The Consuls of the Vicariate amob-2

by Brian Kittrell

  “What of the Falacorans?”

  Jurgen stepped forward and said, “If we declare a truce, the Falacorans will be forced to follow. They would have little choice.”

  “Little choice? They possess armies, ships, and the will to continue the fight, Priest.”

  Jurgen shook his head. “If we declare peace, I assure you that the Falacorans will obey the terms. They accede to our diplomatic actions in all things, especially those we create, and they would lack a case for war if they did not. The entire world would condemn them for continuing to fight without cause.”

  “Then you can promise that the Falacoran fleet will leave the Wayfarer’s Strait and stop harassing our merchant vessels?” Fenric asked.

  Laedron hadn’t considered the impact of the war on the grander scale. A Falacoran battle fleet in the Wayfarer’s Strait?This war has taken on a wide-reaching scale. For him to even mention their presence must mean they are causing havoc on the open sea.

  “Yes, we will swear by it,” Jurgen said, offering his hand. “If you say the word, I will dispatch the fastest ship I can find to carry word to Wintermere, then on to Talamere.”

  Wintermere and Talamere. A great port and the capital of Falacore.

  Fenric took Jurgen’s hand in an embrace. “Good. Then, I shall return to Balfan and depart these lands. Give me a day’s time to return to my ships, and the blockade shall end. Your ship will pass unimpeded.”

  “Thank you for your kindness,” Jurgen said with a bow.

  Fenric narrowed his eyes. “Strange…”

  “Yes?”

  “I have never had a priest bow to me before. They usually expect it the other way around.”

  “No, my lord. I bow because you have given my people a great boon this day. The gift of life and peace.” Jurgen gestured to the door. “We can arrange wagons-”

  “No need. My men can march. I, however, will require a horse. The sooner I can get word to my fleet, the sooner we can put an end to this madness.”

  “Take one of the geldings from the palace stables.” Jurgen pointed over his shoulder. “Below those stairs and to the left.”

  “I hope we are never forced to meet again under such circumstances,” Fenric said, approaching the door.

  “So long as I live, I shall prevent it.”

  Once Fenric and his men left, Jurgen turned to Laedron. “You never cease to impress me, Sorcerer.”

  “Thank you, Vicar.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I shall speak to the consulship and inform them of this good news. I appreciate all you have done for us.”

  Laedron watched Jurgen leave. The first of our goodbyes. They’d had their arguments and confrontations, but Laedron remembered some good times with Jurgen. He also knew that he would probably never see Jurgen again, as their roads were unlikely to cross in the foreseeable future. We’re from two different worlds. He’ll remain in his, and one day soon, I hope to return to mine.

  18

  Revelry and Reverie

  Arriving back at the Shimmering Dawn headquarters, Laedron took a long look at the fountain out front, the golden chalice Meklan Draive had mentioned when he began the journey in Westmarch. The structure, a dilapidated church, housed the few men who remained of the order in Azura. It stood as a testament to strife and troubles in a time of madness and ancient grudges, a time of both triumph and defeat.

  The journey had brought him a world away from his home, and he’d had the distinct privilege of seeing the best and worst of his fellows-the depths of Marac’s grief and the heights of his bravery, the transformation of Brice from a mere tailor to a picker of locks and seeker of adventure. The journey had changed Laedron, too. No longer did he concern himself with learning lesser magic to appease a teacher. Magic had become a tool of survival, and he wielded it well. Ismerelda had passed her legacy on to him, and he had taken up the banner of her teachings and carried it forward against the Zyvdredi. In a way, he felt a part of a war still waged, one in which he hadn’t realized he was a combatant. He knew that war, the ageless fight between the Uxidin and Zyvdredi, would carry on long after he lay down his scepter.

  Some part of him didn’t want the war to be over, for an end to the fighting meant an end to their adventures. Perhaps the end need not come so soon. Maybe adventure lay before us still.

  The streets had seemed kinder on his return to the headquarters. They no longer appeared as hostile as when he had first arrived or any of the times he had gone out into the city before the peace settlement. Smiling, Laedron entered the building and dipped his head to Marac and Brice sitting at the common table.

  “What’s that smile all about? Have you done it?” Marac asked.

  Laedron nodded. “It is done. Fenric has departed with an offering of peace, and the war shall soon be at an end.”

  “Finally,” Brice said. “Now, we can go home.”

  “Yes.” Laedron sat at the end of the table. “You could go home, or you could come with me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Wherever the Arcanists send us. I must find out more about these stones, and only the Uxidin can provide the answers.”

  “Another trip,” Brice said woefully.

  Marac gave Brice a gentle slap across the arm. “Another adventure.”

  “Oh, yes. Right.”

  Laedron glanced at the hall entry and noticed Valyrie leaning against a post and listening in on their conversation. “When we’ve finished with that, we can return home.”

  “I’ve made up my mind,” Valyrie said, joining them at the table.

  “And what have you decided?” Laedron asked.

  “I’m coming with you. There’s nothing left for me here.”

  “It would be difficult for you to return. Are you sure you want to leave?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never traveled beyond this city, and I’ll likely never see the outside world if I stay here.” Her eyes turned downward. “I have too many memories of this place to stay, to watch you leave and not be at your side.”

  Laedron nodded. “If that is what you want, then so it shall be.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Marac sighed, seemingly bored with sitting around the headquarters. “Wait until tomorrow?”

  “A night out ought to do us some good,” Laedron replied, giving Marac a grin.

  Marac met his smile with wide eyes. “A night out? Laedron Telpist is saying we go out for a bit of enjoyment?”

  “Why not? Our mission is finished here, and we have nothing to do but wait. I thought you’d be pleased-”

  “I am, just a bit surprised that you would suggest it.”

  “Good, then it’s settled. Know any places, Val?” Laedron asked.

  She bobbed her head.

  “Let’s all get cleaned up, then.”

  * * *

  Laedron read the sign hanging above the door. Hubbard House. Going inside, he felt a rush of warm air, the heat caused by both the number of people within and the fireplace in the corner. From the stage resonated the sound of music, a harmonious mix of flute, tambourine, and lute. The performers, two men and a woman, were dressed in costumes, and the crowd seemed to be enjoying the performance, a contradiction to most places Laedron had visited. Overall, the tavern gave off a jovial ambience, but the owners of the establishment clearly expected a measure of restraint amongst its patrons.

  “I like it, but Marac may be uncomfortable here,” Laedron said, elbowing Marac in the ribs.

  Marac shook his head. “I think I’ll be fine. A fine meal and a mug of ale will please me more than a night of wild escapades.”

  “Something better than that stew we’ve been eating,” Brice said, rubbing his belly. “That stuff’s awful.”

  “Worse than awful.” Marac turned to Laedron and Valyrie. “Maybe you two would like some privacy?”

  “What? Don’t be silly.” Laedron folded his arms. “Privacy? For what? There’s no need.”

  “Actually, I think there is indeed a need
.” Marac took Brice by the arm and led him away. “See you two after dinner.”

  “Ridiculous,” Laedron said. “He insists on making a big show out of everything.”

  Valyrie put her hand on his. “Let’s just try to enjoy ourselves, all right?”

  Glancing at their joined hands, Laedron gave her a nod. “Something to eat?”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  Laedron helped her to her seat, a custom his mother had always told him would be viewed favorably by women. Sitting at her side, he gestured at a serving woman to get her attention.

  “Welcome to Hubbard House,” the woman said with a slight bow. “What, pray tell, can I get for you two?”

  “Wine?” Laedron asked, glancing at Valyrie and receiving an approving nod. “Yes, wine. What is the meal tonight?”

  “Minted lamb and grilled leeks.”

  His mouth watered at the mention of lamb. “Two, please.”

  “Of course, and I shall have your wine out shortly.”

  When they were alone again, Laedron gazed into Valyrie’s eyes. “Are you certain that you wish to leave with us?”

  “Oh, Lae, of course. Why do you keep worrying over it?”

  “I don’t want to see you make the wrong choice.”

  “The wrong choice? No, I’m making the right decision.”

  “If you’re sure, I’m sure,” he said.

  Valyrie gave him a grin in return. “I’m certain about something else, too.”

  “Thank you.” Laedron smiled with appreciation at the serving woman’s return, took a goblet of wine, and sipped it. “Yes? What’s that?”

  “I’d like to learn of magic.”

  “Really?” Laedron asked, raising his eyebrows.

  She nodded. “I find it interesting. For a long time, I had only read of spellcraft in my books. When you came, I saw it, and then I wanted to perform it myself.”

  He remembered something his mother had told him. “Sorcerers aren’t born, they’re made. Some have an affinity for performing magic, but the door is open to anyone who will pass through.” He paused. “We can try, but I must warn you that students usually begin much younger.”

  “What, am I too old to learn new tricks?” she asked.

  Laedron smiled. “No, of course not. It’s just easier to get accustomed to the effects when you’re young-the headaches, the tiredness.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll try my hardest.”

  “Try your hardest?” Laedron asked, remembering what Ismerelda had told him what seemed so long ago. “I see we’ll have to work on your lack of confidence.”

  She had a puzzled expression. “Lack of confidence?”

  “Nothing. Just something my teacher told me when I started my training. She thought my indecision was a lack of belief in my own abilities.” Laedron paused. “Ismerelda was right. I was indecisive and unsure, but not anymore-not after what we’ve been through. She told me that I would have to learn to trust myself along the way, and Gustav and Andolis Drakar have done more to teach me about faith in myself than anyone or anything else.”

  The serving woman returned with platters piled high with roast lamb and grilled leeks, and Laedron thanked her before she walked away. Laedron could tell Valyrie had become as hungry as he was because she ate quickly and spoke little. The sludge served in the Shimmering Dawn must have had the same effect on her that it did me.

  “Sorry,” she said, clearly embarrassed by her haste. She patted her lips with a linen cloth.

  “No need to be.” Laedron continued happily through his meal, trying to make her feel comfortable by eating without a strict adherence to etiquette.

  Finishing, she pushed her plate away. “I need a rest after a feast like that.”

  “Yes, it was quite filling.”

  She took a sip of her wine, and the musicians finished the song they had been playing. “Looks like they’ll be taking a break for a while.”

  “Did you care for the tune?”

  “Yes. It’s a local favorite. It would normally have a lyricist accompanying the music, but it seems they don’t have the luxury of a singer.”

  “Would you care to try?”

  “What, sing?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

  “I thought you were preparing to be a lyricist?”

  “Yes, but I couldn’t. Not here and now.”

  “Why not?”

  “I always preferred the writing part over the singing part, to be honest. I could never muster the courage to sing in front of a crowd.”

  “Have you ever tried?” Laedron asked.

  “Well, yes, I tried a few times. Lost my nerve just before the performance every time. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “So much has passed that it hardly seems important anymore.”

  “Nothing is more important than keeping what we hold dear alive.” He put his finger under her chin, turning her face to his. “I’d like to hear it. I truly would.”

  She swallowed the rest of her wine, nodded slowly, and pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. “All right. If you want.”

  Valyrie stood and walked toward the stage, then gave Laedron a glance before approaching the band. Following a brief conversation, the lute player seemed to have convinced the others to participate because they nodded approvingly. She walked with them to the stage, then stood in front of the band. Looking out over the crowd, she wavered and appeared nervous, so Laedron gave her a nod of encouragement.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the band, and they started playing. Laedron became fascinated at the tune, which began with a somber prelude, but evolved into spirited melody when she sang.

  Laedron sat awestruck by the flawlessness of her voice, every note sang with perfect tone and inflection. The passion behind her words sent chills racing down his spine, a sensation he rarely felt with music, a feeling not unlike the one he had experienced when they had kissed. The sweet melody completed the picture of her true inner beauty, and his desire for her gentle embrace heightened.

  When the song ended, a silence filled the room before the patrons gave her an ovation. Clapping his hands, Laedron rose to honor her singing, and she returned to the table, her cheeks flush and her eyes wet. The applause ceased only when she gave them a bow and took her seat.

  “Quite a performance,” Laedron said, scooting closer to her. “You have a wonderful, no, a magnificent singing voice.”

  “Thank you.” She hid her face, seemingly out of shyness.

  “What’s wrong, Val? Did you make a mistake? If you did, I don’t think anyone noticed.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  Laedron took her hand, trying to do something to help. “What is it, then?”

  “The validation. I never thought it could feel so good.” She brushed her hand across her cheek.

  He knew the feeling. It was the same sensation he felt the first time someone called him sorcerer, and it was akin to the excitement that had stirred within him when he defeated Gustav. He raised her hand to his face and gently kissed the back of it.

  “What’s that for?” she asked.

  “Appreciation.” He glanced at the band when they began another song, then gazed at her again. “Would you care to dance?”

  Caught up in the moment, Laedron had forgotten that he didn’t know much about dancing. In fact, he didn’t know the first thing about it, and the only time he’d ever done it before was when his ma or sister asked. Then, he wondered how well Valyrie could dance. I bet she’s experienced. Maybe she doesn’t want to.

  She nodded, and Laedron swallowed deeply. He rose and escorted her to an open area of the floor. Thankfully, the band played a song with a moderately slow tempo. He drew her close to his body and placed his hand on her hip. She rested her head on his shoulder. He held her hand close to his heart and swayed with the rhythm.

  Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent, detecting the hint of perfume on her skin. Jasmine?No matter. It’s not important. Blocking out everything except the music
and her touch, Laedron felt as if they had escaped all of Bloodmyr in favor of their own nook of the universe, a place where time stood still and no one from the outside could enter. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had been so relaxed, and he didn’t want it to end.

  When the song ended, he opened his eyes. “That was nice.”

  “Very nice,” she said, taking half a step back and smiling.

  He walked to their table, still grasping her hand, and the serving woman refilled their goblets. They sipped wine quietly for a few moments before Marac came over.

  “Enjoying yourselves?” Marac asked, his words slurred slightly.

  Laedron nodded. “I can see you’re having fun. Where’s Brice?”

  “Left a while ago. Said he had something to take care of.”

  “Left? Just like that?” Laedron asked.

  “Yeah.” Marac let out a hiccup. “Sorry.”

  “Looks like we’d better get you back.”

  “No need to leave early on my part, my friend. I think I’ll head on back, but don’t trouble yourselves.”

  “You sure?”

  Marac slapped him on the shoulder. “Absolutely. I’ve found my way back before with far more than this to drink. I’ll be fine.”

  Laedron smiled when Marac turned away and weaved toward the door. “Looks like he’s lost his tolerance for fine liquor.”

  “Seems like you haven’t,” Valyrie said.

  He furrowed his brow and stared at his half-empty goblet of wine. How many have I had?Two-and-a-half now and no effect? No sign of inebriation? “How do you feel, Val?”

  “Oh, quite well, thank you,” she said, giving him a smile that he attributed, at least in part, to the alcohol.

  Laedron offered his hand after dropping a few coins on the table. “Want to get out of here?”

  Taking his hand, Valyrie stood, stumbled over her chair, and balanced herself. “Sorry, stood up too fast.”

  “It’s perfectly all right.”

  Exiting into the street, Laedron kept her hand wrapped under his arm and escorted her along the road back to the Shimmering Dawn. Although Valyrie was clearly intoxicated, she had consumed less wine than he had, and he felt no ill effects whatsoever. In fact, despite the late hour, he still felt well-rested and fresh.