The Warded Man

by Peter V. Brett

  The crowd followed soon after, and it was thunderous.

  “You’re going to make us rich with that fiddling, boy,” Arrick said, counting their take. “Rich!”

  “Rich enough to pay the back dues you owe the guild?” a voice asked.

  They turned to see Master Jasin leaning against the wall. His two apprentices, Sali and Abrum, stood close by. Sali sang soprano with a clear voice as beautiful as she was ugly. Arrick sometimes joked that if she wore a horned helmet, audiences would mistake her for a rock demon. Abrum sang bass, his voice a deep thrum that made the planked streets vibrate. He was tall and lean, with gigantic hands and feet. If Sali was a rock demon, he was surely a wood.

  Like Arrick, Master Jasin was an alto, his voice rich and pure. He wore expensive clothes of fine blue wool and gold thread, spurning the motley that most of his profession wore. His long black hair and mustache were oiled and meticulously groomed.

  Jasin was a man of average size, but that made him no less dangerous. He had once stabbed a Jongleur in the eye during an argument over a particular corner. The magistrate ruled it self-defense, but that wasn’t how the talk in the apprentice room of the guildhouse told it.

  “The payment of my guild dues is no concern of yours, Jasin,” Arrick said, quickly dumping the coins in the bag of marvels.

  “Your apprentice may have talked your way out of missing that performance yesterday, Soursong, but his fiddle can’t succor you forever.” As he spoke, Abrum snatched Rojer’s fiddle from his hands and broke it over his knee. “Sooner or later, the guild will have your license.”

  “The guild would never give up Arrick Sweetsong,” Arrick said, “but even if they did, Jasin would still be known as ‘Secondsong.’”

  Jasin scowled, for many in the guild already used that name, and the master was known to fly into rages at its utterance. He and Sali advanced on Arrick, who held the bag protectively. Abrum backed Rojer against a wall, keeping him from going to his master’s aid.

  But this wasn’t the first time they had needed to fight to defend their take. Rojer dropped straight down on his back, coiling like a spring and kicking straight up. Abrum screamed, his normally deep voice taking on a different pitch.

  “I thought your apprentice was a bass, not a soprano,” Arrick said. When Jasin and Sali spared a glance to their companion, his quick hands darted into the bag of marvels, sending a fistful of wingseeds spinning in the air before them.

  Jasin lunged through the cloud, but Arrick sidestepped and tripped him easily, bringing the bag around in a hard swing at Sali, hitting the bulky woman full in the chest. She might have kept her feet, but Rojer was in position, kneeling behind her. She fell hard, and before the three could recover, Arrick and Rojer ran off down the boardwalk.

  CHAPTER 16

  ATTACHMENTS

  323-325 AR

  THE ROOF OF THE DUKE’S LIBRARY in Miln was a magical place for Arlen. On a clear day, the world spread out below him, a world unrestrained by walls and wards, stretching on into infinity. It was also the place where Arlen first looked at Mery, and truly saw her.

  His work in the library was nearly complete, and he would soon be returning to Cob’s shop. He watched the sun play over the snowcapped mountains and fall on the valley below, trying to memorize the sight forever, and when he turned to Mery, he wanted to do the same for her. She was fifteen, and more beautiful by far than mountains and snow.

  Mery had been his closest friend for over a year, but Arlen had never thought more of her than that. Now, seeing her limned in sunlight, cold mountain wind blowing the long brown hair from her face as she hugged her arms against the swell of her bosom to ward off the chill, she was suddenly a young woman, and he a young man. His pulse quickened at the way her skirts flared in the breeze, edges of lace hinting of petticoats beneath.

  He said nothing as he stepped forward, but she caught the look in his eyes, and smiled. “It’s about time,” she said.

  He reached out, tentatively, and traced the back of his hand down her cheek. She leaned in to the touch, and he tasted her sweet breath, kissing her. It was soft at first, hesitant, but it deepened as she responded, becoming something with a life of its own, something hungry and passionate, something that had been building inside him for over a year without his knowing.

  Some time later, their lips parted with a soft pop, and they smiled nervously. Arms around one another, they looked out over Miln, sharing in the glow of young love.

  “You’re always staring out into the valley,” Mery said. She ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed his temple. “Tell me what you dream about, when your eyes have that faraway look.”

  Arlen was quiet for some time. “I dream of freeing the world from the corelings,” he said.

  Her thoughts having gone another way, Mery laughed at the unexpected response. She did not mean to be cruel, but the sound cut at him like a lash. “You think yourself the Deliverer, then?” she asked. “How will you do this?”

  Arlen drew away from her a little, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll start by messaging. I’ve already saved enough money for armor and a horse.”

  Mery shook her head. “That will never do, if we’re to marry,” she said.

  “We’re to marry?” Arlen asked in surprise, amazed at the tightness in his throat.

  “What, am I not good enough?” Mery asked, pulling away and looking indignant.

  “No! I never said …” Arlen stuttered.

  “Well, then,” she said. “Messaging may bring money and honor, but it’s too dangerous, especially once we have children.”

  “We’re having children now?” Arlen squeaked.

  Mery looked at him as if he were an idiot. “No, it will never do,” she went on, ignoring him as she thought things through. “You’ll need to be a Warder, like Cob. You’ll still get to fight demons, but you’ll be safe with me instead of riding down some coreling-infested road.”

  “I don’t want to be a Warder,” Arlen said. “It was never more than a means to an end.”

  “What end?” Mery asked. “Lying dead on the road?”

  “No,” Arlen said. “That won’t happen to me.”

  “What will you gain as a Messenger that you can’t as a Warder?”

  “Escape,” Arlen said without thinking.

  Mery fell silent. She turned her head to avoid his eyes, and after a few moments, slipped her arm from his. She sat quietly, and Arlen found sadness only made her more beautiful still.

  “Escape from what?” she asked at last. “From me?”

  Arlen looked at her, drawn in ways he was only just beginning to understand, and his throat caught. Would it be so bad to stay? What were the chances of finding another like Mery?

  But was that enough? He’d never wanted family. They were attachments he did not need. If he had wanted marriage and children, he might as well have stayed in Tibbet’s Brook with Renna. He’d thought Mery was different …

  Arlen called to mind the image that had sustained him for the last three years, seeing himself riding down the road, free to roam. As always, the thought swelled him, until he turned to look again at Mery. The fantasy fled, and all he could think about was kissing her again.

  “Not you,” he said, taking her hands. “Never you.” Their lips met again, and for a time, his thoughts touched on nothing else.

  “I have an assignment to Harden’s Grove,” Ragen said, referring to a small farming hamlet a full day’s ride from Fort Miln. “Would you care to join me, Arlen?”

  “Ragen, no!” Elissa cried.

  Arlen glared, but Ragen grabbed his arm before he could speak. “Arlen, may I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked gently. Arlen wiped his mouth and excused himself.

  Ragen closed the door after him, but Arlen refused to let his fate be decided out of his hands, and circled around through the kitchen, listening at the servants’ entrance. The cook looked at him, but Arlen looked right back, and the
man kept to his own business.

  “He’s too young!” Elissa was saying.

  “Lissa, he’ll always be too young for you,” Ragen said. “Arlen is sixteen, and he’s old enough to make a simple day trip.”

  “You’re encouraging him!”

  “You know full well Arlen needs no encouragement from me,” Ragen said.

  “Enabling him, then,” Elissa snapped. “He’s safer here!”

  “He’ll be safe enough with me,” Ragen said. “Isn’t it better that he makes his first few trips with someone to supervise him?”

  “I’d rather he not make his first few trips at all,” Elissa said acidly. “If you cared about him, you’d feel the same.”

  “Night, Lissa, it’s not like we’ll even see a demon. We’ll reach the Grove before sunset and leave after sunrise. Regular folk make the trip all the time.”

  “I don’t care,” Elissa said. “I don’t want him going.”

  “It’s not your choice,” Ragen reminded.

  “I forbid it!” Elissa shouted.

  “You can’t!” Ragen shouted back. Arlen had never heard him raise his voice to her.

  “Just you watch me,” Elissa snarled. “I’ll drug your horses! I’ll chop every spear in two! I’ll throw your armor in the well to rust!”

  “Take away every tool you want,” Ragen said through gritted teeth, “and Arlen and I will still leave for Harden’s Grove tomorrow, on foot, if need be.”

  “I’ll leave you,” Elissa said quietly.

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “Take Arlen out of here, and I’ll be gone before you get back.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Ragen said.

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Elissa said. “Take him and I go.”

  Ragen was quiet a long time. “Look, Lissa,” he said finally. “I know how upset you’ve been that you haven’t gotten pregnant …”

  “Don’t you dare bring that into this!” Elissa growled.

  “Arlen is not your son!” Ragen shouted. “No amount of smothering will ever make it so! He is our guest, not our child!”

  “Of course he’s not our child!” Elissa shouted. “How could he be when you’re out delivering ripping letters whenever I cycle?”

  “You knew what I was when you married me,” Ragen reminded her.

  “I know,” Elissa replied, “and I’m realizing that I should have listened to my mother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ragen demanded.

  “It means I can’t do this anymore,” Elissa said, starting to cry. “The constant waiting, wondering if you’ll ever come home; the scars you claim are nothing. The praying that the scant few times we make love will conceive before I’m too old. And now, this!

  “I knew what you were when we married,” she sobbed, “and I thought I had learned to handle it. But this … Ragen, I just can’t bear the thought of losing you both. I can’t!”

  A hand rested on Arlen’s shoulder, giving him a start. Margrit stood there, a stern look on her face. “You shouldn’t be listening to this,” she said, and Arlen felt ashamed for his spying. He was about to leave when he caught the Messenger’s words.

  “All right,” Ragen said. “I’ll tell Arlen he can’t come, and stop encouraging him.”

  “Really?” Elissa sniffled.

  “I promise,” Ragen said. “And when I get back from Harden’s Grove,” he added, “I’ll take a few months off and keep you so fertilized that something can’t help but grow.”

  “Oh, Ragen!” Elissa laughed, and Arlen heard her fall into his arms.

  “You’re right,” Arlen told Margrit. “I had no right to listen to that.” He swallowed the angry lump in his throat. “But they had no right to discuss it in the first place.”

  He went up to his room and began packing his things. Better to sleep on a hard pallet in Cob’s shop than in a soft bed that came at the cost of his right to make his own decisions.

  For months, Arlen avoided Ragen and Elissa. They stopped by Cob’s shop often to see him, but he was not to be found. They sent servants to make overtures, but the results were the same.

  Without use of Ragen’s stable, Arlen bought his own horse and practiced riding in the fields outside the city. Mery and Jaik often accompanied him, the three of them growing closer. Mery frowned upon the practice, but they were all still young, and the simple joy of galloping a horse about the fields drove other feelings away.

  Arlen worked with increasing autonomy in Cob’s shop, taking calls and new customers unsupervised. His name became known in warding circles, and Cob’s profits grew. He hired servants and took on more apprentices, leaving the bulk of their training to Arlen.

  Most evenings, Arlen and Mery walked together, taking in the colors of the sky. Their kisses grew hungrier, both wanting more, but Mery always pulled away before it went too far.

  “You’ll be done with your apprenticeship in another year,” she kept saying. “We can marry the next day, if you wish, and you can ravish me every night from then on.”

  One morning when Cob was away from the shop, Elissa paid a visit. Arlen, busy talking to a customer, didn’t notice her until it was too late.

  “Hello, Arlen,” she said when the customer left.

  “Hello, Lady Elissa,” he replied.

  “There’s no need to be so formal,” Elissa said.

  “I think informality confused the nature of our relationship,” Arlen replied. “I don’t want to repeat the error.”

  “I’ve apologized again and again, Arlen,” Elissa said. “What will it take for you to forgive me?”

  “Mean it,” Arlen answered. The two apprentices at the workbench looked at one another, then got up in unison and left the room.

  Elissa took no notice of them. “I do,” she said.

  “You don’t,” Arlen replied, gathering some books from the counter and moving to put them away. “You’re sorry that I overheard, and took offense. You’re sorry that I left. The only thing you’re not sorry about is what you did, making Ragen refuse to take me.”

  “It’s a dangerous trip,” Elissa said carefully.

  Arlen slammed down the books, and met Elissa’s eyes for the first time. “I’ve made the trip a dozen times in the last six months,” he said.

  “Arlen!” Elissa gasped.

  “I’ve been to the Duke’s Mines, as well,” Arlen went on. “And the South Quarries. Everywhere within a day of the city. I’ve made my circles, and the Messengers’ Guild’s been courting me ever since I gave them my application, taking me wherever I want to go. You’ve accomplished nothing. I won’t be caged, Elissa. Not by you, not by anyone.”

  “I never wanted to cage you, Arlen, only to protect you,” Elissa said softly.

  “That was never your place,” Arlen said, turning back to his work.

  “Perhaps not,” Elissa sighed, “but I only did it because I care. Because I love you.”

  Arlen paused, refusing to look at her.

  “Would it be so bad, Arlen?” Elissa asked. “Cob isn’t young, and he loves you like a son. Would it be such a curse to take over his shop and marry that pretty girl I’ve seen you with?”

  Arlen shook his head. “I’m not going to be a Warder, not ever.”

  “What about when you retire, like Cob?”

  “I’ll be dead before then,” Arlen said.

  “Arlen! What a terrible thing to say!”

  “Why?” Arlen asked. “It’s the truth. No Messenger keeps working and manages to die of old age.”

  “But if you know it’s going to kill you, then why do it?” Elissa demanded.

  “Because I’d rather live a few years knowing I’m free than spend decades in a prison.”

  “Miln is hardly a prison, Arlen,” Elissa said.

  “It is,” he insisted. “We convince ourselves that it’s the whole world, but it isn’t. We tell ourselves that there’s nothing out there we don’t have here, but there is. Wh
y do you think Ragen keeps messaging? He has all the money he could ever spend.”

  “Ragen is in service to the duke. He has a duty to do the job, because no one else can.”

  Arlen snorted. “There are other Messengers, Elissa, and Ragen looks at the duke like he was a bug. He doesn’t do it out of loyalty, or honor. He does it because he knows the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “That there’s more out there than there is in here,” Arlen said.

  “I’m pregnant, Arlen,” Elissa said. “Do you think Ragen will find that somewhere else?”

  Arlen paused. “Congratulations,” he said at last. “I know how much you wanted it.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I suppose you’ll expect Ragen to retire, then. A father can’t risk himself, can he?”

  “There are other ways to fight demons, Arlen. Every birth is a victory against them.”

  “You sound just like my father,” Arlen said.

  Elissa’s eyes widened. As long as she had known Arlen, he’d never spoken of his parents.

  “He sounds like a wise man,” she said softly.

  She’d said the wrong thing. Elissa knew it immediately. Arlen’s face hardened into something she had never seen before; something frightening.

  “He wasn’t wise!” Arlen shouted, throwing a cup of brushes to the floor. It shattered, sending inky droplets everywhere. “He was a coward! He let my mother die! He let her die …” His face screwed up into an anguished grimace, and he stumbled, clenching his fists. Elissa rushed to him, not knowing what to do or say, only knowing that she wanted to hold him.

  “He let her die because he was scared of the night,” Arlen whispered. He tried to resist as her arms encircled him, but she held on tightly as he wept.

  She held him a long time, stroking his hair. Finally, she whispered, “Come home, Arlen.”

  Arlen spent the last year of his apprenticeship living with Ragen and Elissa, but the nature of their relationship had changed. He was his own man now, and not even Elissa tried to fight it any longer. To her surprise, her surrender only brought them closer. Arlen doted on her as her belly grew, he and Ragen scheduling their excursions so that she was never alone.