The cursed towers 259
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"Canna ye see he canna do it? Leave him in peace."
"If I leave him in peace, he'll be like this forever." Isabeau turned on her mother, thoroughly exasperated.
"Ye may be content to have a husband that thrusts his face into a bowl to eat and walks on all fours like a
beast, but I am no'! I want my father the way he should be."
Khan'gharad tried to say something but his mouth only contorted in odd shapes, a strangled whinny
coming out instead of words. One hand swept out and up, coming back to rest on his breast.
Isabeau stiffened for a moment in surprise, then slowly, with carefully defined gestures, said in the
language of the Khan'cohbans, "Try, my father, try. I swear we can teach you to be a man again but you
must try."
"I am!" he replied with an emphatic gesture.
Isabeau's eyes lit up, for it had not before occurred to her to try and talk to him in his native language.
Casti-gatirg herself for a fool, she smiled and held out her hand and he struggled again to his feet.
The morning was well advanced by the time Isabeau had at last managed to coax her father into eating
some of the porridge with a spoon clenched awkwardly in his large hand. It reminded her of Bronwen as
a babe and she looked over at the little girl with a little smile of reminiscence. Bronwen immediately
glanced up from her toys, smiling back. Isabeau bent and ruffled her hair, which hung as straight and
glossy as a black silk curtain, with one silvery white stripe on the left side.
"Wanna swim," the little girl said. "When we go swim?"
Isabeau nodded wearily. "I know, sweetie. Soon, I promise. I must just tidy up a little, and get my father
cleaned up, and make sure the goats have enough fodder.
Why do ye no' pack up what ye want to take to the valley while I finish what I need to do?"
She nodded eagerly and began to pack up her favorite toys while Isabeau did her best to clean up her
father's face and rebutton his robe.
"Mam, will ye be able to manage? I need to take Bronwen across to the valley now. Bronwen needs to
swim and so does Maya ..."
"No, I canna manage!" Ishbel cried. She had been watching Isabeau and Bronwen jealously and now set
her mouth stubbornly. "Look at him! He is more horse than man and I have never been one to mess
around in the stables. That is what we had grooms for. Ye should stay here where we need ye, no' go
running off to look after that wicked Fairge woman! What am I meant to do wi' him?"
"Feed him and wash him and have a care for him," Isabeau said gently, smoothing her hand over his great
mane of vigorous red hair. "He is like a child now that has no' yet learnt to walk or talk or eat wi' a
spoon. Ye must be like a mother to him."
"But I do no' know how," Ishbel cried, gripping Isa-beau's sleeve.
Her daughter disengaged herself, trying hard not to lose her temper. "Well, ye should ken how," she
answered sternly. "I ken ye were only just eighteen when ye gave birth to us and ye've been asleep ever
since, but you're a woman grown now. I was younger still when I took on the care o' Bronwen and I had
no one to guide me or help me but Feld, who kent less than I did." Her eyes filled with tears at the
thought of the old sorcerer, who had been dead on the stairs by the time she had got back to him.
Although seven months had passed since the battle with the Khan'cohban warrior and the marsh-faeries,
