Iago's
question
.
"I'd have to say Faldrass sand, as well," Hart said when Natalia said Faldrass.
"Because of that, orange sand. The sand is warm, but it doesn't get overly warm like other sand gets in the sun."
He smiled.
"I'm looking forward to swimming in Faldrass waters, in Vhalar," Hart said.
"The sand should make the water warm; good for swimming, when otherwise in Vhalar the water might get too cold." Too cold, at least, for other swimmers.
To Natalia's
question
, Hart said without much thought,
"My family has a tradition of meeting, in summer. There's a location we meet once a year, so that if we've sailed to different corners of the world, or if we've not met with one another of late, or if we've otherwise lost contact with one another, we're still able to meet. It's a big get together, and often lasts for one or more ten-trials."
Hart hadn't sailed to that location, though, since he'd lost his ship. For a moment he was quiet, thinking; then he looked over at Woe and Natalia as they spoke.
Woe said that he envied him his relationship with his mother, and Hart said,
"She's a lovely woman; a lovely mother." Woe said that he'd not had a mother, and Hart thought of questioning him about what he'd said.
Her cult.
But, thinking a moment, Hart didn't question him. It might be a history Woe would not like to relive.
Speaking of, Natalia and Woe said that there wasn't a day in their lives they would relive, and Hart looked at them both, quietly. There were many days in Hart's life that he would have liked to relive; there were many, many good days.
"I wish you both a good life," he said,
"With many good days."
He smiled when Ralgar said he'd relive the days of his youth.
"I would as well," Hart told him.
Natalia invited Ruari to meet her horse, Renaissance, and Hart smiled at her, as well.
"Sometime later in summer?" he said.
"Or maybe in Vhalar?"
The fourth course was taken away, and Saoire stood to give the
last
speeches of the night. Kura and Oram were honored as leaders, and Hart stood and gave them their ovation, glad that they were being honored.
"Kura," he said. Her work in the Glass Temple had been pivotal to the groups' success.
"Without your mind for organization, your brilliant leadership, your vivid political insight and intelligence-"
He looked at her thoughtfully, and because of that he smiled when he said,
"-and without your thoughtfulness, we would have been lost." He was quiet a moment, then he nodded and said once more,
"We would have been lost without you, Albarech. Thank you." He bowed to her.
"Oram," Hart said.
"I was impressed by your work in the Glass Temple." Like Woe and Doran, Hart thought that Oram was one of those who should be honored not only for their work in the Forging, but for their diligence in the trials and ten-trials before.
"In the Forging, though, I was impressed by your leadership," much like he'd been impressed by Kura's.
"But also by your groundedness, your logistical thinking, and your determination. There were obstacles in the Sweetwine group that I know I would have had difficulty with. But you -and your group- forged through them. Like Saoire said, you are a brilliant example of what a forged should be."
"Thank you, to the both of you," Hart said.
It was the fifth and last course, and Hart had but a moment to take in his dessert -a simple fruit parfait, topped with whipped cream- before Qylios spoke.
Qylios said that there was one more guest to be honored, and Hart -who'd thought Kura and Oram would be the last- stood to congratulate them. But when she spoke, it was evident that she was speaking about Hart.
It was like Cassion had said, Hart thought. Cassion had said that there was nobility in him but that Hart wasn't able to acknowledge it, and it was quite difficult for him to acknowledge the honor given him now. Hart had Wished, yes; he had Wished, and he was Fracturing. There weren't a lot of Wishes left in him; there wasn't a lot of him left to give.
But it was the others -those in the forging, and those who'd given of themselves in other ways, like Galena- who had granted his wish. He'd wished that the nation would be okay. He'd wished that Joy would be okay, as well.
"I wouldn't have been able to Wish if not for others," Hart said, when the immortals had spoken.
"I was without the ability to Wish, in the vault; Ziell gave me the ability. And he and Chamadarst gave me Bao, whose Wish I granted." He looked to the little cadouri.
"It was Bao who Wished for Peace."
"Nonetheless," Hart said,
"Thank you."
Thank you, Vega, he thought to the locket.
Sitting down, Hart noticed he was a bit breathless from being honored; it had stolen his breath in a way that honoring others hadn't. He laughed quietly to himself. He had a bite of parfait, which was very good despite -or maybe because of- its simplicity. When Qylios spoke to him, Hart laughed once more and thanked her.
Qylios' question wasn't difficult, and Hart said,
"I'm proud of Wren." If Hart was honored, he was honored to be Wren and Ruari's father. Hart spoke to Qylios, though he also spoke to Wren who looked to him with a beautiful light in his dark eyes,
"I'm proud of Wren going to Hopetoun."
"Like Woe said, I made the decision to go to the Warden by myself. I was told to do it in a dream, and I knew that it would likely be dangerous." In honesty, he'd thought he might die.
"But I made the decision." He wouldn't have made a different decision; if Hart hadn't made it, Ruari would have been in the vault by herself.
"Wren was with me when I made the decision to go, but Wren wasn't able to go with me. I gave him a locket Daia gave me, to let him go to where the other lion locket was, in Hopetoun." Though he wouldn't have made a different decision, it had been difficult; deciding to go to Ruari, deciding to leave Wren.
"Wren was afraid," Hart said, and the boy looked at him quietly.
"But he was determined too, despite being afraid; he was courageous like a lion. I couldn't have given the lion locket to someone more deserving of it." Qylios was the immortal of Courage; she would know Wren was deserving.
She was the immortal of Light, as well; she would know of Wren's light.
"In the darkness," Hart said,
"Wren was a light like a star. Vega couldn't have given her hope to someone more deserving of it." Neither could Wren have given his hope to someone more deserving than Vega.
"I'm proud of Wren," Hart said once more. For a moment, maybe, the light in Wren was visible to the others there, too.
With Qylios' question answered, Hart was quiet. He smiled once more at Ralgar, when Ralgar answered.
"The Bro'ky'na should be proud of you," he told the great man, simply.
To Nat's answer, he said as well,
"Thank you."
When Woe asked his question of Qylios, Hart thought a moment. Then he asked her,
"If it's not too much I'd like to know a bit about the Warden, as well. Maybe a memory of him, of when he was younger? A good memory, if you would. If not though, if it's too much, that's okay."
Wren, tired now but determined, looked to Qylios. He questioned her in a whisper, presumably so Cassion wouldn't notice him asking, "Was Cassion's magic trick magic, or was it sight of hands?"
"Sleight of hand," Hart whispered to him, and Wren whispered to Qylios, "Oh, I meant sleight of hands. Was it magic magic, or was it sleight of hands?"