The Consuls of the Vicariate

by Brian Kittrell

  She looked everywhere but at Laedron’s eyes. “Your friend Marac returned you here. Andolis is dead.”

  “That’s not all, is it?” Laedron asked. He rubbed his chest. “No marks. Not even bruising. What happened, Val?”

  Her name on his lips sounded sweeter than it ever had, and she was unable to keep the truth from him. “You nearly died, Lae. Last night, your life almost came to an end, yet you were saved.”

  “Saved? By who?” Laedron asked, his tone tainted with confusion and even some irritation.

  “Jurgen,” she said simply.

  His eyes widened. “It cannot be. Did he survive the spell? A fool! He should never have attempted it at his age. Where are they, anyway?”

  “They’ve gone to make peace with the Sorbians at Balfan.”

  He scoffed. “Then he lives. Probably haggard with more wrinkles than he had before, yes?”

  “No.”

  His brow crinkled in confusion. “How is that possible?”

  She swallowed deeply. “He used one of the stones—”

  “The stones? Expended someone’s essence?”

  She nodded.

  “No… he couldn’t. How could he do that?”

  “Marac was very persuasive,” she said, averting her eyes.

  “Marac!” He slammed his head backward into the pillow. “I can’t believe he would want such a thing.”

  “Can’t you? He’s very close to you, Lae. He wouldn’t let go.”

  “He should have. Do they have any idea whose soul they used to augment the spell?”

  “No.”

  “Some militiaman, no doubt. The stones from the black pouch?” Laedron searched his belt for something, but he apparently didn’t find it.

  “Yes, that is where he found them.”

  “I’ll have to have a talk with him. He shouldn’t have done that. We don’t know what happens to souls used in such a way. We’re talking about eternity here.”

  She took his hand. “Please, don’t be angry with him.”

  “How can I be anything else? He’s done something unspeakable. He forced Jurgen’s hand to augment a spell, expending an innocent soul in the process.”

  “He only wanted you back, Lae.” She wrapped her other hand around his and squeezed. “I can’t say that I didn’t want it, too, and I suspect Jurgen didn’t have a problem going through with it. He protested, yes, but he performed the spell.”

  “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, Lae.” She drew close. “Your death would have driven a dagger through our hearts.”

  His expression softened, then he sighed. “No matter what I may think, it cannot be undone now. If it can, I don’t know the way.”

  “Accept this as a second chance. A second chance at life.” She smiled. “Can you honestly say that you would rather be dead?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s a difficult position. I can’t disapprove of being alive, but I dislike the method. That’s all.”

  “The method aside, I’m glad you’re back with us.” She averted her eyes when she felt her heart longing to be closer to him.

  “You, Val?”

  She leaned backward and spoke with a casual tone. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

  He grinned. “Yes, of course. We’re friends, right? Friends appreciate one another’s company.”

  Do I want to leave this as a friendship? She knew that she would have to be the one to make the first move because it seemed that Laedron didn’t know a way to approach her since her father’s death. Though she knew by his stilted behavior in her presence that he had a strong attraction, she wanted to be sure. With tact, then. I have to find out if he truly feels the way I think he does.

  She felt a change of subject might be best to get him to loosen up. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, Sorcerer?”

  “Yes. It feels further than it probably was.”

  She nodded. “I feel the same somehow. Even though I’ve lived here my entire life, I feel like a stranger to this city now that my father is gone.”

  “Have you considered what you will do?” Laedron asked. “You know, when we’ve finished with all of this.”

  “I…” She paused.

  “You don’t have any idea, do you?”

  “I do, but I am afraid to say.” She turned her eyes downward.

  “Why would you be afraid?”

  “Embarrassment.”

  Laedron sat up and adjusted his pillows. “You don’t have to feel ashamed. I’ll be quiet about it if that’s what you want.”

  “Well, Jurgen said that I will always have a place to stay—he’ll make sure of that—but I don’t want to live a cloistered life. I want to go out into the world and explore, see adventure, and learn of new lands and new people. I yearn to hear tales of great heroes in lands I’ve never seen, to taste the food I have only read about in books.”

  “Why is that something to hide? I don’t find it unreasonable.”

  “Because… I… I’d really like to go with you.”

  Laedron raised an eyebrow. “With us?”

  She looked at him directly. “No. With you.”

  “Me? But why?” He leaned back and crossed his arms.

  “You’ve watched out for me since my father died, you and your friends. It’s as if you were there every time I was in danger, unwavering and brave. I don’t know why, but I feel that going with you is the right choice.”

  Laedron shook his head. “The path we tread isn’t a safe one, Val. You’ll need to take time to decide for certain.”

  “I’ve made up my mind—”

  “No, please. Think about what you’re deciding and take some time. What you propose should not be done hastily.”

  She nodded. “All right, Lae. I will do what you say, but you shouldn’t be surprised if my decision doesn’t change. I cannot imagine a life here without my father.”

  “And if that’s what you conclude after giving it some time, I won’t argue with you. However, I want you to be sure. I know how the sentiments of home can bring you down once you’ve been gone for some time.”

  “Tell me of your home, Lae,” she said, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. “Sorbia, isn’t it?”

  “Nothing to tell, really.”

  She gently swatted his hand. “That can’t be true after what you’ve said. Your sentiments of home obviously run deep.”

  “You’re right.” Laedron shifted his weight. “My homeland is one of rolling grasslands and hills, fertile soil, and tall oaks and hickories. But that’s not what makes it the place to which I am eager to return. To crave those things is for farmers, and stewards of the land we are not.

  On the western coast lies a village called Reven’s Landing, my home and the most serene place I’ve ever known. Gentle beaches, the warmth of the sun on your back most of the year, and all the comforts of our cottage draw me back there when I’m discouraged. I can still taste the redfish we had not long before I left. Those were easier times indeed, those times spent in my small fishing village.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful place, Lae. Your family?”

  “They fled when the war started. The Morcaine mages’ academy was attacked, and Marac brought news that Ma had taken Laren, my sister, with her, but they didn’t tell anyone where they were going. That was probably for the best; no one can seek you out if no one knows where you are.”

  “And your da?”

  “That’s a long story.” Laedron rested his head on his hand.

  “I’d like to learn of him if you don’t mind.”

  “My da was the Bannor, a lower noble and administrator of sorts, to the king, appointed to Reven’s Landing.”

  “Sort of like a mayor?”

  “Somewhat, but he had been given more authority than you might see with a mayor. His name was Wardrick Telpist, and he passed away when I was still very young. If not for the portrait in our house, I would likely have forgotten his face. Ma always said I resembled him,
but I couldn’t see it. I always thought I favored her, and most people agreed.”

  “I never knew my mother,” Valyrie said. “She died during childbirth, and Da was left to care for me. When I got old enough to understand, I pitied him for the sacrifices he was forced to make. He gave up everything—his ambitions, his career, and his friends—all so I might have a better life. He took the innkeeper job from my uncle so he could work and care for me at the same time. Things weren’t always well between us, though. I took many of my blessings for granted, and I wasn’t as kind as I should have been at times.”

  “I’m sure he looked past that, Val. Your father must have loved you above all other things in this world.”

  She nodded. “I know, but I have regrets.”

  “Ah, yes. Regret. I know it well, but I move forward. I find a way.”

  “How? You seem to find the path so easily.”

  “It’s never easy, Val. Only quickly done, often as fast as the regrettable decision was made.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “The how is different for everyone. When the thoughts crop up in my head, I remind myself why I’m doing this, who I’m doing it for. It gets me through it.”

  “My regret is that I never got a chance to tell him ‘I’m sorry.’” Valyrie tightly clasped her hands in her lap, then rubbed them together.

  Laedron nodded. “We rarely get the chances we want. I’m sure our parents understand, though. It’s nice to hear an apology when you’ve been wronged, but they would forgive us, Val.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Why don’t you tell me of your home?” Laedron asked.

  “My home? You’ve seen it.”

  “No, I mean the details. The little things that an outsider might not know or see.”

  She searched her thoughts, then grinned. “I’m happy that Azura was a woman.”

  Laedron tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “This country is a difficult place to live at times, and it favors males over females. The church, the militia, the merchant guilds—all of it is based upon patriarchal hierarchies. If Azura had been a man, we women would likely be forgotten as doers of menial housework and ensuring men always had full bellies.”

  “Ah, I see,” Laedron said. “Nothing wrong with a full belly, but I see your point.”

  “Is Sorbia the same way?”

  “What do you mean? Do we keep women as slaves?”

  “Yes. How are they treated in your homeland?”

  “We’re…” Laedron paused, as if trying to find the right word to use. “I suppose you could call it egalitarian.”

  She gave him a broad smile, and Laedron asked, “What? It means—”

  “I know what it means, Lae—equal, balanced. I like a man who knows his way with words. I am studying to be a lyricist, after all.”

  He swallowed hard, and she detected that familiar awkwardness and fumbling that he had displayed at their first meeting. “Of course. I… um… a lyricist?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course. A composer of tales, a singer of songs.” She raised her hand. “To sing of heroes loved and lost, to speak of things uncommon to lore, and to pen the tales to preserve for posterity.”

  “You’ve got a certain flair for it. Can’t argue with you there.”

  She chuckled. “Of course, my father would hear nothing of it. He wanted me to be a seneschal, a keeper of books in some noble’s house.”

  “Good money in that,” Laedron said, at first with confidence, then his voice trailed off when she glared at him, “…or so I’ve heard.”

  “There’s more to life than gold and silver. I want my riches to be in my words, my wealth to be in the tales I spin, and my happiness to come from my travels and adventures in the wide world.”

  “You remind me of how I used to be years ago.” Laedron crossed his feet and stretched out his legs. “So long ago, when things were different.”

  “Why did you change?”

  “It didn’t take long. When I arrived in Westmarch, the city to the east of my village, and started my training, I changed, little by little. Things that were once exciting seemed more dangerous than they previously had. That danger turned into anxiety, then into fear of what lay ahead on my path.”

  “You got over it, though, didn’t you?” Valyrie asked.

  “Not completely. I’m thankful for the fear, though. Fear lets you know you’re still alive, the same way pain does. If I had been more brazen, I’d likely be dead by now—me and my friends.”

  “It took courage to do what you’ve done.”

  “Courage is easily confused with having the will to do what is necessary. A brave man without fear is simply too foolish to understand the consequences or outcomes. He is a danger to himself and to others.”

  “Whether courageous or strong of will, I’m glad that you held fast to the goal, Lae,” she said, leaning closer. “Above all, I’m grateful that you’ve come here.”

  He dipped his head. “You are?”

  She took his hand in hers again. “Yes, Lae. I…” She paused and looked away. Take a chance or leave it alone?

  “Yes?” Laedron asked. “Please, continue.”

  A chance it is, then . “I have feelings for you, Lae. Feelings that I’ve had since we first met.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  She fought the urge to shake her head. Men truly are blind to matters of the heart. “Yes.”

  “I-I feel the same way.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she said with a snicker.

  “What?”

  “You couldn’t have been any more obvious.” She smiled.

  He grinned, but then frowned.

  “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy?”

  “I worry, Val. I… are you sure that you feel this way, or is it something else?”

  “I’m sure, Laedron. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

  He nodded, but he still seemed to have something on his mind.

  “Don’t hide from me. What’s bothering you?”

  “I don’t quite know how to put it.” He pulled his hand from hers.

  “Then speak plainly. You’re not going to offend me.”

  “All right.” He took a deep breath. “I only want to make sure that your interest in me isn’t because your father passed.”

  “No, Lae. I’ve felt this way for some time, and I know that you have.”

  His face showed his confusion. “Then, why? Why tell me these things now?”

  “Because you almost died, for one. The first thing that went through my mind was what might have been. I asked myself, ‘Had I talked to him, would things have ended differently?’ I told myself that I wouldn’t let things pass me by any longer. If I ever got the chance, I’d do something about my feelings.” She sighed and reached for his hand. “When they saved you from dying, I decided that I wouldn’t let the opportunity pass again.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing left to say. We’ve said all there is.” She slid off her chair and onto the edge of the bed, then leaned forward. Running her fingers through his hair, she said, “Words shall keep us apart no longer.”

  “I—”

  She raised a finger to his lips. “Relax.” She lowered her hand, then closed her eyes. She tried to take her own advice, but she could feel her heartbeat drumming in her chest. Electrifying chills tingled her fingertips while the heat of a bonfire burned deep within her heart.

  Inching closer and closer, she finally felt her lips connect with his, and the kiss told her volumes about Laedron—of his restraint, his respect for her, and of his desire. That simple kiss said more of the connection they clearly felt for one another, and she was convinced that, despite having kissed others, what she felt was unlike any other she had experienced. Is this love? It can be nothing else.

  She couldn’t help but let out a quiet giggle when she opened her eyes and saw Laedron’s e
yes still closed and the expression on his face indicative of the pleasure of the moment. She cleared her throat.

  Opening his eyes, he gave her a wide grin. “That was amazing.”

  She took a deep breath, a smile and a tear coming at the same time.

  “What’s wrong, Val? Do you feel that we’ve made a mistake?” Laedron asked. He reached up and wiped away her tear.

  “No, Lae,” she said, lifting her face to the ceiling. “I never thought that I’d be happy again—that I could be happy. ‘Tis a tear of joy.”

  Laedron wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right. I’ve felt that way many times, but things get better.”

  She returned the embrace. “Do you think you can walk?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to try,” he said, sliding one leg off the bed.

  “If we can make it to the common room, I have a fine soup simmering.” She took his arm to help him walk. Upon reaching the long dining table, she helped him to a seat, then went after the stew. “I hope you like rabbit.”

  “One of my favorites,” Laedron said with a smile.

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  ← Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Seventeen →

  A Palace Fit for Soldiers

  Driven to the point of exhaustion, the horses slowed, apparently unable, or unwilling, to press on at the same speed. Night had fallen, and Marac looked up at the endless sea of stars in the cloudless sky. “Peaceful. Only fitting for a night such as this.”

  “A night when we return with hundreds of injured soldiers?” Jurgen asked.

  “At least we’ve saved some, Jurgen. That’s got to count for something.”

  “Of course, but I fear the negotiations we shall face with the Sorbians. What if they demand our surrender? To think, our holy places occupied by foreign troops, our people living under the heel of an occupying army.”

  “You think he’ll demand it?”

  “I don’t know,” Jurgen said. “Anything can happen. He could demand anything, regardless of our acts of kindness and professions of peace.”

  “Whatever the outcome, I’m certain that it will be for the best.”

  “Truly?”

  “At least no one else will die needlessly in the war. At least the lives of the people will be spared. That was our only concern from the onset.”