She broke away. “It’s been a while, Cas.”

“I know.”

“Too long.”

“I know.”

She nodded towards the window. “They miss you.”

“Can I…”

“You know you can.”

She led him to the door, into the narrow hallway, unbuckling the chain from her wrist and slinging it over a hook, cross-shaped knife dangling. The oldest girl dashed out from the room, stopped dead when she saw him.

“It’s me.” He edged slowly towards her, his voice strangled. “It’s me.” The other two children came out from the room, peering around their sister. Shenkt feared no man, but before these children, he was a coward. “I have something for you.” He reached into his coat with trembling fingers.

“Cas.” He held out the carved dog, and the little boy with his name snatched it from his hand, grinning. “Kande.” He put the bird in the cupped hands of the littlest girl, and she stared dumbly at it. “For you, Tee,” and he offered the cat to the oldest girl.

She took it. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long.” He touched the girl’s hair and she flinched away, he jerked his hand back, awkward. He felt the weight of the butcher’s sickle in his coat as he moved, and he stood sharply, took a step back. The three of them stared up at him, carved animals clutched in their hands.

“To bed now,” said Shylo. “He’ll still be here tomorrow.” Her eyes were on him, hard lines across the freckled bridge of her nose. “Won’t you, Cas?”

“Yes.”

She brushed their complaints away, pointed to the stairs. “To bed.” They filed up slowly, step by step, the boy yawning, the younger girl hanging her head, the other complaining that she wasn’t tired. “I’ll come sing to you later. If you’re quiet until then, maybe your father will even hum the low parts.” The youngest of the two girls smiled at him, between the banisters at the top of the stairs, until Shylo pushed him into the living room and shut the door.

“They got so big,” he muttered.

“That’s what they do. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I just—”

“You know you can, and you know you haven’t. Why are you…” She saw the ruby on his forefinger and frowned. “That’s Murcatto’s ring.”

“She lost it in Puranti. I nearly caught her there.”

“Caught her? Why?”

He paused. “She has become involved… in my revenge.”

“You and your revenge. Did you ever think you might be happier forgetting it?”

“A rock might be happier if it was a bird, and could fly from the earth and be free. A rock is not a bird. Were you working for Murcatto?”

“Yes. So?”

“Where is she?”

“You came here for that?”

“That.” He looked towards the ceiling. “And them.” He looked her in the eye. “And you.”

She grinned, little lines cutting into the skin at the corners of her eyes. It took him by surprise, how much he loved to see those lines. “Cas, Cas. For such a clever bastard you’re a stupid bastard. You always look for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Murcatto’s in Ospria, with Rogont. She fought in the battle there. Any man with ears knows that.”