People, he was coming to think, mostly saw what they expected to see. And if they saw something that ran counter to their expectations, they tended to rationalize it away.
Useful, that, for a man in his position, though he would never trust his life to that principle. People were also likely to figure out the one thing you wanted to keep hidden from them at the worst possible moment.
The door to the temple lay open to catch the coolness of the night breezes, and he simply walked in. And stopped to stare.
For there was Geri, and around him was a gaggle of children, one of which he recognized as the little Karsite girl who had talked to him on the night of the rescue. They were all wearing a version of the warm yellow tunics and trews worn by novices in the service of Vkandis, brand new, and a bit oversized. And they all acted as if they were completely at home here.
Geri was giving them a Valdemaran lesson, with the flock of them tucked out of the way in the side chapel used for long vigils and private meditations. Alberich realized after a moment of complete blankness, that this little temple had taken in all of the Karsite children that had been taken by the Tedrels. And if the hour seemed rather late for lessons, well, that might be the case for anyone other than a Temple of Vkandis—the Sunlord had rites and rituals going on from the dawn to sunset, and only after darkness fell was Geri going to be free to give these little ones the language class they needed before they could hope to learn anything else.
I'll have to ask Myste if she can get down here and give him a hand, he thought, watching them all. I wonder if there are any other Karsite exiles who've got the time to help? Geri won't push it, but Myste will
He quickly moved back into the shadows, lest he disturb them, and watched. And felt something extraordinary unfold inside him. Something so extraordinary, that at first, he didn't recognize it for what it was.
Happiness. Pure, unalloyed happiness. Of all of the things he had done or had a hand in doing, this was the one that had brought nothing but good for all concerned, with nothing whatsoever to regret or wish he had done differently.
The children responded to Geri with all of the warmth that he would have expected; Geri was one of the kindest souls in the world, and children liked him even when he had to discipline them for something. But these children in particular were blossoming for the young priest like flowers in the sun—already he could tell a vast difference between the too-eager, too-helpful, anxious, pinch-faced little things they had been, and the bright-faced creatures they were now. It was wonderful. This was how Karsite children should look. And even as he reveled in the pleasure of knowing that he had had a key hand in making it possible for them to be here, he also knew a moment of sadness at the fact that even in Karse, most Karsite children were not this free, not this happy....
Sunlord, gentle giver of light, make it possible for them, too—
A small hand tugged at his sleeve, and he turned and looked down.
"I heard you were looking for me?" said a very small, very red-haired boy, with amazing blue eyes that looked oddly old in such a young face.
For a moment, Alberich stared at him, trying to work out what on earth the child could mean. Then it struck him.
"You are the boy they called Kantis?" he asked.
The child nodded. "And you're Alberich, the White Rider, the one who was promised to us. Right?"
"Well—" he squatted down on his heels, so that he could look the boy straight in the eye. "I would say that it depends on just who was doing the promising. And where he got his information."
The child grinned at him. "It would be me that was doing the promising, but the promise wasn't mine, it was the Prophecy. And it all came out of the Writ, of course. I know the Writ very well!" He struck a pose, and began to recite. "Alcar, Canto Seven, Verse Nine—And the children shall be reft from the people, and they shall suffer in the hands of the infidel, but those that keep faith shall endure and the riders of light shall redeem them. Porphyr, Canto Twelve, Verse Twenty-two—And lo! in the moment of despair, I shall be with you, I shall guide you, as you were a child, out of the camp of iniquity and into the hands of the saviors, and great spirits of white shall succor you. Werthe, Canto Fifteen, Verse Forty-nine—And a rider of the purest white spirit shall—"
Alberich held up his hand to stop the flow of words. "I would say that you do, indeed, know the Writ very well," he admitted gravely. "But I am not at all certain that there is anything in those verses that I would recognize as being part of the—the Prophecy."
He was going to add, if there ever was a Prophecy, except that what this child had done, and the hope he had given the others, the way he had organized them and kept them going—how had that been so wrong? Even if it had all been a childish tale concocted out of the scraps of Writ he knew, the tales the Valdemaran children babbled, and his fertile imagination, it had essentially saved them.
"But I suppose it depends on how you interpret them," he finished instead. And smiled. "I wanted to meet you primarily because I wanted to thank you for helping all of the others so much."
The boy looked at him unblinking, but with a smile playing about his lips. "Isn't that what we're all supposed to do? Help each other? No matter who we are and where we come from? That's what the Writ says, in the Great Laws."
Where had the child learned that? Not from any of the Sunpriests that Alberich had served.... "Absolutely right." He stood up, and gazed down at the child. "You are a very remarkable fellow."
"And so are you, Alberich of Karse, Herald of Valdemar." The child's voice suddenly deepened, and seemed to fill his ears, his mind, and his world shrank to the boy's young face and the voice that resonated all through him. He couldn't move. And he didn't want to.... "A man of such conscience and honor is a remarkable man indeed; so remarkable, that it would seem that his prayers reach a little farther than most."
Alberich could not look away from those blue eyes, eyes which held an impossible golden flame in their depths. He wasn't afraid, though. Far from it. He had never felt such peace before in his life.
"A man of conscience and honor—who has found a fitting place in his exile, among those who value that honor, and honor the conscience." The boy nodded. "It is written that exiles do not last forever, for those who are true to their word, their family, and their home. But remember, always, that the Writ tells us that a man's home is where his family is, Herald Alberich. And also, that friends are the family one can choose...."
The child backed away a few paces, as Alberich felt his pulse hammering in his throat, as if he had run a very long distance. He hardly knew what to think; he couldn't have actually said anything if his life had depended on speaking.
The boy turned, and walked a few more steps away in the direction of the door, then looked back over his shoulder.
"And if you think what I am is remarkable, wait some few years. And you will see what my daughter can do. Or should I say, my daughter who will be my Son?" Then he laughed and ran off, a high, utterly childlike laugh that broke the spell that had held Alberich motionless.
He still couldn't think; his thoughts moved as if they were flowing through thick honey. But—he needed to run after that boy—
"Alberich!" Geri called, and he turned—
The priest had broken up the class, and apparently had spotted Alberich in the back of the temple. "I was hoping you'd come to see what we've done! We took all of the Karsite children when the Queen's people came to ask if we had room for any. You know, we just couldn't turn them away, and they've been a delight to have here. What's more, they are making remarkable progress!"
"Like—that boy?" he replied, feeling his heart still racing with an emotion that held both excitement and fear. No—not fear, but an emotion like fear. It took him a moment to recognize it as hope....
"Boy?" Geri looked puzzled. "What boy?"
"The boy I was—" he gestured, but there was no sign that there had ever been anyone there. "—talking—to—"
They both s
canned the now-empty temple, but there was no sign of any children now. "It must have been one of the youngsters from the courtyard," Geri replied, looking puzzled. "All of the Karsite children were with me."
"Are any of the children who come here in the evening named Kantis?" he ventured, not knowing whether he wanted to hear the answer.
But Geri only shrugged. "I haven't a clue, there are so many of them, and they just swarm the place in weather like this. Some of them aren't even worshipers of the Sunlord. They just come to play with our children."
Alberich licked dry lips and thought furiously. It might just have been a child playing a prank; it would have been natural for the Karsite children to tell others about Kantis and their peculiar prophecy. Children sometimes played the most elaborate jokes, especially on adults, when they thought they could get away with it. Although the families who worshiped here were fluent in Valdemaran, they all spoke Karsite at home, and children picked up languages easily. It would have been easy for one to pick out some passages from the Writ that matched that "Prophecy." Wouldn't it?
And who was he, to be the recipient of a visitation from the Sunlord Himself? No one. If anyone should have gotten a visitation, it should be Geri. Not him.
And—no. I won't worry this to death. If it was the Sunlord in His aspect as Child of the Morning, or if it wasn't, it is all the same to how I should continue to act. That was Free Will again, the Gift of the Sunlord, to choose or not choose a path. He would choose the same path he always had, that of honor. And in either case, because pearls of wisdom drop from innocent mouths, I shall take the advice to heart, for it comes from the Writ, and I shall take comfort from it for the same reason.
"It probably was one of the youngsters from outside; if you see him again, make sure to get him to talk to you, for he is remarkably well-spoken," he said, and slapped Geri on the back. "I am dying for a decent glass of tea. Why don't you tell me what you've been doing with these children, and give me some idea of how I can help?"
After all, wasn't that what everyone was supposed to do? Even an exile in a strange land—
Exile? The Writ—and the boy—were right. When he had come here, perhaps, but among these people, he had found those who understood that a man had to hold to his word and his honor. People who were the truest sort of friends—and as the Writ said, the sort of friends who became one's family.
Which meant that he wasn't really an exile after all.
It was good to be home.
--2 Exile’s Valor (2003)--
Copyright © 2003 by Mercedes R. Lackey.
1
Muted light, richly colored, poured gold and sapphire into the sparsely-furnished sitting room in Herald Alberich’s private quarters behind the training salle.
Now that the colored window was installed, and the protective blanket taken off, it made that little room look entirely different. Alberich hardly recognized it.
The four Journeymen glass workers who had helped their Master install the piece were gone now, leaving Alberich alone with the artist himself.
Both of them gazed on the finished product in silence, while behind them a warm fire crackled on the hearth. It was a staggeringly beautiful piece of stained-glass work; in fact, Alberich thought, it would not be exaggerating to say it was a masterpiece. Not that he had expected less than a fine piece from the Master of the Glassworkers Guild, but this was over and above those expectations.
The artisan responsible for its creation stepped forward and gave the top right-hand corner a final polish with a soft cloth, removing some smudge not visible to ordinary eyes. He flicked off an equally invisible dust mote as well, and stepped back to view the expanse of blues and golds with a critical eye. A man gone gray in his profession, he was tall, but not powerful, with wiry, knotty muscles rather than bulging ones. His expression was unreadable, a square-jawed, hook-nosed fellow whose face might have been stone rather than flesh.
“It’ll do,” he grunted finally, his long face betraying nothing but a flicker of content.
“A work of power and beauty, it is,” Alberich replied, unusual warmth of feeling in his voice. “It is exceeding my expectations, which were high already. Your skill is formidable, Master Cuelin.”
“It’ll do,” the artisan repeated, but with just a touch more satisfaction in his own voice. “I’ll not praise myself, but it’ll do.”
This was such understatement that Alberich shook his head. In so many ways, this was a piece of artwork that went far, far beyond even the monumental works that only the great and wealthy could afford, be they individuals or organizations. It was the care to every detail, as much as the design, that showed that expertise. For instance, to protect the fragile leaded glass, made up of pieces no larger than a coin, the panel had been installed against the existing window. Now, the bars holding those old panes in place could have cast distracting lines across the new pattern—except that Master Cuelin had taken that into account in his design, and the shadows had been integrated in such a way that unless you looked for them, you did not notice them.
Yet Master Cuelin seemed no more than mildly pleased that everything had worked out as he had planned. Alberich knew that tone; not only from working with Master Cuelin on this window, but from working with others who shared the same obsessive drive to excellence that marked the man’s work. No point in heaping him with effusive praise, for it would only make him uncomfortable, and he would begin to point out “flaws” in the work not visible to anyone but him.
“Very happy, you have made me,” he said instead. “Never shall I weary of this piece.” And although he had paid Master Cuelin already, when he shook the man’s hands in thanks, a heavy little purse that had been in his hand slipped quietly into the Master’s. That was the way of doing business, in Karse, when one was pleased with special work. Some things, Alberich felt, were probably universal—an extra “consideration” for work that exceeded expectation being one of them.
Evidently the custom held true in Valdemar, because Master Cuelin did not seem in the least surprised; he said nothing, only pocketed the purse with a nod of thanks. He dusted off his hands on the side of his brown leather tunic—all of his clothing, tunic, breeches, even his shirt, was leather, because leather wasn’t likely to catch fire.
“Well, if you’re that satisfied, Herald Alberich, I’ll be off,” the Glassmaster said. “I’ve that lazy lot of ’prentices to beat back at my studio, for no doubt they’ll have ruined the cobalt plate I laid out for them to cut for the new ’Pothecary Guild window, aye, and muddled the designs I set them to copy, and complain I’ve assigned them too much work.”
Alberich shook his head, in mock sadness. “It is ever so,” he agreed, and sighed. “The younger generation—”
“We were never like that, eh?” Master Cuelin barked a laugh and slapped Alberich’s back. The Weaponsmaster allowed a hint of a smile to show, and the Glassmaster winked. “Well, ’tis heavy work we have before us—you know what the old saw is, ’A boy’s ears are on his backside, he heeds better when he’s beaten!’”
Since there was nearly the identical saying in Karse, Alberich nodded, and with another exchange of pleasantries, he escorted the Glassmaster out. Indeed, some things were universal.
But since it was not yet time for the next class of Heraldic Trainees to arrive for their weapons’ training, he returned to his sitting room in the back of the training salle to admire his newly installed possession once more.
This was more than mere ornament; while there was a Temple of Vkandis Sunlord down in Haven proper—though for obvious reasons, it was referred to even by Karsite exiles as “the Temple of the Lord of Light”—Alberich seldom was able to get there for the daylight ceremonies. Certainly he was never able to arrive for the all-important SunRising rite.
Contrary to what the current Karsite priesthood wished their followers to think, it was very clear in the Writ—now that Alberich had seen copies of the old, original versions—that any follower of the Sunl
ord could perform the rites, with or without a sunpriest. It was what was in the heart, not the words, that mattered, and prayerful meditation at any time was appropriate. And now Alberich had an image here, a proper image, that would put him in the proper frame of mind.
There had been a plain glass window here, but the presence of such an expanse of clear glass had made Alberich, on reflection, rather uneasy. It was fine for the former Weaponsmaster, Herald Dethor, to have such a thing, but Dethor didn’t have to think about potential Karsite assassins peering through it—or the far more common, but equally annoying habits of the young, idle, and foolish offspring of Valdemaran nobles daring each other to spy on the dreaded Weaponsmaster from Karse. Not that they’d see anything except Alberich reading, pacing, or staring at the fire, or occasionally entertaining a visitor, but it made him irritated to think of them watching him. It wasted their time, annoyed the Companions, and made the back of his neck prickle for no good reason. If he sensed someone watching him, he wanted to know there was danger, not adolescent curiosity behind it.
But he hadn’t wanted to block off the window either. Very useful light came in there by day, although the view was nothing spectacular, just one of the groves of Companion’s Field. It had been Herald Elcarth who had suggested the stained-glass panel when he had mentioned the annoyance of looking up to see lurkers in the bushes one night.
It had nearly been former lurkers in the bushes, and it was a good thing for them that he had Kantor out there to warn him it was only some Unaffiliates and a Bardic Trainee, because his hand had been on the one-handed crossbow he kept under the table, and he had no problem with shooting out a window. Especially not his own window. A bit of broken glass was a small price to pay for your life.
He hadn’t mentioned that to Elcarth, however, though he thought he saw some understanding in the other’s nod. Perhaps that was why the Herald had suggested the stained-glass panel. And at that moment, Alberich had realized how he could bring a kind of Vkandis chapel into his own home, make this place truly his home, and solve that problem of the huge window in a single stroke.
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