The Redemption of Desmeres

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “An apology…” Genara fumed. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  “Unless I am mistaken, you are at best a madam at a brothel. At worst, you are still aspiring toward that position. The sort of life story that leads to that chapter seldom speaks of joy and achievement.”

  She crossed her arms, genuine anger in her eyes. “It just so happens I am proud of what I’ve made of myself. Others might not consider what I do respectable, but I’ve done more with myself then half of the people in Verril. The daughter of a man well past his prime, a former slave and self-taught smith. I now earn more than either of my parents ever did. More even than my brother. I have learned to read, I have ascended to the peak of my field. Clennock’s Den runs smoothly, with happier and healthier girls than any such establishment in all of the Northern Alliance. From what I’ve heard from our Tresson girls, better than any on the continent.”

  “I’d imagine South Crescent may offer some healthy competition in that regard. Elves set high standards for society.”

  “I wasn’t through! The most important, I’ve done all of this without once doing anything I didn’t choose to do. Which is better most people can say in my position or any other.”

  “Very well. I apologize for the implication that an apology was implied,” Desmeres said. “Did you come all this way to issue that rather venomous expression of gratitude?”

  “I came because what you’ve just said proves I owe you, Desmeres. And I don’t like a thing like that hanging over me. Genara Copperwright pays her debts. Father’s burned his record of the debt he owed to you to, once he worked out who you were and what you were planning.”

  “I was entirely too talkative in that regard… May I ask how you intend to clear your debt? Or is it my choice?”

  “No, no. My choice, Desmeres. Now let me ask you this. Where were you headed before I showed up?”

  “I’m afraid you already know far too much about me and my whereabouts.”

  “Well, I certainly hope it wasn’t a buried storage room full of books, weapons, and gold.”

  “I’ve been to one already, and others were on my itinerary.”

  “Well, that’s where the Elite are headed. They have a list of them. Know just where they are. I hope there isn’t anything there you can’t afford to lose.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “Some of the new Elites have expensive tastes and loose lips.”

  He sighed. “I suppose it was inevitable they’d get to the General’s records. I just thought I had more time. They’ll get at my weapons, but I’ve taken a load of them back from the Alliance Army once. I can do it again. They’ll probably take the books as well. That will slow my plans somewhat, as I’ll need to reclaim them as well, but I need time to train Dowser regardless. Let them find the places, I shall keep my distance for now. I thank you, however, for the warning. It will give me time to prepare for the task more adequately.”

  “You are welcome. Now, if you will kindly take me back to the inn, I shall take my leave.”

  Dowser got loose and assaulted Genara’s face, sniffing and licking at her nose and ears, then attempting to bury its nose in her bodice.

  “Easy, Dowser. Be a gentleman, remember?” Desmeres said, snatching the puppy and plopping him between them.

  “It’s the fragrance. Mermaid’s Tears. That blind man who sent me to the boarding house had me touch up with it and this happens.”

  “A blind man sent you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It must have been the night man from the boarding house. That man proved himself to be a liability rather…”

  She looked to him and tugged her skirt out from beneath the puppy. “You trailed off a bit there.”

  “How familiar are you with Myranda’s story of what brought her into direct conflict with the D’Karon.”

  “You mean the Duchess of Kenvard?”

  “To you she is the Duchess of Kenvard. To me, and anyone who has met her, she is Myranda. Her life became marvelously complicated when a blind man sent her to meet me, which in turn sent her to meet the Red Shadow, and onward to her destiny. It wasn’t the last time she met him. In time, the name Oriech was applied to the man.”

  “So he gets around,” Genara said.

  “I’m more interested in his employers.”

  “Oh? Works for someone dangerous?”

  “He, if all are to be believed, serves a purpose for the gods themselves, guiding figures of note toward the places they can do the most good…”

  “Seems to me a divine messenger could find himself a better job than ‘night man at the Krestok Boarding House.’ Also, what proof do you have that this blind man is the same one the Duchess spoke of?”

  “If he’d not delayed me, I would have been gone last night, for one.”

  “Could be a coincidence.”

  “He claims to be responsible for my room, and thus its view.”

  “What about it?”

  He reached out and tapped her ring. “Where do you suppose I got my inspiration?”

  “Oh, really… And it was his fault your puppy here chose me to trample all over…”

  He tightened his jaw. “Manipulation by the fingers of fate… This does not bode well. The eyes of the gods seldom turn to pleasant and peaceful matters.”

  “Asking me to believe that little old blind man is some being of divine importance is a bit much, but supposing he is, what reason would he have to bring us together?”

  “It would be too much to ask that our benevolent makers would be forthcoming… Perhaps we are to be the progenitors of a grand and heroic bloodline.”

  “I certainly hope not, because one thing that’s clear is you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I am worth quite a bit of trouble. Although those foolish enough to associate with me seldom do so for very long.”

  “They think better of it?”

  “Possibly, but if so, not until the moments preceding their untimely death.”

  “I believe we have traveled far enough to turn around, Desmeres.”

  “Just as soon as I find a place wide enough to do so, Genara.”

  “Any other reason you think fate may have driven us together?”

  “You came to tell me about their plans to raid storehouses. I can only assume Oriech intends for me to circumvent that. My plans otherwise involved heading for the Tresson border, which is where most of the names were added to the one book I have.”

  “Is this how the gods do their work? Send a messenger to leave people wondering what they are intended to do?”

  “Most people who meet Oriech are not so savvy to his presence and purpose. That affords him a degree more subtlety, and leaves those whom he has influenced to travel merrily along the path he has devised without ever imagining that it was anyone’s idea but their own.”

  “I guess you’re too smart for that.”

  “My foreknowledge has certainly left him with a more complex formula.”

  “Why don’t we just ask him? Odds are good you’re delusional and he’s just a poor blind man with a bad job and a weakness for expensive perfume. I left him not so long ago.”

  Desmeres paused. “An excellent suggestion.”

  “You ‘intelligent’ fellows always seem to overlook the simple solutions.”

  “Shall I take you to your room first?”

  “No, sir. For one, you don’t know where to find him. And I want to be there when you find out you’re over-thinking this whole mess because the man who tattled on you just happened to be blind.”

  #

  A few minutes later, Desmeres guided his cart to a small side street near the market district.

  “A much better neighborhood than my last lodging,” Desmeres said.

  “The neighborhoods with money are always the nice ones,” Genara said.

  “That’s fortunate, as I don’t think Dowser is quite up to the task of guard duty,” he said.

 
He scooped up the pup, who had been getting increasingly restless as they moved deeper into the city.

  “You aren’t going to take that mongrel with you, are you?” she said.

  “Dowser is a purebred Vulbaka, so you’ll need to choose a more accurate insult. I recommend ‘cur.’ And yes, I’m taking him with me. As you learned earlier, he’s something of an escape artist.”

  “But you could tie him up. You don’t need to tote him around like a child.”

  “For now, I do. I’ve got to socialize the creature so that this sort of situation won’t have him so excited next time. Now come. Let’s have a word with the hand of fate.”

  They stepped from the cart and stepped around to the main street.

  “Here, I saw him step through this door,” Genara said.

  Desmeres held the struggling puppy a bit tighter as he knocked at the door.

  “Enter,” came the immediate reply.

  He pushed the door open. “Ladies first, naturally.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a nod.

  Desmeres followed her and shut the door behind him. The door had led to a single room, cozily furnished with thick rugs, sturdy tables, and well stocked cabinets on most of the exposed walls. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and a kettle sat before it, steam rising from its spout. The blind man sat at one of three chairs around a small table in the center of the room. His was the one nearest to the fireplace.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said. “I am surprised it took so long for you to arrive.”

  “You were expecting us?” Genara said, genuine confusion on her face.

  “Oh, yes. Few things surprise me these days.”

  “Am I correct in assuming that you are indeed Oriech?”

  “I have had many names. Oriech is one of them.”

  “Never mind the name,” Genara said. “He seems to think you are an agent of the gods. Is that nonsense true?”

  “Straight to the point, Miss Copperwright. Admirable. Yes, it is true.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Do you ever recall telling me your surname?” he asked.

  “No, but you could have learned that anywhere.” She crossed her arms. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “Not to diminish your value, Miss Copperwright, but Desmeres was the target of this visit. Your belief is not required, and his has already been earned.”

  “That’s just an easy way to shrug off the burden of proving yourself. For all I know you, and Desmeres are working together to fool me.”

  “To what end, Miss—”

  “And stop calling me Miss Copperwright. That’s my mother, and she died years ago.”

  Desmeres laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “This is as near as you’ll ever be to addressing the gods themselves, and you are issuing a scathing lecture.” Desmeres turned to Oriech. “A woman after my heart, I must say.”

  “You didn’t strike me as the trusting type, Desmeres. I say this man is a liar, and I say you’re falling for it or in on it. Unless he can set me straight.”

  Oriech’s face lit up with a broad smile as well. “A formidable woman to be sure. Very well, Genara. Shall I whisper in your ear, or would you prefer I reveal your secrets.”

  “If you’ve got any secrets of mine, go ahead and reveal them. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “As you wish. On your seventh birthday, after your mother and father were unable to afford to purchase a gift for you, your father made a small copper pendant. You had hoped, all through the year, that you would receive the blue silk bow that you’d seen at a dressmaker’s shop. Frustrated by your dashed expectations, you sneaked from your home that night and stole the bow. The moment you left the shop you were consumed with guilt. It was the first, and only time you had ever stolen. You hid the ribbon and saved what money you could for the next three years in order to pay the shopkeeper for it. When you finally paid the money you should have in the first place, you revealed and wore the ribbon. You have worn it once a year since then, on your birthday, as a reminder of the guilt you felt for stealing that day.”

  Genara stood silent, her mouth slightly open and her hands clutched together. “How did you…”

  “I know it because I saw it happen,” Oriech said.

  “But you’re blind.”

  “There are many ways to see things, Genara. Please, sit.”

  She nodded and flopped down on the nearest chair. Desmeres took the remaining one and held Dowser on his lap.

  “Would you like some tea?” Oriech asked.

  Genara cleared her throat. “Yes, please.”

  “Desmeres?”

  “No,” Desmeres replied.

  Moving with the slow precision of a man who hand memorized the positions of the necessary components, he stood and began to fetch cups, saucers, and a teapot. As he did, he spoke.

  “This is not how this usually goes, you know,” he said.

  “Oh, no?” Desmeres said. “Not that it comes as a surprise, but what precisely in this exchange is unique?”

  “It is rare that I speak to someone who already knows my role. To be frank, you are not the people my role was created to serve.”

  “Who were you created to serve?” Genara asked, her voice and demeanor uncharacteristically meek.

  “The Chosen. And even for them, I am called upon only rarely.” He set a cup on the table before Genara and poured some hot water and dried leaves into a pot. “Though I’ve had a place in the life of each Chosen, few know me for what I am, and some do not remember me at all. When I’ve done my job properly, it is not clear that I’ve done anything at all.”

  “Then you are doing a rather poor job at the moment,” Desmeres said.

  “Circumstances do not permit much more than that.” He filled Genara’s cup. “Cream or honey?”

  “You mean you don’t know already?” Genara said, an edge already returning to her words.

  “I do,” he said, dosing out a healthy dollop of honey. “But I find people are more comfortable when I behave as a proper, traditional host.”

  “Now that we don’t have to deal with the pretense, I don’t suppose you could explain why, and to what end, you chose to interfere in our lives.”

  “You should know better than to even ask.”

  “This is very good,” Genara said, setting her cup down.

  “Rakka tea. I developed a taste for it some years ago. Quite difficult to obtain, even with the conclusion of the war.”

  She took another sip. “Why shouldn’t he ask? I don’t think it is too absurd to expect if the gods want someone to do something they should just outright say it. If you want something done, why be so mysterious? Why not come right out and tell them what to do?”

  “Because the gods judge their children not by their obedience, but by their capacity to overcome challenges. You have free will, and your creators watch with great interest how you use it.”

  “Creators…” Genara said.

  “Why did you even answer the door?” Desmeres asked.

  “I cannot tell you anything you don’t already know, Desmeres. But fortunately for me—and for the others—you have most of the pieces you need, and you are quite skilled at their assembly.”

  “I take then that, were I to work it out on my own, you would confirm.”

  “Unless I have misjudged you, Desmeres, if you were to work it out on your own, you would not need me to confirm.”

  Desmeres leaned back and let Dowser hop to the floor. As he shut his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts, the puppy sniffed his way to Oriech.

  “Mr. Hand of Fate, sir,” Genara said, her voice hushed.

  “Please, Genara. Such formality is not required. You may call me Oriech.”

  “You… talk of our creators. I… ahem… haven’t lived a spotless life. I’ve not attended a church… ever, and…”

  “You needn’t confess to me, Genara. My time as a priest is through.” />
  “But, what I mean to say is, I’d not given much thought to earning the favor of our creators. It is… Should I be worried?”

  “Genara, you would be surprised how few of the divine pay attention to matters of ritual and ceremony. Do you live well?”

  “I try.”

  “Do you treat your fellow mortals with respect and care?”

  “Those who deserve it.”

  “Do you owe your purposeful allegiance to the enemies of your world?”

  “I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

  “Then you have done nothing so heinous to lose the favor of your creators.”

  She slumped back in the chair, visibly relieved. Desmeres grinned.

  “Oh, what are you smiling about? With all the blood on your hands you should be groveling in front of this man, begging him to put in a good word for you.”

  “As a matter of fact, Desmeres does have something to worry about in that regard,” Oriech said.

  “You see!” Genara said.

  “Are you suggesting I have done something to anger the gods?”

  “You acted in direct aid of the D’Karon, and operated as their agent against the Chosen themselves.”

  “Certainly, but I subsequently aided the Chosen in defeating the D’Karon.”

  “You do not decide if what you’ve done is enough to restore your favor, Desmeres. Neither do I, for that matter.”

  “Then there is not much point in groveling, is there?”

  “None at all. Though, again, I am not telling you anything you didn’t already know. As you shift, I hear the jingle of charms about your neck, Desmeres.”

  “It takes a fair suit of mystic armor to ward off the sort of enemies I’ve made.”

  “And yet, none of your charms bear the mark of the Chosen, do they?”

  Desmeres’s expression became more stern.

  “I think we are through here,” he said, rising to his feet. “You are bound by your role from providing any useful information, and every syllable you utter reminds me that you exist to observe and manipulate, two activities I find profoundly distasteful when directed at me.”

  “It is a guilty man who fears judgment, and a dishonest man who hides his actions.”

  “If a man is judged by fools, there is always reason to fear. And you know better than to suggest I am dishonest. I’m merely prone to shifting allegiance.”