The Last Whisper of the Gods (21 page)

One of the king’s eyebrows went up. “A
friendship
? How friendly?”

“Nothing untoward has happened although there’s an attachment between them. It’s important that he be there so he can understand what the situation means for him and Alicia.”

“Are they in love with each other?” He wanted to understand the nature of the attachment. He could think of no other reason why the duke would want a guard to attend such an august event.

Carannan hesitated before responding. “They are.”

“But they haven’t consummated the relationship?”

“I don’t believe so, Your Majesty. They’ve been watched at all times. Things haven’t progressed beyond kissing and youthful groping.”

“Very well. If you think it prudent and necessary, Sorial will be welcome,” said Azarak.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

After leaving the palace, Carannan deviated from his journey home to stop at The Wayfarer’s Comfort and consult with the innkeeper. The die was cast. Now it was time to see whether so many years of preparation and sacrifice bore fruit, or whether a crucial misjudgment might doom them all.

“Come in, Sorial.” The duke stepped to one side to allow the young man to enter his study.

Sorial observed the room quietly. It was dominated by a huge desk, the surface of which was littered with writing instruments: quills, ink bottles, ledgers, loose parchment, and blotters. A series of oval windows set high in the south-facing wall provided adequate illumination. There was a secondary door to the right of the desk.

With a friendly smile, the duke motioned for his guest to take a seat. Sorial declined with a slight shake of his head, so Carannan remained standing as well.

Sorial’s heart was pounding. He was trying his best to appear composed but was doing a poor job of it. Although it was comfortable - perhaps even cool - in the room, his brow was damp with sweat.

He and Alicia had argued about this meeting. She believed going to her father was a mistake. But Sorial suspected the duke knew, or at least guessed, the truth about them and saw no reason to continue with their subterfuge. Vagrum had seen enough to deduce the nature of their relationship and the big man was duty bound to report his suspicions to his employer. Their only chance at a normal life lay in obtaining Carannan’s approval. Sorial didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with Alicia as a fugitive skulking from village to village. Her father was a powerful man with a long reach. No matter how far they fled, it might not be far enough. Sorial’s hope was to convince the duke that he was a better choice for Alicia than her other suitor, even if that man was King Azarak. Alicia had pleaded with him not to do this, deeming it to be rash and ill-advised.

Carannan remained calm and silent, waiting for Sorial to open the conversation. Swallowing, Sorial began, speaking words he had rehearsed in his mind. “Sir, I wanted you to know how grateful I am to you for letting me serve in your militia. When I came here a year ago, I didn’t know what to expect. My whole life to that point, near as I can remember it, was mucking out stalls and caring for animals. But everyone has accepted me and, though the work is hard, I feel more at home here than I ever did working for Warburm.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Sorial. We’re happy to have you here and you’ve been a good addition to the corps. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“No, sir. Ever since your daughter and I met when you brung her to the stable at The Wayfarer’s Comfort, there’s been something - a connection - between us.” He couldn’t think of a better way to phrase it. “It took us a while to figger it out.” He paused uncertainly.
Alicia and I love each other. We’d like to wed.
Suddenly those words, which had sounded fine when he composed them, felt inadequate to the situation. They were the sentiments of a lovelorn boy who’d had the temerity to fall for someone far above his station.

“Perhaps I can make this a little easier for you,” offered Carannan, his eyes kind yet a little sad. “Have you come here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Uncertain what to say, Sorial nodded. There was no turning back. He and Alicia had staked their mutual future on this gamble.

“Sit down, please.” The duke again indicated the seat. Sorial, whose legs were beginning to feel weak, accepted the offer this time. Carannan remained standing, not relinquishing his position of authority.

“Sorial, I think highly of you. I really do. I wouldn’t have asked you to join my militia if I didn’t. Your performance has validated my opinion. In less than a year, you’ve earned the respect of men who have been training and fighting for decades. Even Rotgut has been heard to say nice things about you, and Rotgut never says anything nice about anyone.

“You should know by now that I’d never allow barriers of class to interfere when it comes to Alicia’s happiness. I’m not that sort of man. I never have been and I hope by the graces of the gods I never will be. We have a certain number of years available to us in this life; why run from a chance at fulfillment because it defies society’s conventions?”

A brief surge of hope flared in Sorial’s heart, only to be extinguished by the duke’s next words, which left no room for doubt or optimism.

“But I can’t give my consent. It has nothing to do with your being a commoner and her being of noble birth. There’s something more at work than you’re aware of. It’s not within my capacity to offer her to you, no matter how much I might want to. I know you love each other but there are times when duty must trump love, and this is one of those. It was that way with my wife and I. Both of us loved others at the time of our marriage but we recognized there are instances when personal happiness must be sacrificed for the greater good. Alicia’s betrothal, which will be formalized tomorrow, was determined at the time of her birth. It’s not something I could set aside even if I wanted to.”

Sorial sat silently, unable to speak. He felt like he had been kicked in the chest by a particularly nasty horse. Alicia had been right. They should have run away. More fool him for thinking this could go any differently. Now all was lost.

Carannan reached over and tugged the pull-bell in the corner. The secondary door to the room opened almost immediately to reveal the duke’s butler. “Bring her in,” he said. Moments later, the man returned with Alicia in tow. The splotchy red patches on her face bespoke a lengthy bout of crying.

“Alicia, sit down,” said the duke, motioning to a chair to the side of the desk. She obeyed without speaking. The look she directed at Sorial expressed the depth of her hurt and desperation. He clenched his teeth in an effort to fight back tears. He didn’t want her to see him cry. Not here. Not now.

“I think it’s time for openness among us,” said Carannan. “It may make what must come a little easier.” The trace of a smile was intended to reassure but neither Alicia nor Sorial felt more at ease.

“Difficult as she can be at times, my daughter means the world to me. I’d give my life in an instant to save hers. But there are things even one such as I can’t control, and those are often the cruelest taskmasters. You mother has taught you that, I’m sure, Sorial. After all, this mantra has defined her life.”

Sorial started at that. He had almost forgotten how so many of the players of this game were connected. The strands of the web reached into wealthy mansions and threadbare farmsteads. How much did Carannan know about his past?

“Right now, you two love each other and can’t see beyond that. I understand. I once loved a woman with equal passion but duty called me from her to another.” The duke looked directly at Alicia. “That ‘other’ was your mother. Had I stayed with the woman I loved, you never would have been born. And you mean more to me than my lover ever did. It didn’t seem so at the time, but giving her up was the right decision. Hard - one of the hardest things I’ve ever done - but right.

“I respect that you came to me instead of doing something foolish like running off with each other. That would have been unfortunate and unwise. Ever since I realized how deep your feelings ran, I’ve had you shadowed and watched. You would have been intercepted if you tried to flee Vantok.”

“Father, how could you have allowed this to happen? If you knew we loved each other but could never be together…I never thought you could be so cruel.”

Sadness clouded Carannan’s features. “If I made mistakes, I’ll have to live with them as surely as you two will. My apologies to you both. Would keeping you apart have been the solution? Only the gods know that, and these days they’re not speaking to anyone, even the priests. Tomorrow, perhaps you’ll understand a little more of why I did what I’ve done.”

“Can we have a few moments together?” asked Alicia. “Just the two of us. If nothing else, we have to say goodbye.”

“Of course,” said Carannan. “Alone in this room. You won’t be allowed to leave together. Alicia, after this, return to your quarters. Sorial, go back to the barracks. You’ll be excused from your duties tomorrow so you can attend Alicia’s betrothal. Afterward, I’ll give you a choice: you can continue in my employ with a different assignment or go your own way. Either way, it will be a long time before you'll have another unchaperoned opportunity with each other. I’m sorry about that, but it’s for both your sakes.”

Having said his peace, Carannan exited via the door through which Alicia had entered.

“I hate him!” Alicia’s tiny hands clenched into fists. “All that shit about class not mattering that he preached when I was a child... now I see the truth. He likes to think he’s above it all. Hypocrite.”

Sorial waited for some of her anger to run its course before speaking. “You were right. We should have left.” His words were sad and broken, a reflection of how he felt.

“You heard what he said. We were being watched. It never would have worked. We were trapped. How could he have let it come to this? He could have stopped us seeing each other at any time. Then you’d still have Annie and I would have just lost a friend. He let this go on. He must have known.”

“It can’t be over.” It was surreal – something that had been building over the years couldn’t end this abruptly, especially when it had taken them so long to acknowledge their feelings. “Someday, there will be a chance. If we play along with them, they’ll relax their guard. Given enough time, I can set things up. I don’t care what it takes.”

“It could work. We’ll have to be patient and it will mean betraying my husband. It won’t be easy. My father’s a smart man. We’ll have to abide by his rules, or at least appear to.”

“We could use Rexall as a go-between.” Sorial had no plan but he had so much determination that it didn’t feel like one was needed…yet. They had hope, the ghost of a prospect to be together, and that was enough.

Their parting kiss was soft and deep, more an expression of longing than passion. Their lips lingered on each other’s, trying to extend the moment. Neither of them knew when they might next have this chance, let alone the opportunity to go further. Even after they drew apart, they spent a long time gazing into each other’s eyes, trying to freeze the instant, to hold it close. But time marched on. The future waited.

On the other side of the door to his study, Carannan turned from where he had been listening. It was enough to know they would fight for each other. The two young lovers had been pushed past the point of no return. He had helped to administer that push.

They
- he and the other architects of this plot - had succeeded. He had played his part, and played it well. Technically, this was a triumph. Why then did he feel so horrible about what had passed and what was yet to come?

* * *

The chamber where Alicia’s betrothal was to be announced was much like the throne room, only smaller and less ostentatious. High on the walls, stained glass windows ringed the room, admitting a waterfall of gently colored light. Below them hung rich tapestries depicting acts of legendary heroism. At the front was the throne, an exact replica of the one in the larger audience hall. Four wooden pews offered a place where supplicants and witnesses could sit.

This was the first time Sorial had been close to the palace, let alone inside it. Stableboys had little cause to venture into this part of the city. Under different circumstances, he would have been excited by the opportunity but the bleakness of his mood muted the experience. The duke’s uncompromising pronouncement was foremost in his mind, crowding out other thoughts and considerations. Despite the promises he and Alicia had exchanged about the future, their present prospects weren’t good. It would be painful to watch her given to another man, even if that man was King Azarak. He hoped the speculation was wrong. How could he steal away with her if she became the queen of Vantok? One could run away with a serving maid or a whore but not the wife of a king.

The audience gathered for Alicia’s betrothal was sparse and didn’t come close to filling the room. On the pew in front of Sorial sat the honored family - Alicia, her mother, and the duke - along with a priest. Next to Sorial was Vagrum, and to his right were several nobles with whom he was unfamiliar. Warburm sat directly behind Sorial. The innkeeper’s presence was a surprise but not as big of one as Warburm’s companion. What was Lamanar doing here? The association between Warburm and Carannan didn’t explain why the innkeeper would be at such an august event. Lamanar’s attendance was even more confusing. Curiosity and suspicion took root in Sorial’s mind, pushing back some of the glumness.

Catching his son’s eye, Lamanar nodded a curt greeting. Out of politeness, Sorial returned the gesture before turning his gaze to the girl, about to be named a woman, in front of him.

Alicia was simply dressed for the occasion, having refused the numerous showy gowns her mother had pressed her to wear. She had chosen a modest white garment that hung nearly to her shoes but clung enough to display her figure. Her hair was molded into an intricate crown of golden braids.

Sorial stared at her from behind, but she didn’t turn. She hadn’t looked in his direction since entering the chamber. He could tell from the tightness of her shoulders that she was tense and unhappy. For his part, he wanted to be anywhere but here. They had spoken of patience during that last meeting in Carannan’s office; now, they would have to practice it.

The large double-doors at the back of the hall opened and everyone except Alicia turned to look. An aging man, whom Sorial assumed to be Chancellor Toranim, stepped into the chamber and pronounced in a loud, clear voice: “All rise and do honor to His Eminence, Prelate Ferguson.” Everyone executed a bow or curtsey as the hale and sprightly principal of Vantok’s temple strode down the strip of red carpet toward the throne. Only when he took his place behind it and slightly to one side did he return the onlookers’ salutations, releasing them from their obeisance.