The lute echoed sweet and clear and pure down the tower stairwell. Shane stopped climbing stairs for a moment to lean against the wall, letting it wash over him. It was nothing he’d ever heard Uncle Ashe play before, a melody that seemed angry, yet played so soft it spoke of sorrow. He listened as it came around and restarted again, then resumed his climb up to his granduncle’s room.

He stopped at the doorway; Ashe had not been the one playing the song.

It was his father.

“Come in, Shane. I’ve been wanting to speak with you about something.” He nodded towards a nearby chair. “Sit down.” He continued playing the lute while Shane moved the chair closer, slowly drawing the last few notes out and then letting the final one fade softly before putting the instrument aside to fold his hands on his lap and smile at the boy.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Da?” Shane fidgeted with his own hands for a few seconds, then he set them in the same position as Ian’s. “And what song was that?”

“Did you know these used to be Xan’s rooms? I’d forgotten that” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to answer a question with a question. The song is something from my youth, and there is a story behind it, which I will tell you later. But I wanted to talk with you about something else. Ever since we returned from the Fields of Dawn, you have been very quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just busy.” Shane looked down at his own folded hands, then across at his father’s, big and scarred. He tried to envision his own like that and failed.

“Nothing. Then you haven’t been avoiding me?”

He shook his head, still staring at his hands. “No.”

“Shane. Look at me, please?”

So he looked up at his father’s face, and then cursed to himself as his eyes began to mist.

“Shane, son, what is it?”

“I..I..I don’t think I can be like you, Da! I want to, I do, but I don’t think I can!”

Ian reached out, wiping a tear off his son’s face. He had thought there was something troubling his son, but had not been able to get Shane in one spot long enough to speak with him. And so he and Ashe had devised this little ambush. “Why do you think that, Shane?”

The boy pulled his head back away from Ian’s hand. “Because I was scared! When that archer shot at us, I was too scared he had hit Uncle Ashe to dive for cover like you and Ma told me if we were attacked. And then when the ..when Brennus…when they attacked..” His voice began to break and he stopped speaking, angry at himself for crying like a baby. He wiped at his eyes with his knuckles, afraid of what his father must think of him.

“Can I tell you something, Shane, just between us? I’m scared every time I go into battle. Yes, it’s true.” He nodded as his son looked at him. “Every time. Shall I tell you something else? Only a fool or madman goes into a fight unafraid. As for what happened, you said you were scared Ashe had been hit. That, my son, is not cowardice. It is called love.”

“But…”

Ian held up a hand. “Wait. Let me finish. You say you were scared when the beasts attacked. Yet it was you who took charge, who gathered the rest into a circle and it was you who the cool head to keep the rest alive. The true sign of bravery, Shane, is the ability to carry on despite the fear and face it. You did that. And I am so very proud of you.”

“There is something else I am afraid to tell you, Da.” He looked back now at Ian’s face.

“Then say it.”

Shane braced himself, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I’m not sure I want to be a knight” He forced himself to keep his eyes level with his father’s and waited for the disappointment to show in them.

And then his father did what he had not expected. He laughed and reached out to draw him into a rough hug. “Shane, I would not care if you wanted to become a knight or a mage or a bard. Nothing you could do would ever stop making me love you.”

“Really?”

His father grinned. “Well, a necromancer might be a hard one. “ He laughed as his son wrinkled his face. “ Yes, really. You are my son, and Skye’s and we will always love you, no matter what. You still have time to decide what it is you want to be. You could even do more than one thing with your life. If you decide that you do want to be a knight, you can still be a Bard as well.” He let the boy go, then reached for the lute. “You have those pipes with you? I’ll teach you that song!”

An hour later, when Ashe came to the stairwell, the sound of the lute and pipes wound down to him, music once more sweet and clear.

He smiled, took a seat on the stairs, and listened.

12/2000