“Lela.”
“Lela?”
“We were wondering if you could take her in.”
Mira blinked. Shocked didn’t begin to describe the unexpected comment.
“She needs someone to take care of her. She has a lot of respect for you, and I know she’d love nothing more than to work for you again.”
“Why can’t you take her?”
“Please, Your Majesty. You know who we are and what we do. That’s no life for a young girl.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“Well, then I guess we take her with us anyway. I won’t abandon her to a life on the streets.”
She bit her lower lip. “I . . . I’ll need to think about it.”
“That’s understandable. We’ll wait.”
Mira blinked as neither Rondel nor Andrasta moved. “You want an answer now?”
“Like I said, Your Majesty. We really need to be on our way. Not to sound completely selfish, but we have our own wounds to heal and our own losses to mourn. Staying here makes it more difficult for us to do so.”
Mira shook her head, amazed at Rondel’s gall. All for a little girl.
She considered what Lela had meant to her before discovering her betrayal. She came to realize that though the girl’s ability to gain information had been one aspect of why her company was important, in many ways she just enjoyed having someone around that she could speak freely with.
Rondel said that she’s all alone, but am I any different? We both lost the only family we knew. Perhaps bringing her into the palace would do us both some good.
* * *
Lela stood at the gate to Brahma’s home with Mira beside her. Neither spoke as they watched Rondel and Andrasta disappear down a side street. Lela noted the irony that they had once disappeared in a similar manner after her very first encounter with them near the docks.
I have a feeling I won’t see them again this time.
“I’m going to miss them,” she said in an effort to break the silence. Lela hadn’t known Andrasta and Rondel long, but without them only the gods knew where she might have ended up.
Dead or still working for Beladeva.
“They were . . . interesting,” said Mira, her voice stiff.
She could feel the barrier, the tension between them.
I caused that stiffness. How do I fix that? Can I fix that?
She cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, I can’t say I’m sorry enough.” She paused. “I hope I—”
Mira draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close. “I forgive you. Let’s go home.”
EPILOGUE
Master Enzi had a strict rule about his students not partaking in substances that could alter their reaction time. He said, “A warrior who is stupid enough to purposefully dull their senses is a warrior who deserves to die.”
Andrasta recalled that his warning fell on the deaf ears of several students who purchased dream wine from a nearby fishing village and attempted to drink the substance in secrecy. Like many who had never tasted alcohol before, the students didn’t know when to stop and the discovery of their disobedience was plain the next morning.
Having witnessed Enzi’s wrath the next day, as well as the violators’ physical limitations, Andrasta swore off any drink or drug immediately. That oath held for a long time.
After leaving Bashan, they traveled several days until reaching a bar in a small town near Kindi’s eastern border. They set to work in getting drunk immediately.
She took a drink from the whiskey in her glass. The liquid burned less and less with each drink and she found herself strangely enjoying the sensation of the alcohol barreling down her throat.
Well, it was only an oath I made to myself.
“Slow down some,” said Rondel. “The night is still young. The last thing I need is for you to pass out before I get myself properly good and drunk. Drinking alone is never as enjoyable as getting drunk with a friend.” He downed the last of his glass. “Besides, drunk or sober, I really don’t feel like trying to carry you back to our room.”
She swallowed the last of the brown liquid from her glass and gestured to his. “Just following your lead. If you want me to slow down, maybe you should.”
He looked at the empty glass in his hand as if surprised by its lack of contents. “All right. Fair enough.” He waved a hand to get the server’s attention. He held up two fingers on his good hand and then went back to staring at his glass. The bar was only half full, so the server’s responses to their requests had been carried out quickly so far.
The extra coin in the beginning didn’t hurt either.
After ensuring that Lela was well cared for, Andrasta and Rondel had slipped out of Bashan and ridden east. They really had no immediate plans other than not wanting to be within sight of the tower any longer and to get properly drunk.
Rondel had suggested they could eventually continue on east to Cantonai or Mandawain where the pickings among the wealthy were many. In the meantime, he said he wanted to crawl into a bottle for at least a week. Under normal circumstances, Andrasta wouldn’t have allowed such stupidity, but considering all they had been through she found herself wanting to do the same. Without the jewel driving her every action, any motivation she had to push onward had practically disappeared.
She had expressed such feelings to Rondel earlier, further elaborating on the story Yendoru had coaxed out of her at the top of the tower. They had decided that they’d open up about the guilt used against them in the tower, hoping it might help them better cope with the past.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well what?”
“It’s your turn.”
“I know.”
A long pause followed. Two fresh drinks arrived and sat unmoving on the table as Rondel stared absently at his hands.
“The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
Rondel sighed. “Just give me a second.” He grabbed the fresh drink and took a sip. “There really isn’t much to tell. I mean it’s nothing as interesting as your story. It just boils down to me being a mule. My parents had their faults, but both were good people. In fact, when I was a kid all I really wanted out of life was to be like my old man when I grew up. He was well liked by everyone.” He snorted and took another drink. “I really fell short of that goal.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t everyone like you as a minstrel?”
“No. People liked having me around because of the entertainment I brought them, but I wasn’t what you would call well-liked. At least not like my father. People just wanted to be around him because he was a good person. It’s like people used to hope his personality would rub off on them. Anyway, he got sick when I was pretty young. Eight. He died within a matter of weeks. It destroyed me.”
“And your mother?”
“That’s the thing. She didn’t seem that affected by his passing. Well, at least not then. I mean, I remember her crying when he died and then again at his funeral, but afterward she went right back to doing what she had always done. Almost like nothing had happened. It made me so angry. It was like he didn’t mean anything to her. In hindsight, I realized that wasn’t it at all. She had me to care for, and like I said, I was a mess. Thinking back, there had been times I’d come in from the field and she’d be staring listlessly at an old chair my father used to relax in after a hard day’s work. I’d ask her what’s wrong, and she’d turn away quickly, while making a joke about losing her mind. She was trying to be strong for me all while being forced into doing the work of two people on our farm.”
He took another drink. “I think I realized some of this as I got older, yet that never stopped my resentment toward her. I was never as close to her as I was with my father. Maybe I wished she’d been the one to die instead of him.” He paused. “Gods, what an awful thing to say.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Some of that resentment I had toward her got worse as I got older, shifting mostly away from her reaction to my father’s death
to her dislike of me playing the lute. Well, let me rephrase that. She thought it was fine for me to take it up as a hobby, and even enjoyed me playing many of the songs sung in our local church. However, she never understood what music truly meant to me. Few people really understand. We got into so many fights because I’d be off hiding and playing in the woods while she was slaving in the fields.” He opened and closed his damaged left hand.
“Later, after a fire in a neighbor’s barn I was partially responsible for, I decided to skip town rather than deal with the consequences. I left my mother with all the debt I had incurred from the burned barn. On top of working the farm without me or my father. And just as she was getting up in years. . . .” He shook his head, and cursed. “Some son I was.”
“We could always go west instead of east,” she offered. “Return to Bratanic and set things right with her.”
Rondel chuckled. “No. There will be no redemption for me. I got word shortly before I was arrested by Duke Engren that she had died. Plow horse got excited and ended up kicking her in the head. She was still trying to do all the work by herself.” He sighed. “My mother had a harder life than I did, but I couldn’t see it that way. She deserved a son who actually cared about more than himself.”
He downed the rest of his glass’s contents and stared at the bottom.
Andrasta frowned, not knowing what to say. After her tale about her father, Rondel had put her at ease with just a few words and a pat on her hand. However, neither was really her style and her inability to help him as he did her only made her angry.
“You’re not that person now,” she finally said, not sure what else to offer in support.
“I guess not. Still doesn’t erase the wrongs.”
“No, but it doesn’t diminish the good you’ve done since either.”
Rondel’s mouth thinned. He bobbed his head, then looked up and offered a slight smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Andrasta nodded, and took another sip of her whiskey.
The drinks kept coming and eventually their moods lightened.
Andrasta found herself laughing harder than any time in her life as Rondel tried to push his lips together in a way that would allow him to pronounce the name of the cult leader they took down in Iget.
A server came by and placed fresh drinks before them. Rondel immediately reached over to grab his.
“Maybe we switch to water for a while,” suggested Andrasta.
“Water? Why would I do something stupid like that?”
“So you’re not crawling upstairs when the bar closes.”
Rondel grunted. “That makes no sense. If I can walk away from this table then I really didn’t accomplish what I intended.”
Andrasta shrugged. “Your call.”
He took a sip. “Absolutely it is.”
She snorted at the extra syllables he had added to each word.
“Excuse me,” came an approaching voice.
They turned to the three men walking toward them. Andrasta cursed her light-headedness as her hand slid to a dagger at her waist. She cursed again to herself for not following the wisdom in Enzi’s advice.
Oaths should never be broken.
The three figures were dressed similarly in well-made red and gold armor, though none of it from Kindi or any of the other places she had passed through since leaving Juntark. They stopped a few feet from the table. The man in the middle possessed a boyish face that contrasted his large frame and thick neck.
“I need to speak with both of you,” he continued.
“Sorry. We’re busy. Come back another time,” slurred Rondel. “Actually, don’t come back. I’m not sure I like the way you look.”
Great. He’s useless and I’m not all together, so naturally he wants to pick a fight.
Thankfully, the man smiled. “It wasn’t a request.”
Rondel waved a hand and took another sip. “Fine. Say what’s on your mind. Maybe I’ll listen. Maybe I won’t.”
“It’s about a recent job you took.”
“You’re confusing us with someone else. We haven’t taken any jobs lately.”
“Three nights ago in Bashan.”
The tower.
“I see,” said Rondel, still working his drink. “And you work for him.”
“Yes.”
How did he know to find us here? Blasted sorcery.
“Where is he? I don’t recognize your clothes.”
“We don’t know where he is. That’s the way he likes it. And you wouldn’t recognize the clothes. They’re from a nation he once ruled over eight hundred years ago in one of his many guises.”
“So you’re immortal?”
“No. We’re not that old. Just the clothes.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Why?”
The man gasped, rising on his toes.
Andrasta looked down with wide eyes. She suppressed a grin. Rondel had managed to draw their attention away long enough to slip out a dagger, the point of which had disappeared inside the folds of the man’s clothes at his crotch.
He surprises me more each day.
“Because I know you can bleed,” said Rondel. He spoke in a calm, even tone. All hints of slurring gone. “Tell your idiot friends to back up while we have a word. The last thing I want to do is cut something important off by accident because they make a wrong move.”
“Do what he says.”
“Good. Tell Thalamanak the deal is off.”
“You gave your word.”
“Under duress with the implied threat of being locked inside his hellish creation forever. And that’s after being tricked inside the thing in the first place for something that doesn’t even exist.”
“He doesn’t care about that.”
Rondel gestured to her. “We do.”
“How do you know this isn’t one of the sorcerer’s disguises?” she asked him.
“Because even if he is weaker, no way he’d run his own errand like this.” He eyed the man again. “Now, I’m going to pull my dagger away. When I do, you’re going to back away slowly, understand?”
The man nodded and backed away when Rondel withdrew his blade. He stood there staring at them.
“You still here?” asked Rondel, turning back to his drink.
Andrasta remained on edge, ready draw her dagger at the first sign of aggressive movement.
“We were told not to leave without you.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but you don’t have what it takes to bring us back.”
“You don’t know our skill.”
“I know you were scared enough to come over and speak with us only after you thought we were good and drunk. Even then you underestimated how drunk we were, which means you can’t read people well either. Just go, I’ve killed enough people in the last week.” He gestured with his drink. “Though if you want to push it, then please do so. My friend has no qualms about adding notches to her belt.”
The man hesitated a moment, then spun and left with the other two.
Andrasta let out a breath. She didn’t doubt she could defeat the men if it came down to it, but with her senses inhibited, she worried what wounds she might take in the process.
She turned to Rondel. “I thought you were much drunker too.”
Rondel started to giggle, his eyelids suddenly half-closed. “Oh, I’m drunk.”
“But—”
He waved his free hand about with an exaggerated flourish. “Acting!” He laughed harder. “I’m glad they left when they did though. I doubt I could have held myself that steady for much longer.”
Andrasta chuckled. “You know they’re just going to wait outside for us.”
“Yeah, better call it an early night after all. We’ll barricade the door and leave early.”
“Are you going to be up for that?”
“Probably not. Just don’t ride behind me tomorrow in case I start to vomit.”
Rondel stood. Andrasta followed. She helped steady him which was more diff
icult than she expected as the alcohol hit her too. She swore.
He smiled. “You’re looking pretty green. It’s always worse the first time.”
They paid their tab at the bar then shuffled toward the stairs.
“What are we going to do about Thalamanak?” she asked, narrowing her eyes on the blurring steps.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just let us get away with not helping him.”
“True.”
“And we can’t just go and kill him because we have no idea where he is.”
“True again.”
“So then what do we do? He’s likely to just keep sending men after us until we agree to go help him.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty content with just pissing him off for a while as a way to get a little payback over the tower.”
“What about him getting fed up and trying to kill us?”
“I doubt he’s going to want to do that. At least not at first. He waited over twenty-five hundred years for someone to prove themselves worthy. We’re going to have to really piss him off for him to risk waiting that long again.”
Andrasta studied the smirk on Rondel’s face. She could see the wheels spinning.
But he’ll figure out how to do it.
She smiled as she helped him up the stairs. After her disappointment with the jewel, she was happy there was something to look forward to.
END
Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a rating or review at the site of purchase as well as other places such as Goodreads and Librarything. Like many other indie authors, I do not have a marketing team working for me and a positive review (even if only a couple of sentences long) can go a long way in enticing others to give my works a try.
The Epic of Andrasta and Rondel has been a fun world to create. I hope you’ll consider reading the next standalone novel which I plan to release in 2015. I intend to release several more books in this series over the next couple of years. I’ll also be releasing more novels in new worlds during the same time period (one of these novels should be out later in 2014). If you’d like to know when these will be made available, please consider signing up for my mailing list. It is used solely to announce new releases or other major announcements.
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