Mageborn: Book 04 - The God-Stone War

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Mageborn: Book 04 - The God-Stone War Page 33

by Michael G. Manning


  Lady Thornbear went on, “My masters were growing impatient with my lack of progress, so at last I decided to try something more direct. During his next visit I admitted my duplicity and threatened to reveal his secret visits to the brothel. While that wouldn’t have been much of a scandal, I had convinced myself that his rigorous sense of honor must be based on pride, a pride that would not bear to see itself shamed. I was sure that rather than taint his name even slightly, he would turn traitor.”

  I laughed, “You really didn’t undershtand him at all did you?”

  She shook her head ruefully, “No, I did not. You must understand, at that time my own soul had been so blackened by my circumstances and my actions that I truly could not believe anyone would act unselfishly. The shadow in my heart had convinced me that his honor was just a sham, something one puts on like a coat when you go outdoors.”

  “What happened?”

  “He laughed at me. ‘Go ahead and tell people whatever you want,’ he told me. He was not at all worried about the ‘appearance’ of honor, just the substance of it, and he knew he had not failed in that. He even bragged that once people had seen me, they would understand his reasons for visiting me so frequently. It didn’t embarrass him in the least.”

  Elise frowned, “His flippant attitude made me furious, and I threw him out. Afterward I reported what had happened, and my superiors decided it would be best to eliminate him. They were worried that if he repeated what I had told him, that someone might guess at my ultimate employer. There was already considerable tension between Lancaster and Tremont, and it would have cast a dishonorable shadow across Tremont, although it would have been impossible to prove anything.”

  “He returned a week later, and I received him in a far different manner than I had the time before. The poison I had prepared days before; a slow acting poison much like the one I gave you when Dorian was abducted. I slipped it into his cup so skillfully he never had a chance, but then…,” her voice trailed away for a moment.

  Her story had created such a dramatic tension I became agitated, “Then what?!”

  Lady Thornbear’s cheek had a fine track of tears on it now, “It was his smile I think, that undid me… or perhaps it was his trusting eyes. As he lifted the cup to his lips, they pierced my heart, and I couldn’t bear to watch him drink it. I caught his hand and confessed what I had done. I still didn’t realize my own true feelings. I just couldn’t let him come to harm. When he didn’t become angry with me for what I had done, I became angry with him instead. I had already told him to leave for his own sake, but he wouldn’t listen. He was ever so stubborn.”

  “When I asked him why, he said something I have never forgotten. He had always been unfailingly polite, but that day his patience had finally grown thin. ‘Elise, you are the dumbest woman I have ever known, for you do not know your own heart. You claim the world is full of darkness, and that everyone acts only for their own gain, yet you ignore the evidence of your own heart. You love me as keenly as any woman ever loved a man, and I have loved you since the first day I came here. In this chest of mine beats two hearts, yours and mine both. That’s why you couldn’t let me drink that cup. Deep down you knew that the poison would kill us both.’”

  “At that I became even angrier,” continued Lady Thornbear. “I called him a fool for loving a whore that would never return his affection. I mocked his feelings and made light of the flowers he had brought. I said every wicked thing I could think of to drive him away, and all the while my heart cried within,” she paused for a second and stared into my eyes. “Do you know what he did then?!”

  I shook my head in a vigorous ‘no’, making the room spin around me.

  “He picked the cup back up, and in the space of a heartbeat, he gulped the contents down, saying, ‘If what you say is true, then this world is no place for me, and I will not live in it.’ That was when my heart finally broke, and everything turned upside down. I knew then that he was not merely pretending to be an honorable man, rather he was exactly what he had presented himself as, an honorable man, too stubborn and half-witted to survive in the cruel world we existed within.” Lady Thornbear stopped then and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

  For my part, I was already crying and too drunk to care. “That shounds jusht like him!” I exclaimed, in a voice now thick with both tears and drink. She still didn’t continue immediately, waiting instead for me to recover my own equilibrium.

  Once both our eyes were dry, she resumed her story, “After that, he refused my aid until I confessed my love to him, which I did, crying and babbling in a way that I had thought forgotten with my childhood. That was the day I rediscovered my heart. It was the first and greatest gift that he ever gave me.”

  “What happened then?” I asked blearily.

  “I put my fingers down his throat until he had vomited up everything in that bottomless pit he used for a stomach,” she said bluntly. “Then he took me away. There was no discussion, he told me to gather my things, and that was that. While I did, he went downstairs and arranged to purchase my contract from the mistress of the house. I didn’t get to see that conversation, but I discovered later that she did not react kindly to his offer. It was only after he threatened to kill her and burn the entire establishment to the ground that she reconsidered.”

  That surprised me a bit. “They jusht let you go… ash easy ash that?”

  “Officially, yes, she signed away their rights to me and I was free to go. In reality though, it was never that simple. Because of my knowledge and training, the church could never release me, and because of the circumstances, I had the potential to create a terrible political problem for two of the most powerful houses in the land, as well as the church itself,” she said with a sigh, “But Gram would listen to none of it. He asked for my hand, and I agreed to his proposal. I determined that if he would not listen to sense then we would be happy for as long as we could, until they ‘removed’ the problem.”

  The further her tale went, the more amazed I was at the complexity and tragedy of her life. My old notions of Dorian’s mother were completely incompatible with the scarred, flawed, strong, and beautiful woman I was learning about now. At the same time, I was a little sad that he had never been given the chance to hear this story as well. If anyone deserved to know, it was him.

  “You were waiting for their assassins to kill you?” I asked, to clarify her statement.

  “Both of us,” she corrected. “They could not afford to leave either of us alive. I waited, fearful of every shadow until Father Tonnsdale arrived and took the position at Cameron Castle. He soon visited the Lancasters, and I knew that he would seek me out. When he did, he surprised me with an offer that allowed everyone to have what they wanted most.”

  I felt an inner tension building when she mentioned the name of the priest that had poisoned my parents. Her posture had changed subtly too, stiffening as if she were remembering something unpleasant. “And that was…?”

  “I remained in the service of the church, acting as a spy and an informant for them from within the Lancaster household. In return, I and my husband were allowed to live peacefully, free from interference or threat. The church really didn’t want to kill us both, for it would have created other problems for them. They knew that Duke Lancaster would blame them, and the political cost might have been severe,” she explained.

  I was shocked, “You betrayed them?”

  Elise Thornbear frowned sharply at me, “Watch your tongue, Mordecai. I have committed many sins, and you may well hate me for some of them, but my story is not done yet. When I have finished, you may decide whether to brand me a traitor or not.”

  “I’m shorry,” I said quickly. It was already apparent that the strong drink had gone to my head and my emotions were shifting rapidly from one extreme to another.

  “Don’t be too quick to apologize either,” she added sadly. “Just wait until I am done. After the priest and I made our arrangement, I went to Gram and confessed to h
im. I expected him to punish me, or have me put aside, but instead he took me before his lord, James, the Duke of Lancaster. He explained what I had told him, and together they hatched a plot to use me to Lancaster’s advantage. Well, I say ‘they’, but in reality it was James’ idea,” she stopped and looked directly at me. “When you decided to play kingmaker you made a good choice in him. If there was any man in this kingdom able to step into Edward Carenval’s shoes and hold our country together, it was him.”

  “In any case, I digress,” she said, before returning to her story. “From that point on, my life changed dramatically. I was free from fear, and the shadow of the church hanging over me, no longer seemed so dreadful. I sent occasional reports to Father Tonnsdale regarding the doings at Lancaster Castle, after letting Genevieve review them first. She would discuss them with her husband, and if they felt anything shouldn’t be told, I would remove it from my report, or alter it to suit them. Ironically, it was this interaction that initially drew her and me together as fast friends over the years.”

  “I was also called upon occasionally to share my knowledge of poisons. I did this in various ways, mostly benign. I helped heal the sick and treat the wounded on occasion at Lancaster. I also shared my knowledge with Father Tonnsdale. His interest seemed primarily to be about healing herbs, but I was also asked to teach him the recipes for several of the church’s more deadly poisons. This didn’t concern me overmuch at the time, and Genevieve felt that if I refused to share the knowledge with him, it might send a signal to the church authorities that I was no longer a loyal servant. In any case, he would have been able to learn the information he sought from other sources within the church headquarters at Albamarl. I was merely much more accessible.” Lady Thornbear stopped and looked down.

  My mind had gone numb. She taught Father Tonnsdale. My tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of my mouth, while I struggled to formulate the question in my heart; but I already knew the answer. Elise looked up and our eyes met, and in them I could see her guilt, her sorrow, and her final shame.

  “Yes, Mordecai,” she said simply, to answer my unspoken question. “I taught him the poison he used to kill everyone at Castle Cameron, the same poison he tried to use against the Lancasters. Penny did the world a great favor when she stove in that evil man’s skull.”

  Even in the midst of my emotional shock, I was surprised at that revelation. As far as I knew, no one beyond Penny and myself knew she had murdered the priest. My eyebrows went up for a moment, “You knew aboutsh that?”

  She nodded, “Genevieve figured it out quickly enough. She also hid the knowledge that she had seen Penny that day.”

  Somehow I managed to focus my sluggish thoughts. I had already suffered a series of shocks during her story, but there was one matter that cried for my attention, one thing that I needed to know. “You had to know he was the poisoner,” I said, referring to Father Tonnsdale, “Why didn’t you reveal his crime?”

  “I have only excuses, Mordecai, and none of them are sufficient to expunge my guilt. None of them will bring your parents back,” answered Elise Thornbear. “It had been years since I taught him the recipe. I was pregnant and almost ready to deliver Dorian at the time of the fire, and I wasn’t able to examine the bodies of the dead, so I couldn’t be sure at first what poison had killed them. Naturally I did suspect Father Tonnsdale, but I had no certain proof. I shared my thoughts with Genevieve, and they had him watched, but nothing incriminating was ever discovered. In the end, I did nothing to avenge them, and I was helpless to prove his guilt.”

  A fire was building in my gut, a ball of futile anger, but I had no good place to direct it. Could I really blame this woman before me, my best friend’s mother? For most of my life I had loved her as a kindly authority figure and sometimes as a surrogate for my own mother. Even through my drunken haze, I felt my jaw clenching.

  Elise watched me carefully before adding, “It does nothing to assuage my guilt in the tragedy of your early life, but I knew who you were long ago, even before you and Dorian became friends. When your father came to the castle, the news moved quickly, Royce Eldridge had gained a son. He never shared the story of how he found you, but Genevieve told me of her letter from your dying mother, and I knew it had to be you. I did my best to see to it that the timing and circumstances of your arrival at the Eldridge household never reached Tonnsdale, or the ears of the church.”

  “You’re right,” I said hoarsely, “It does nothing to assuage your guilt, but…” My bitterness was evident in my voice, and despite the alcohol my anger gave clarity to my words. “… what’s done is done and I cannot blame you for the doings of that evil man. Tonnsdale was damned for his own actions.” I paused for a moment, swallowing to clear the knot that had formed in my throat. “There is one thing that you are entirely wrong about,” I told her.

  Elise Thornbear’s eyes were red and swollen with tears now, “What?”

  I was tired now and my voice began to slur again. “I don’t care if you ever share the story of Tonnsdale and the poishon. That ish a matter that lies purely between us now, and I forgive you of it, but your son deserves to hear the tale of how hish father and mother met. You do him an injustice to keep such a shecret from him,” I informed her bluntly.

  “You know how my son is; he walks a straight and narrow path, with no room for bending. How can I shame him with the knowledge that his mother was a whore? I think it better to leave him with a past he can be proud of than to tell him the truth,” she argued.

  I shook my head, sending the room into another dizzy spin. “You are wrong there. You shon is very much like hish father. Gram Thornbear saw the truth of your heart, deshpite your self deception. He knew your worth, even before you did. You shon will not be deluded by the circumshtances of your past, and he will love you even more for knowing the truth.”

  Laying back into the pillows, I determined to let sleep have its way with me. I had had enough shocks for one day. The world swam gently behind my eyelids, and as I drifted into a drunken slumber I could hear Lady Thornbear’s quiet sobs.

  Chapter 31

  The next few days really weren’t worth remembering, and thankfully the alcohol helped to keep my memories from being too clear. I suffered through a haze of nausea and vomiting, interrupted periodically by Elise Thornbear, as she forced me to drink more of what had already made me sick. I had never been a heavy drinker, but by the second day I felt certain I would never desire even the slightest taste of anything alcoholic ever again. It was all made worse by the fact that I had to witness my young daughter suffering the same treatment I was receiving.

  “No more,” I told Elise weakly as she entered the room once more. She carried a platter with a large pitcher in the center of it. “I don’t care if I die. Just let me die in peace!”

  “And what of your daughter?” she asked with an odd expression.

  I mulled that thought for a moment. Was it alright to make her suffer for the sake of survival? What if she hated me for it later? “Save the child, but don’t tell her it was my decision till after I’m dead,” I replied at last.

  Elise chuckled and handed me a heavy clay mug, “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  “No! I told you, no more! I won’t do it,” I insisted.

  “You will like this cup, it’s different,” she told me.

  I glowered at her, “If I still worshipped the gods I’d call for an exorcism, since you are obviously possessed by an evil spirit.”

  “It’s mint tea,” she explained, “It will help settle your stomach and get some fluid back into you. You are dangerously dehydrated.”

  I kept my eyes on her as I suspiciously sniffed at the cup. It smelled fresh and minty, suggesting she might be telling the truth this time. She had already fooled me a time or two the previous day, when I had begun trying to reject her offerings. Still, my nose detected no hint of alcohol, and I was terribly thirsty. A small sip and I found myself swallowing rapidly. The tea was cool and delicious.
I took the pitcher before she could offer, and refilled my cup.

  “How do you feel?” she asked, as I gulped it down.

  My eyes narrowed, “Like something that has died, been brought back, then slain again, dried out and stretched full length on a bed, with an audience to occasionally visit and comment upon its suffering.”

  “That sounds positively awful,” she remarked. “I am beginning to think you don’t like my treatment very much.”

  “I don’t like you very much at all,” I agreed. “In fact, yesterday, if I had had my power back, I might well have done something permanent and possibly fatal to you for sneaking that cup of honeyed liquor into me.”

  She laughed before responding, “After listening to your whining the past few days, I have to say that I think you would complain even if you were hung with a new rope.”

  The observation sounded so much like something my father would have said that it gave me pause. Musing about it for a moment or two, I lost my train of thought and asked her instead, “How is Moira doing?”

  “Very well, better than you in fact, but then children usually do recover quickly,” said Elise. “Not to change the subject, but you remarked about your power a moment ago, have you had any sign of its return yet?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, “though I feel weak as a kitten when I try to exercise it. My magesight was back when I awoke today.”

  “Then I think I shall declare my treatment a success,” she announced.

  I took another sip of the tea she had brought, finding that it did indeed seem to help ease my nausea, though my headache was another matter entirely. “I’m not used to calling a treatment a ‘success’ when it leaves the patient feeling worse afterward than they felt in the beginning,” I noted dryly.

  “It’s a matter of perspective,” she replied, as she rose and moved to the door. “I’ll step out. Dorian has been waiting to talk to you.”

  “It isn’t as if I’m going anywhere soon,” I said.

 

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