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Alfred liked Patryns well enough, most of the time. Many of them made no secret of their contempt for him and that was all right. He knew he deserved it for one reason or another. There were enough good people among his people’s ancient enemy that Alfred could be rather contented living alongside them.
Which was good, considering he didn’t have much of a choice. Balthazar had offered him a place with the Sartan of Abarrach, but the horrors he had seen from them had led Alfred to stammer out a polite rejection. Ramah’s people, of course, hated him and thought he was a traitor. So, Alfred found himself with the Patryns and found he liked it.
Except when they snuck up on him.
“What are you doing, Sartan?” Marit demanded from his elbow, surprising Alfred so much that black spots danced in his vision. He gritted his teeth and fought the faint, determined to overcome the instinct of a lifetime.
“I am trying to remember how to prepare a certain meal,” he answered once he felt steady again.
“Why? Haplo will eat anything,” Marit replied. As always, the Patryn woman spoke in clipped words. Alfred had finally learned that she didn’t mean anything by it; she simply didn’t speak often or at length.
“It isn’t for Haplo’s benefit,” Alfred said. What could Marit possibly mean? She couldn’t think he was trying to impress Haplo with his cooking skill, could she?
Well, that would be impossible. Alfred was only a tolerable cook, even when he did use his magic. His Patryn housemate really wouldn’t find it worthy of notice.
“I just thought of a dish I liked very much and wanted to try and make it,” Alfred continued, when Marit raised an eyebrow at him. Like all Patryns, she never used words when an expression would do. His reading said they had been taciturn even before the Sundering, but centuries in the Labyrinth had ensured that Patryns used their voices sparingly.
Marit smirked at him and left. Alfred shook his head and kept wracking his brain.
He’d finally remembered everything he needed and found the ingredients in his kitchen. That was surprising, really. This was a Patryn house and he couldn’t picture one of them making something that a human royal court would enjoy. Still, Alfred was glad he didn’t have to use his magic. Even in a safe place of the Labyrinth, it had strange results.
He got to work.
“What’s this?” Haplo said unexpectedly. Alfred’s hand slipped and he burned himself on the pan he’d been stirring.
“Do you have to do that?” he asked weakly, blowing on the burn.
“What?” Haplo checked the burn and clearly decided it wasn’t worth tending, because he let Alfred snatch his hand back, curiously embarrassed.
“Just appear! Our house is a safe place and it wouldn’t kill you to make a bit of noise to let me know you are entering a room. More importantly, it would save me a number of accidents,” Alfred said crossly. Venting his irritation nicely distracted him from needing to wonder why Haplo’s touch had made him feel so strange.
The Patryn smiled his small, quiet smile. “I didn’t appear, I stepped through the doorway. If I had used my magic, you would have noticed.”
Haplo’s dog pawed Alfred’s leg and he patted its head. Even after getting a real animal, Haplo hadn’t bothered to give it a name.
“So, what is this?” Haplo asked cutting off Alfred’s sputtering.
“Just a bite to eat. I, well, I got a touch homesick,” Alfred said. He could feel his cheeks burning. Marit didn’t care where his inspiration came from, but he couldn’t hide anything from Haplo. Admitting he missed the mensch would only make Haplo think less of him, but he still couldn’t keep it from him.
“Better in the kitchen than crawling back into a tomb,” Haplo said.
Alfred mumbled an agreement and Haplo glided back to wherever he’d come from. Alfred finished cooking and ate his snack. Questions tumbled through his mind. Both Marit and Haplo had behaved oddly, even for Patryns. Marit had acted as if Alfred meant to feed Haplo.
Haplo, for whatever reason, had implied he’d worried Alfred wanted to go back to his mausoleum on Arianus. Alfred knew him very well by now and he’d seen the slight look of alarm and relief cross Haplo’s face.
What could they possibly be thinking?
And the more important question: would they stop sneaking up on him?