[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
“It’s not an easy path,” David said, fidgeting again. “I’ve been able to figure out that much. But in the end, it’s worth it.”
“What is?” Tory said, twisting back toward him. “Which part?” He scrubbed both hands over his face and raked his fingers back through his hair. “This feels like some kind of curse—something that happened because of my parents and their parents and all of that.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about it being in part because of them,” Phelan said. “But it’s not a curse, Tory. It’s no more a curse than, say, being the Taliesin or the Taliesin’s heir.”
Lin winced slightly, staring off into space for a few seconds. “I don’t think of it like that, Uncle Phelan.”
“I know you don’t,” Phelan said. Though that certainly confirms that he’s figured it out, hasn’t he? “But some people would.” He glanced at his nephew, then at Tory. “You walk whatever path you choose, Tory,” he said quietly, gently. “But you know as well as I do that sometimes life has a way of bringing you back to things that you thought you’d escaped from—thought you didn’t want.”
“I—Uncle Phelan—”
“It’s all right,” Phelan said, then smiled, looking at David again. “Gray remembered the stories, huh?”
He nodded slowly. “Dad and Aunt Teca did, yeah. They were…well. They were fairy tales and bedtime stories until they weren’t anymore.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I catch glimpses of what was and what might be.”
“Lin has a similar gift,” Phelan murmured. “His parents were both Seers. Seems you’ve a touch of that, too.” The question is, how much of a touch does he have—and is there more to him than just that, I wonder?
One way or another, he’d likely soon find out.
