[Ealasaide]

As Rochadan finished the needed repairs to the ladder and carried it back to its place against the inn’s wall for Kellan’s use later in the evening, he looked around for the young woman or her dog. Finding no trace of them, he shrugged ruefully. She must have collected her dog and gone on about her business elsewhere while he was pre-occupied with the ladder and seeing Mistress Bêthberry on her way.

“Too bad,” he sighed. He had enjoyed her company. Thinking of her interest in the stars and the sky, he glanced upward, noticing for the first time that the sun had made considerable progress across the sky. It was near on lunchtime and Sallie had not had her nap. Because she had slept badly the night before, he had intended to see that she had at least a brief nap before lunch. Unfortunately, he had gotten busy and forgotten about it. Now, as he turned to look at her, he could see the undeniable signs of a growing crankiness.

She was sitting in the grass nearby, trying to construct a small edifice out of twigs and dry leaves. As Rochadan watched, the breeze blew it down for the third time. Crossly, Sallie corked her thumb into her mouth and threw a little foot out to kick at the rubble.

“Uh-oh...” murmured Rochadan. That wasn’t a good sign. He walked over and knelt down in front of her. “Hey, my little princess,” he said cheerfully. “How about some lunch?”

The three-year-old clambered to her feet and leaned heavily against her papa’s knee.

“Yake,” she said around the thumb in her mouth.

“Yake?” repeated Rochadan, puzzled.

Sallie nodded. “I onna oh ooh a yake.”

Mystified, Rochadan shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t get a word of that. C’mon,” he said and reached out to tap his daughter’s little fist gently with his forefinger. “Thumb out of the mouth. What’s yake?”

Sallie stared up at him with a pair of soulful brown eyes, then took the thumb out of her mouth. “Wanna go to the lake,” she explained sullenly before popping the thumb back in again.

Rochadan laughed softly. “Oh, the lake!” He shook his head. “Maybe later, eh? It’s lunchtime now.”

Stubbornly, Sallie shook her head and stamped her foot. “No yunch! Yake!”

“Yes, lunch,” answered Rochadan sternly. “Later lake.” He reached out to pick her up, but discovered rather quickly that he had sorely misjudged the extent of the child’s crankiness. Instead of curling herself into the crook of his arm the way she usually did, Sallie let loose with a ear-splitting shriek and tried to fling herself backward out of his grasp. Startled, he nearly dropped her. Recovering quickly, he tried to settle her in against his shoulder, amazed at how quickly a missed nap could transform his usually happy child into screaming bundle of sharp knees and elbows. Still squirming mightily, Sallie pitched forward this time, her forehead connecting squarely with her father’s cheekbone. Rochadan’s teeth clicked together at the impact. Sallie howled.

“Shhh... shhh...” he whispered, trying desperately to calm her. “We’ll go to the lake a little later.”

“No!” wailed little Sallie. “Lake!” She flung herself backward again, but this time Rochadan was ready for it and caught her easily. He spun gently around with the momentum and nearly collided with Andhún, who had come up behind him from the direction of the inn.

“Missed nap,” Rochadan explained helplessly to the boy, all the while trying to maneuver his daughter into a comfortable nook along his right arm, the way he used to hold her when she was very small.

Wide-eyed, the boy nodded. “M-miss Ædhral sent me to fetch you in, s-sir, for lunch,” he stammered nervously.

“Thank you,” answered Rochadan, giving the boy a quick smile as Sallie planted one little foot in the center of his ribcage and pushed.

“LAKE!” she howled, now in the throes of a full-blown tantrum.

Cautiously, Andhún reached out a slim hand and laid it on the little girl’s back between her shoulder blades. Startled at the touch of a strange hand, Sallie stiffened, her cries stopping in an abrupt little snort. Rubbing her back, Andhún began to sing in a soft, boyish voice. It was a quaint little song with a lilting, old-fashioned melody. Listening, Sallie sniffled quietly and burrowed her face into her father’s bicep.

Rochadan stared at Andhún with a combination of amazement and relief.

Sensing Rochadan’s eyes on him, the boy blushed furiously. “M-my mother used to sing it to my l-little sister,” he whispered sheepishly as the song ended.

Rochadan smiled. “That’s not a song,” he said quietly. “It’s a magic spell. You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Andhún with a shy grin. He continued to stroke the child’s back soothingly with his palm. “But I think it’s less the song than... than... than me being a distraction...”

“Again,” mumbled Sallie.

Prompting the boy with an encouraging smile and a nod, Rochadan listened as the boy began the song anew.