The Consuls of the Vicariate (27 page)

“Your girlfriend surprises me,” Marac said, entering Laedron’s room.

Laedron looked up from the text he had been reading. “She’s not—”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’ve seen the way you two watch each. I even spied a late night kiss in the garden if my eyes don’t deceive.”

“I’m in no mood for taunting.”

Marac sat next to Laedron on the bed. “I haven’t come to taunt you. Actually, I’m proud to see you’ve finally found someone.”

Laedron closed the book and laid it aside. “I’m afraid to bring her with us, Marac.”

“Is that what this moping about is for?”

“Moping? I call it concern.”

“She’s old enough to make her own choices, Lae.”

Laedron shook his head. “The next leg of our trip could be dangerous. I’ve spoken to Caleb about the Uxidin, and he told me the only ones he’s ever heard of live deep in the forests of Lasoron, along with all the other things only legends describe.”

“What sorts of things?”

“Beasts, monsters… anything you might imagine in an ancient forest rarely traversed. The things that live well away from the realms of men.”

“You’re not getting scared of ghost tales, are you?”

“I just want her to be safe,” Laedron said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine the pain I would feel if she died because we allowed her to come with us.”

“Like I said, she’s old enough to make her own decisions and go where she likes. Tell her of the risks, but let her decide. She’s lost her father, but that doesn’t mean she needs another one.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to insult me,” Laedron said.

“I only speak plainly. Embrace her, love her, do all the things that you’re supposed to do at her side, but don’t rule her, Lae. No matter how fine your intentions, you’ll push her away.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so, my friend. She’s willful and stubborn. I can see that in her, just as I’ve seen it in you. She’ll fight you every leg of the way unless you let her determine her own path.”

“Thanks, Marac.”

“Anytime,” he replied, then he closed the door behind him when he left.

Laedron opened the book and flipped to the page he had been studying before Marac had interrupted him. He repeated Marac’s words over and over in his mind.
It’s not my decision to make. Marac’s right. When the time comes, Valyrie, for better or worse, will have to choose for herself.

He placed the book in his backpack, then thought of Ismerelda.
How your life must have been filled with intrigue and adventure to possess books such as these
.
And now, I shall never know how you came to own them or why you took such an interest in Zyvdredi magic to keep such a sizable collection
. He buckled the clasp on the leather bag and went out to the common room.

Just as he arrived, Laedron heard a knock on the door, and he went to answer it. “Ah, Vicar Jurgen, you’ve come to visit us at long last? It’s been nearly a week.”

Jurgen stepped inside. “Yes, I’ve come to summon you and bring some news. I’ve spoken with Duke Fenric, but he has been rather difficult to deal with.”

“Come in, then. Care for anything to drink?”

“No, I’m well, thank you,” Jurgen replied, taking a seat at the table. When everyone had joined him, he took a deep breath, then said, “Duke Fenric has recovered from his injuries and should be ready to speak with you, Laedron.”

“Has he said anything?” Laedron asked. “About peace or the war?”

“Not to us, no. We’ve given him some distance and time to think about things, and we… well, we thought that might be best for one of his countrymen to speak with him first.”

“Then it shall be done. By the time the night falls, I hope we can be done with this war.”

Jurgen nodded. “Good. If you can secure the peace favorably for all sides, the consuls and your king should be pleased.”

“We shall see. Have you come up with anything regarding the ring and the staff? Anything about the Uxidin?” Laedron asked.

“No, but I’ve made you an appointment with Demetrius Hale, the chief amongst the Arcanists.”

Marac asked, “You’re not coming along?”

“I cannot. I must return to the consulship once we have finished here. Tomorrow evening, I shall return, and you can inform me of your next step.”

“Arcanists? The navigators?” Laedron asked, remembering how they had discussed the order before arriving in Azura.

“Yes, they are an important group in Azura and have been for a long time,” Jurgen said. “Beyond being able to navigate the Sea of Pillars, the Arcanists have kept detailed records throughout history, and they are patrons of art and science. Merchants, scholars, and seafarers make up their ranks.”

“Even the university is administered by them,” Valyrie said.

“Yes, that is true.” Jurgen gave her a smile. “If it hadn’t been for them, much of what we know now about alchemy, architecture, and the natural world would likely have been lost through the ages. Time has not always passed kindly for the theocracy.”

“Where is the meeting?” Laedron asked.

“At his home. He can be found in the row houses across from the university, number four.”

Valyrie nodded. “I know the way. When?”

“Tomorrow at lunch. He always takes lunch at his home at or around noon.” Jurgen stood. “Perhaps he will have some answers. For now, I should take Laedron with me to meet with Fenric.”

* * *

The steps leading up to the front doors of the Vicariate Palace remained in disrepair. Climbing the stairs, Laedron observed two pools of blood around the large crater where he’d fallen, one stain his and the other that of Master Greathis. His skin tingled as if the place itself reminded his body of the pain, and he walked quicker to put distance between himself and that spot which had caused him so much agony.

In the main hall, Duke Fenric sat with a group of his soldiers. A priest offered them food and drink. Fenric must not have trusted the man or his charity because he simply ignored the offerings.

The first thing Laedron noticed about the duke was the impressive signet ring which bore the crest of the Sorbian royal family. The duke’s armor glimmered even in the dim light of the palace halls, and it had hardly a scrape or scratch from the previous day’s engagement. His face, goatee, and hair were all perfectly groomed.

“Duke Fenric,” Laedron said, bowing.

“And who are you, young man? Another priest coming to placate me?”

“Your servant, my lord. Your subject.”

“My subject? Your dulcet words will garner you no more favor with me than speaking plainly,” Fenric said with a sneer.

“I do speak plainly, Sire. I am Laedron Telpist of Reven’s Landing.”

“Telpist… a name that I have heard before, yet I cannot place. Reven’s Landing, you say?”

“Yes, my duke. My father Wardrick Telpist was appointed as Bannor of that village by your brother, the king.”

“No need to avert your gaze, then. My countrymen should look me in the eye when speaking.”

“My apologies. I had gone so long in the guise of a Heraldan that their customs have become natural to me.” Laedron looked up at Fenric’s face. “I have come to talk of peace with you, my lord. These priests, being of weak will and filled with want for a time since passed, had elevated a charlatan to their highest office. The man persuaded them into a false conviction, then launched an attack against us in secret to provoke this war.”

“What matter or concern is that of mine? Mistakes on their part do not facilitate a change of heart on mine. My nephew, your crown prince, lies dead at the hands of these miscreants, and my brother, your king, has ordered me to capture this country. Nothing has changed.”

“My lord, I beg to differ,” Laedron said, glancing at Fenric’s soldiers. “You have few men left, too few, in my mind, to continue. Thus, now is the best time to consider alternatives.”

“We can send word for more men. Surely, you know that we have many more men willing to fight—and die, if need be—for his majesty, King Xavier. A vengeful father is slow to forgive.”

“Such a move is needless. His majesty has taken revenge upon the wrongdoers already, by my hand and those of my friends.”

“Yours?”

“We serve the Shimmering Dawn, my lord. We have completed our mission against Gustav Drakar, and we have done away with Andolis, more commonly known as Tristan the Fourth. This priest, Jurgen, has helped us every step of the way because he believes in justice, not power or prestige.”

“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
.

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Revelry and Reverie