The Last Whisper of the Gods (18 page)

Sorial’s punishment for dereliction of duty was mild; the duke’s leniency surprised him. He was stripped of his next three days off and given additional shifts doing menial tasks like mucking the stable and cleaning the privy pit hut. It was unpleasant work but no more demanding than his chores at The Wayfarer’s Comfort. During his probation, he didn’t see Alicia but, based on what the others said, she was confined to the mansion until further notice. Vagrum confirmed this during a short visit. Carannan had decided that until Alicia was suitably repentant - something there were no signs of - she would be kept in seclusion.

By the first day of Harvest, Sorial was allowed to return to his regular duties. With the unrelenting heat still in place, he was grateful to no longer have sole responsibility for the privy pit. After confirming that his punishment had been lifted, he headed into the city to confront Warburm about the attack on Carannan’s mansion. Now that they were no longer master and servant, Sorial felt he could push Warburm harder than he had dared in the past.

He arrived at The Wayfarer’s Comfort in the early afternoon of a hot, arid day - typical Summer weather transposed to the latter weeks of the year. Roshell, one of the serving girls, greeted Sorial with a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek, then directed him to the wine cellar when he asked for the innkeeper. “Spends a lot of the daylight hours down there, does he. Can’t say I blame him - it’s the coolest place in the inn.”

During his tenure at the Wayfarer’s Comfort, Sorial had enjoyed spending time in the wine cellar, a huge rectangular underground chamber filled with kegs, barrels, and bottles of all varieties of wine, ale, and mead. As children, he and Rexall had spent hours on end in the cool, dimly-lit chamber - talking, hiding, and playing until the innkeeper chased them out. Once the heat wave began, Warburm had issued an edict that no one was to enter the cellar without permission.

A single lantern lit the chamber but there was no sign of the innkeeper. “Warburm?” called Sorial tentatively, standing near the foot of the stairs leading to the kitchen above. Nothing. He was about to return to the inn when he felt the faintest of breezes accompanied by the scent of dirt and damp.

He tracked the breeze to its source and was surprised by what he found: a hidden door, slightly ajar, made to look like a section of the stone wall. Despite all the hours he and Rexall had spent in the cellar, this was the first time he had discovered, or even suspected the existence of, a secret exit.

His curiosity aroused, Sorial pulled open the door and peered into the gloom. Beyond was a narrow tunnel that stretched ahead for as far as his eyes could discern. A distant illumination hinted at a torch in a sconce or a hanging lantern. There was no sound except the faint drip-drip-dripping of water. Sorial stepped into the tunnel, pulling the door shut behind him.

Gripping the pommel of Alicia’s gift, sheathed at his side, Sorial ventured into the unknown, his soldier’s boots sounding unnaturally loud on the rough stone floor. The walls and ceiling were hard-packed earth with occasional timbers to buttress them. Standing upright, Sorial’s head came within a handspan of brushing the ceiling; someone of Warburm’s greater stature would have to stoop.

The light he had noticed from the cellar was provided by a lantern hanging from a rusted hook jammed into the wall at eye level. Ahead, the tunnel made a sharp turn to the right before again straightening out. There was another lantern at the edge of his sight. A few more turns and his poor sense of direction was confounded.

It made sense, he supposed, that as a member of a secret society, Warburm would have a hidden way in and out of the inn, not only for his use but for that of visitors who needed to arrive and depart unseen. The further Sorial advanced, the more he wondered whether the prudent thing might be to turn back. He had been in the tunnel for minutes, but it felt like hours. At least it was cool - cool, damp, and dark. The earthy smell was comforting.

“Stop. Advance no more.” The voice, a cross between a growl and a whisper, issued from the gloom ahead. Sorial came to such a complete and sudden stop that he nearly stumbled. The dagger was out of its sheath and in his hands in an instant. He bent his knees and assumed a fighting crouch. He knew that voice.

“That’s not the weapon I gave you, but it’s formidable. I hope you’ve learned how to use it.” Straining his eyes, Sorial thought he could make out a human shape ahead but he couldn’t be sure.

“Warburm has ever been incautious about concealing his path, yet it wouldn’t behoove you to follow him further or risk discovery. This is a secret better kept to yourself.”

“Who are you?” demanded Sorial, his voice sounding stronger and more sure than he felt. “Are you responsible for the assassins?”

“Those buffoons?” The laugh was brittle. “I assure you, Sorial son of Kara, if I hunted you, my methods would be direct and certain. At our last meeting, I told you I bear you no ill-will. That hasn’t changed.”

“Why are you down here?”

“My comings and goings are my own affair, although I admit a preference for the freedom of an open sky to the suffocating presence of so much rock and dirt. But that’s neither here nor there and this is a convenient way to move in concealment. Our meeting is fortuitous; I bear you a warning.

“You’re being manipulated; if you accede to the wishes of those who would use you, you set your feet on a hard path, one that won’t end well. It would place you in direct opposition to my cause, and that’s
not
a position you wish to be in. None who calls me an enemy lives long to speak of it.

“My advice is that you leave the city. Go elsewhere and live out your life under a new identity. You’ll be hounded and pursued - no one knows better than me that those who seek to use you won’t give up easily - but if you remain ahead of them, you can avoid the imprisonment of their ideals. Your future isn’t written, much as they might wish you to believe it so. I’m proof of that. What they want for you is more curse than gift and it will lead to your death.”

“Who are you?”

“Pray you never need to know the answer to that question. Someday, perhaps you’ll understand my motivations for coming to you, but it’s ultimately of no matter as long as you learn from this encounter. Some of those you trust will betray you as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow to blast this already barren land with its heat. Ware the schemes of Warburm and the dictates of the great man who directs the innkeeper’s purpose.”

“And my mother?”

“Kara is both victim and victimizer. She’s conflicted where you’re concerned, as well she might be. She loves you, but she’s bound herself to a deceitful and duplicitous master with a self-serving purpose. This has dominated her life for four decades, since before the birth of her first child. She fell into the trap when she was only a girl and becomes more enmeshed with each passing year. Tread carefully in your dealings with her.”

“So I should trust you, a stranger who won’t show her face, over people I’ve known my whole life?”

“Whether or not you trust me is irrelevant. For reasons of my own, I don’t wish to find myself in opposition to you; this is my best chance to avoid it short of doing what the assassins failed to accomplish. But if that time comes, I’ll no longer stay my hand. I'll do what necessity demands. Regrettably, perhaps, but decisively.”

“Why don’t you tell me everything? All these secrets being kept from me.”

“The temptation is there - what a joy to foil them at this juncture! But there’s too much uncertainty about how you would respond and I have neither the time nor the patience to act as your mentor. Unraveling the mysteries of your identity is something you must accomplish on your own. But have a care not to confuse the agenda of others for truth. The gods are no more. You are the master of your future, free to choose your own path.” She paused for a pregnant moment, then added. “Someone’s coming. You should return to the inn.”

“Where does this tunnel lead?”

“It’s an escape trench, built in a time of strife many years ago. The main tunnel ends in a clearing north of the city, just before the river. A recently constructed side branch connects with the temple basement. Now go, and think on my words. I wish you well for now, Sorial. If you choose unwisely, that won’t always be the case.”

He didn’t see or hear her depart, but he knew she was gone by the sense of a withdrawn presence. At that moment, Sorial’s ears caught the distant sound of boots. Someone was approaching. He retreated, backtracking the way he had come.

As had previously been the case, the stranger left him feeling unsettled and unsure. He suspected she was trying to manipulate him as assiduously as the “others” of whom she spoke, yet he sensed sincerity in her words. Whatever he was being groomed for, it conflicted with her aspirations. But why? And who was she?

He escaped from the tunnel and left the inn to wander the streets and think. But the answers were as elusive as ever. He would have to continue to exercise patience - not his strongest characteristic.

When he returned to Carannan’s estate, Alicia was meandering the grounds with Vagrum at her side. It was the first time he had seen her since their night swim. She smiled and waved but didn’t approach. Vagrum’s face remained impassive, causing Sorial to believe that although the duke may have pardoned Sorial’s infraction, Alicia’s guardian wasn’t as forgiving.

By the week before Midwinter, Sorial had made sufficient advances with his swordsmanship and archery to allow his promotion to the position of Alicia’s junior protector. That meant he and she weren’t shadowed while on the ducal estate. When they left the grounds for whatever reason - to browse the market or visit Kara at the farm - they were joined by a veteran and the ever-vigilant Vagrum. Sorial’s opinion of the big man had matured from respect to heartfelt admiration over the weeks as he observed his dedication. Vagrum did this job not because he was being paid but because he loved Alicia like a daughter.

Sorial had settled nicely into a routine that involved training and physical exercise followed by hours of duty, which typically meant standing at attention outside Alicia’s chambers while she slept.

He had learned to take the advice of others and live in the moment, although the warnings about what was to come were never far from his thoughts. As long as Alicia was around and he could spend a few minutes with her every day, it didn’t matter what the future held. His compatriots knew there was some kind of relationship between Sorial and the Duke’s daughter that went beyond what was normal (and perhaps proper), but no one commented about it. Curiously, despite abundant evidence to the contrary, Carannan seemed oblivious to anything deeper than a friendship. And he had promoted Sorial, giving the young man more access to Alicia, although temptation and opportunity never coalesced the way they had on the night when the assassins attacked.

“Good morning,” Alicia said brightly, flouncing into the estate’s large stable and perching on a bale of hay. She was dressed in a pale yellow gown that complemented her unbound golden hair. Her preference was to wear it in braids but she had adopted this style after Sorial made an offhand comment about liking it loose. Her only concessions to the cool - although not cold - weather were long sleeves and an extra layer of petticoats.

“You look pretty today.” Sorial took a moment to gaze at her before directing his attention back to turning over loose hay with a pitchfork. There were two other workers in the stable, but they were at the other end, well out of earshot.

“You look like you could use a swim in the river,” said Alicia. “I suppose it’s only natural for a stableboy to attract dirt.”

He grunted then reached down to pluck something off the ground. With barely a glance in Alicia’s direction, he tossed it at her. At first, she thought it was a knot of straw but the moment she recognized what it actually was, she leapt to her feet and shrieked. The poor mouse, upon landing, scampered away.

“Bastard!” she fumed. That was followed by a stream of profanity that would have made Vagrum, her teacher in such matters, proud.

Sorial couldn’t withhold a chuckle. He turned to say something only to be struck square in the forehead by a well-aimed piece of shit.

“Now you need a bath more than ever.”

At that moment, Vagrum came sprinting into the stable, having heard Alicia’s cry from his post outside. He relaxed when he realized that the two “children” (as he often called them) were playing.

“Let me guess…another mouse.”

“Sorial threw it at me.”

“I missed,” said Sorial apologetically.

“Looks like you need to spend more time at practice then. I’ll speak to your instructors ’bout it.” Without another word, he departed, returning to his out-of-sight but not out-of-hearing position.

“Find a water barrel and wash that off,” said Alicia.

“Why? Don’t like it?”

Alicia made a face. “I’m not going to kiss you until you’re clean.”

Sorial immediately went in search of some water.

Later, they wandered hand-in-hand along the river, the farthest from the house they could venture without an escort. Vagrum was somewhere close, although they couldn’t see him. If there was trouble, he would reach their side in an instant.

It was a gray, chilly day. Clouds hid the sun and a misty rain was falling. Once, seemingly long ago, this kind of morning would have been common in mid-Planting or mid-Harvest. As recently as five years ago, it would have been snowing today, the light white powder coating the ground in preparation for the following week’s Midwinter carnival.

“I expect you to be my escort, of course,” said Alicia of the event, as if it was a foregone conclusion.

“I ain’t sure that’s a good idea. It would draw attention to
us
. We should have a care till your Maturity in a few weeks.”

“I’m sick to death of being discreet. I’m fed up with skulking around as if what you and I are doing - which is far less than I
wish
we were doing - is wrong. My father isn’t going to like it when he finds out, but he’ll have to get used to it.”

“That confuses me. He’d have to be blind not to have noticed us, but he ain’t done nothing to separate you from me.”

“I’ve considered that,” said Alicia. “And I have a theory. Why do you think I pressed your mother so hard about your father’s blood and birthright?”

“Because if he was noble-born, it would make a match possible.”

“The word you should use is
easier
. Anything is possible, even between a duke’s daughter and an impoverished stableboy.”

“If my father was a noble, it would make us equal. As a noble, I could be knighted and ask for your hand.”

“It might not even be that complicated. Your mother suggested a possible connection between your father and mine. What if
you
are the one I’m betrothed to? What if there was an arrangement between our parents all those years ago and that’s why my father isn’t separating us now.” It was clear she had given some thought to this scenario, preposterous as it sounded.

Although it would explain a great many things, Sorial thought it sounded like wish-fulfillment. His mother had never acknowledged a link between his father and Carannan. In fact, she had said she didn’t think the men knew each other, although they knew
of
each other. And if Alicia was to be Sorial’s betrothed, wouldn’t he know it already?

Alicia read his expression. “You’re not convinced.”

“I want to believe it, but it just ain’t…”

She wrinkled her nose. “I know. It’s a nice thought, but I’m not convinced, either. Still, it’s something to hold on to.”

“I’d rather hold on to you,” he said, bending down to kiss her on the lips. She snaked her arms around his back and drew him closer, prolonging their contact. When they broke apart, they were flushed and out of breath.

It occurred to Sorial that they could lie down here, amidst the tall grass beside the river, and dispose of her virginity, continuing what they had begun in the water two seasons ago. He knew she would be willing. But deflowering her now could prove dangerous. They needed to know her potential bridegroom’s identity first. And then there was Vagrum, who was unlikely to allow something like that to happen. Sorial suspected the most he could get away with was a kiss, and even that might be pushing the limits of the big man’s tolerance.

“We’ll find a way to be together, even if they’re all against it,” said Alicia. “I’ve thought it through, stableboy. If it means earning my keep as a scullery maid in some kitchen in the North, I can do it.” Sorial wasn’t so sure about that - he doubted Alicia knew what being a scullery maid entailed - but he was sensible enough not to mention his doubts. “You, of course, will never have trouble finding work. Good stableboys are always in demand.”

“You’d run away from Vantok and your family?”

“Vantok. My family. My rank. Even Vagrum. In exchange for being your wife. If that’s the only price the gods will accept, I’ll pay it. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She smiled at him affectionately. “So, are you ready to tempt fate and be my escort at the carnival?”

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

* * *

“Marry her? You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Rexall in shock. He knew his friend was attracted to the duke’s daughter, but he couldn’t believe Sorial would contemplate such madness.

“I know there could be problems…”

“Problems? This ain’t Annie. This ain’t some ex-whore who’ll gladly take you as her husband. This is a fucking noblewoman. There are rumors the king is considering her for his bride.”

“Until an official betrothal is announced...”

“Sor, you ain’t thinking straight. If she’s bewitched you so badly, sneak away with her into that huge stable her father owns and do what you need to do. But don’t believe marriage is even an option. If you go after it, it’ll end badly.”

Sorial was regretting having unburdened himself to Rexall. He had expected reluctance from his friend, but not militant opposition.

The two of them were loitering in the marketplace during the early morning hours of Midwinter’s Day. The square was gaily decorated with garlands of flowers and berries. Once, when the carnival occurred during the bleakest, coldest time of the year, evergreen boughs had provided the only color. Now that there were more festive options available, the complexion of the holiday had taken on a brighter flair. It was more like what Plantingfest had once been.

Many merchants were opening early, hoping to capitalize on the general spirit of goodwill and the open money pouches that often accompanied the carnival. There weren’t yet many people about, but that would soon change. With the drizzle of the past week having cleared out, today was shaping up to be a fine day - dry and cool, although not so cold that anyone would mistake it for a Winter of old.

“Her Maturity’s in two weeks,” said Sorial, doggedly pursuing a defense of his decision to marry Alicia. “On that day, she speaks for herself.”

Rexall shook his head in disagreement. “If she was a peasant, you’d be right, but she’s the daughter of a noble. She’s the duke’s
property
until he gives her up. And he ain’t gonna do that to the likes of a guard.”

“I intend to ask him for her hand.” He owed both Alicia and Carannan that much. He suspected what the answer would be, and what would have to come next, but perhaps there was the slimmest of chances. Alicia was unwilling to relinquish her fantasy that Sorial might be the one to whom she was betrothed.

“He’ll have you arrested and lock her away until her real husband comes to claim her,” predicted Rexall. “But at least you’re not thinking of running away with her.”

“She deserves better’n that, but if it’s our only choice…”

“Sor, give her up!” pleaded Rexall. “Come with me today. We’ll find a few willing girls and they’ll make you forget her.”

“Perhaps he
doesn’t
want to forget me,” said a tart voice from over Rexall’s left shoulder. Alicia, dressed in a striking sapphire dress with a darker blue cloak draped over her shoulders, approached, flanked at a discreet distance by Vagrum and two guards. Her protectors nodded amiably to Sorial. He returned their silent greetings with a grin.

With considerably more courtliness than Rexall had ever observed from his friend, Sorial bowed to Alicia before taking her hand in his.

“You’re a bad influence,” she stated, staring daggers at Rexall. Turning to Sorial, she said, “I suppose you told him. Sometimes, stableboy, I wonder if straw has replaced your brains. Our plans are meant to be a secret. If we have to flee in the night…”

“…I’m hoping Rexall will come with us,” finished Sorial. Alicia’s eyes widened with shock. This was something they hadn’t discussed.

Rexall was equally nonplused. “Go with you? On the run from the duke?”

“Rex, how many times have we talked about it? Leaving Vantok on some great adventure in the North. This could be our chance.”

“I appreciate how you put it - makes it sound almost fun. But as I recall, our talks didn’t mention your lover or her father’s entire guard corps in pursuit.”

“I’d like you to come with us.”

Alicia’s expression indicated that she very much did
not
want Rexall to come with them. That decided it for him. With a smirk, he said, “What the hell… things are getting too dangerous to stay in this city anyway. Ain’t often you get a chance like this!”

The three of them spent the day together, but they spoke no more about the future. Rexall and Alicia held out hope that Sorial would change his mind, albeit about different things. But they remained silent, believing that now wasn’t the best time to attempt persuasion - not while the other was present.

The trio wandered the streets, which became progressively more clogged with revelers as the day wore on. Later, they slipped into a tavern for the traditional mugs of Midwinter’s Cheer, a brew that tasted suspiciously like spiced, watered-down beer. After dusk, they gathered near the marketplace to watch a display of fireworks. That’s when Rexall left them to pursue an attractive brunette who had flashed him a welcoming smile. When all the flashes and bangs were over, Sorial escorted Alicia back to the duke’s estate. Once they were within sight of the mansion, the guards headed for the barracks and Vagrum melted into the darkness - there but not there.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” said Alicia, her hand in Sorial’s. She turned to look into his eyes, but could see nothing beyond the shadow of a silhouette in the moonless night. The hand not grasping his slipped into his trousers, dexterous fingers hunting.