In Which Isidro Is Led by a Familiar

July 28, 1181

Balin, despite having the agency to more or less invite himself to join the family all those years back, was not a dog who was prone to escape. On the off-chance, however, that he did get out, getting him to come back was never easy. He was a large dog, large enough that Isidro had enough trouble dragging him where he didn't want to go, too strong for the girls or even Riona to make him budge much at all. He was also quick, with an excellent sense for the speed of his pursuer; if Isidro ran, Balin would run, and Isidro tired much more quickly. If he wanted to catch Balin, a brisk walking pace with only the most gradual of spaced-out accelerations was the best way to go about it.

Of course, that meant it was never a quick job. "Stupid dog. Usually I can't get you to leave me alone."

Balin gave no sign of having heard and trotted along the side of the inn, single-minded, almost like he had a fixed destination in mind. He'd even walked past the sausages this time without so much as a sniff. "Balin, what are you up to?"

Strangely, the dog stopped and turned around, answering with a good-natured pant. Isidro seized his chance and caught up to him. "You're such an oddball."

He took a knee and rubbed between Balin's ears while a wet nose pressed against his chin. "That's a good boy. Come on, now--let's go home."

The dog yapped and resumed his original trajectory. Should've grabbed him. "Oh, you've got to be--hey!"

With little more than sheer will, Balin had pushed open the inn door and strutted inside.

"Come back! Seoth doesn't allow pets in there!"

The dog held the door with a swish of his tail and Isidro followed, though Balin stood still no longer than whatever human manners he'd picked up dictated. "Crazy dog..."

Balin stopped and turned his head. Isidro followed his gaze to the only other person in the room, a stranger seated at the far table. With barely a tilt of his head, the man's dark eyes met with the dog's.

"Uh... he's not bothering you, is he?" Isidro offered in some roundabout apology.

The stranger shook his head. "Oh, not at all. Just making sure that he remembers me."

Remembers? Isidro frowned as Balin rushed to the man's side and greeted him with a lick to the fingers. The man repaid him with a scratch behind the ear.

"Sorry, how do you know my dog?"

"Your dog?" The man shot him a wayward smile. "He's my dog."

Isidro swallowed. Four and a half years was a little longer than most owners of lost dogs would have searched, but... "Shit. I'm sorry. We thought he was a stray. My children--"

"It's all right. You may keep him if you wish. I get the sense that he likes you."

As if to confirm, Balin turned back to Isidro and looked up, begging for a stroke. More than a little puzzled, Isidro obliged. "How would you get that from just now?"

"We share a certain bond, he and I. I can't explain it much better than that." The man took a sip from the cup in front of him, then placed it back on the table with a tender care this inn rarely saw. "He's more of a dear friend than a pet. Almost a familiar, really. That's why I could trust him to keep an eye on you."

Balin licked Isidro's face, but in the shock of the words, he barely noticed. "Uh... sorry?"

"You apologize quite a bit. Given your upbringing, though, I can't say I'm surprised. Your father didn't value you much more than he did your mother, did he, Isidro?"

What? "How do you know my name? And why would you send your dog to find me?" Balin wagged his tail. Isidro guessed he could appreciate the attempt to ease the tension, but it did little to help. "Who are you, anyway?"

The man pushed back his chair and drew himself to his feet. "I'm your uncle."

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