Emerald Sceptre (32 page)

“No!” Rodolpho shouted, darting to try to escape from Vambran. “I’ll put a stop to it! I’ll destroy that scepter!”

As he tried to evade Vambran, the lieutenant struck. He swung his sword and just caught the fleeing man across the shoulder. The strike wasn’t deadly,

but in his attempt to avoid it, Rodolpho stumbled sideways and lost his balance. Tripping, he fell to the stones, very near the edge of the tower. He struggled to regain his feet as Vambran stepped near.

“It’s over,” he said. “You’re finished.”

Rodolpho glared at Vambran. The look in his eyes told the mercenary that he knew Vambran was right, but he wasn’t yet willing to give up. Vambran planted his sword against the man’s chest. “Did you hear me?” he asked softly. “I said, you’re done.”

“Perhaps,” Rodolpho said, squaring his shoulders. r”But I won’t go with you. So can you kill me? Can you do willingly what you thought you did unwittingly twelve years ago?”

Vambran paused, staring at the man. He remembered all those times when he had grieved, feeling the weight of it, saddened by what he had imagined Rodolpho’s friends and family had felt. He remembered how he suffered for what he’d done. Despite the change in circumstances, despite the knowledge that Rodolpho Wianar was responsible for the deaths of so many people down below, the little boy inside Vambran who had suffered so much guilt could not deliver the killing blow.

“You see?” Rodolpho said. “I told you you couldn’t finish the job.”

“Do it,” Junce said from behind Vambran. “Do it, or you’ll live with your weakness forever.”

Vambran never took his eyes from Rodolpho, but he directed his question to the assassin. “What would you know about it? All you do is kill.”

There was a long pause. Then Junce said, “I know about it because I watched my father kill my mother when he grew tired of her, and I have never lifted a hand to do anything about it.” Vambran glanced at

the man, then, only for a moment. But he saw Junce’s face, and he knew the man was speaking the truth. “Do it,” Junce whispered. “Or become like me.” And with that, he muttered a magical phrase and vanished from the tower.

Vambran returned his gaze to Rodolpho. “Does he speak the truth? About his father?”

“Yes,” Rodolpho replied. “Eles Wianar has a habit of doing away with the mistresses he grows tired of. But he took a liking to Darvin there, or Junce, as you know him. I never understood why.”

Vambran’s eyes widened. “Wianar! Eles Wianar is his father?”

Rodolpho nodded. “Yes, but don’t let that story get you down. Killing me won’t change who you are. There’s no nobility in it, and as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, revenge is never satisfying.” Then he cocked his head as if considering something. “Funny, isn’t it?” he said. “The Shining Lord of Arrabar had such a heavy hand in the shaping of both your lives. He took someone away from both of you, someone you cared for deeply, but you each turned out quite different. Makes me wonder if he considered that at the time. But then Eles was always a bastard like’, that. I mean, look what he did to me,” he added, then he shoved himself forward, pushing away from the wall, driving Vambran’s blade into his chest.

In the chapel of House Matrell, Vambran stared at the two sarcophagi before him. He thought about Rodolpho Wianar’s final words as he watched the memorial ceremony. Each of us shapes those around us, he realized. Either by our absence or our presence, we affect those we are close to. He glanced over at Xaphira, sitting next to Ladara, who was crying softly. And when that changes, when people in our lives are gone, or when they return unexpectedly, we feel unbalanced, unsure. We don’t know how it will make a difference, but we know it will. He glanced over at Quindy and Obiron, sitting next to their mother. It always has an effect.

The mercenary felt Emriana squeeze his hand. He looked at her sitting next to him and saw her smiling at him, though a few tears were running down her face. His heart was heavy, and he felt his eyes grow moist, too. It’s hard, saying goodbye to someone. Not just because they are gone, but because they made a difference in your life.

I love you, Hetta, Kovrim, he thought, sending his thoughts to the sarcophagi. Rest well.

After the ceremony, members of the family and their guests drifted to different parts of the house. Vambran decided to wander out to the yard, to spend more time thinking, but Emriana followed him.

“I think she knew it was time to go,” the girl said, sounding very different than Vambran remembered. All grown up. “She was too long out of her body to go back, and she didn’t want to stay in that ring forever. But I think she knew that it was all right, that she was leaving the family in good hands.”

“I know,” Vambran said, strolling down to the pond.

“I’m sorry you had to see Kovrim the way you did,” she told him, taking his hand again. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

I pray to Waukeen you never do, Vambran thought. “I’m going to miss them.”

“Me, too.”

They stood at the bank of the water, and Vambran watched the reflection of the high white clouds drifting overhead. It was going to be a hot day, the lieutenant realized. Spring was turning into summer. The height of trade season. And of campaigning.

“Are you going back?” Emriana asked suddenly. “To the Crescents, I mean.”

Vambran looked at his sister. “How did you know that I was thinking about resigning? I hadn’t said anything to anyone in the family yet.”

“I can tell,” she said. “It’s in your eyes.”

Just like I can tell that someone hurt you, Vambran thought. Badly. He shrugged. “I love it, but there’s a part of me that feels like I should stay here now, help run the businesses. Dregaul is gone, so there’s no reason to stay away, and I feel like you, Xaphira, and Marga need me.”

“Don’t be a meazel-face,” Emriana said. “We can run things just fine. And it’s in your blood. You have to do it.”

Vambran chuckled. “Maybe, but shouldn’t I start being a little more responsible?”

“I can’t think of anything more responsible than maintaining our relationships with business partners abroad,” the girl said. “On this last campaign alone, you managed to arrange good alliances with the Emerald Crescent, the Senator of Trade in Reth, and the sea elves. I call that a good tenday’s work.”

Vambran had to laugh at that. It was true. House Matrell was in the process of negotiating a fair and sensitive deal with the druids to lumber part of the Nunwood without stripping the forest bare. Part of the negotiations required regular face-to-face meetings. Shinthala had insisted on that. The family already had strong trade in place with the sea elves, but things had improved on that front, as well. Serille had seen to that. And Elenthia’s father, so thankful that Vambran and Arbeenok had done so much to save the city—not to mention rescuing his daughter from a certain horrible death—was eager to generate business between his city and House Matrell.

“Let’s just hope I don’t have to stop a war every time,” Vambran quipped. “Though Captain Havalla made me a pretty generous offer to serve as his second in the Order of the Silver Raven.”

“You turned him down, right?” Emriana asked, and when Vambran looked at her, he saw that she was serious.

He nodded. “I offered him thanks, but I told him it was the Crescents or nothing for me. We still agreed to coordinate our efforts in the region from this point forward. No more fighting both sides of the battle at once.”

“So is it the Crescents, or nothing?” Emriana asked.

“I haven’t decided. Horial and Adyan don’t want me to leave, either.” He thought it was time to change the subject. “How about you? What are you going to do? And how serious is it between you and Pilos?”

Emriana blushed slightly. “Don’t make it bigger than it is,” she said, but the smile on her face told Vambran she was hoping her relationship with the priest would turn into something more.

“He seems like a fine fellow,” Vambran said. “And having a more formal relationship with House Darowdryn would be beneficial.”

“Oh, gods, you’re turning into Uncle Dregaul, trying to marry me off!” she said, punching her brother in the shoulder.

“At least I let you pick him,” Vambran said, laughing.

At that moment, a shout came from up the hill, near the house. The siblings turned to see Quindy and Obiron bounding down the hill toward the pond. The boy had his crossbow in hand, and his sister was lugging the quiver of bolts beside him. Behind the pair of boisterous children, other members of the family and several guests were strolling toward the pond. Xaphira and Marga were talking, and Vambran could see Pilos, Adyan, Horial, Grolo,

Edilus, and Arbeenok with them. The alaghi had come to the city of Arrabar, his first visit there, along with Edilus and Shinthala, to represent the druids at Hetta’s memorial. Shinthala was in the rear, engaged in a deep conversation with both Elenthia and Serille, who had thankfully donned some clothing for her visit to land.

“It looks like all of your ladies are getting to know each other,” Emriana teased.

Vambran groaned. “I liked it so much better when they were in separate places,” he said. “I need to go oil campaign.”

“Maybe I’ll go join in the conversation,” the mercenary’s sister taunted. “I have a few interesting stories they’d like to hear.”

“Do it, and I’ll make sure you can never show your face to Pilos again,” Vambran warned.

Emriana gave him one scathing look before the crowd reached them. “Don’t you dare,” she muttered. “Or I’ll sneak into your room at night and pour scorpions in your bed.”

“I love you, too,” Vambran said, and he meant it.

“All the women are going riding,” Xaphira announced. “At the country estate. Do you want to join us, Em?” she asked.

The lieutenant raised his eyebrow in question. “All of you?” he asked, looking at Serille, Elenthia, and Shinthala with trepidation.

“Everyone but Shinthala,” Xaphira answered. “She has to get back to the forest.”

Vambran’s gaze turned to the sea elf. “You, too?” Serille nodded. “I would like to see what a horse is,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Vambran resisted the urge to groan.

After the others had departed for the country

estate, Vambran was left standing with the other mercenaries and the druids.

“I just learned that Perolin was named Grand Syndar this morning,” Pilos said. “I think the temple is in good hands.”

“As good as when Mikolos Midelli sat on the high seat?” Vambran asked.

The young priest nodded. “I think so,” he said. “There’s a lot of work to be done, repairing the damage Lavant created, but I find Perolin the most forthright of the high priests. I’ve given him my support.”

“And he’s named you ambassador,” Vambran pointed out.

Pilos nodded, looking slightly chagrined. “I can’t avoid the politics altogether,” he explained, “but I can at least try to make sure they always work to put the best side of the temple forward. We’ll see if I’m successful.”

“Still no sign of Lavant?” the lieutenant asked.

Pilos frowned. “None,” he replied. “And none of our divinations are giving us anything, either. It’s very strange.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone contemplated what that might mean. “So, what’s happening to Lobra?” Vambran asked, steering the conversation in another direction.

“Ah,” Pilos said, nodding. “Perolin doesn’t want to make a civil issue out of her crimes, because the temple wants to distance itself from any link that might exist with the Generon. Ariskrit agrees, so long as Lobra is punished for her transgressions against the temple. She’s going to be washing laundry in the bowels of the temple for a long while, I think.”

“And Falagh?”

Pilos shook his head. “No one has seen or heard from him since the night of Sammardach. House Mestel isn’t speaking of it, and Perolin believes they are dealing with it internally.”

“I’ve heard how they ‘deal’ with that sort of problem,” Vambran said. “We’ll never hear about him again.”

“We are returning to the forest,” Edilus announced to no one in particular. “Finally,” he added, sounding gruff.

“That’s a good thing to hear,” Horial replied. “I wps beginning to worry you liked the city so much that you’d never leave, and your stench was starting to get to me.”

Edilus glared at the mercenary for a moment, and Vambran tensed, wondering where that outburst had come from, but then he saw Horial’s mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile, and next he noticed the humorous twinkle in the druid’s eyes. As one, the two burst out laughing, clapping each other on the shoulders.

Vambran sighed and turned to Shinthala and Arbeenok. “It’s too bad they hate each other so much,” he quipped, “otherwise we might all be friends.”

Shinthala chuckled, then gave Vambran a warm hug. “Be well,” she said. “And come to the Nunwood soon.”

“I will,” he promised.

Arbeenok took Vambran’s hand and grasped it tightly. “You are a good friend,” he said. “We will see one another again soon.”

Vambran cocked his head and asked, “Is that just hopeful thinking, or have you had a vision?” The alaghi smiled and stepped back. “Sooner than you think,” he said.

When the druids departed, taking Pilos with them to begin establishing a relationship with the Waukeenar, Vambran was left alone with Adyan, Horial, and Grolo.

“So, have you made up your mind yet?” Adyan drawled.

Vambran sighed. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

Horial shrugged. “I won’t follow another, Lieutenant,” he said. “I can’t imagine campaigning under anyone else.”

Vambran eyed his three sergeants, all of whom were nodding in agreement. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll stay in.”

Horial whooped and Adyan just grinned, his scar pale in the sunlight. Grolo smacked Vambran on the back. “That’s what I want to hear,” the dwarf said. “Now, what do you boys say we go over to the Crying Claw and have ourselves a cool one?”

Vambran liked the sound of that.

• • •

Out in the Reach, aboard Spinner, a trade ship bound for Turmish, a paunchy wizard pushed his spectacles up on his nose and tried without success to keep the papers he was scrutinizing from fluttering in the sea breezes. After the third attempt to read a paragraph in a treatise on the magical uses of yuan-ti scales, he gave up in exasperation and stuffed the sheaf of parchment into a leather binder. He stood up from the coil of rope he had been using as a seat and glanced over the stern. The coastline of Chondath was receding in the distance.