Malcolm tells the truth of a certain thing
Malcolm sat on the edge of his bed and watched his wife with a rapt attention that her rambling bedtime chatter did not often elicit from him.
First she unrolled her hair and brushed it out, as she did every night, but from time to time she would interrupt her recital of her own or Duncan’s exploits in order to study her reflection in the mirror.
However, so far it seemed to be the ordinary sort of full-on, fastidious self-scrutiny of a very pretty and very tidy young lady.
She removed her necklace and laid it on the chest, and then she wriggled out of her heavy kirtle, still talking away, though her voice was briefly muffled by the gown. Malcolm grinned at her, though she was too busy watching herself in the mirror to notice.
He knew she would not remove the linen shift she wore beneath her gown – at least not until she was warm in the bed and he could coax her out of it – but he was not watching her for a chance to see her naked in the candlelight, either.
At last, though, his attention was rewarded. For the briefest moment she stepped back from the mirror and turned sidewise to examine the profile of her body, and then Malcolm pounced.
“What are you looking at, my fine Baby?”
“Huh?” she gasped.
“What are you looking at in that mirror?”
“My chest!” she said slyly.
“Nor are you! Why did you step back so far if that’s all you wanted to see?”
She spluttered with laughter. “Because it makes it look bigger if I suck in my stomach like this!”
Malcolm caught her by the waist and spun her around. “If that’s what you call sucking it in, I’m glad I don’t see it hanging out!”
She laughed. “You think you’re so clever!”
“I do! I do! How clever do you think yourself, Lady Baby? You think you’re clever enough to hide it from me forever? You’re not going to be like Lathir, are you, and waddle around with your belly out to here, saying, ‘Perhaps I am and perhaps I aren’t!’”
She laughed and laughed, and Malcolm told himself that, even though he had a rather happy life overall, this was one of those rare moments of great and utter happiness, and he would be wise not to let it pass without savoring it.
“What’s it going to be this time? Another turtle? A squirrel, this time?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malcolm,” she said, trying to sound scornful and failing entirely.
“Baby!” he pretended to scold. “Would you lie to me?”
A last, tremulous giggle came up like a tuft of smoke from a snuffed candle. “I don’t know, Malcolm,” she murmured mournfully. “Would you lie to me?”
“Huh?”
It took Malcolm a moment to ratchet his mood down to the level of hers, but her question seemed serious, so he considered it seriously.
At last he said, “I suppose I could.”
“You could?” she gasped.
“Think about it, Babe. I know it’s wrong to lie, but it’s wrong to kill, and I would kill to protect you or protect Duncan. So I’m certain I would lie to protect my family, too.”
“Have you?”
This was serious indeed. Malcolm took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his lips, to give himself time to think.
“I suppose I have. But I don’t quite think about it as lying.”
“What is it then?”
“I don’t know. If I told you I was going to see Sigefrith and went out with a girl instead, that would be lying. But not telling you the truth of certain things…”
She caught his hand and pulled it up so she could pat his forearm. “Like this thing?”
“What do you know about that?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know. Perhaps more than you know. I know who did it to you.”
“Who?”
“Kiv did. Cat’s elf.”
“I knew that.”
“You did?” she cried. “Why didn’t… you…”
“What do you want me to do, Babe?” he muttered. “I can’t hurt him. Something bad will happen to Cat. Don’t you remember how sick you were when this happened to me?”
She stared at him.
“It would be worse for Cat. And if I killed him, Cat would never be the same. She would be broken inside.”
“How do you know that?”
“Vash told me,” he mumbled.
“You talked to Vash?” she squeaked.
“A week or two ago,” he sighed.
She flung out her arms and wailed, “Does he talk to everyone in this valley but me?” Then she hung her head.
Malcolm did not have an answer to that, so he spoke with the intent of ending the conversation as soon as possible.
“And now we both know,” he said. “Kiv tried to kill me, and Vash saved me. Some other elf tried to kill Cat, and Kiv saved her. I don’t know whether that makes us quits, or what, but anyway I can’t hurt him because I don’t want to hurt poor Cat. She’s been hurt enough already.”
“And I?” Iylaine cried.
“You what? Nobody means to hurt you. Vash says that Kiv won’t hurt me again. I simply don’t wish to see him, and I am certain he doesn’t wish to see me. He means to become a Christian, and if he can do that I suppose I’m Christian enough to forgive him if he’s sorry. But I shan’t see him, and I hope you won’t either.”
She stared at him with sullen eyes.
“Don’t make me forbid it.”
“I don’t wish to see him either,” she muttered. “He tried to kill my husband. He tried to kill my baby’s father before he was even born. So. Even if I’m a Christian I can’t forgive him for that.”
“Well, you may take that up with a priest. But, listen, Baby,” he coaxed. “Only a moment ago we were laughing, and now we’re both miserable, all because we’re talking about something that happened over a year ago. So why don’t we talk about something that’s going to happen in the future?”
“Such as what?” she pouted.
“Such as this little turtle here.”
“It is not a turtle.”
“Oh, no?” he laughed. “It’s not a badger, is it? You promised no badgers.”
“I shan’t tell you,” she giggled, brightening. “You think you’re so clever, Malcolm. You’ll never guess!”
