by M. Gregg Roe
“That wouldn’t have made a difference,” she breathed. “She made the agreement in good faith. But when she held the baby in her arms, fed it at her breast…” The look on Peri’s face said it all: The young woman couldn’t imagine parting with a child of her own flesh.
“She disappeared about a month later,” Peri continued, staring down at her hands. “I’d like to think she just ran away and ended up making a life for herself somewhere else, but it’s more likely she killed herself somewhere where her body wouldn’t be found.”
Even today, portions of Zardis were in ruins. It was the perfect place to end one’s life, either through suicide or at the hands of the lowlifes that dwelled in such areas.
Composed once more, Peri began her report. The words barely registered as he considered the implications of her tale. Was this what Kora expected him to discover, that surrogate mothers could not be relied upon to keep their word? But this was only a single case. It was too early to draw conclusions.
“What was that?” he asked suddenly. Had he heard her correctly? Something about tossing a crooked merchant off the city wall? There wasn’t even a straightforward way to get to the top of the tall wall.
Peri showed her teeth and laughed. “That’s what you get for ignoring me.” She stood up and saluted. “It will all be in my written report, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he called out as she departed, closing the door behind her.
It was fortunate that it was late in the afternoon, because he found it impossible to focus on work. Instead of consulting other coworkers, he would seek information from each of the city’s temples. And, as Aliva had suggested, he would consult his mother. Medea never minced words or projected her biases.
Patience would be his watchword going forward. He would research surrogates thoroughly and then think the matter through. Only then would he go to see Kora.
On his next day off, Gabriel set out to visit all three temples. Viewed from above, the Witch’s City had a pleasing look, perfectly round and with three-fold symmetry. Connect each temple with a straight line and you had an equilateral triangle centered on the Witch’s Castle. The city’s three circular lakes were also equally spaced. The odd street intersections that resulted from this layout confused visitors but were beloved to residents.
He began with the Temple of Arwon, a stone structure fronted by sturdy pillars. The overlapping circles of Arwon’s symbol marked the arched entrance at the top of the stairs. Even before he reached the temple’s cavernous interior, he knew it was hopeless. There were at least twenty people milling about, creating a clamor he felt was inappropriate in a holy place. Many bore the marks of a fight—black eyes, bandages, arms in slings. A tavern brawl that had gotten out of hand? The clerics and other staff had their hands full, and his own inquiry could certainly wait.
It was a lovely morning as he made his way to the Temple of Karth, choosing to follow the inside of the city wall rather than wind his way through side-streets. There were many people out walking, dressed in a variety of manners. He nodded at those he recognized, but maintained a steady pace.
This temple had a harsher look, with few curves. Even the pillars had a square cross-section. Karth’s symbol was four lines of equal length that intersected at their centers. Spaced evenly, they resembled the diagram that many maps used to indicate the cardinal directions. Karth was the deity associated with chaos and destruction, the diametric opposite of Dukane. Arwon represented a balance between the two extremes, a recognition that neither law nor chaos should reign supreme. And it was that thought that brought Gabriel to an abrupt stop just short of the slab-like stone stairs.
He and Marryn worshipped Dukane because their father did, but Medea had remained faithful to Arwon. Why had he never questioned that before? For Mardan, Dukane was the obvious choice. The man was obsessed with order and justice. He wanted stricter laws and harsher penalties. During his time on the city council, Mardan had frequently clashed with both Ermizad and the other members, something that eventually led to his dismissal.
Because of his father’s position, Gabriel had spent a portion of his childhood living in the Witch’s Castle. As a result, he knew High Witch Ermizad personally, and had witnessed her in unguarded moments. She was neither overly lax nor a tyrant. She sought advice when necessary, acknowledged mistakes, and accepted responsibility for her actions. Ermizad strode the middle ground, knowing that she could never please everyone.
In his current position, Gabriel understood the necessity of compromise. Laws were necessary, as was their enforcement. But sometimes exceptions needed to be made. Circumstances and intent mattered. Compassion and empathy on the part of the enforcers was vital. Guards were also citizens, and they too were subject to the city’s laws.
“Is there something on you mind, my son?”
Wondering just how long he had been standing motionless, Gabriel saw that the speaker was a black-and-red clad priest, standing two steps up. A half-elf of perhaps forty, the man’s long black hair hung limply, and his thin eyebrows were all but invisible against mahogany skin. Standing slightly stooped, his expression conveyed both curiosity and concern.
“I am seeking information on surrogate mothers,” Gabriel said slowly.
“I think there is more to it than that,” the priest said, narrowing his dark eyes. “I know a revelation when I behold one.”
After taking a deep breath, Gabriel said, “It has occurred to me that I have been worshipping the wrong deity, but it is Arwon and not Karth that I now feel best suits me.” The confession filled him with a sense of elation, of hope.
“A revelation indeed,” the half-elf remarked. “As I am sure you know, we provide aid and counsel without regard to a person’s belief or station.”
Wondering how his father would react were he to tell him, Gabriel didn’t reply.
“The only surrogate I know personally is now retired.” The priest smiled slyly. “She is married and pregnant with a child that is truly hers to keep. But that was only possible because of the money she earned by giving up her first two offspring. If you are seeking a surrogate, look for a healthy young woman desperately in need of money. A brothel would not be a bad place to start.”
The advice shocked Gabriel, but he didn’t contest it. Any surrogate they found probably would be impoverished. That hadn’t occurred to him, and it was a concern.
“Is there anything else I can assist with?” the priest asked.
Gabriel jerked his attention back to the man. “No. Thank you for your advice.” Had the man given his name? He couldn’t remember.
“Then I wish you well.” The priest turned and strode up the stairs.
Instead of heading to the next temple, Gabriel made for the nearest lake and found a place where he could sit in relative isolation. He didn’t like the idea of some poor women selling her child for money. But abandoning a child you had already begun to raise was even worse, and that happened all too often. At least a surrogate knew that her child was wanted. And the money she earned might be her salvation, freeing her from a life of poverty and sorrow.
He never made it to the Temple of Dukane or back to the Temple of Arwon that day. There was just too much to ponder.
After the meeting, Gabriel dutifully followed Captain Eomera back to her office. The room’s decorations were jarring, almost girlish. There were paintings of flowers on every wall and a vase of white roses on one corner of her large desk. He still wasn’t certain if it reflected the woman’s tastes or was an effort to discomfit visitors.
“Gabriel, what is going on with you?” she asked after taking her seat and motioning for him to sit down.
He should have known that she would notice his distraction. The issue was that he was still in a quandary, questioning his decision but fearing to ask for advice. He had even considered changing his allegiance to Lasrina, still impressed that Aliva served the goddess and hoping it might bring him luck.
Sitting stiffly in the wooden chair
, he told Eomera everything and was grateful that she didn’t interrupt.
“Personally, I’ve never worried about it,” she said, slouching in her elf-sized chair. “I donate to whatever temple I feel like when I’m in the mood. But I know that’s not you.” With a stern expression, she pointed at him with her right arm. “Stop living in your father’s shadow, Gabriel. If it feels right, switch your allegiance to Arwon. Besides, that temple is closer to where you live.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her snide comment.
“As far as Kora’s suggestion to use a surrogate,” she continued, “it’s none of my business. Or anyone else’s. Get your head straight and then go talk to her. Now get back to work, Lieutenant.”
He stood and saluted. “Yes, Captain.”
Back in his office, Gabriel realized just how tense he had been. In her typical brusk fashion, Eomera had cut to the heart of the matter. It was his father’s reaction that had worried him most, but did the man even need to know? Religion wasn’t something they ever discussed.
Gabriel made his decision. From now on, he would pray to Arwon and make regular offerings at the god’s temple. But he would also donate to the other two temples from time to time. As far as surrogates were concerned, he already knew enough to discuss the matter intelligently. All that remained was to gather his thoughts and properly prepare.
Two days later, Gabriel felt ready to face Kora. He had written a detailed outline of what he planned to say to her. He had even tried to anticipate her reactions to his talking points. After consuming a meal that he barely tasted, he went over to her house and rapped on the door.
“I have people over for Sparrow,” Kora said, frowning at him. “Come back tomorrow.” She closed the door before he could utter a word.
Like Marryn, Kora was both fond of and skilled at playing Sparrow. She belonged to a group of equally skilled players that met regularly. Come to think of it, his only social activity at the moment was playing Sparrow at Tobias’s house.
After so much buildup, he found it difficult to sleep that night. The next day at work, time seemed to crawl, especially during meetings. He just wanted to get it over with, to show Kora that he was serious, to win her back.
There was no fire burning this time, and Kora served ale instead of wine. She was also sitting opposite instead of next to him. Was that a bad sign? Even though he had rehearsed what he planned to say, he had also brought along written notes, just in case.
“I have been looking into the possibility of employing a surrogate mother for our child,” He began, maintaining a steady gaze. “I first—”
“How many people have you killed?” she interrupted.
He felt a chill as he took in her demeanor. It was no idle question. “I do not know precisely,” he answered. “At least one hundred.” He was including any creatures smart enough to use tools.
Her expression softened slightly. “I know that you only kill either in self-defense or to protect others,” she said levelly. “Both of those things were true the one time I killed someone. He had already killed several people, and I would have been his next victim.”
Unsure how to respond, he instead drank more of his ale.
“Parts of what happened I remember well,” she continued. “I recall nearly falling as I raced down the stairs. I remember the screams, the blood, the bodies, the smell. I should have been frightened, but all I felt was cold rage. I wanted revenge. After that, it’s all a blur. When I could think clearly again, he was dead.”
“Your training came to the fore,” he said. “It is that way for me, as well. Once battle is joined, there is little time for conscious thought. It is instinct and experience that matter.”
She cocked her head. “You’re overlooking something, Gabriel. I didn’t receive the kind of advanced training that Audrey did. I was trained to incapacitate, not to break bones and strike vital areas. I should have just disarmed him and knocked him out. We’re trained to remain calm, but I lost control. I broke bones. I snapped his neck.”
Finding the cursed sword had obviously reopened old wounds. She had rarely mentioned the incident during the time they had been a couple, and he certainly hadn’t brought it up.
“That type of thing sometimes occurs in the heat of combat,” he stated with authority. “Especially when emotions are high and blood has been spilled. I too have lost control and inflicted more damage than intended.” But not often, and not recently.
Kora moved her head around as if her neck were sore. “My other mistake was telling everyone that I was fine, including lying to you about it.” A shy smile surfaced. “The way you rushed over when you heard the news… It made me so happy.”
Pleased by her words, he returned the smile. This was indeed the woman he loved.
“And now I wish to converse about your father,” she said, effortlessly slipping into her formal persona. Even the way she held her goblet was suddenly more elegant.
“All right,” he agreed.
“Mardan was an excellent father,” she intoned as if it were an irrefutable fact. “He provided for his wife and children and kept them safe from harm.”
Gabriel stared at her in disbelief. He had expected to have to defend Mardan against her criticisms, but she had reversed their roles. It was a clever tactic. He sipped his ale as he thought about how best to respond.
“Mardan paid little attention to his daughter,” he said at last. “It was his son he lavished attention on.” And Marryn had resented that deeply.
Kora arched one eyebrow, obviously enjoying herself. “Mardan is a firm believer in law and order. His principles are uncompromising.”
It was a polite way to say the man was stubborn to a fault. “Mardan’s wife and children do not share all of his views,” he riposted, enjoying the game. “They are more moderate, willing to compromise.”
This time it was she who paused briefly. “Even though he may rarely show it, Mardan loves his children.”
Overcome with emotion, he could think of no immediate response.
Fatherhood had simply not suited Mardan’s personality. Nor had living in a city with what he regarded as lax laws and liberal attitudes. Part of his response had been an effort to mold his son into a younger version of himself. As a member of the city council, he had never given up pushing his own agenda. And how devastating it must have been to not only lose his position but to be replaced by his own wife.
It was time to bring their repartee to a close. “Mardan disproved of the woman his son fell in love with,” he said, not taking his eyes off hers.
She nodded solemnly. “Mardan’s disapproval was inevitable. Nothing can change the fact that the woman is a former prostitute. The son must accept it or not.”
“The son accepts,” he said, sensing an opportunity. “Nothing can change the fact that his occupation sometimes requires the taking of life. The woman must accept it or not.”
“The woman accepts,” she returned, then smiled in relief. “That went well, did it not?”
“It did.” He hesitated. “Does this mean that we are a couple again?”
She wagged a finger at him. “It means that we will pursue that possibility. There are no guarantees.”
A chance was all he had sought. “So we will not be needing to seek a surrogate soon?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
She chuckled. “No, but I have already located a potential candidate. Do you remember my cousin Valinka?”
What he remembered most was the woman’s open hostility. But he also understood the implication. The child would be related to both of them. It was a superb solution to their quandary.
“When is good for you?” she inquired, tilting her head.
Apparently, their evening was at an end. They discussed several possibilities for what they would treat as a first date, finally settling on one. After taking his leave, he walked home with his head held high.
[ 16 ]
Side Effects
Standing atop the roof of the Tr
iangular Keep, Audrey felt nostalgic as she stared out at the Gray Forest. Her first encounter with those unnatural woods, back before she was Guardian, had been terrifying. Once angered, the malice of the animals inside had been palpable. Their sheer hatred had given her nightmares. Now when she went inside, the animals practically worshipped her. That was disturbing in a different way.
“I doubt Ferikellan’s plan will work,” Rosalind said from Audrey’s right, “but I still think it’s worth a try. It’s the only way to really help the people who live inside. They shouldn’t live like that. Even a minor cut might become infected and kill someone.”
That was how it had been during her youth in Farmerton, but Audrey refrained from mentioning it. Many small villages had no access to healing magic. That’s just how it was.
“I need your help with something else,” Audrey told her. She briefly described the blocks and the odd sensation that resulted when they joined. “I’m worried that it might be addictive,” she finished lamely.
“Then I should start by examining you,” Rosalind said. “I also want to see the blocks for myself.”
“That’s fine, but this stays secret for now.” She still didn’t fully trust Ferikellan.
Audrey squatted to make it easier for the diminutive half-elf to conduct her examination. When Rosalind finished, she was frowning. “You’re in perfect health,” she said. “Have you joined any of the blocks recently?”
“No.” Audrey hadn’t been to the site for three days.
Rosalind nodded thoughtfully. “I need to experience it for myself. But before we go, I need to get some things from my room. I want to record those patterns you described.”
Audrey dutifully followed Rosalind to her room. She admired the woman’s large collection of wooden cat carvings while waiting. Some were just adorable.
