The Last Whisper of the Gods (10 page)

As the temperature climbed and the bright, cloudless sky provided little relief by way of rain, tempers shortened and work became unbearable. The streets bustled after dark but were nearly deserted at noon. Water was no concern - none of the city’s wells were running dry and the river, which found its source far upstream where the heat wave didn’t hold sway, was down only a little. Food, on the other hand, was scarce. Farmers were taking the brunt of the heat. Crops couldn’t survive and livestock was dying. Itinerant merchants traveling from the other cities often had their goods spoil before they could unload them and, without anything to fill their wagons for the return trip, they found minimal profit in pursuing the southern route. Warburm was no longer selling meals. His menu consisted of the basics: lukewarm ale, cooled somewhat in the underground cellars, and bread. Despite the meager fare, The Wayfarer’s Comfort was no less popular than it had ever been. It was a refuge from the sun during the day and a place to commiserate about the abandonment of the gods at night.

Harvest brought a welcome respite from the heat and things returned to near normal. Some farmers, heeding the weather forecasts of augers, planted once Summer’s fury abated, hoping for a warm enough Winter that their crops would grow rather than be buried under snow. If it worked, Vantok might be able to stave off a season of starvation. If it didn’t, it would be a cold, hard wait for Planting.

Lawlessness had risen to an unprecedented level, forcing the king to call up reservists in the militia to supplement the Watch. The anti-religious rumors were rampant, with the Temple’s “examples” of answered prayers and miracles no longer damming the growing fear of abandonment. People spoke of this new doctrine openly in taverns, brothels, and the market - an unthinkable thing as recently as a year ago. The heresy was too widespread to invite punishment and the priests had enough difficulty maintaining their own faith. Prelate Ferguson made several lengthy public speeches about the need for belief being greater during times of tribulation than during times of prosperity, but although many heard, few listened. If there were no gods, there was no afterlife, and that meant the
here and now
was all there would be. This allowed people to contemplate acts they might not otherwise have done.

Although Sorial didn’t again encounter Alicia, he saw her father on a regular basis. Carannan visited Warburm’s inn every other week and engaged in friendly banter with the young man he considered to be “the most conscientious stableboy in the city.” At times, despite the duke’s wealthy garb, Sorial nearly forgot he was a member of the nobility. He had a way about him that allowed others to feel at ease in his presence, regardless of their class. Sorial observed this with others as well as experiencing it himself.

One day, as Harvest bled into Winter and the year on the calendar changed, Sorial thought to ask Carannan about Alicia. The girl had infected his thoughts; even though he had only met her a handful of times, he found himself thinking about her with a disquieting frequency. Every time the duke arrived at the stable, Sorial couldn’t help but look beyond him to see if she was there.

“Your Grace,” he began as he saddled the man’s horse following a two-hour meeting in the inn. “Might I ask how your daughter is?”

The duke didn’t seem surprised or offended by the inquiry. “She’s well. She was disappointed not to have seen you during the swimming season. I’d bring her with me into the city more often but I don’t think sitting around in a stable for a couple of hours would be high on her list of favorite things, no matter how pleasant the company might be. And I daresay she’d try your patience. At thirteen, she’s more willful than ever.”

Sorial was about to protest, but Carannan forestalled him. “She can be charming when she wants to be but, like all women, she can also be exasperating. I love Alicia dearly, but there are times when it’s pleasant to be away from her for a little while.”

After the duke departed, Sorial considered his words. He understood Carannan’s point. Having not seen Alicia for two seasons, he missed her presence, but he recalled that on nearly every occasion they had been together, he had found her to be irritable and bratty.

Winter passed lazily into Planting, with no more than a few flakes of snow drifting groundward. For the second year in a row, the Midwinter’s carnival was held without snow or ice on the ground. The holiday generated some badly need optimism and ability of the farmers to harvest crops during a time normally reserved for the fields lying fallow, allowed people to hope. But as the heat began to build with the onset of Planting, the pessimism and unrest once again began to pool. One ill-fated day, it impacted Sorial directly.

It was an evening like any other and Sorial was doing what he did with the onset of night - a final mucking of the stalls followed by a few trips to the inn’s well to water the horses. There were three tonight, although the number might increase before midnight. He heard a noise outside - the sound of someone running - and turned to see a tiny figure rushing headlong toward him, a blur against the twilight background.

It was Alicia, but unlike the composed girl of their previous encounters. Her clothes were torn and mud-spattered. Her hair was in disarray. Tears and grime streaked her cheeks. Caught between bewilderment and alarm, he allowed her to fling herself at him and seize him as if in a death grip. Burying her head against his shoulder, she wept uncontrollably - great, wracking sobs.

Nonplused by the situation, Sorial, who had never been good coping with strong emotion in others, was at a loss how to respond. Tentatively, he closed his arms around her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. She was shivering as if fevered and he could feel how fast her heart was beating. As if by instinct, one hand slid up her back to stroke her hair. He was surprised how soft it was.

Sorial looked over her shoulder toward the entrance of the stable, searching to see if someone was following her. He could see no one, but dusk had descended. The two lanterns flanking the wide doorway offered poor illumination. He thought of his dagger, but it was hidden in the straw of his mattress, far beyond his reach at the moment.

Eventually, the storm of tears lessened and Alicia disengaged herself from Sorial, stepping back a short distance. She took a deep breath to compose herself. “It’s Vagrum. I think he’s dead. I… I don’t know what happened… it was all so fast and confused… but we were set upon by ruffians. They pulled me from my pony then overwhelmed him before he could draw his sword. There were at least ten of them. He yelled for me to run. There was nothing I could do… there were too many. Shepherd was rearing and one of them plunged a knife into his side. The sound he made… Then I heard a gunshot and Vagrum disappeared beneath them.”

“Come with me!” He grabbed her hand and half-led, half-dragged her toward the inn. Once inside, he raced into the kitchen, barely noticing the gapes of the customers and the shocked expressions of the serving girls and Mistress Ponari.

Warburm was where he always was at this time of night, baking that last loaves of the day’s bread. He glanced up as Sorial entered. A sharp rebuke died on his lips when he saw Alicia’s condition. Sorial related the situation in rushed words that tumbled over one another. The innkeeper reacted swiftly, springing into action before Sorial completed the story. He stripped off his apron reached for the locked box where he kept his pistols.

“Take her upstairs to your room. Bolt the door and don’t open it for no one except me or her father.”

“But…”

“Don’t argue, lad!” He turned to Alicia, who didn’t seem to be comprehending anything. “Alicia, I be going to get the Watch and your father. We’ll find Vagrum and get the scum who done this. For now, stay with Sorial. He’ll care for you.” Back to Sorial: “Upstairs!
Now!
”

Moments later, Sorial and Alicia were alone in his quarters, a locked door separating them from the bustle of the inn. Comforted by the knowledge that the dagger was close by, he sat on the bed and gently drew her down next to him, putting a companionable arm around her shoulders. He could feel her trembling and, by the faint light of the room’s single lantern, saw the tears pooling in her eyes - eyes that reflected her pain and confusion. The illusory safety of her life as the daughter of one of Vantok’s most influential nobles had been shattered. Regardless of Vagrum’s fate, she would never be the same.

“Alicia.” The sound of her name roused her and she looked at him. For a moment, he wondered if she knew who he was or where she was. “Alicia,” he repeated. “It ain’t your fault. There wasn’t nothing more you could’ve done. By running, you saved your life. More’n anything else, that’s what Vagrum would’ve wanted.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know,” said Sorial. “Warburm’s going to find out, and get your father.”

“I know Shepherd’s dead. I heard him whinny when they stabbed him. He didn’t deserve that. He was my closest friend.” She began to cry again. The sadness of that last statement touched Sorial. How lonely must Alicia’s life be for her pony to merit that distinction? He again drew her into an embrace, this time kissing her forehead as he might a young child. She didn’t resist.

Eventually, the tears stopped and she pulled back. “Thank you,” she said after a while, her voice surprisingly steady. “I’m sorry to have acted like a baby. But he was such a good pony and I’m not used to things happening like that. You hear about the lawlessness, but I never thought that with Vagrum… He can’t be dead.”

“He’s as tough as anyone I’ve met. It’s hard to imagine thugs could bring him down.” He didn’t add what he was thinking: If they had a gun, even Vagrum would have been in trouble.

“I need to be stronger than this when something bad happens. My father says the worst is still years off, and things aren’t going to get better for a long time. But it hurts so much in here.” She touched her breast.

Sorial was at a loss what to say or do. “If there’s anything you need…”

“You’ll provide it?” She smiled sadly. “It’s a sweet thought, stableboy, but you’re not in a position to make such offers. Thank you, though. It may take a long time before I can repay you for tonight. What you did is worth more than a few studs in the marketplace or a few swims in the river.” It was perhaps the most honest and unguarded thing she had said thus far to Sorial.

He was about to respond when a racket in the outside corridor attracted his attention. There was a loud knock accompanied by Warburm’s voice. “Sorial! Open up!”

Alicia clutched his hand and they went to the door together.

Warburm was red in the face and his hair was disheveled but, other than that, he looked no worse than usual. “Vagrum be alive,” he said. “He’s done taken a beating but he be too much of a brute for that to keep him down for long. One of them had a gun and fired but he weren’t hit. He ain’t sure what were.”

“What about Alicia’s pony?”

Warburm’s face registered surprise that his stableboy would be familiar enough with a duke’s daughter to mention her by name rather than title, but he didn’t remark on it. “The animal had to be put down.” He turned to Alicia. “Sorry, Milady. There were nothing we could do. He were too badly injured. Your father be on his way.”

“What about the robbers?” asked Alicia.

“They ain’t been caught, but the Watch be searching for them. They be part of a gang that’s been doing this ’round Vantok recently. They be getting more bold. In future, Milady, I suggest avoiding this quarter after dark, even when with Vagrum.” Warburm didn’t ask why the daughter of a noble would be in one of Vantok’s less reputable areas past dusk. “If you come down to the common room, we can wait for Duke Carannan there.”

“If it’s the same to you, innkeeper, I’d like to remain here with your stableboy. He’s been very kind and I’m not up to being a public spectacle.”

“Of course, Milady. I’ll bring your father when he arrives.”

After Warburm departed, shutting the door behind him, Sorial turned to Alicia. “Why were you in this part of the city tonight?”

She sighed. “It all seems so silly now, but I was coming to see you. I don’t know many people my age and I was feeling out-of-sorts. I wanted to be with someone who wouldn’t treat me like fragile pottery. Vagrum thought it was a good idea and my father approved. Now, it’s obvious I should have stayed home.”

“There ain’t no way you could’ve known something like this’d happen. People should be safe to walk the streets at night without fearing being set upon. It ain’t right.”

“Lessons of wisdom from my stableboy.” She took a step toward him, stood on tip-toe and touched her lips to his. Although surprised, Sorial didn’t pull back, and the kiss lasted longer than either of them intended. The sound of boot steps in the hall interrupted them. They drew apart, both a little embarrassed, as the door burst open and Duke Carannan rushed into the room, followed by two of his men-at-arms and Warburm.

“Alicia! Thank the gods you’re all right!” he exclaimed, lifting her off her feet and hugging her tightly. “I never would have forgiven myself if something happened to you!”

“I’m fine, Papa,” she said when he released her. “How’s Vagrum?”

“Broken ribs, a lump on the head and a lot of minor cuts and bruises. Nothing he hasn’t experienced before. He’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. I’ll have to buy you a replacement for Shepherd, though. I’m sorry, Alicia. I know how much you loved him.” He removed his right gauntlet and extended a muscular bare hand for Sorial to shake. “Sorial, I owe you a debt I may never be able to repay. Keep this in mind: if I can ever be of service to you, if it’s within my power, you’ll have it. Someday, if it’s the will of the gods, you’ll be a father and you’ll understand the importance of what you’ve done tonight.”