Iylaine and Gwynn each get a new idea

“Look at him!” Lady Iylaine giggled breathlessly. “Look at him! He doesn’t need me to hold his hands, but he thinks he does.”

Lady Gwynn dutifully looked at Duncan, but she was hoping her friend’s fascination with her own offspring would not long endure. Gwynn had already squirmed with impatience waiting for her garrulous father and Iylaine’s equally talkative husband to make up their minds to leave.

“Look at him! Look at him!” Iylaine cried. “He just gets so mad if I don’t take his hands! Look! Doesn’t he look just like Malcolm when he’s mad?”

“Just like him,” Gwynn agreed. However, she was thinking that he also bore a startling resemblance to his adopted grandfather and natural cousin Sir Egelric. At least in the nose.

“Not even eleven months and already he’s walking!” Iylaine beamed. “Find me another baby who can say that!”

“It must be because he’s half-​​elf,” Gwynn said, squirming even more now that Iylaine was approaching the subject that interested her.

“I don’t think Wulf or Gils walked so early. Of course, Wulf’s mother and Gils’s father… But I’m certain it is because Malcolm is his father. Malcolm did everything early, although he says it was only because he was trying to beat his twin. Wouldn’t it be fine to have twins?” Iylaine smiled dreamily.

This was beginning to get away from the subject.

“Perhaps it’s because his mother is an elf and his father a Scot?” Gwynn suggested.

Iylaine stood abruptly, leaving Duncan standing alone – to his apparent surprise.

“Do you think there’s something special about the Scots?” she asked.

“Perhaps…” Gwynn said, trying to sound meaningful.

“I think the only ‘special’ thing about them is the nose,” Iylaine giggled.

Gwynn nearly groaned. The nose!

“Isn’t he the cutest turtle ever, though?” Iylaine sighed. “Though I’m certain his Da was almost as cute. Wasn’t he, turtle baby? Your Da?”

Duncan threw up his hands and squealed, “Da!” This, however, threw him off-​​balance, and he suddenly found himself sitting – to his apparent surprise. His mother shrieked with laughter.

“Cat’s a Scot!” Gwynn blurted.

Iylaine stopped laughing.

“And her elf’s… an elf…”

Iylaine sat on the bench, nearly as abruptly as Duncan had. “So?”

“So…” Gwynn realized that she had introduced the subject in an extraordinarily awkward manner, but she could not bear to turn aside from it now. “So if they have children, perhaps they will be clever like Duncan.”

Iylaine’s frown was angry, but her eyes made her seem to be in pain. “What about those other four elves? Did you think about that? Perhaps she will have a child with one of them. What then?”

Gwynn shrunk away from her friend, though it would not be so easy to distance herself from the idea. She did not want to admit she had not thought of it before – but she had not. Mouse had not mentioned it. Hetty had not mentioned it. And she did not quite understand…

“Where do you think Gils came from?” Iylaine turned her head aside and snorted. “Perhaps it’s the same elves. Perhaps Gils will get a half-​​brother. Did you think of that? Kisór dogs,” she added in a vicious whisper.

Gwynn had not thought of this at all. She could not see how a happy ending could be possible if this were to come to pass.

Iylaine shook her head grimly. “So you see what comes of trusting those elves.”

“But her blind elf isn’t one of those elves!”

“What do you mean he isn’t? What else would he be? Vash said he doesn’t know him. Or so I am told,” she muttered.

“But, Iylaine, listen. What if he is Kiv?”

“What?” Iylaine gasped.

“Mouse and Wyn think he might be. And that would explain why your father hates him so much.”

“Why?”

“Because he was rude to him before. And we know he is tall and blond.”

“All elves are tall!” Iylaine protested. “And some elves are blond. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“I know, but Wyn thinks he recognizes him.”

“Wyn didn’t recognize his own brother when they met. Kiv is not blind, and I am fairly certain Vash would know if his own dearest friend were alive and blind and living in a cave somewhere, instead of dead.” Iylaine pressed her lips tightly together as if she had just said all there was to be said on the matter.

“But he must have powerful magic to save Cat’s life like that,” Gwynn said timidly. “And those other elves don’t have magic. You said.”

“It is not Kiv. It is just one of these kisór dogs. Perhaps all five of them planned the whole thing together.”

“No!” Gwynn cried.

“No!” Duncan echoed from the floor and laughed.

“You have just accused that elf of a horrible crime, Iylaine,” Gwynn scolded. “And after he had proved his goodness by saving Wyn! I think he might be Kiv. Perhaps something terrible happened, and he lost his sight and had to hide in a cave.”

“It is not Kiv,” Iylaine grumbled.

“I think it is. I think it must be. It would be simply so – so – ”

“Romantic?” Iylaine snapped.

“So right.”