The Last Whisper of the Gods (15 page)

“What happened?” he tried to say, but the words came out as a rasp.

Alicia placed a wet rag to his lips so he could suck the water from it to moisten his mouth and throat. The first swallow was painful but it became easier after that.

“What happened?” he repeated, still softly but loud enough for her to understand.

“You were set upon by bandits in the stable. You killed two before you were shot. The Watch drove off the others. Everyone thought you’d die, including my father’s healer. But when the fever broke yesterday, he said your recovery made him believe the gods still held men in their favor.”

A sense of déjà vu enveloped Sorial. Another time, lying on this same bed in this same room. Only now it was Alicia by his side, not Annie.

“How long?”

“Fifteen days.” She pressed the rag to his lips again. He reached up with his right hand to hold it in place. Both arms felt weak.

“I have to get Warburm,” she said. “He asked to be told when you woke up.”

Sorial dozed. When he next opened his eyes, Alicia was gone, her fair features replaced by the craggy ones of the innkeeper.

“The gods must favor you, lad.” His voice sounded weary. “That be two attacks you survived. Both times, your death were written.”

“I thought the gods had turned their backs on men,” said Sorial.

“Prelate Ferguson could use you as a counter-example. Everyone thought you was finished. Everyone ’cept the duke’s daughter. She wouldn’t give up on you. She been here with you every day since it happened. Had to give her a room. For free.”

Sorial swallowed to keep his throat moist. “How bad was I hurt?”

“We had three healers here to look at you, including the duke’s personal one and one from the temple. They agreed you should be dead. But you ain’t. You overcame the blood poisoning caused by the ball, which were the main danger. Your thigh be healing well enough that you won’t have no limp. If your recovery dinna stall, you can be on your feet in a week or two and back to work afore the end of Winter.”

“And Visnisk?” asked Sorial, remembering the crumpled form.

“Dead. Throat slit from side to side. He never knew his hour were up. The second employee of this inn to be killed within a year. You might’ve been the third.”

“Send Alicia home. She ain’t safe here.”

“Easy, lad,” said Warburm. “There be no place safer for the Lady Alicia than in this building. Plus, she be with her big handler and a pair of the duke’s best personal guards. They be below us in the common room. Then there be the simple matter of telling her to leave. When I suggested it, she made it clear that though she got a dainty appearance, her tongue be honed to maim.”

“Why’s she here?” murmured Sorial, almost to himself.

“C’mon, lad!” scolded Warburm. “You know the way of the world as well as I. Don’t act the fool.”

“There’s no point to it. She’s wasting her time. She and I… there ain’t no future. She’s a duke’s daughter, already betrothed to a man she don’t know. I’m a stableboy. My best prospect is dead, her ashes scattered to the wind.”

“Listen to me, lad. I done seen stranger things than the likes of you two together, and I been to every city from Syre to Vantok. Before I bought this inn, I were a wanderer and adventurer and I done learned that when fate got its eye set on something, ordinary obstacles be swept aside. If that be for you two, nothing’ll keep you apart, least of all a class difference. There be ways around artificial barriers like that. I objected to your relationship with Annie because it didn’t feel right. She weren’t good enough for you. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but that be the truth. The duke's daughter be altogether different. You and her...that be a match I could get behind. If the gods done turned their backs on us - or worse - it may not matter whose blood runs in our veins.”

It was the most remarkable speech Sorial had ever heard the taciturn innkeeper make. For the man who had dissuaded him from pursuing something permanent with Annie, a suitable partner, to encourage a liaison with Alicia… Sorial felt sure something was going on beyond simple “fatherly advice.” Warburm and Carannan knew one another. This couldn’t be idle counsel. Was it the innkeeper’s roundabout way of hinting that the duke might not block a seemingly impossible courtship?”

“Do you think… Would Duke Carannan object if I spent more time with Alicia?”

“Go gently, lad. Dinna rush things. The duke be a good man but even he canna toss aside propriety on a whim. You be young and she be younger. Time ain’t your enemy yet.”

So Warburm advised patience - an ally whose assistance Sorial rarely sought. It was something to ponder once his immediate concerns were resolved.

“The four that attacked me - were they bandits?”

Warburm frowned. “That be the official explanation, but I ain’t sure I agree. By their clothes, their means, and their weapons, they was more likely hired assassins, though the gods only know why such as them would be in my stable. They ain’t from this city and even the Temple’s diviners, who be experts at discovering the identities of the dead, ain’t been able to say nothing about who they be and who sent them.

“Your mother been here several times asking to see you. I let her to look in on you but didn't let her stay. I know things between you ain’t smooth, but her concern be real. If’n you got no objections, I’d like to send a messenger letting her know you be awake and on the way to recovery.”

Sorial nodded. He knew Kara loved him but it would be difficult facing her until she was forthcoming. Secrets formed the barrier between them and only she had the power to tear it down. What was it she had said?
What you and I - and others - are involved in is in deadly earnest.
Assassins in the stable? Perhaps there was cause to wonder whether the attack had been random…and reason to think it could happen again.

“Anyone else visit?”

“That friend of yours, the lad with the red hair. He seemed more interested in flirting with the Lady Alicia, though. She put him off as only she can. The duke were here on a daily basis of course. He sat in here with his daughter. Those two watchmen you be friendly with. They done blame themselves for what happened. They was on duty that night in this district and felt they should have stopped things. They was the ones who saved your life. They heard the commotion and got here before the survivors could finish you off. Most of the Watch put this down to general lawlessness, but those two took it personally. That be the kind of dedication we need more of. Men who serve out of a desire to protect not because they get a purse of brass studs every month.”

“They couldn’t have known,” said Sorial. “They said they’d keep an eye on me after the last attack, but that was years ago.”

“Get some rest, lad. I’ll send someone up with broth and ale. No doubt you be famished, not having had food for a couple weeks. You be starting to look scrawny ’neath those sheets. It’ll take a full season before you’ll be able to fork the hay with the same gusto.”

Warburm departed to be replaced by Alicia, who sat in the chair next to his bedside. He noticed how tired she looked. Her hair was drab and lifeless and there was pronounced bruising under her eyes.

“He said you’ve been here since it happened. It must have felt like a death watch at times.”

She smiled wanly. “I owe you, remember? Let’s call it even. I don’t like being in debt.”

“I appreciate it. It means a lot to me.” He paused, trying to figure out how to word the apology and explanation. “I’m sorry I ain’t visited you, but it’s taken me a long time to cope with Annie’s death. I weren’t prepared for what it would be like to lose someone that close. To finally let someone in only to have them taken away...”

“You and I are alike in that. Oh, I have my father and mother, but they see me more as a trophy than a daughter. I’m someone to treasure and protect, not love. I’m the fruit of their union, the means by which their mutual ancient bloodlines can continue. My father occasionally hugs me but I can’t remember the last time I had any contact with my mother. She’s rarely part of my life. You haven’t met her and you probably never will.” The trace of rancor in her voice was unmistakable. “Vagrum is kind and paternal, but he’s being paid a king’s ransom to suspend his life to care for me. You’re the only one who’s never expected anything from me, who’s never been intimidated by my rank. It was exasperating at first, but then it was refreshing: someone who didn’t give a shit that I have money, power, and connections. All you wanted to do was sneak a swim in the river. Vagrum told me your attitude meant I’d found a friend, not a hanger-on. I had trouble getting my head around that:
a friend
. I wanted to see you more, but it’s hard for the daughter of a duke to contrive ways to spend time with someone so far beneath her class.”

“And Annie?”

“I would have liked to have gotten to know her better. I think we could have been friends too, even though she was twice my age. I envied the simplicity of her life and what she had with you, and I’m not the sort of person who envies. Most of the time, I get what I want. It’s a defining characteristic of my existence. It has been since I was little. I’ve always known I was special and I’m duty-bound to marry a great man, and those are things I’ve clung to from childhood.”

“All these attacks…do you find them alarming? As if there’s a connection?”

“Considering how things are in the city now? No. I mean, Vagrum and I were set upon by footpads several streets over. We don’t know what happened to Annie, but it wasn’t near the inn. Random and senseless. That road isn’t the safest, especially for a woman on her own. If I’d been thinking, I would have sent one of the guards with her to see her safely back here. As for what happened here... horses are worth a lot and there are thieves who won’t hesitate to murder a stableboy or two to steal a few. No doubt they were unprepared for my gift. Instead of a pitchfork, you had one of the finest blades in the city.”

“It saved my life.” Sorial knew he had survived because they hadn’t expected him to be armed. They thought that he, like Visnisk, would be easy prey. But horse thieves? He didn’t think so. Maybe three years ago, but not now. Not after talking to Warburm. This was something else, something…sinister.

Still, the time to puzzle it out wasn’t now. His thoughts were becoming fuzzy, unfocused. Her face was swimming before his eyes.

“I need to sleep for a while. Warburm said he was sending up some food. I’ll eat later.”

“It’s okay. I’ll stay with you and be here when you wake up.”

And she was.

By the time Winter blossomed into Planting and the harvesting of fields began, Sorial was walking without aid and approaching the day when he could return to duty. Soreness lingered, however, especially in the area where the ball had penetrated. Curiously, Warburm wasn’t pressing him about going back into the stables, perhaps showing more sensitivity than Sorial had previously given him credit for.

He missed Alicia more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He had gotten used to her being around but, after it was clear the danger was past, her father became adamant that she return home. Since then, she had seen him once; Carannan no longer felt it was safe for her to be away from the ducal estate. The situation in the city was worsening with bandits openly flouting the law. There was widespread suspicion that factions of the Watch were colluding with the outlaws. The one time she had visited during his convalescence, she had been accompanied by Vagrum and four armed and armored guards.

Sorial occasionally spent time at the river, but Alicia was never there, and he didn’t feel right about approaching the house. That was another world - one where he didn’t belong. Despite Warburm’s hint that Carannan might not oppose a liaison between Sorial and Alicia, if such a thing was pursued tactfully, he didn’t feel comfortable making the attempt. It was one thing to daydream about being allowed to court Alicia but another to take the steps necessary to make it a reality. It was more likely that Carannan would forbid them ever to contact one another than cheerfully greet the prospect of his daughter consorting with a poor stableboy.

“You’re getting moody again,” said Rexall, playfully punching Sorial in the shoulder. The two were sitting on a bench in the marketplace, idly watching passers-by and sellers hawking their wares. The midday heat wasn’t yet stifling, but in another few weeks this place would be deserted until the evening hours. Vantok had acclimated as well as possible to the new weather patterns, but the criminal element was proving to be a greater challenge than the climate, especially for visiting merchants. Everyone expected the king to take steps to bolster the Watch and cull those within its ranks who were consorting with bandits but, thus far, he had done little beyond pleading with the populace to keep calm and trust in their faith. If Sorial had once accepted the existence of the gods, he no longer did. The Temple would brand him a heathen but that label no longer held the stigma it once had. Even within the brotherhood of clerics, there were men whose faith had withered.

“Lemme guess,” said Rexall. “The small blond with the tiny tits.”

“Hmm?” Sorial re-focused his attention on the here and now. “They ain’t that tiny.”

“I can tell when you’re thinking about her. You need to move on. There’s plenty of other girls out there who’ll do a lot more with you in the hay than a duke’s daughter will. It’s time for you to stop pining over what you can’t have.”

Rexall meant well, but his get-over-it message irritated Sorial. “Once your girl’s been killed and you’ve been shot and stabbed, maybe I’ll listen to you.”

“No need to snap at me. I’m just asking what it is about little Alicia that’s got you bewitched. Nice face, I admit, but tiny tits and a boy’s ass.”

Sorial didn’t understand it himself, never mind being able to convey it to Rexall. Why did he think of her so often? Alicia was brittle and soft at the same time, a conflicting mix of vinegar and vulnerability. At night, he imagined he could smell a faint vestige of her honeysuckle scent, either lingering in the air from her long stay in the room or in his memory - he couldn’t say which.

“She stayed with me, Rex. All those days and nights when everyone thought I was going to die. That’s got to mean something.”

“Maybe to you and her, but not to her father. Face it, Sorial, he’s a duke.
A duke
. Not a fuckin’ innkeeper, farmer, or merchant. He thinks of you the same way he does a favored hound. He’s kind to you, throws you scraps, and scratches you behind the ears but if you start sniffing around his daughter, he’ll have you put down. And let’s assume you get close enough to her for a tumble… How fun d’you think that’ll be? Ain’t no one plowed that field yet. That means blood, pain, and tears. Probably never even been kissed.”

A twitch in Sorial’s cheek muscle betrayed him. Rexall continued, “Okay, so maybe she’s been kissed. But no more. Being a teacher is overrated, Sor. You want someone with experience. Like Annie. Gods, I wish she’d lived. She was good for you.”

“Maybe you’re right, but with Alicia, it ain’t about sex.”
At least not entirely…

“With girls, it’s
always
about sex. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise. Sex and having babies. And with the duke’s daughter, if the one led to the other, you’d end up decorating a gibbet somewhere on his property.”

The bleak pragmatism of Rexall’s views struck a nerve. Sex was the glue that had bonded him to Annie. There was no denying that, but Annie had been a sexual creature. Was it the promise of sex, however unlikely, that kept Alicia roaming his thoughts? Did he want her as much as he had wanted Annie? There were times when, as he lay abed at night, his thoughts turned to what it would be like to share the sheets with Alicia.

Recognizing that his friend was weary of talking about women, Rexall asked, “So, in one more season, you’re free of Warburm. What’s next? You still plan on leaving Vantok to see the world?”

Sorial nodded. The subject had been in the forefront of his thoughts recently. “I’ll wait till Summer’s over. I don’t want to start a journey in the heat.”

“No more mucking stables.”

“No more,” agreed Sorial. “Warburm’s had my childhood. Now it’s time for something different.”

Of course, leaving Vantok would mean leaving Alicia. How difficult would that be when it was more than a distant possibility? For now, it was still in the future, but it wouldn’t be long before the future migrated into the present.

“If you want company, just ask. Every time I stick my pitchfork into a pile of moldy, shit-caked straw, I feel a surge of wanderlust. And, of course, a desire to see if the women of other cities fuck the same way they do here.”

“Thanks. I don’t really want to go alone.”

Later that afternoon, Warburm asked for a word in private. Sorial assumed it was time for him to return to work. He surreptitiously probed the scar from the wound and determined it wasn’t too tender to deter him.

As they sat across a table from one another in an isolated side room, the innkeeper said, “I had a long talk with Duke Carannan this afternoon and he done made an offer. If you got interest, I’ll release you from the rest of your contract. Ain’t no better worker around, lad, but you and I both know your days in the stable be done. You’d never be able to work there again without seeing danger in the shadows. The boys I done hired to replace you and Visnisk will work out fine once they been properly trained. They won’t never be your equal, but I knew I’d be losing you in another season anyway, so this time had to come.”

“The duke? Does he want me to muck out his stables?” This wasn’t at all what Sorial had been expecting.

“He wants you to join his personal militia. He thinks you got what it takes to be a fine military man. Untrained, you took out two of those ruffians that tried to kill you. Ain’t many stableboys who could make that claim. Nine out of ten boys in those circumstances would be dead and they wouldn’t have taken anyone with ’em. For what it be worth, I agree with him. You ain’t meant to waste away in a stable. Time to groom you for a better life. And I figured there might be another incentive beyond getting away from horses and hay.”

Were they intentionally taunting him? “She’s a duke’s daughter.”

“We already had this conversation, lad. I guess my words didn’t get inside that skull of yours. If you obsess about class differences, you ain’t never gonna get what you want. Prove your worth to the duke. He be a fair minded man, unlike many with titles and land. He knows the world be changing, and things that might have been unthinkable ain’t no longer so. Do whatever it takes.
Whatever
.”

“She’s betrothed.”

“Betrothed, yes, but she ain’t married, leastaways not yet. And you don’t know the nature of the betrothal. It ain’t a normal kind of attachment. There be some…irregularities in the arrangement.”

“You know?”

Warburm nodded. “Aye, but it ain’t something I be at liberty to discuss. The duke and I share a few confidences. All will be revealed at the lass’ Maturity next Harvest.”

“I know you’re more’n just an innkeeper. There’s something going on here - something that draws people like Duke Carannan, priests, and nobles from other cities. I’ve watched those men go in and out of the inn for years, and Annie said you take pains to make sure the meetings ain’t overheard or interrupted. What’s it all about?”

The innkeeper frowned. One hand stroked his stubbled chin. Sorial could tell he was trying to determine how much, if anything, he should reveal.

“I be part of a society, lad - a group of people committed to a… common goal. You done seen a few of our number, but not all. We cross classes and city boundaries. There ain’t many of us, but enough to ensure we pursue the purpose that’s bound us since our beginning.”

It wasn’t enough for Sorial, but it was something. What could bind such a diverse group of people? Something to do with the current crisis? Something to do with the gods? Something to do with Sorial’s parentage?

“Did you know my father? My
real
father, not the fraud Lamanar.”

Warburm’s scowl spoke as loudly as his words. “You do Lamanar a disservice. He be a good man who’s sacrificed as much as any of us, and more’n many. I known him for a long time, more’n half my life, and there ain’t no one else I’d done rather have at my back in a tight spot.”

“He sold me to you and forced my mother to be a whore.”

“Have a care when you use a word like ‘forced.’ We all got roles to play. You as well. You was sold to me not because Lamanar wanted the money but because I were better suited to watch over you than him. It weren’t something your mother wanted, but she knew it were for the best. You’ve wronged her, lad. Everything she’s done has been done out of love for you. She could have followed a different path and had comfortable life in Syre with a husband and a stable family. Instead, she chose poverty in the house of a man she don’t love just to be close to you. Yet you refuse to see her because she don’t tell you things about your past that needs be kept secret until the time’s right. Every night she cries herself to sleep hoping you’ll forgive her. Next time you feel self-pity because of your part in all this, think of what she sacrificed.”

They were remarkably frank words, even if they didn’t add up to a full explanation, and they had their intended effect. Sorial felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t thought about things from Kara’s perspective.

“You know a lot about my mother,” said Sorial.

Warburm nodded. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, lad. You be trying to put it all together. Figger it out. You know some of it, but not all, and the missing be frustrating. My advice: give it up for now. The answers will come in their own time. When you need them, they’ll be there. The biggest danger be that you’ll make a mistake now and miss something, and that’ll get you killed or worse. I’ll be open with you, lad: people have died to put you in the position you be in now, and more people will die before everything be over. Maybe that’ll include you.”

“So the attack…?”

“Can’t say for sure. Could it have been random? Of course. There be a lot of violence in the city now, as there be all across the world.”

“You’re sending me to the duke because you can’t keep me safe here.”

Warburm nodded. “You’ve been attacked twice and survived more by luck than skill. That ain’t a judgment; it be a fact. The first, well, I think that were just a horse thief emboldened by the situation. The second…we may never know. Whether you be a target yet or not, you will be. You got to be able to defend yourself. The duke’s feelings about you be sincere. He be a member of the group, but he don’t know the things about you I know. At least not all of ’em.”

“And my father?” Sorial was unwilling to let the subject drop, especially now that Warburm was in a talkative mood.

The innkeeper sighed. “I done knew your father. Knew him well, in fact - leastaways I thought I did. Knew your mother in those times as well. He were a proud man, your father. Dark, dangerous, and hard to pin down. Had something of a fall from grace, so to speak. Don’t ask me for his name. I won’t give it to you and it wouldn’t mean anything, anyways. He were born and bred in the North; he had a duty to perform and he did it, as did we all. You could spend your entire life looking for him and you wouldn’t find him unless he wanted it.”

“Is he a member of your society?”

“
Were
be a better word. He
were
a member. When his duty were done, he left. The burden were passed to your mother and me and others.”

“Will I ever meet him?”

“I can’t answer that, lad. I don’t know for sure whether he be alive or dead. He lives the kind of life that gets many a man killed and he ain’t getting younger. I don’t know what the future holds. If the gods have turned away, the prophesies be void and the words of the augers empty. Whatever fate or providence remains may plan for your path and his to cross, ’specially if he decides to seek you out for his own purposes.”