The Last Whisper of the Gods (13 page)

Ferguson’s reaction wasn’t what Azarak might have predicted from the highest religious authority in the city. He showed neither outrage nor shock at the blasphemous statement. Instead, his expression was serene and perhaps a little speculative.

“I have held this suspicion this for some time now,” said Ferguson after a lengthy pause. “The evidence has been building over the years. This isn’t a sudden thing. All the high ranking priests across the land fear the same thing. The communion we enjoyed with the gods is gone. It has been thus for two decades. There’s no sense of any living presence at the other end when we pray or meditate. Even abandonment wouldn’t yield such a bereft feeling. You’ll agree, I’m sure, that this information should not be disseminated outside this room. The impact on public morale…”

“The public already suspects...” began Toranim, speaking for the first time.

“
Suspicion
is a very different thing from
knowledge
,” said Ferguson curtly, as if irritated that someone other than the king had possessed the effrontery to address him directly.

“I know this must be difficult, Your Eminence…” began Azarak.

“Your sympathy is unnecessary, Your Majesty. It has taken many hours of soul-searching and meditation, but I have long since made peace with my loss. My calling demands that I minister to my people in this time of crisis. Their faith must not waver.”

“Faith in dead gods?” Toranim was incredulous.

“Yes. And in the precarious balance upon which the future rests. If it’s faith that holds the chaos at bay, then I will nurture that faith. People have a need to believe. It’s bred within them. Take that away and you rob their lives of meaning. Outside this room, to speak of such things would be branded as heresy.”

“Even if they’re true?” asked Toranim.

“Truth, my dear chancellor, is a flexible concept. If the gods don’t exist, we must invent them. Fact or fiction is ultimately irrelevant. Religion is the only force that will keep man’s base nature from rising to the fore. People will believe because they want to believe, not because the thing they believe in is rational or can be proven to exist. That is, after all, what faith means.”

Azarak decided that now was not the time for a theological argument. “So you think there’s merit in the ambassador’s counsel?”

“Elves were said to enjoy a closer relationship with the gods than humans. They would likely know before us if the gods are no more. What else did she say?”

“She mentioned an alliance. She wanted to know if Vantok would join its military might to that of the Farthan if a threat rose in the south.”

“
If
or
when
?”

“She indicated it was only a matter of time before there was movement against Vantok. She mentioned ‘the forces of fire.’”

“You are aware, Your Majesty, that most human cities would balk at such an alliance? In our modern world, the elves are at best a curiosity and building armies to go to war alongside them wouldn’t merit serious consideration. A public declaration along those lines would at best result in your sanity being questioned. At worst, it could lead to your ouster from the throne.”

Azarak nodded. Were it not for the damnable heat, he would have long since dismissed Eylene as a relic of the past. But the situation was too precarious for such a convenient luxury.

“Your Majesty, regardless of whether you intend to pursue an alliance with the elves, the path forward is clear. An army must be raised. Conscription will be necessary and it won’t be popular, especially in times such as these.”

“I haven’t made a decision, Your Eminence.” Azarak was irritated at the presumption.

“Of course you have,” scoffed Ferguson. “You’ll go through all the motions of agonizing over the choice, then arrive at the obvious solution. If a force antagonistic to the cities is building somewhere deep within The Forbidden Lands, we have a responsibility as leaders to be prepared.”

“And if it’s not true, I bankrupt my city and lose my crown.”

The prelate shrugged. “Pray it’s false. Better a bankrupt city and a new king than the kind of war that represents the alternative.”

Put that way, it was a sobering thought. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps the decision is predestined,” acknowledged Azarak. “The question becomes how to do it without alarming the population.”

“That much is simple. Arrange for conscription cycles for all men between Maturity and twice that age. Six weeks training followed by twelve weeks off then six weeks service, and so on. Exemptions for farmers during Planting and Harvest. The stated goal will be to stiffen the Watch to stamp out lawlessness. The reality is building a fighting force that can be mobilized quickly.”

“It’s workable, Your Majesty.” Toranim was impressed almost against his will. “You’ve been considering plans to expand the Watch. This has added benefits.”

Azarak nodded thoughtfully. “Do what’s necessary to get it underway,” said the king to his chancellor. “But wait until the worst of the heat is over. Anyone currently in the Watch or in a private militia will be exempt, as well as the farmers.”

“What have your scouts reported?” asked Ferguson.

“What scouts?”

“The ones you presumably sent to The Forbidden Lands.”

“Nothing. They haven’t gone deep into the territory, but they’ve found nothing out of the ordinary in the northern mountains.”

“Forgive me for being indelicate, Your Majesty, but there’s also the matter of securing the succession of Vantok. If there’s to be a war, you need to find a suitable wife, bed her, and impregnate her. Your hand-picked choice of a popular crown prince is admirable and workable in times of peace but, should it come to an armed conflict, a blood heir will be necessary to keep uneasy political alliances from fracturing. Should you die in battle, only the existence of a son or daughter of your body will keep civil war at bay.”

Azarak didn’t reply because he disliked facing the obvious truth of Ferguson’s analysis. Having a named crown prince was only an interim solution. Remarriage was no longer an option; it was a necessity.

Ferguson frowned. “You have as much duty to your people in the bedroom as on the battlefield, although I don’t mean to equate the two.”

Uncomfortable about the subject, Azarak changed it. “Ambassador Eylene mentioned something else, something curious. She hinted there are those among humans who might seek to resurrect the ancient ways of wizard selection, but that embarking upon such a path would be ‘an act of desperation’ and ‘madness.’”

Ferguson’s normally imperturbable features showed a flash of anger. “She is presumptuous and speaks from a position of ignorance and jealousy. Millennia ago, a rift developed between men and elves because the gods granted the gift of Otherverse magic to humans but not to the older races. The resentment faded only after the gift was withdrawn. Assuming the gods knew their end was near, they would provide for their creations. The best way would be to open pathways to the ancient powers; when the wizards were in their ascendancy, balance existed without the gods needing to interfere.”

“So you’re a believer, then? You think another era of magic is upon us?”
No matter how highly placed or well regarded they may be
... Eylene
had
been speaking of Ferguson. How had she known?

“I wouldn’t discount it. The difficulty may be finding likely candidates. If you’d permit me, Your Majesty, this is an area in which I may be able to provide assistance. The temple has a vast selection of genealogical records and we may be able to trace the bloodlines of some of the most powerful wizards of old. It’s well known there’s a strong hereditary component to the use of magic.”

Azarak nodded, grateful to be able to delegate something. Whether or not he believed in the potential revival of wizards, there seemed to be little harm in preparing for the possibility, Eylene’s warning notwithstanding.

“In a sense, it’s fortunate that this city, alone among all, still fills the honorary position of The Wizard’s Bride. This tradition, which has been the bane of one girl of every generation for centuries, may allow Vantok to offer an enticement that none of the other cities can match. Power, position, and a noble wife - all for a simple declaration of allegiance.”

“I almost abolished the position at the request of my late queen. Allowing a woman to grow old waiting for someone who won’t come… It seemed cruel and arbitrary.”

“No longer?”

“Perhaps. Toranim, who is the current Wizard’s Bride?”

“Lady Lavella of the family Darmania. One of the city’s most attractive women, although a little old for her position. She’s thirty years of age.”

“Perhaps Lady Lavella will become the first Bride in 900 years to find her bridegroom.”

Later that evening, Azarak and Toranim sat in the king’s quarters, enjoying their nightly tankard of ale. It was sweltering inside but, even with the sun having set, things were hotter without, so the windows remained closed and shuttered. Hopefully by midnight, the king would be able to open them and allow a cool breeze to circulate.

“So the die is cast,” commented Toranim after a lengthy silence.

“Indeed. I hope I haven’t doomed this city to a future of poverty and strife.”

“As the prelate argued, you have no choice.”

“About many things. We need to arrange this long-delayed meeting with the Princess of Obis to determine her suitability. Myselene is said to be attractive, intelligent, and attentive. By all accounts, she would make a fine wife, at least when she achieves Maturity.”

“Which is in less than two seasons. Obis can bring more to a marriage than a breeder of royal princes and princesses.”

Azarak nodded. “If it comes to war, it’s not only the elves who will need allies. No one among the human nations is more skilled at war than the king of Obis. If his daughter is Vantok’s queen and his grandchild is destined to sit upon Vantok’s throne, it’s fair to assume he would march.” Then again, King Rangarak wasn’t known for rationality or consistency.

“Distance and geography would be the enemy of a quick response. Widow’s Pass is the reason there’s never been a sustained or serious war between the North and the South.”

“All the more reason to make our own preparations. Still, having an intimate relationship with the King of Obis can’t hurt.” Azarak reflected that this was how royal marriages were supposed to be arranged. The bride was largely irrelevant. What mattered was what she could bring to the union - men, gold, alliances. Those were the important things. Whether she was fair or homely, thin or fat, intelligent or stupid made little difference when it came down to the primary use he would make of her person.

“So, while Ferguson searches his bloodlines and the Watch begins training unskilled peasants in the art of war, what do we do?”

“That which is hardest for men of action to do in the face of impending disaster,” said Azarak. “We wait.”

Sorial recognized a good thing when he found it. The past few weeks had been the most fulfilling of his life. His relationship with Annie, which began as a night of hedonistic bliss, had developed into something more substantive. In what was a surprise to Sorial, she seemed as taken with him as he was with her. Since their first coupling, she had spent every night in his room, often staying until first light. Warburm knew about the situation and didn’t seem pleased but the innkeeper made no move to stop the liaison between his stableboy and favorite serving girl. Annie still flirted outrageously with the customers and wore revealing clothing, but the word had gotten around that it was now a “look, don’t touch” situation and not all the regulars were pleased with this development.

Sorial wasn’t foolish enough to believe he had discovered love with Annie, or she with him, but their situation offered companionship and mutual pleasure: two elusive yet desirable qualities in any relationship. They were sexually compatible, with his stamina and enthusiasm matching hers. They enjoyed each other’s company out of bed; the introduction of a physical element hadn’t impacted their friendship. They were both hard workers who took pride in their jobs. The age difference didn’t bother Sorial. He knew of many couples in which the husband was more than a decade years older than the wife; he didn’t see why it wouldn’t work if the roles were reversed. Admittedly, it was far too early to give serious consideration to marriage. But, with all the unanswered questions about his past, it made sense to think about the future, so the idea occasionally crept unbidden into Sorial’s mind as he lay next to Annie. During those post-orgasmic moments, he could see most clearly a future with this funny, ebullient, outgoing woman. A permanent, stable life with Annie was more realistic than something similar with Alicia - not that he had ever given the latter thought. Age differences were far more easily overcome than class barriers.

Working in the stable had become less of a chore now that he had something to look forward to at the end of the day. Often, when the sun was high in the sky, Annie would bring him a tankard of beer or ale to slake his thirst. On their mutual days off, they would spend time together at the river, walking the marketplace after twilight when the stalls opened, and having sex for hours while the common room below buzzed with the noise of patrons.

“Sorial.” Warburm’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Sir?”

“Finding life at The Wayfarer’s Comfort a wee bit more pleasant since your Maturity?” The innkeeper said this with a smile but Sorial mistrusted the purpose of his visit. Warburm didn’t like the stable and came only when a matter of urgency required his presence. He was here for more than to ask whether his stableboy was happy with his new lot.

“Aye. It feels different somehow getting paid. Then there’s Annie…”

Warburm interrupted with a curt gesture. “Yes, I know ’bout you two. You ain’t been hiding it. Don’t get me wrong, Annie be a great girl. For a roll in the hay, you couldn’t do no better. You needed it to keep yer cock from shriveling up. But I’ve noticed it turning to something…serious. She ain’t for you, lad, least not for marrying.”

Sorial frowned. He hadn’t expected more than token opposition from Warburm. Didn’t the innkeeper recognize Annie as an inducement who could keep Sorial at The Wayfarer’s Comfort beyond the year remaining in his agreement?

“She be what she be and fidelity ain’t in her nature. She may be with you now but how long’ll that last? She were my mistress for a while, so I know what she can do for a man under the sheets. But after a while, that’ll fade, and then what? So dinna become attached. Treat it like what it should be: a fling. Fuck her for a while. Spread your seed. Then move on.”

Sorial searched the innkeeper’s face carefully. Was the man speaking as a father figure or an ex-lover?

“Can’t rightly say what the future holds, Sir. Mayhap you’re right and what we have will fade. But mayhap it won’t. I know Annie’s been with many men in the past, but I think that’s behind her. I think she’s ready for something else. We enjoy bein’ with each other and we’re both hard workers - that’s more’n can be said for many couples. In time, love might grow. For someone like me, she’s probably the best catch I can hope for. And it means I’d keep workin’ for you for a while.” If he hoped the last point might soften the innkeeper’s stance, he was wrong.

“Think this through carefully, lad,” advised Warburm. “You and Annie - it willna last, mark my words. You be too much of an innocent for her and she be too old for you. By the time you reach twice Maturity, she’ll either be wrinkled or in her grave. She’s done been ill-used by the world and it’ll catch up with her. You need someone closer to your age.”

“I ain’t gonna propose today or tomorrow.” Warburm was taking this entirely too seriously. Marriage was a thought in the recesses of his mind, not an immediate concern.

“Thank the gods for that.”

“But, in time, who knows? Once we’ve been together long enough, if it feels right, I might ask her. And if’n she says yes…” Warburm was no longer his master. His opinion was important to Sorial but it didn’t rule his life. For many years, the innkeeper had been able to tell him what to do and how to do it. No longer. For the first time, Sorial controlled the direction of his future.

Displeased, Warburm grunted. Before turning to leave, he said, “Just think about my words. I know you’ve had a hard life, Sorial. Don’t make your future as lacking in promise as your past. You be better’n Annie.”

Less than thirty minutes after Warburm’s visit, Annie appeared with a scowl instead of her customary mug of ale. “What the hell did you say to him?” she demanded without preamble. One hand reached up to brush aside a sweat-soaked lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead. Her eyes blazed with indignation.

“Say? You mean to Warburm?”

“Of course I mean to Warburm. ’E just cornered me and told me in so many words to stop fucking you. Either that or consider looking for another position.”

“He’s jealous.”

Annie shook her head. “I doubt it. I was his bit on the side for a while but he lost interest. Since then, he ain’t shown any desire to renew things, and there’ve been opportunities. This is something else.”

“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll get pregnant and he’ll lose his best serving girl.”

“Maybe, but why talk about throwing me out on my ass? Did you tell him you want to marry me?”

Sorial squirmed uncomfortably. “I let him think it could happen someday.”

Annie smiled for the first time since entering the stable. She sidled up next to him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. Her eyes softened, the fire extinguished. “That’s sweet. Not realistic, but sweet. Let’s give it a season or two before we start thinking beyond what we got now.”

“What about Warburm?”

“What ’bout him? I’ll fuck who I damn well please and there ain’t nothing he can do about it. If he fires me, I doubt I’ll have trouble finding another job. I’m the best serving wench in the city. He don’t rule our lives - not mine and not yours either no more.”

Later that day, as Sorial was mucking out the empty stalls, Duke Carannan rode in. Dismounting, he greeted the stableboy.

Sorial returned the salutation. “Good day, M’lord. I hope all’s well.”

Carannan shrugged. “The damned heat’s a problem. And there are other things afoot. I suspect that’s why Warburm wants to see me.”

An hour later, Carannan left the inn looking less happy than upon his arrival. The storm clouding his features alarmed Sorial. He had never seen the duke so displeased.

As Sorial was saddling the horse, Carannan spoke. “Bad days, Sorial. I don’t know what the world is coming to. Keep your eyes open. It’s worse out on the streets than ever before. I would have brought Alicia with me but the truth is I’m worried about taking her into the city proper. She wanted to come. She likes you, although she’d never admit it. She’s never had any friends her own age until you.”

It surprised him that Alicia considered him a “friend.” True, there had been moments of closeness, but they hadn’t met more than a handful of times. Alicia truly must be lonely if their intermittent relationship had elevated him to such a lofty level.

“Can’t Vagrum keep her safe?”

“Even with him at her side, I don’t like her going far. I used to think a brute of a man like him was all the protection she’d ever need. I was wrong.” He mounted up then, as he leaned down to hand Sorial a half-dozen brass studs, he said, “She’d love it if you stopped by the house. Next time you get a spare day…”

“Maybe,” said Sorial noncommittally. Somehow, now that he was with Annie, it didn’t feel right spending time with Alicia.

“Think it over. You’re always welcome.”

“M’lord, there was something I wanted to ask… a favor.”

“Sorial, you know I’m in your debt. Whatever you want.”

“My girl sometimes comes swimming with me but she and I often ain’t free at the same time so she don’t get to bathe as much as she’d like.”

“I’ve noticed women like bathing more often than men.”

“I was wondering if you’d give her leave to go to the stream by herself.”

“Of course. As long as it’s just her. Who is she?”

“Her name’s Annie.”

“Warburm’s serving wench?” Carannan looked impressed. “Well done. She’ll be able to teach you a thing or two, I’d wager.”

“She already has.”

This earned a chuckle. “I’ll tell the guards to let her pass. And remember to stop by and see Alicia some time. Bring Annie with you. I’m sure my daughter would love to meet your woman.”

Sorial wondered if that was true. He supposed it depended on Alicia’s definition of the word “friend.”

* * *

That night, Sorial was fast asleep when Annie entered his room. She shut the door quietly behind her, disrobed, then climbed into the small bed beside him. He awoke when he felt her press against his sweat-slickened backside. Even with the tiny window propped open, it was insufferably hot in here; the air was stale and still, unstirred by even the faintest of breezes. Not for the first time, Sorial had considered sleeping outside. That was now a common practice around the city, especially for those whose dwellings had little ventilation. He also wondered about the cellar, but Warburm and his family had set up pallets down there and his presence wouldn’t be welcome.

“Sorry I snapped at you earlier,” Annie said. Her playful hands began roaming.

“You’re right. It’s too soon to think ’bout marriage. It’s just that with you I finally found someone I can trust. It ain’t something I’ve had a lot of in my life. You know how my mother and father dumped me here when I was young. Warburm’s been fair but not what you’d call kind. And my only friend is Rexall. You’re the first person who’s cared about me for who I am and not for what they can get from me. I don’t want what we have to go away.”

“It don’t have to, Sor. But you don’t have to marry me to keep it. I’m saying this for your good, not mine. I couldn’t find a better match, leastaways not a long-term one. Five years from now, I’ll be past my prime with my tits sagging and my ass dragging, and you’ll be looking elsewhere.”

“People like us get married all the time. There ain’t nothing to stop us - no barriers of class or wealth.”

“No barrier ’cept age. My looks’ll fade, Sor, and you’ll be left with a fat, wrinkled woman with udders.”

“You don’t know your charms. It ain’t all about how you look.”

“Judging by what I have in my hands, I know what I’m capable of.”

Later, as they lay holding one another, Sorial said, “I spoke to the duke today. He said you could use the river when you’re by yourself.”

She kissed him soundly on the lips. “Thanks, Sor. I always feel dirtier after the public baths. Now I can get properly clean every morn.”

“He also wants you to come with me to visit his daughter.”

“Lady Alicia? Poor thing. I bet she’s a captive in that house. After what happened to her, she’ll never be let out again without the duke’s entire militia watching over her.”

“Her father said she considers me a friend and it would be nice for me to visit. That’s when he said I could bring you.”

“I’m sure she’d love seeing you. I ain’t sure she’d feel the same about me.”

Two weeks later, fate intervened in the matter of a meeting. On a mutual day off, Sorial and Annie decided to go together to the river. Like every other Summer day, it was blisteringly hot. The earth and air were equally parched. The world waited breathlessly for Harvest, when the heat would abate enough to make it bearable outdoors during the daylight hours.

During their casual stroll along the path that led to Duke Carannan’s estate, Annie remarked, “I been swimming every day but I go in the early morn, just when the sun’s rising. It ain’t so hot then. This walk is brutal at mid-day.”

“We’re lucky the duke lets us come here. Rexall told me things are getting worse at the public baths and several nobles with property along the river have posted extra guards. A trespasser was shot on Duke Amalzigar’s land two days ago.”

“Can it get much worse?”

Sorial didn’t have an answer. If the reason for the heat and drought was what nearly everyone supposed it to be - the disfavor of the gods - then this might be only the beginning. The greatest fear, one that few voiced, was that the wells would begin running dry. Food shortages and heat were problematic but people couldn’t live without water, and what flowed in the river wasn’t safe to drink. People who tried ended up with bad cramps or worse.