“Caltriss told them that there was no more time, that their spell would have to be tried now. Kevlane protested that it wasn’t ready, that the sorcery hadn’t been perfected, and that it would almost certainly kill any man who it was used on. But Caltriss, seeing his people losing hope, would not relent. He demanded that the wizard and his apprentices perform the ritual on him, for he said that he would not ask anything of anyone else that he would not do himself.”
“At first, Kevlane denied him, but as the gates shook from the barbarian horde and siege engines lobbed fire into the streets and homes of his people, Caltriss demanded it of the wizard first as his king, then as his fellow man, and finally, as his friend. In the end, with tears sliding down his cheeks, the High Wizard relented and ordered the beginning of the ritual.” The orb paused before continuing, “No, Aaron. Kevlane’s folly—as Caltriss’s—was not betrayal, but hope, not hate, but love.”
“The mages threw their all into the ritual, desperate that it succeed. Each apprentice was to focus on the summoning and shaping of one of the seven virtues, while Kevlane himself was to handle the nearly impossible task of weaving those virtues into Caltriss. Perhaps, the magic proved too much even for a mage of Kevlane’s power, or perhaps the gods feared that such a spell would bring men close to their own power and decided to intervene. Whatever the reason, the magic failed and, instead of being instilled with the Seven Virtues, Caltriss was killed. Wracked with grief, blaming himself for his friend’s death, Kevlane charged headlong over the castle parapets where he fell to his death. No more than an hour passed before the barbarians burst into the city and put its citizens to the sword, including the seven apprentices who lay in the floor of the throne room, too exhausted to defend themselves.”
“It wasn’t until later, after all those involved were dead and Palindra overthrown, that the spell achieved some small measure of success. You see, though Caltriss died, the virtues had been created. As the corpses of the seven apprentices were burned along with the rest of the city’s dead, those virtues formed, somehow taking with them some of the human aspects of their creators. The virtues were young then, new to the land of the living, scared and confused. They fled, and in fleeing, scattered themselves across the land of Telrear.”
Aaron’s eyes widened, “So then, you ...”
The orb’s light intensified until it grew so bright that he was forced to shield his eyes, “I am one of the Seven Virtues, created from Kevlane and Caltriss’s desperate hope for peace, born in the fire and smoke of a mass grave, and infused with some small part of my creator.” The light drifted closer to Aaron, floating only inches away from his face, “I am Compassion. You may call me Co.”
He barked a laugh. The story didn’t follow anything he’d ever been told about Caltriss and Kevlane. Caltriss was always talked of like a hero, sure, but the wizard was pretty much the world’s most famous traitor—excluding, perhaps, Belgarin who, unwilling to share the rule of Telrear, had turned on his brothers and sisters, assassinating two before anyone knew something was amiss. Of course, Belgarin was still alive and breathing, and few were the people who were brave or stupid enough to label him traitor in a stranger’s hearing. The prince wasn’t exactly known for his tolerance.
The fabled city of Palindra, the most powerful wizard of the Age of Kings being misunderstood for all these years, a bunch of sentient virtues created by magic? Aaron grunted. A crock of shit is what it was. Fairy tales cooked up to help children sleep at night. The problem, of course, was that one of the damned things was floating in front of his face even now. A thought struck him, and he narrowed his eyes at the orb. “You said you’re compassion?”
The orb bobbed up and down, as if nodding. “So are you the reason why I almost blubbered like a cursed baby when I killed that archer?”
“Yes,” the orb answered, “It is Kevlane’s bond at work.”
Aaron started at a knock on the door, “Well, you better make it stop working,” he whispered harshly, “The last thing a sellsword needs is to start crying every time he has to ghost somebody.”
The knocking on the door grew more insistent. “I’m coming, damnit!”
The orb floated closer, “I will hide within you, it is best that no one knows we are bonded.”
“No thanks, firefly” He said, waving a dismissive hand at the bobbing light, “not interested.”
The orb drew closer still, and though the words were spoken in his mind, he felt as if they were whispered in his ear, Not many know of me and the others—for most, we are nothing but a children’s tale—but there are those who do. There are those who hunt us, who seek to bring us all together, as Kevlane tried to do so long ago. Such men pay fortunes to assassins and trackers, and they would not hesitate to kill you if they found out that you were bonded.
Aaron frowned, “I’ve already got enough people trying to kill me thanks to that damned woman.” He considered for a moment then sighed irritably, “Fine, but don’t go screwing around in there again. You understand me? It’s my head. You’re just visiting.”
Without replying, the orb flew into him, disappearing into his chest, and he grunted as the all-too familiar tingling sensation ran through his body. The door opened a moment later and the two men from the night before walked in and took up positions on either side of the door. They folded their arms across their massive chests displaying identical tattoos--a sword with a rose wrapped around it—and watched him, their faces expressionless.
Aaron frowned. He’d seen such men before. Men such as these, with their blank expressions and stances that were relaxed, yet at the same time prepared to do any violence asked of them, prided themselves on following orders, on adhering to what they considered their ‘duty’ no matter who it hurt. When Aaron was young, his father had been a general in Prince Eladen’s army, and Aaron’d had occasion to meet many like this. As far as he was concerned, any man who valued a cause over his own life or the lives of others was barely a man at all. “Well, howdy, boys.” Bastards are wide as a damn house, he thought. “It’s good to see your mistress feeds you well. You must be a couple of good dogs.”
The man Aaron had met the night before walked in with a cough, “It is, perhaps, unwise to taunt them, sir,” he said in an apologetic tone, “Eagan and Deagan are two of Telrear’s fiercest warriors.”
Aaron turned to the man, Gryle, raising his eyebrows. The man met his gaze and, suddenly, the craziness of the last day was too much and he broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Gryle frowned, “I do not see that there is cause for laughter. The two are brothers, they—“ The fat man’s tone was all offended dignity.
Aaron laughed harder, “I don’t doubt that. Two big, dumb, and ugly bastards like these? Keeper’s lantern, they’d have to be related.”
The expressions of the two men remained as still as stone, their eyes showing no hint of anger or any emotion at all, for that matter. The chubby man sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but a soft, amused voice came from the doorway. “Do not let him bother you, Gryle. He insists on acting more foolish than he is.”
Aaron turned and watched her stride into the room. She wore tight fitting leather trousers that accentuated her curves, and his laughter cut off as he swallowed hard. Her soft leather boots were of a make much too nice for anyone who spent much time walking the refuse-filled streets of the Downs, as was the white silk shirt she wore—not that he didn’t appreciate the way it clung to her. She pushed a strand of long brown hair out of one eye and smiled at him. Some folks cut with a blade, Aaron cautioned himself, and some do their cutting with a smile. Either way, the result is almost always the same; a dead man or one that wishes he was, and in this case, that man is me.
“Still,” she said, as if she didn’t notice his eyes on her, “there are things that we must talk about.”
“Damn right there are.” He said, forcing his eyes up to her face “for one, how about we talk about the fact that I damn near got killed because of you, or about how you s
ent me on a rescue mission and somehow forgot to mention that the target was none other than Prince Eladen himself. I don’t give a damn how easy you are on the eyes, lady, you’re one mean bitch.”
Gryle gasped in shock, but Aaron paid him no mind as he and the woman studied each over for several moments. “I’m flattered,” she said finally, her smile widening, “that you think I’m easy on the eyes.”
He grunted, “Don’t get it twisted. Because of you, I got shot in the leg, was chased across rooftops like some kind of damned animal, and watched a man who I was beginning to like get killed. I’ve a mind to get up right now and bend you over my knee.”
The chubby man stepped forward, “You wouldn’t dare. Who are you to speak to Mistress—“
“Enough, Gryle,” the woman snapped. She turned back to the sellsword, a frown on her face. “I am sorry for the innkeeper. I did not mean for him to become involved. In fact, I didn’t think that you’d been seen at all.” She considered for a moment, “Still, I find it surprising that a man who sells his blade to the highest bidder should much care about a man he knew for less than a week.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, “how in the name of Salen’s Fields, do you know I knew him for less than a week?”
The woman’s smile returned, “Of course, we have been watching you, Sir Envelar. I do not take the hiring of men I don’t know lightly. Still, you haven’t answered me about the innkeeper.”
“I’m no sir.” He threw the covers aside and noticed for the first time that his leg had been wrapped with a clean bandage. He also noticed that, aside from the bandage, he was completely naked. Damn. No help for it. His father had always told him to strike while he had the momentum and, by Talen, he had it. "Now listen, lady. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the innkeeper or your questions.” He struggled up onto wobbly, unsteady legs, “Now you’re going to tell me what I want to know, or this is going to get ugly.”
“You really shouldn’t—“ The woman began.
“I’ll do what I will,” he barked, gesturing at the two fighters, “you might be able to boss those two fools around, but not me.” He took a step forward and grunted as his weight came down on his wounded leg. It buckled, and he had time to spit a curse before it gave beneath him, and he fell at the woman’s feet for the second time in as many days.
Someone whistled. He looked up, scowling, and saw that the woman was covering her mouth with one delicate hand, as if to keep herself from laughing. He sighed. This is going to be a long damn day.
Truer words, never spoken, the voice said in his mind, and he was sure he didn’t imagine the laughter lurking under its surface.
CHAPTER
SIX
Eagan or Deagan, he wasn’t sure which and didn’t much care, helped him to his feet. Aaron dressed and then the brother guided him to a small room with a table. Eagen—or was it Deagan?—eased him down into a chair surprisingly gently, and stepped away, folding his arms once more, his face still expressionless. An obedient dog waiting for orders, Aaron thought. The woman sat down across from him, a look of concern on her face. “The scars on your back--”
“Are none of your damn business,” he growled. “Now why am I here, and what do you want with me? Haven’t you fucked my life up enough already?”
“I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you,” She said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his, and despite his anger Aaron found himself thinking about how soft her skin was, like rolled silk, “You must believe that I didn’t want any of this to happen. I just …” she paused and a deep sadness came into her eyes that surprised Aaron, “I picked you,” she said, looking away from him, “because everyone says you’re the best. I knew that saving El—Prince Eladen was a long shot but with your reputation …”
He frowned suspiciously. “What reputation? Who told you I was the best?”
The woman looked surprised, “Most everyone. I had my men ask around in the Downs, and everyone pointed us to you. They didn’t know where you were, of course, but they told us to seek out a man named Envelar. They said that you were a skilled swordsman, and that once you’d taken a contract you always saw it through.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, “What else did they say?”
The woman hesitated. When Aaron continued to stare at her expectantly, she continued, an obvious note of reluctance in her voice, “They said that you wouldn’t ask too many questions as long as the money was good.”
Aaron laughed, “That sounds closer to the truth. Best be honest with me from now on, princess. We peasants kind of have a thing about that.”
Gryle let out a gasp of surprise, and the woman leaned back in her chair, her eyes wide. Even the two guards raised an eyebrow in surprise. “H-how could you know?” She asked.
He grunted. “These people, did they also tell you I was a fool? A man would have to be blind not to see it.” He gestured at the short, chubby man, “This one here follows you around like a puppy, and his speech is much too cultured for us lowly commoners. Still, I think it strange that you would be so bold as to bring your chamberlain along.”
He leaned back in his chair with a smile, satisfied at the frightened, uncertain look in her eyes. “Not many people can afford the price of two Akalians either,” he continued, “but I suppose one of the royal blood could.” He nodded his head at the brothers, “As for those two, if those tattoos aren’t the mark of a personal guard, I don’t know what is. But what really gave you away is the fact that you hired me at all. After all, you clearly have men who could have done the job. Why, then, pay me? The answer is that you didn’t want anyone to know that you were involved with your brother’s attempted rescue.” He frowned, “Better to let some sellsword take the heat than bring any anger down on that pretty head of yours.”
“I wonder, princess, what do you think your brother, Belgarin, and the others will do when they learn you’re trying to swap sides? Come to think of it, why have you swapped sides? From everything I’ve heard, you’ve followed him since the beginning, so what’s changed?”
For a moment, the princess didn’t speak. Her sky blue eyes got a faraway look, as if staring at something only she could see. “Nothing’s changed. My brother Belgarin is a bloodthirsty fool, intent on ruling all of Telrear or destroying it.”
Aaron stared at the woman for a second then glanced at the chamberlain, noting the man’s worried look, and a realization struck him. “You haven’t just changed sides, have you?” He asked, sure even as he said it, that he was right. “You’ve been working for Eladen all along. So when you heard news of his capture, you were forced to abandon the charade and attempt a rescue, is that it?” He barked a laugh, “Lady, if your brother didn’t want to kill you before, he damn sure does now, or he will once he finds out you were the one who hired me.”
“Y-you would betray the Princess?” the chamberlain said, wringing his pudgy hands.
“Relax, Gryle,” The woman said, her eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Please, call me Adina.”
He raised an eyebrow at the flustered chamberlain, smiling at the man’s obvious discomfort, before meeting the woman’s gaze. “Fine, Adina. Tell me this, why would you leave your palace in Edrafell? Surely, you would have been safer there, behind your guards and your army.”
Adina scowled, a look of bitter hate flashing in her eyes, “I have no army. They are Belgarin’s men now, bought and paid for, as are most of my household staff and my personal bodyguards.” She gestured around the room, indicating the two men and Gryle. “What you see here, is what’s left of my army.”
Aaron’s eyes widened at that, and he stared at her for several seconds before breaking into another fit of laughter.
“I’m glad that my misfortune amuses you,” she said, frowning.
He wiped at his eyes, “A princess without a palace, a commander without an army. Looks like you chose the wrong side, lady. Oh, and forgive me if I don’t have a lot of sympathy just now. After all, you are the same princess who v
ery nearly got me killed because she didn’t want to get her royal hands dirty.”
She opened her mouth to speak, an angry remark clearly on her lips, but stopped herself at the last moment. Then she took a deep breath and tried again, “I have already apologized for that.”
He snorted, “Apologies don’t mean shit to the dead, lady. Now why don’t you tell me why you brought me here, so I can tell you to go to the Fields and get on with my day?”
The chamberlain gasped, and one of the brothers started forward, but the princess forestalled them with a raised hand, “With Eladen slain, Belgarin will try to consolidate his holdings in the north, as he did with my brother Geoffrey’s lands in the east, and my sister Ophasia’s in the south after he had them assassinated. If he succeeds, he will not only control nearly half of Telrear, but also nearly half of our country’s armed men.”
The sellsword gave a mocking look of surprise, “Oh? Surely you must be mistaken. Certainly, Eladen’s nobles and soldiers would not so quickly betray him. After all,” he said with a wink, “what is more important to any man than peace?”
“You mock me,” she observed, her expression troubled, “but does your cynicism reach so far that you believe all of Ophasia and Geoffrey’s armies and nobles took the assassination of their leaders in stride and pledged their loyalty to Belgarin without hesitation?” She shook her head slowly, ‘If so, then let me assure you that you are wrong. There were many, commanders and soldiers both, who would not bow to Belgarin’s rule. That was, until the highest ranking officers were made examples of. They and their families were declared traitors to the crown, escorted to the city square by the very men they’d fought beside for years and executed publicly for all to see.”
A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues Page 5
