by Rich Wulf
“Why would I want to do that?” she asked stiffly, leaning away from him again.
“Because I’m not so sure we’re going to survive this,” he said. “I’m not so sure that I’m doing this for the right reasons.”
Seren watched him quietly, waiting for him to explain.
“When I first met Dalan, I was Ashrem’s apprentice,” he said. “I knew Dalan by reputation. He was one of the only people in House Cannith that Ashrem still trusted. Dalan came to me privately. He offered me a work, to create some infusions for House Cannith. Ashrem didn’t seem to be interested in helping me join the house, but Dalan was. He offered me contracts on the side, things Ashrem wouldn’t accept, so I took them. Ashrem found out about it eventually, of course. He also found out that the camouflage enchantments I thought were being used to help scouts remain undetected in the field were being used by Brelish soldiers to ambush Thrane border patrols. He was outraged that I had used his teachings and his facilities to create weapons. We argued about it, I called him a hypocrite and a few other things. I told him the war would never end if we stood by and did nothing. The old man didn’t take that well at all.”
“And that’s why he ended your apprenticeship?” Seren asked.
“That’s right,” Tristam said with a sigh. “I never told Ashrem that Dalan was the one to give me the contracts, and Dalan didn’t tell him either. When Dalan came back to me, asking me to help him find the Legacy, he said he appreciated my ‘discretion,’ whatever that means.” Tristam laughed bitterly.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your sharing something like this,” Seren said, “but what does this have to do with my staying or leaving?”
“We’re not doing anything noble here, Seren,” he said. “Don’t stay because you think we’re heroes or because you think you’re doing some great favor by keeping the Legacy out of Marth’s hands. Dalan isn’t perfect, and neither am I. I might look like I’m fighting to keep my teacher’s work pure, but really that’s not it at all. I’m a failure, Seren. Ashrem didn’t want me. House Cannith doesn’t want me. Now I can tell even Dalan’s getting tired of me. Don’t stay to help me. I’m not worth helping, and anyone with an ounce of sense sees that.”
“Omax doesn’t see that,” she said. “Neither do I.”
Tristam started to voice a reply but found nothing to say. He only lowered his head and clasped his hands over his knees.
“I don’t understand why Omax follows me the way he does,” he said. “I’m no hero, Seren. I’m here because I have nowhere else to go, and because, really, I want to prove them all wrong. I’m fighting to prove myself to a dead man. That’s what you’re risking your life for. That’s why you should leave us in Cragwar, Seren, and forget any of this ever happened.”
Seren set the homunculus on the floor and stood. She looked down at Tristam, arms folded across her breasts. He looked up at her meekly.
“If you want me to pity you,” she said, “you’ll have to do better than that. If you need me, I’ll be in my cabin.”
He blinked in surprise. She turned and left, closing the door behind her.
She stopped with a start, finding Omax lurking in the hall outside. The warforged’s blue eyes shone in the darkness.
“Thank you, Seren,” he said in a quiet voice. “He does not realize what he could be.”
She looked at the construct for a long time, then finally nodded and returned to her cabin.
Seren stood at the ship’s rail for a long time, looking down at Cragwar as the ship circled for a landing. Gerith walked up beside her after a while, looking over the side and then looking at her in confusion, obviously not seeing what she was so interested in.
“Sorry,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s just that Wroat is really the only other big city I’ve ever seen. Cragwar is a lot different, at least from up here.”
“Oh, yeah, I can see that,” Gerith said, looking back down. “Probably because it’s clean. Wroat is too big. Too many people living there. Cragwar’s different, probably because it’s so close to the Aundairian border. The Brelish army is in command here, and they run a tight ship.”
“Why does that make a difference?” Seren asked. “King Boranel lives in Wroat; you’d think he’d command more respect than the army.”
“Oh, that’s not it at all,” Gerith said. “Wroat’s pretty far from any enemies, so the Watch is more likely to let things slide. This close to Aundair, any criminal could be an Aundairian spy. Any lapse in discipline could weaken the border. Not that Aundair is ready to challenge Breland, but better safe than sorry, I guess. The military has to be careful—they’re on their own here.”
“I see,” Seren said, looking down at the city again. After a while she realized Gerith was looking up at her with a serious expression.
“What?” she asked.
“Just hoping all that sunk in,” he said. “You behave yourself down there, Seren. Not that I’d mind swooping to your rescue and your inevitable gratitude, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” She looked at him sharply, but he held out a hand to stop her. “I’m not making judgments, Seren. Kol Korran knows every crown I made hasn’t been an honest one—but no stealing in Cragwar. Understand?”
She laughed lightly and smiled at him. “I’ll keep my hands out of other people’s pockets, Gerith,” she said.
“Good,” he said, his usual bright smile instantly returning. He gave a sharp whistle and vaulted over the rail into the open sky, falling with his arms and legs outstretched. With a shrieking cry and the snap of broad wings, Blizzard swooped past and caught his master.
“One of these days,” Pherris said.
The glidewing began its descent, toward a quartet of sky towers at the northern edge of the city. Two of them were already occupied by sleek vessels flying the boar’s head banners of Breland. As they drew closer, a group of mounted soldiers emerged from the city and rode toward the towers.
“Hope this goes better than last time,” Tristam said.
“Last time went precisely as planned, Tristam,” Dalan said. “Merely because you do not know the plan is not an indication that it has failed. Now, someone please let the paladin out of her cell.”
Omax disappeared below decks, returning shortly afterward with Eraina in tow. She scowled at Dalan but did not speak a word. The ship pulled smoothly into the sky tower. Dalan strode forward with a pleasant expression, readying his official papers to show the waiting officers. After a few moments’ discussion, the soldiers gave the airship a final warning look and returned to the city.
“We should be safe enough here,” Dalan said, looking at the other towers. “Even if Marth pursues us, those Brelish ships should be a match for him.”
“Always so ready to let someone else fight your battles, d’Cannith?” Eraina said coldly. She brushed past him without another word, disappearing into the tower.
“First time I’ve seen you let someone else get the last word, Dalan,” Zed said.
“What do I care?” Dalan said. “She’s off my ship. That’s all I wanted. How does it look, Tristam?”
The artificer had brought a ladder from below deck and climbed up to the strut holding the elemental ring in place. He probed at the crystal hook with a delicate silver wand. A broad bandolier holding many of the strange chemical concoctions and focusing crystals from his cabin now hung over his shoulder. Tristam concentrated intently on the hook. “Nothing I can’t fix,” he said. “I’ll need some new lodestones to reseal the enchantments. The crystalline structure is badly fragmented.”
“How long?” Dalan asked.
“Three hours, maybe four,” he said.
“Excellent,” Dalan said. “Time enough to catch a meal and find a copy of The Chronicle. I’ll leave you to your work.” Dalan paused at the door to the tower bridge and threw a small pouch at Seren. She caught it clumsily against her chest and heard the chink of coins inside. “Seren, take care of whatever materials he needs,” he said indifferently. “That should
be more than enough. Omax, accompany me.”
Seren saw the warforged look up at Tristam. Tristam nodded and went back to work. Dalan and Omax entered the tower.
“Just like Dalan to send a green girl into the city alone and keep the warforged bodyguard for himself,” Pherris grunted, leaning back against the ship controls. The gnome looked much older and wearier than he had before, or perhaps he had finally allowed himself a moment to rest now that his ship was finally safe.
“I can take care of myself,” Seren said.
“See that you do,” Pherris said sternly. “I am beginning to like you, Miss Morisse. You bring a dash of common sense that I’ve sorely missed hereabouts.” The gnome’s whiskers twitched with a faint grin.
Seren smiled at Pherris, but the old gnome had dozed off where he sat. She looked up at Tristam, still busy with the repairs.
“Lodestones?” she prompted him.
He nodded without looking down. “Natural magnets. They’re a reagent for a number of enchantments. I’ll need about a dozen,” he answered. “I could probably use some more royal water to accelerate the dissolution of this binding agent, too.”
“And maybe some frankincense to reinforce the elemental matrix?” she asked.
Tristam looked down at her sharply, almost falling off his ladder. “Yes, that would be useful,” he said, impressed. “You’ve been reading more than my fairy tales, haven’t you?”
“I only understand a little,” she admitted.
“That’s still amazing,” he said, his intense expression fading into a smile. “And yes, I could use some frankincense. You should be able to find all of that at any magewright’s shop. Be careful, Seren. Don’t make any trouble.”
“Same to you,” she said, returning his smile.
Seren climbed down the tower stairs and surveyed the streets. Cragwar was a busy, happy place. The streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives. Groups of soldiers patrolled the streets and the citizens met them with friendly greetings, obviously content to be under their protection. Though she had already decided to remain on Karia Naille, she had to admit that this wouldn’t be such a bad place to start a new life. For a city near the border of a potential enemy, it was a peaceful sort of place.
Seren stopped at a corner vendor and used one of Dalan’s coins to purchase a delicious-smelling treat on a stick. It looked like a sort of frosted bread filled with cooked meat. It tasted as good as it smelled. She chewed thoughtfully as she watched the traffic and considered her next move.
It was nearly a minute before Seren realized that she had instinctively been casing the local populace, looking for wealthy targets. The instant she realized what she was doing, Seren felt terribly alone. She would never fit in here, not as long as she saw everyone else as targets.
“Once a thief, always a thief,” said a voice beside her.
Seren jumped, dropping her food on the ground. Eraina d’Deneith looked down with a sneer. “Best to pick that up, Seren. There are fines for littering in this city.”
Seren snatched up her ruined meal and looked at the paladin with a frown. “What do you want?” she asked. “I thought you left.”
“Did you kill Jamus Roland?” she asked bluntly.
Eraina’s eyes, so dark they were almost black, bored directly into her soul. She sensed anger, pain, and something more, a sense of a power Seren had never felt before. It felt almost as if she were being judged by Boldrei herself.
“How do you know Jamus?” Seren asked, unable to keep a quaver of fear out from her voice.
“Just answer the question. Yes or no.”
“No,” she said, a hint of outrage in her answer. “Jamus was my teacher. He was my friend.”
Eraina’s brows furrowed quizzically. She looked disappointed by Seren’s answer, but she nodded in acquiescence. “Just a thief, then,” she said in a sad voice. “You have no idea what you have become involved in.”
“Then why don’t you explain it to me? How does a Sentinel Marshal know Jamus Roland? He was just a thief too.”
“He was not just a thief,” Eraina said. “He was my father.”
“Oh,” Seren said, eyes widening. “I thought you were a member of House Deneith.”
“I am,” she said. “My mother’s husband was disgraced when he learned the truth. If my mother’s dragonmark had not bred true, I might have been given to an orphanage. Instead I was raised and educated by the church.” She looked at Seren calmly. “Does it truly surprise you that Jamus Roland would have an affair with another man’s wife?”
“Not really,” Seren answered, “but why are you telling me this? I’m a stranger to you.”
“Raised as a Spear of Boldrei, I have taken many vows,” Eraina said. “A vow of charity, a vow of mercy, a vow of humility, and a vow of honesty. Do you understand these things?”
Seren nodded.
“Then also understand that our vow of honesty is the most difficult of all, as well as the most important,” she said. “For we can neither lie nor promote falsehood. The fact that Jamus never told you who I was is disturbing, for he broke into Dalan d’Cannith’s home on my behalf. He died trying to help me, Seren.”
“A paladin hiring thieves?” Seren asked.
“I didn’t know what he planned, and he knew better than to tell me,” Eraina said. “My father has always been a foolish man. For almost a year now I have been hunting the murderer of Bishop Llaine Grove. I was to meet Jamus on the night he died. I traveled all the way from Fairhaven on the promise that he would have the name of the killer I sought. I suppose I should not be surprised that he died. My father was not adept at keeping promises.”
“He never told me any of that,” she said.
“And now you understand why Boldrei values honesty,” Eraina said. “I have wasted a great deal of time chasing you, Seren, thinking that you were responsible for my father’s death. Now I know the real killer was on that Cyran ship. Those same mercenaries were probably responsible for Llaine Grove’s death as well.”
Eraina looked at Seren for a long time, not speaking. Seren had the uneasy sense that the goddess was judging her through those eyes again. She wanted to move away, but could not bring herself to do so.
“The truth, at least, is a relief,” Eraina said. “Father spoke highly of you in his letters. I wonder if, in some measure, by caring for you he hoped to atone for my unwanted and neglected existence. My father was a strange man.”
“Looks like that bred true, too,” Seren said.
“And you have adopted my father’s intolerable sense of humor,” she retorted. “Jamus obviously saw some value in you, so I give you this final warning. Do not return to Karia Naille. I intend to stop Dalan d’Cannith and his allies. It would be best if you did not oppose me.”
“Stop them?” Seren asked. “Why? They’re hunting the same killer you are.”
“No,” Eraina said. “They merely seek the same thing he seeks, and their greed will only cloud my path. Dalan d’Cannith is a ruthless, ambitious man. I do not doubt he knows more about the Cyrans than he admits, and I will not abide his dishonesty.”
“So you want me to abandon my friends and run away in a strange city?” Seren asked. “What sort of paladin are you?”
“Your faithfulness is admirable, but you do them no favors by letting them pursue petty ambitions,” Eraina said. “Do not fear that I would cast you out alone here as Dalan did to me. I have allies in this city. I can give you gold enough to return to Wroat, or even Ringbriar. I could offer you the protection of the Sovereign Host. You could find a new life in the Church if you wished, Seren. My mercy is a sincere mercy, not a Cannith’s false promises.”
Seren looked past Eraina, at the crowds of happy citizens living their normal lives. Beyond them, she saw the sky towers standing tall above the skyline. Two rings of green fire burnt with a steady light, holding the Brelish warships aloft. Between them burnt a smaller ring—blue, crackling with red.
“Think
about it, Seren,” Eraina said.
Seren walked away. She felt the paladin’s eyes watch her for a long time afterward.
Seren went about her business, picking up Tristam’s supplies. She dropped them off on the ship without a word, drawing confused looks from Pherris and Tristam as she went back into the city. For a while, she explored. Would it really be so bad to stay here? Was this such a horrible place?
She looked up at the ring of fire above the walls again, now burning a steady blue. This would be a safe place to live, but no one needed her here. If she were to find a home, it would not be here. After wandering aimlessly for a while, Seren made her way back to the sky tower. She boarded the ship as wordlessly as she had left. Gunther trotted to her feet and rolled over on one side, waiting to be petted. Pherris greeted her with an exhausted smile, which quickly changed to a look of concern as he looked past her toward the tower.
“Are the repairs done, Tristam?” Pherris asked.
“Just touching up the paint now,” Tristam said from the ladder. “Why?”
“I’ve a feeling we’ll be leaving soon,” the captain said.
Seren looked up from petting the dog. A dozen Brelish soldiers marched out of the tower door, with Eraina at their head. She looked at Seren with a disappointed shake of her head and turned to face Pherris.
“Captain Gerriman,” Eraina said in a bold voice. “As a Sentinel Marshal of House Deneith, and with the aid and alliance of the Brelish Crown, I regret that I must impound your vessel and take your crew into custody.”
“On what charges?” Pherris asked stiffly.
“You are not being charged with anything,” she said, her tone now clipped and formal. “However, I believe that several members of your crew are withholding information pertinent to an international murder investigation. As a Sentinel Marshal, I have invoked my jurisdiction and enlisted these local officials to assist me. Please do not resist.”
Seren stood up slowly beside Pherris. Tristam dropped down from his ladder, tucking his tools back into his bandolier. Gerith poked his head up from below deck and quickly disappeared again. Zed, sharpening his sword as he sat on a nearby barrel, set his whetstone aside and sheathed the weapon across his back. Omax stood beside Tristam calmly, waiting for any command.
