The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

“Calentin is not Dulmun, and my family was not like yours,” said Albern. “The commonfolk in Tokana obeyed us, but when I was a child, we were not particularly well loved. Nor did we mingle often. My mother, in particular, was very strict about it. You recall the story of Ditra and her retainer? She feared Mother would punish her severely if they were found out, and she was correct.”

It still made no sense to Sun. “Still, you must have known some commoners in your youth, unless you never left your family’s stronghold. But you have already told me that was not the case.”

He sighed. “You are not entirely wrong. My mother’s attitude is, mayhap, an excuse I use to feel better about the way I acted. We all like to think better of our younger selves than we might deserve. The truth is that I rarely tried to befriend anyone outside my family, or even converse with them. I never paid much attention to anyone but other nobility, and even that was scant compared to the attention I gave to the wilderness. You might not believe it, but I think I have spoken more to you, in the short time we have known each other, than I ever spoke to my eldest sister, Romil.”

Sun balked at that. “That cannot be true.”

“Stories and truth,” said Albern with a smile. “But that is how I remember it. Romil saw me as little more than a family asset, and a poor one at that, and I wholeheartedly returned her lack of affection. The only person I was close to was Ditra, and even we drifted further apart as we grew older.

“It was not until I was free from my home, out from under the sway of my mother, that I began to appreciate the people around me. I had been so starved for friendship and affection that I began to bestow them with great vigor. You think I am friendly now, but I doubt you would have so enjoyed my company if you had met me when I was your age. I was too focused on my family, on how they treated me. In short, I thought only of my own difficulties. Once I had put them mostly behind me, it felt like my attention was suddenly free, and I was able to behold a world I had never noticed before. And only then could I spare enough thought for my own desires to decide what I wanted to do with my life. That is when I realized I was ander. I could never see it in Tokana, when I was too focused on my dissatisfaction with my family to see how I was dissatisfied with myself.”

Sun shook her head. “I still want to know why you left your home in the first place. You have told me of the tree in the valley, and your mother’s lack of care. But neither sounds dire enough to flee your homeland, especially as a noble.”

“You did not ask about this before.”

Sun threw her hands in the air. “I did not want some dark-taken answer that ‘Every part of the story must be told in its proper turn, or the whole thing will collapse.’”

Her imitation of his Calentin accent was passingly fair, and Albern laughed loud and long at it. “I suppose I can explain a bit more of my decision without ruining the whole tale,” he said at last, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye as his laughter finally subsided. “I did not leave because of the tree. As I told you, that was only what first made me aware of my discontent. The urge to leave built steadily after that. My mother’s unkindness was another part of it. My father was a bannerman first, a parent second, and he died when I was young. All I had was Ditra, and she was only a few years older than me. She was not a good substitute for a parent. And why should she have been? She had no one to learn from—certainly not our mother.”

He cut himself off suddenly, and the smile he forced was sour. “That sounded resentful.”

“You seem resentful,” said Sun. “But not without good reason.”

“I should have left this bitterness in the past long ago,” said Albern. “I should not still be angry about it, but I am.”

It made Sun uncomfortable to hear such familiar sentiment from someone so much older than she was. “I understand,” she said. “Truly, I do. My parents act the same way.”

“As I suspected,” said Albern with a sigh. “It is as though … as though people become parents, and suddenly they feel a sense of duty to ‘the family.’ But they forget, or so it seems, that the family is made of people. A family is not a name. It is not a legacy, not a list of ancestors, not the house you live in. It is the people. Your kin, by blood or by law, or by choice. If the people are not well, the family is not well.”

He paused again—but this time with a wince of pain, and his hand moved to his side, clutching near his ribs. Sun’s heart skipped.

“Are you all right?” she said.

“Fine,” he said. “It is … something. I am not sure. Mayhap it is an old injury, or mayhap just a product of age. It is one of the reasons I wish to see the medica.”

“Ah,” said Sun. “You seem to be traveling quite far to meet her. Have you known her long?”

“Oh yes,” said Albern, his smile returning. “She is the one who performed my wending when I was your age. She is hardly any older than I am. That was quite a shock, when first we met. There I was, having only seen nineteen summers, having only just realized that I was not my mother’s daughter, as I had always thought, but her son. I had just