Aina was a stately woman, tanned in a way that suggested she spent more time outdoors than inside. She wore a shawl that covered her auburn hair, and a cuirass that didn’t quite cover all her abdomen, revealing a flat and muscular stomach. She rarely showed emotion, making it difficult for Cy to get a sense of her.
Before she had a chance to answer, Brevis leapt in and answered for her. “Of course she’d be glad to teleport you! The hero of the day, the first person to lead a decent adventure in six months? We’d be honored to have you accompany us back to Sanctuary!” Something in the way he said it, the self-serving sneer in his voice, triggered a warning in Cyrus’s head. Aina nodded, affirming Brevis’s answer and allowing Cy to relax about finding his way home. Within moments, the winds were gusting around him; with a blast of air, they left the Mountains of Nartanis behind them.
18
As the winds of the teleport faded, Aina was already casting another spell. The power of the Falcon’s Essence moved through Cyrus and his feet lifted from the ground once more, floating delicately over the grasses of the Plains of Perdamun. Brevis smiled at him, a snaggle-toothed smile that had no warmth. “Why don’t we run with you to keep you company?”
Cyrus hesitated. “That’s kind of you, but it’s only five minutes back to Sanctuary and you can all cast return and save yourselves some time.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “We would consider it a great pleasure to keep you company. I’ve been meaning to talk with you, anyway, so this is a perfect chance.” Cy kept silent, knowing that whatever kindness the gnome had offered had been with this in mind; the chance to bend the warrior’s ear.
“Oh, really?” Cyrus nodded, trying to pay as little attention possible to the scheming gnome running alongside him. Aina and Gertan followed a few steps back.
“Indeed, indeed,” he continued. “It has not escaped our notice that you are involved in helping this guild.” Cy raised an eyebrow. “I believe,” heavy emphasis was placed on the I, “that we have lagged far behind Goliath because we lack in a critical area.”
“What’s that?” Cy said, keeping his voice neutral.
“Why, leadership, of course!” the gnome said, as though it were obvious. “We have experienced adventurers, have grown considerably in recent months in capabilities, equipment and experience, but we don’t have expeditions! Our General is scared to attack so much as a bandit camp!”
“In fairness to Orion, I have heard that bandits in the Plains are much stronger now than they used to be.”
Brevis waved away Cyrus’s statement. “Even that abominable assault on the Heia Pass was at least doing something! It added riches to the guild bank. We have a General, and the Council sees fit to have him do nothing. He’s gone more of the time than he’s here!” Brevis concluded with a flourish. “And his wife is worse still. Mark my words. I’m certain she had nothing else going on today but failed to show up nonetheless. Support the guild? Ha!” His laugh sounded like a bark. “She’s a selfish one.” His face turned serious. “Someone needs to say something.”
Cyrus could see Sanctuary as they crested a hill. “Orion is scared. He led an excursion that ended in disaster and someone lost their life, which he didn’t anticipate. He blames himself, and he won’t let it go.” Cyrus blew the air through his lips noiselessly. “That’s not something you get over immediately.” He took a breath. “I think, based on my experience today, I’m going to start leading expeditions. Maybe if I do it, and Orion sees how well it’s going, he’ll get his confidence back.”
Brevis missed the point entirely. “See?” He gestured to Gertan and Aina. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! This is the sort of leadership we need: someone who’s willing to get things done. We need to be rid of Orion — you should take his place as Sanctuary’s General, command our army.”
Cyrus felt his brow furrow. “I will not support removing Orion as General. I’m happy to help the guild, but I’m not going to depose the man.”
“You’re missing the point,” Brevis sai. “When you’ve got someone who has such an attitude of entitlement you have to cut that out of your guild!” The little gnome made an almost absurd chopping gesture that looked as though it would be ineffective on anything, a ridiculous counterpoint to what he was proposing.
Cyrus studied Brevis with barely disguised annoyance. “Don’t you think Alaric knows what he’s doing by keeping Orion in place?”
“No! And don’t get me started on what I think should be done with Alaric. He’s never once led a battle that I’ve seen; rarely does anything. I’ve never seen a Guildmaster gone as much as he is. Almost as if he vanishes into thin air…” Brevis’s words trailed off as they approached the gates of Sanctuary. “Give everything I’ve said some thought, I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusions I have.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” Cyrus didn’t even try to lie, but Brevis seemed not to notice.
“Of course, we’ll talk again in a day or two.” He scrambled off as though late for an appointment, Gertan and Aina trailing behind, but not before she had dispelled the Falcon’s Essence, returning him to the ground.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of the gnome plotting a coup, Cyrus breezed through the doors to Sanctuary. He watched Brevis walk up to a group in the foyer, greeted with great fanfare. Cyrus knew that Brevis had some influence in Sanctuary, though it was hard to imagine the odd, antisocial gnome having much support.
From the staircase on the other side of the foyer, Selene entered with an entourage of her own, Celia and Uruk behind her. Cyrus saw it only a moment before it occurred; Brevis and his group casting mutinous looks at Selene, and her completely oblivious expression as she crossed close to them, not noticing the gnome or his circle until he stepped into her path, halting her advance.
“So, I noticed you weren’t with us when we fought the dragon,” Brevis said.
“No, Brevis, I wasn’t. So nice of you to notice.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well,” he said, voice dripping with insincerity that was lost on Selene.
“What do you mean?” She looked confused. “I feel fine.”
“Oh, then you must have been gone when they called for help.”
“No.” She still had a befuddled look. “Celia, Uruk and I were talking and planning a trip to the Emerald Coast with Orion. They have a little village on the edge of the ocean; it’s supposed to be quite marvelous.” Cyrus desperately wanted to intervene, to tell her to shut up, but he could not find words that wouldn’t cause a scene.
“Oh, I see.” Brevis seemed to relent for a moment. “It must be an important trip.”
“Yes; we’re planning to go there to relax, just the two of us couples.”
A glint of victory shone in the enchanter’s eye. “So, planning a vacation is more important to you than helping guildmates who are going into danger — what kind of person are you?!” The last part of his statement was blurted: it came out as a sort of crazed scream, an indignant accusation that caught the attention of everyone in the foyer.
Selene’s jaw dropped, skin flushed in horror at his bluntness. “I-I don’t see how it’s any of your business what I—”
Brevis didn’t wait for her to finish. “You’re a member of this guild who doesn’t seem to want to help anybody in this guild.”
Selene was staggered. “That’s not true!”
Undeterred, Brevis went on. “Why did you miss the event today? Don’t you care when your guildmates face mortal danger?”
Selene had fallen into the trap. “Of course I care, but—”
“Actions speak louder than words.” The self-satisfied smile on Brevis’s face indicated he thought he had made a profound point. There were enough nods around the foyer that Cyrus knew others felt the same.
Vara, Curatio and Alaric entered the foyer from the great hall at that moment. “What is going on here?” the voice of the Ghost silenced the proceedings. Selene, on the verge of tears, looked askance at Alaric, who wa
s moving toward her.
Brevis did not meet Alaric’s eyes as he approached. The paladin’s gaze bored in on the gnome, who suddenly found an excuse to leave. With Gertan, Aina, and a few others in tow, he headed upstairs. Selene looked at Alaric as he approached, eyes brimming with tears, and the Ghost said to her, “I believe Orion was looking for you, m’lady, after we adjourned from the Council a few moments ago.” She nodded, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and led Celia and Uruk upstairs as well, using a different route than Brevis had taken.
Cyrus watched them go, and felt Alaric’s attention turn his way. “I hear congratulations are in order. Vara told me you unleashed a very successful strategy on the dragon, something that no one had seen before.” The elven paladin blinked twice and then glared at Alaric, but bit back whatever reply she might have made.
Cyrus blushed. “I suspect Vara would not be so generous in her praise.” He paused for a moment. “Or that she would give praise at all.”
Vara shifted her glare to Cyrus, but it was more annoyed than dangerous. “In point of fact, you chattering pincushion, I did tell Alaric that you were quite brave in your action today, and that the strategy you employed was surprisingly brilliant.” She tossed her ponytail off her shoulder. “I did not, however, expect him to share that assessment with you.”
Cyrus looked at the elf in surprise. “Why not?”
The annoyance on her face compounded. “Because human warriors, you who have all the magical ability of a head of lettuce and the aggregate brainpower of a cabbage — which your skull mightily resembles — in my opinion, should not be in front of any monster, demon or beast we ever face in any adventure, anywhere, at any time. Since your kind seems to be not only front and center but the ecstatic choice of our leaders, I at least do my part to make certain that you lot — the few, proud, the idiotic — don’t walk into said battles with an overinflated sense of your own infallibility.” She crossed her arms.
“So,” Cyrus said, keeping his expression as straight faced as possible, “you’re concerned about the possibility of warriors getting killed?” He smiled. “How sweet.”
Vara’s nostrils flared. “I am more concerned with you, you tuber-headed narcissist, getting me and mine killed with your human arrogance.”
Alaric looked on with amusement at their exchange while Curatio wore an uncertain expression. “I trust,” Garaunt said, “that you are not concerned about human arrogance from all of us?”
Vara’s expression of indignant annoyance calmed at Alaric’s words. “No, I’ve never known you to be arrogant,” she said in a hushed tone. Turning her eyes back to Cyrus, fury burning in them, “But this one, since the day I have met him, has consistently tried to overreach his potential.”
“Yes, but that’s because you view my potential as being capped at using a knife and fork.”
“I’ve seen you eat in the Great Hall,” the elf shot back. “Perhaps you should find a more thoughtfully chosen argument to refute with next time.”
“If we may come back to my original point,” Alaric said. “Cyrus has done a masterful job of leading the assault using innovative tactics that saved lives.” The paladin surveyed Cyrus carefully through his helmet, one eye looking directly into the warrior’s.
“Anyone else would have done the same,” Cyrus mumbled.
“Nonsense!” Curatio interrupted him. “We took on a very powerful dragon without a single death.” His eyes grew intense. “I’ve faced many dragons and seen them cause numerous deaths.” He turned back to Alaric. “I would echo Vara,” he said, causing her to cringe behind him. “It was a very unique stratagem, and it paid off beautifully.”
“I agree, Curatio. It seems the warrior is being modest.” He regarded Cyrus with some interest. “Walk with us: we have matters to discuss.” Alaric, Curatio and Vara turned toward the door to the grounds, Cyrus following behind them. As they descended the front steps to the lawn below, Alaric began to speak. “It has been a while since last we talked, Cyrus. How are things going for you in Sanctuary?”
Cyrus thought for a long moment. Always on the move, or in Council chambers, no one could fully account for Alaric’s time. On the few occasions Cyrus had seen him at dinner, he tended to greet the warrior with enthusiasm, ask him how things were going, and then proceed to the next person he had to converse with. But occasionally the Ghost of Sanctuary sought him out, taking him on a walk and talking with him, like this.
Shaking off his thoughts, he focused on Alaric’s question. “It’s been good.”
“Good enough that you’d consider running for officer?” The paladin looked at him with a guarded expression.
Cyrus felt the heat in his cheeks again. “I don’t know that I have that much to offer Sanctuary.”
“Nonsense!” Curatio dismissed his modesty again. “You’ve shown yourself to be a capable leader. With the growth of the guild, we’re considering expanding the officers’ Council. We believe you to be the best candidate for that post.”
Cyrus demurred as the quartet turned the corner to the side yard of Sanctuary. “What about Brevis?”
“What of him?”
Cyrus looked at Alaric quizzically. “He’s quite popular. What you walked into earlier was him, taking Selene to task for not coming to our aid.”
Alaric was slow to respond. “Neither was I at the battle. Should I be ‘taken to task’ as well?”
Vara looked mutinous and Curatio remained silent as Cyrus answered. “In Brevis’ eyes, all of us should probably be slapped around for some offense or another.” Two of them laughed at his statement while Vara continued to keep her peace, irritation etched on her face. “I’m serious, Alaric,” Cyrus said. “Brevis is dangerous for Sanctuary right now. He’s aggravated and he’s got several targets for his resentment — Selene, Orion and — you.”
The Ghost removed his helmet, placing it into the crook of his elbow. Alaric Garaunt was not a young man by any means. His face was stern, but handsome; his brown hair, streaked with grey, was long enough to reach the top of his neck. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch that wrapped around his head. A thin beard and mustache covered the face of the Ghost. Leveling his gaze on the warrior, Alaric looked at Cyrus with his good eye, and the warrior would have given one of his own to be elsewhere. “Me?”
Cyrus nodded. “He feels that Orion is wasting the General post since he’s not leading anything, that Selene is too selfish to help anybody but herself, and that you’re allowing them to do whatever they want because Orion is an officer.”
Alaric stopped walking as they reached the archery range. “And what do you believe?” His eye bored into the warrior, and Cyrus could feel a ghostly chill in his stomach that might have been the basis of Alaric’s nickname.
It came out in a rush. “I think Orion feels so guilty about Enterra that it’ll be years before he willingly leads another expedition on his own. I think Selene has been acting selfishly, as people are wont to do, and I think you’d back them both to your death, because they’re members of Sanctuary. You’ve got the kind of loyalty that means more to you than your very life.” He stopped, breathless. “And while we’re being honest — Curatio, I thought all elves other than low-born were a bunch of uptight, arrogant tightasses like Vara until I met you.”
The healer barely suppressed a laugh. Alaric was not so able, and he let out a roar so deep and loud that it startled Cyrus. Vara, for her part, glared at him but did not argue.
Alaric’s laughter died down, and Curatio’s smile was diminishing when the Ghost next spoke. “Well, you certainly didn’t hold back your opinions.” His joviality began to evaporate. “You are correct, I believe, in your assessment.” Alaric cast a knowing eye to Vara. “Not about you.” Returning his gaze to Cyrus, he continued, “Orion is somewhat damaged in terms of his confidence, and Selene has become wrapped up in herself.” Alaric tapped his fingers on his armored greaves, drumming them several times, creating a deep rattling noise of metal on metal as Vara ground her
teeth in irritation. “This brings us to an interesting conundrum.
“Although I have had very little use for expeditions, they are an activity that many adventurers wish to participate in. This is good: it certainly prospers the guild bank, and is no more dangerous than any other adventure one might pursue. Our problem is, how do we continue to offer these benefits to our members when our General doesn’t want to schedule or run any expeditions?”
Cyrus shrugged. “It’s quite a challenge.”
“Indeed, it is, but I believe you hold the solution.” The oblique smile on his face hinted that Alaric had an agenda.
“What did you have in mind?” Cyrus asked, caution infusing his tone.
“I told you before: I think you should run for officer,” Alaric replied.
“Won’t Orion get upset you’re stripping him of the title of General?”
Alaric shook his head. “You’re getting the wrong idea, perhaps because the guild seems to misperceive this. There is no formal ‘General’ title. Every officer picks duties that they feel best fit their strengths. Whether it be dealing with applicants or running the Halls of Healing,” he nodded at Curatio, “Orion felt his abilities lay in the direction of leading expeditions.” He frowned. “His change of heart does leave us with a rather sizable hole in our Council.” Alaric cast a sidelong glance at Vara. “And since my most knowledgeable leader won’t lead any excursions and Orion is scared to…”
Vara bristled. “I didn’t say I won’t lead any.” She smoldered for a moment. “But people don’t respond well to my leadership style.”
“Hard to imagine, that,” Cyrus quipped. “I can see it now: ‘You! I hate you, go over there and die, okay?’“
Vara looked daggers at the warrior but when she spoke it was with an icy calm. “After all my searching, you’ve found the exact sentiments I’ve been wanting to express to you since the day we met.”
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