Darkness Descending

“Good.” He was arrogant indeed. “You had better.” And then his manner changed. He could take off and put on charm as readily as he took off and redonned his kilt up in Krasta’s bedchamber. “Shall we go out this evening, milady, as well as tomorrow? Viscount Valnu, I hear, has promised one of his entertainments on the spur of the moment.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you are irked at me, I can always go alone.”

“And bring some ambitious little tart back here?” Krasta said. “Not on your life!”

Lurcanio laughed. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Of course you would,” Krasta said. “Mosco may not know men, but I do.” Lurcanio laughed again and did not presume to contradict her.

Pekka hurried around the house flicking at imaginary specks of dust. “Is everything ready?” she asked for the dozenth time.

“As ready as it can be,” her husband answered. Leino looked around the parlor. “Of course, we haven’t stuffed Uto into the rest crate yet.”

“You told me I’d get in trouble if I went in the rest crate,” Uto said indignantly. “That means you can’t put me in there either. It does, it does.” He drew himself up straight, as if defying Leino to deny it.

“Big people can do all sorts of things children can’t,” Leino said. Pekka coughed; she didn’t want this issue complicated. Leino coughed, too, in embarrassment, and yielded the point: “This time, you’re right. I’m not supposed to put you in the rest crate.” Under his breath, he added, “No matter how tempted I am.” Pekka heard that, and coughed again; Uto, fortunately, didn’t.

Before any new arguments could start--and arguments accreted around Uto as naturally as nacre around of bit of grit inside an oyster--someone knocked on the front door. Pekka jumped, then hurried to open it. There stood Ilmarinen and Siuntio. Pekka went down on one knee before them, as she would have before one of the Seven Princes of Kuusamo. “Enter,” she said. “Your presence honors my home.” It was a commonplace greeting, but here she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

As the two elderly theoretical sorcerers stepped over the threshold, Leino also bowed. So did Uto, a beat slower than he should have. He stared at the mages from under his thick mop of black hair.

Ilmarinen laughed at that covert inspection. “I know about you, young fellow,” he said. “Aye, I do. And do you know how I know?” Uto shook his head. Ilmarinen told him: “Because I was just the same way when I was your size, that’s how.”

“I believe it,” Siuntio said, “and you haven’t changed much in all the years since, either.” Ilmarinen beamed, though Pekka wasn’t sure Siuntio had meant it as a compliment.

Gathering herself, she said, “Masters, I present to you my husband, Leino, and my son, Uto.” She turned to her family. “Here we have the mages Siuntio and Ilmarinen.”

Leino and Uto bowed again. Leino said, “It is indeed an honor to have two such distinguished men as my guests.” He smiled wryly. “It would be an even greater honor were I privileged to hear what they discuss with my wife, but I understand why that cannot be. Come on, Uto--we’re going next door to visit Aunt Elimaki and Uncle Olavin.”

“Why?” Uto had his eye on Ilmarinen. “I’d rather stay and listen to him. I already know what Auntie and Uncle will do.”

“We can’t listen to these mages and your mother talk, because they’ll be talking about secret things,” Leino said. Pekka thought that only more likely to make Uto want to stay, but her husband retrieved the situation by adding, “These things are so secret, even I’m not supposed to hear about them.”

Uto’s eyes widened. He’d known his parents didn’t--couldn’t--tell each other about everything they did, but he’d never seen that brought home so dramatically. He went with Leino to Pekka’s sister’s house without another word of protest.

“A likely lad,” Ilmarinen said. “Likely to make you want to pitch him into the sea a lot of the time, I shouldn’t wonder, but likely the other way, too.”

“I think you’re right on both counts,” Pekka said. “Sit. Make yourselves comfortable, I pray you. Let me bring refreshments.” She hurried into the kitchen, then returned with bread, sliced smoked salmon and onions and pickled cucumbers, and a pot of ale from Kajaani’s best brewer.

By the time she got back, Siuntio had spectacles on his nose and a Lagoan journal in his hand. He set it aside willingly enough to eat and to accept a mug of golden ale, but his eyes kept sliding over to it. Pekka noticed and said nothing. Ilmarinen noticed and twitted him: “The Lagoans watch us, and so you feel compelled to watch the Lagoans?”

“And what if I do?” Siuntio asked mildly. “This does, after all, touch upon our reason for coming to Kajaani.”

Not even Ilmarinen could find a way to disagree with him. “The vultures gather,” he said. “They clawed at the scraps of what we published. Now that we’ve stopped publishing, they claw at the scraps of what isn’t there.”