The Emerald Scepter soa-3

by Thomas M. Reid

  CHAPTER 17

  In the chapel of House Matrell, Vambran stared at the two sarcophagi before him. He thought about Rodolpho Wianar's final words as he watched the memorial ceremony. Each of us shapes those around us, he realized. Either by our absence or our presence, we affect those we are close to. He glanced over at Xaphira, sitting next to Ladara, who was crying softly. And when that changes, when people in our lives are gone, or when they return unexpectedly, we feel unbalanced, unsure. We don't know how it will make a difference, but we know it will. He glanced over at Quindy and Obiron, sitting next to their mother. It always has an effect.

  The mercenary felt Emriana squeeze his hand. He looked at her sitting next to him and saw her smiling at him, though a few tears were running down her face. His heart was heavy, and he felt his eyes grow moist, too. It's hard, saying goodbye to someone. Not just because they are gone, but because they made a difference in your life.

  I love you, Hetta, Kovrim, he thought, sending his thoughts to the sarcophagi. Rest well.

  After the ceremony, members of the family and their guests drifted to different parts of the house. Vambran decided to wander out to the yard, to spend more time thinking, but Emriana followed him.

  "I think she knew it was time to go," the girl said, sounding very different than Vambran remembered. All grown up. "She was too long out of her body to go back, and she didn't want to stay in that ring forever. But I think she knew that it was all right, that she was leaving the family in good hands."

  "I know," Vambran said, strolling down to the pond.

  "I'm sorry you had to see Kovrim the way you did," she told him, taking his hand again. "I can't imagine what that must have been like."

  I pray to Waukeen you never do, Vambran thought. "I'm going to miss them."

  "Me, too."

  They stood at the bank of the water, and Vambran watched the reflection of the high white clouds drifting overhead. It was going to be a hot day, the lieutenant realized. Spring was turning into summer. The height of trade season. And of campaigning.

  "Are you going back?" Emriana asked suddenly. "To the Crescents, I mean."

  Vambran looked at his sister. "How did you know that I was thinking about resigning? I hadn't said anything to anyone in the family yet."

  "I can tell," she said. "It's in your eyes."

  Just like I can tell that someone hurt you, Vambran thought. Badly. He shrugged. "I love it, but there's a part of me that feels like I should stay here now, help run the businesses. Dregaul is gone, so there's no reason to stay away, and I feel like you, Xaphira, and Marga need me."

  "Don't be a meazel-face," Emriana said. "We can run things just fine. And it's in your blood. You have to do it."

  Vambran chuckled. "Maybe, but shouldn't I start being a little more responsible?"

  "I can't think of anything more responsible than maintaining our relationships with business partners abroad," the girl said. "On this last campaign alone, you managed to arrange good alliances with the Emerald Crescent, the Senator of Trade in Reth, and the sea elves. I call that a good tenday's work."

  Vambran had to laugh at that. It was true. House Matrell was in the process of negotiating a fair and sensitive deal with the druids to lumber part of the Nunwood without stripping the forest bare. Part of the negotiations required regular face-to-face meetings. Shinthala had insisted on that. The family already had strong trade in place with the sea elves, but things had improved on that front, as well. Serille had seen to that. And Elenthia's father, so thankful that Vambran and Arbeenok had done so much to save the city-not to mention rescuing his daughter from a certain horrible death-was eager to generate business between his city and House Matrell.

  "Let's just hope I don't have to stop a war every time," Vambran quipped. "Though Captain Havalla made me a pretty generous offer to serve as his second in the Order of the Silver Raven."

  "You turned him down, right?" Emriana asked, and when Vambran looked at her, he saw that she was serious.

  He nodded. "I offered him thanks, but I told him it was the Crescents or nothing for me. We still agreed to coordinate our efforts in the region from this point forward. No more fighting both sides of the battle at once."

  "So is it the Crescents, or nothing?" Emriana asked.

  "I haven't decided. Horial and Adyan don't want me to leave, either." He thought it was time to change the subject. "How about you? What are you going to do? And how serious is it between you and Pilos?"

  Emriana blushed slightly. "Don't make it bigger than it is," she said, but the smile on her face told Vambran she was hoping her relationship with the priest would turn into something more.

  "He seems like a fine fellow," Vambran said. "And having a more formal relationship with House Darowdryn would be beneficial."

  "Oh, gods, you're turning into Uncle Dregaul, trying to marry me off!" she said, punching her brother in the shoulder.

  "At least I let you pick him," Vambran said, laughing.

  At that moment, a shout came from up the hill, near the house. The siblings turned to see Quindy and Obiron bounding down the hill toward the pond. The boy had his crossbow in hand, and his sister was lugging the quiver of bolts beside him. Behind the pair of boisterous children, other members of the family and several guests were strolling toward the pond. Xaphira and Marga were talking, and Vambran could see Pilos, Adyan, Horial, Grolo, Edilus, and Arbeenok with them. The alaghi had come to the city of Arrabar, his first visit there, along with Edilus and Shinthala, to represent the druids at Hetta's memorial. Shinthala was in the rear, engaged in a deep conversation with both Elenthia and Serille, who had thankfully donned some clothing for her visit to land.

  "It looks like all of your ladies are getting to know each other," Emriana teased.

  Vambran groaned. "I liked it so much better when they were in separate places," he said. "I need to go on campaign."

  "Maybe I'll go join in the conversation," the mercenary's sister taunted. "I have a few interesting stories they'd like to hear."

  "Do it, and I'll make sure you can never show your face to Pilos again," Vambran warned.

  Emriana gave him one scathing look before the crowd reached them. "Don't you dare," she muttered. "Or I'll sneak into your room at night and pour scorpions in your bed."

  "I love you, too," Vambran said, and he meant it.

  "All the women are going riding," Xaphira announced. "At the country estate. Do you want to join us, Em?" she asked.

  The lieutenant raised his eyebrow in question. "All of you?" he asked, looking at Serille, Elenthia, and Shinthala with trepidation.

  "Everyone but Shinthala," Xaphira answered. "She has to get back to the forest."

  Vambran's gaze turned to the sea elf. "You, too?"

  Serille nodded. "I would like to see what a horse is," she said, smiling sweetly.

  Vambran resisted the urge to groan.

  After the others had departed for the country estate, Vambran was left standing with the other mercenaries and the druids.

  "I just learned that Perolin was named Grand Syndar this morning," Pilos said. "I think the temple is in good hands."

  "As good as when Mikolos Midelli sat on the high seat?" Vambran asked.

  The young priest nodded. "I think so," he said. "There's a lot of work to be done, repairing the damage Lavant created, but I find Perolin the most forthright of the high priests. I've given him my support."

  "And he's named you ambassador," Vambran pointed out.

  Pilos nodded, looking slightly chagrined. "I can't avoid the politics altogether," he explained, "but I can at least try to make sure they always work to put the best side of the temple forward. We'll see if I'm successful."

  "Still no sign of Lavant?" the lieutenant asked.

  Pilos frowned. "None," he replied. "And none of our divinations are giving us anything, either. It's very strange."

  There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone contemplated what that might mean. "So, what's happeni
ng to Lobra?" Vambran asked, steering the conversation in another direction.

  "Ah," Pilos said, nodding. "Perolin doesn't want to make a civil issue out of her crimes, because the temple wants to distance itself from any link that might exist with the Generon. Ariskrit agrees, so long as Lobra is punished for her transgressions against the temple. She's going to be washing laundry in the bowels of the temple for a long while, I think."

  "And Falagh?"

  Pilos shook his head. "No one has seen or heard from him since the night of Sammardach. House Mestel isn't speaking of it, and Perolin believes they are dealing with it internally."

  "I've heard how they 'deal' with that sort of problem," Vambran said. "We'll never hear about him again."

  "We are returning to the forest," Edilus announced to no one in particular. "Finally," he added, sounding gruff.

  "That's a good thing to hear," Horial replied. "I was beginning to worry you liked the city so much that you'd never leave, and your stench was starting to get to me."

  Edilus glared at the mercenary for a moment, and Vambran tensed, wondering where that outburst had come from, but then he saw Horial's mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile, and next he noticed the humorous twinkle in the druid's eyes. As one, the two burst out laughing, clapping each other on the shoulders.

  Vambran sighed and turned to Shinthala and Arbeenok. "It's too bad they hate each other so much," he quipped, "otherwise we might all be friends."

  Shinthala chuckled, then gave Vambran a warm hug. "Be well," she said. "And come to the Nunwood soon."

  "I will," he promised.

  Arbeenok took Vambran's hand and grasped it tightly. "You are a good friend," he said. "We will see one another again soon."

  Vambran cocked his head and asked, "Is that just hopeful thinking, or have you had a vision?" The alaghi smiled and stepped back. "Sooner than you think," he said.

  When the druids departed, taking Pilos with them to begin establishing a relationship with the Waukeenar, Vambran was left alone with Adyan, Horial, and Grolo.

  "So, have you made up your mind yet?" Adyan drawled.

  Vambran sighed. "Everyone keeps asking me that."

  Horial shrugged. "I won't follow another, Lieutenant," he said. "I can't imagine campaigning under anyone else."

  Vambran eyed his three sergeants, all of whom were nodding in agreement. "All right," he said at last. "I'll stay in."

  Horial whooped and Adyan just grinned, his scar pale in the sunlight. Grolo smacked Vambran on the back. "That's what I want to hear," the dwarf said. "Now, what do you boys say we go over to the Crying Claw and have ourselves a cool one?"

  Vambran liked the sound of that.

  Out in the Reach, aboard Spinner, a trade ship bound for Turmish, a paunchy wizard pushed his spectacles up on his nose and tried without success to keep the papers he was scrutinizing from fluttering in the sea breezes. After the third attempt to read a paragraph in a treatise on the magical uses of yuan-ti scales, he gave up in exasperation and stuffed the sheaf of parchment into a leather binder. He stood up from the coil of rope he had been using as a seat and glanced over the stern. The coastline of Chondath was receding in the distance.

  About that time, another figure strolled onto the deck of the ship. Darvin Blackcrown spotted the wizard and smiled to himself. He made his way over to the bespectacled fellow peering across the bow at the wave-tossed horizon and said, "Hello, Bartimus."

  The wizard jumped, startled, and whirled around to face the assassin. "Where did you come from?" he stammered, fear plain in his eyes.

  Darvin chuckled. "From Arrabar, the same as you," he said. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cause you trouble. I'm just on my way to Hlondeth to conduct some business on behalf of… my employer." He wasn't sure Bartimus would want to know that Eles Wianar was sending him. "Where are you headed?"

  "Away," Bartimus answered. "To someplace where I can conduct my research undisturbed. I don't ever want to see a House insignia again."

  Darvin had to chuckle. "I don't blame you," he said. Then an idea hit him. "Perhaps you'd like to travel with me? Where I'm going, I could use your help. And if it works out, I can make it worth your while. Think about it-a fully stocked laboratory, all the research time you want, no one bothering you to scry on folks when you are busy. Sound good?"

  "Maybe," Bartimus said. "What would you want in return?"

  Darvin smiled. "Let's just get to Turmish and see how things go. If you are interested, we can talk details later."

  The wizard nodded. "All right," he said.

  "Good," Darvin said, smiling. Perhaps he could get back into his father's good graces more quickly than he had thought.

  In a scrying chamber in the deepest recesses of the Generon, Eles Wianar stared at a stack of notes, piles of parchment with information on them that he had been carefully scribing for twelve years. In a burst of fury, he took hold of one of the piles and tossed it into a brazier, then sat and watched the corners curl up from the heat before the pile burst into flame.

  Twelve years! What a waste, he thought.

  There were so many people to blame. The Matrells, of course, had earned his enmity for all of their meddling. He would have to do something about that. He was certain of it. But that could wait. Let the fire burn down to embers, he thought. Then the time will be right.

  But there were others, as well-incompetent fools to single out. He was not happy with Darvin. Sending him away, insisting that the boy visit Turmish, was a good thing for both of them. Kept apart, Darvin would learn the lesson of humility and redouble his efforts at accomplishing the goals Eles set before him. And Eles would be less tempted to disintegrate him in a fit of rage.

  Grozier Talricci and Falagh Mestel weren't really at fault. If anything, they were only guilty of figuring out their roles in the whole affair a tad too soon. But that hadn't really affected the outcome. No, even with all of that, Rodolpho was the one most responsible for the breakdown in the plan. It couldn't have been helped, of course; Eles had hoped he could trust his cousin, but it was not something he could control. Not for twelve years, at any rate.

  That just left Lavant. Fool priest, Eles thought. Got a little too power-hungry for his own good. And see what it cost him?

  Eles turned toward a large mirror leaning against a wall of his scrying chamber, one mirror among several. He spoke a command word, watched as the surface of the mirror rippled and glowed, and smiled as a fat, pale face appeared. "Hello, Lavant," the Shining Lord said.

  "By Waukeen's mercy, please let me out of here!" the naked, obese priest pleaded. "I am at your service, ready to do anything you need! You know my powers are formidable, and they are at your command. Just please, please release me!"

  Eles smiled. "In good time, Lavant, in good time," he said. "I'm formulating some new ideas, a new possibility for bringing Reth back into the fold of Chondath, where it belongs. I think you might be able to help me with my plans."

  "Yes, oh, absolutely, my lord," Lavant said, looking hopeful. "Whatever I can do."

  "Excellent," Wianar replied. "I'm so happy to see your enthusiasm. I should be ready for your services in about twelve years."

  As Lavant screamed, Eles Wianar uttered the command that closed the window on the priest's cell, sending him back to the darkness.

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