Once A Hero

by Michael A. Stackpole

Genevera slipped into the bath and allowed the woman to wash her back. As Phaelis did this, she nattered on about all sorts of court gossip, including the latest news about Lady Martina. Gena made all the properly attentive noises, which kept Phaelis talking. Though Gena did not really know any of the people being talked about, she found it fascinating that news of liaisons that would have been treated matter-of-factly among her people were scandal-fodder among Men.

  It is not surprising that some of us find them so venial, so easy to dismiss.

  As Gena dressed, Phaelis went off and prepared her a breakfast. She brought back a small loaf of fresh bread, some cheese, and two apples that had been put up before the winter. The first apple proved a bit mealy, so Gena followed it with most of the bread. The second apple tasted better, and she used a bit of the cheese as spice for it.

  Wearing black breeches and an emerald-green tunic belted at her waist, Gena followed the servant sent for her by Count Berengar. The man led her through the mansion's hallways and to a large room nearly twice as long as it was wide. The ceiling, which had frescoes decorating it, rose up to the height of fifteen feet or so. False arches and marble pillars marked off the side walls in six separate groups, with paintings depicting mythological battles framed within the sections.

  Four tables had been arranged in the room. Three, each eighteen feet in length and made of stout oak, had been arranged to form half a hexagon facing the door. The last table, which was smaller and made of darkly stained maple, faced the central table directly. Count Berengar sat at it while older men occupied places behind the other three.

  Berengar stood as Gena entered and pointed her to the chair next to his. "Thank you for coming. I will need you to verify what I report about our encounter yesterday." He dropped his voice into an apologetic whisper. "My elders are all sticklers for detail. Last night I spoke with key members, but now everyone wants to hear what happened. They all know, but all must hear."

  "I understand."

  Berengar gave her a smile, then turned to face the man seated in the tallest chair. "If it pleases all my Lords, I have grave news."

  The gray-haired, long-bearded man Gena remembered from the reception as being Berengar's granduncle Kellin nodded. "Proceed."

  "Yesterday, not much past this time, I led Lady Genevera into a Haladin campsite. My cousin Waldo had preceded us with a patrol, and we found evidence at the campsite of a hasty retreat by the Haladina. We assumed that Waldo and the Seventh Rangers had scared the raiders off. Unbeknownst to us, the raiders doubled back and a dozen of them ambushed us. If not for the very powerful magicks Lady Genevera employed, I would be dead and my men would have died along with me. Because of her intervention, our forces suffered only minor injuries while slaying all of the Haladina."

  As he spoke, Count Berengar moved in front of the table and imploringly put his case to his Elders. Gena heard passion in his voice and watched emotions knot his fists. While telling the Elders that she had saved his life, his tall, strong bearing and swift hand motions left no question that had she not been there, the Haladina would have paid a dear price for taking his life.

  "There is no question, my Lords, that Haladin activity has continued to increase in Centisia. Lady Genevera and her companion drove Haladin raiders from a caravan, and we all know that such predation is more common than any of us would care to admit. We also know that the Riveren's harboring of Haladina here in Aurdon means that both our enemies have united. The Rrveren are employing the Haladina to destroy us. This is a technique Neal Roclawzi did not anticipate—had he done so, the Haladina would be facing a foe more implacable than our Rangers."

  Gena recalled Rik's explanation of local politics. While she admitted to herself that Berengar was probably correct in his assessment of the situation, she wanted to hear from Rik concerning the conditions and dispositions of people in the Haladin neighborhoods of Aurdon. Everything she had heard and seen so far did seem to indicate that the Riveren were working counter to what Neal had forced upon them back in the days of her grandfather's travels. If everything were as Berengar presented it, then Neal's vow was working against Neal's intentions.

  One of the Elders, a man with only a little white distributed through his brown hair, frowned at Berengar. "You have dealt with the problem at the campsite, yes?"

  "Yes, but that is dousing a spark when a fire rages."

  The leader of the Elders held up a hand. "Berengar, Theobold, you both are racing toward a discussion that is, as yet, built on nothing." That quieted the two of them, so he turned his gaze on Gena. "Lady Genevera, did the events unfold as Berengar related them?"

  "Yes, Duke Kellin. A dozen of the raiders ambushed us."

  "Was there provocation?"

  Gena frowned. "Aside from our being in their camp? No, unless you consider the apparent fact that they recognized and concentrated upon killing Count Berengar. This is not to say that they were sent specifically to assassinate him, but they did focus their efforts on him."

  Berengar nodded quickly. "And just as they recognized me, they could recognize any of you, or your children, or servants. We are at war—there is no mistaking that."

  Theobold shook his head. "If we are at war, then we must do as you have done and destroy those who attack us. In this case, that is the Haladina."

  The count laughed. "You argue that killing the arrows is justified, but killing the archer is not?"

  "You have yet to prove to me who the archer is!" Theobold looked over at Kellin. "My Lord, Berengar once again suggests that we are threatened with harm by the Riveren Clan when we do not know this is true. We have discussed all this before. Even if his argument is true, Neal will prevent us from striking back, so all of this is futile speculation."

  "It was, until now!" Berengar turned back to look at Gena, and she saw triumph burning in his eyes. "Lady Genevera has indicated that it is possible to recover Cleaveheart and Wasp. With them, severing the knot and breaking the hollow vow is possible. I believe this is vital if we are to survive and prove victorious over Riveren perfidy. It is not a question of aggression, but of defending ourselves."

  He pointed at Theobold. "As my uncle has so aptly noted, we have no proof that the Riveren are not working against us. I would suggest that giving me your blessing to undertake recovery of Neal's weapons will not precipitate problems. While I am gone, and I would expect to be gone for the summer at the very least, we can undertake a study of who is aiding the Haladina who prey upon us. If the Riveren are guilty, then we will deal with them. If not, Cleaveheart has drunk Haladin blood before, and I will not be averse to bringing Neal's brand of war to them in our defense."

  Berengar had lowered his voice and strung the words together mellifluously. His audience, save one, clearly appreciated the way he had worked around Theobold's suggestion that he was out to precipitate trouble. Gena could see how the other merchants took to heart Berengar's point that his mission would benefit them no matter who proved to be behind the Haladin raids. Even Theobold seemed to consider the expedition seriously, though Gena thought that might be because it would remove Berengar from Aurdon for a time.

  She smiled to herself. Perhaps Theobold is the mastermind Rik is looking for.

  Kellin stroked his beard, then looked up at her. "Lady Genevera, is it possible to recover these weapons?"

  "I believe it is, my Lord. I do not know where the sword actually is, but I know some of the places it is not. Count Berengar might be generous in suggesting he would have it by the summer, but by the end of the summer I believe we would know where it is."

  Kellin nodded slowly. "I am inclined to send you off on your hunt, nephew, but there are details to be worked out amongst the elders here." The man broke off as the chamber door opened and a breathless servant ran in. "What is it?"

  The servant fell to his knees before the duke. "Forgive me, sire, but there has been a murder."

  "Who?"

  "Lord Orvir."

  Theobold shot from his chair. "Rattlebrain,
Lord Orvir has been dead for years!"

  "No, my Lords, not Berengar's brother, the new Lord Orvir." He turned and looked back at Gena, sending a jolt through her. "You know, the man what came with her. The thief. The Haladina have killed him dead."

  Chapter 14:

  A Man Amid The Councils Of Cygestolia

  Late Summer

  Reign of the Red Tiger Year 1

  Five Centuries Ago

  My Thirty-fifth Year

  ***

  THE DEBATE DULLED a bit as Lomthelgar led me down into the heart of the bowl. I gravitated toward Aarundel, who flashed me a quick smile before anger recaptured his features. His father stood beside him wearing anger and parental concern in about equal amounts on his face. The Dreel padded behind me, but rose up on his rear feet to tower above and around me as if he were to me what a hood is to a cobra.

  For my part, I felt a glacier moving through my guts. Save Aarundel, his family, and Shijef, I'd nary a friend in the legislatorium or the galleries above it. Finndali appeared to be a focal point for Aarundel, and the argument raged between them, sibilantly thrust and parried in the Sylvan tongue at a rate far faster than I could ever have understood. Hate-filled glances at me needed no translation, however, and Jammaq began to seem positively friendly in comparison to Cygestolia.

  Lomthelgar's silver eyes narrowed; then he smiled in a world-weary way. "Finndali argues that, as a Man, you will dishonor his wife, so you must die now to save her. Ryslard and Stisel say that because you are a beast, you cannot be vindicator." He canted his head to the side. "My grandson is more a warrior than a politician."

  And he is quicker than I am. Even as I thought that, the two lines of attack laid themselves out in my brain in very simple terms. The Beast argument simply wanted to block me from the nuptials. If successful it would embarrass Aarundel for his choice, and probably do some damage to Thralan's position as one of the Consilliarii. That attack, then, was directed more at him than at me.

  Finndali's case bored in on me completely. If I were to touch Larissa, as one tradition demanded and another forbade, I would die and she would be exiled. Aside from the dislike that had sprung up between us so long ago, Finndali stood a good chance of losing his wife. As wars have been fought and murders plotted to prevent the same, his action here made a lot of sense. That it also fed his anti-Human hatreds made Finndali's stand that much more palatable to him.

  The thing was, of course, that the two arguments tripped each other up. I raised a hand. "Might the target of this discussion speak?"

  A sylvanesti in gold-cloth robes, seated in a throne grown up from the base of the floor, shook her head. "You have no standing here. You will be silent."

  Lomthelgar stepped out of my shadow. "Calarianne, I would speak."

  "I recognize . . . Lomthelgar Consilliari emeratus."

  The old Elf opened his mouth, but only a sharp, crow-like caw emerged. Clutching at his throat, he coughed, then whispered hoarsely, "My voice is gone. Neal Custos Sylvanii will speak for me." He slapped me on the shoulder with surprising strength and propelled me a step forward.

  "Begging your pardons all, I'm gathering that there are two cases being raised against me. The first is that I'm a beast—no better than the horse I rode in on or the Dreel standing aback of me. I figure I could ask you all to examine the record of my dealings with Aarundel or with other Sylvan warriors, and we could start with Finndali Imperator and work on through the honor guard you sent to bring Aarundel here for his wedding. What they said, though, would be argued as opinion, having no weight, and therefore, I'm thinking, would be dismissed out of hand."

  I tried to keep my voice low, and I purposely picked words that came more from Mantongue than had been brought over from the Elven. I wanted them thinking me simple so they could underestimate me. From Aarundel I had learned that Elves are fiercely proud but intellectually honest, and the latter trait overrides the first when they collide. I admired that, sought to do the same, and to make it save me in this instance.

  "There is a more simple proof, however, and you all know of it. The fact is that Lady Larissa, being a healer as she is, could minister to my horse, the Dreel, a bull, or a ram and not suffer for it at all. Were she to touch me, even by accident in the course of her duties, I would be slain and she would be exiled. So, while there is no penalty for treating a male animal, a male Man is a different thing. In fact, that is the core of Finndali's very argument, so you cannot endorse his argument without disallowing the beast argument."

  I saw a number of heads being nodded and whispers being exchanged, which I took as a good sign. Aarundel's face had brightened considerably, which helped buoy my spirits, A glance back over my shoulder showed me both Lomthelgar and the Dreel had crouched to their haunches and were chattering back and forth—the idea of their plotting anything together bothered me—but neither of them appeared to be displeased with my performance so far.

  I looked over at Finndali. "The problem is, of course, that you also cannot endorse Finndali Imperator's argument without endorsing the animal argument. It assumes that while I am more than an animal—in accord with your laws—that I cannot think on a level higher than that of an animal. I know that to touch any sylvanesti will cost me my life, and despite being here, I'm not looking forward to the day I stop breathing. Moreover, I've promised Finndali to turn my sword over to him in thirty years, and that's a promise I mean to keep.

  "I am not an animal, so I can understand your laws and I can abide by them." I pointed off vaguely in the direction of the setting sun. "There are lands out there in which I have observed and lived within all number of laws and traditions. Among the Najindese, for example, I did not eat atalatha fish despite having grown up fishing for and eating them in the Roclaws. According to the Najindese the fish will cause your soul to wander the rivers upon death, so they don't eat it. Though I did not share that belief, I respected it."

  Finndali shook his head. "Your sensitivity to the mores and laws of other Men does you credit, Neal Roclawzi, but it does not change the fact that our mores and traditions require the vindicator to dance with the vindicatrix or the nuptials are invalid. If you touch her, you will harm her, and our law allows us to take action to prevent the willful harming of one party by another."

  "So you will kill me?" I shook my head. "I'm thinking sending me out of Cygestolia would be an easier solution."

  Larissa's husband shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, within our traditions a wedding is a time for all strife to be put aside, so exiting a guest is not permitted."

  "But killing him is?"

  "The law is the law."

  "As it is in other places." I glanced furtively at Aarundel and kept a smile on my face. "In the Roclaws, as Aarundel Imperator can attest, we, too, can be circumspect concerning contact between men and women. For example, we have a dance, the kerchief dance, in which men and women are allowed only one link; a kerchief stretched taut between them. It is a dance that requires skill, for any slackening of the kerchief is considered bad form. Even so, it is a powerful dance and one that would honor your nuptial ceremony."

  Our years of association allowed Aarundel to pick up on the fact that I had just lied through my teeth. "I have seen it. Neal is quite good at it, in fact."

  Finndali shook his head. "Man-dances mean nothing. At your wedding the torris will be danced. The torris includes touching, therefore Neal will harm Larissa, therefore he must die."

  My head came up. "The dance includes touching? What if we were to dance it without touching?"

  Finndali's eyes widened at my suggestion. "You might slip."

  "But I tell you that I will not. I tell you that I have no intention of slipping."

  "If you touch her, you will harm her."

  I smiled. "But you may slay me beforehand only if you know I intend to do Larissa harm. I have told you that I do not intend to do her harm. I know my place. I understand your laws. I would not hurt her because it would hurt my friend and his family to have h
er exiled." I thumped my right fist against my chest. "I'd sooner rip my own heart out than harm her."

  Finndali's eyes smoldered. "If you touch her, I will rip your heart out."

  "And I will bare my breast to you to do so." I pulled myself up to my full height, "That is all immaterial, however, because you cannot kill me for intentions I do not harbor. That is your law."

  The legislatorium erupted in a legion of Sylvan voices. I heard a lot of things, including Lomthelgar's chuckling, but above them I heard Aarundel's voice as he shouted down the opposition to his wedding plans. "There, you have all heard it from Neal's own lips. He is a Man and he knows his place. Yes, he is my friend, and I have proclaimed him Custos Sylvanii, but he is not so unwise as to arrogate himself. He would never think himself worthy of any sylvanesti, let alone my sister. He understands and respects the gulf between us, he respects our culture as we should respect his. Do not let your prejudice blind you or make him into a monster who would despoil our sylvanesti. He is a Man, a wise Man, and would not dare dream of dragging one of us down to his level by visiting abominable acts upon her."

  Aarundel's words sank arrowlike into my heart and pinned it painfully to my spine. I understood everything he said, and I knew how he meant it, but somehow I had never expected to hear such things from his lips. In the time we had traveled together—an eye blink for him, but my entire adult life—I had grown closer to him than any other living being, even my brother. We had shared good times and bad. We had fought side by side, staunched each other's wounds, and done insane things to save each other from situations that were beyond reasonable hope.

  If I had a sister, I would have thought nothing of marrying Aarundel off to her. The person I knew him to be came first, his race came later. I did not think of him as an Elf, but as my friend, my confidant, my co-conspirator. I would have been proud to have him in my family, and for that reason, I was filled with pride when we set off on our journey to Cygestolia.

  Because I thought of him as my equal, I assumed the reverse was true.