The Last Whisper of the Gods (35 page)

“I was eaten by guilt and confessed my sin to Ferguson. I expected anger but there was none. Some disappointment, perhaps, but understanding as well. He was most concerned that Kara might give birth to my child, and my bloodline wasn’t optimal for the conception of a wizard. Ultimately, his fears were unfounded. The twins were images of their father; it was almost as if Kara had no part in their heritage.

“Ferguson assigned me no penance, saying only, ‘Let your conscience guide you in this matter, my son.’ My feelings for Kara hadn’t changed. If anything, our brief time together made me want her more. So I did the only thing I could think of to remedy the situation: I submitted myself for gelding. I was gone from the settlement for a full season. When I returned, no one said anything except Kara, who was full of concern about where I’d been and whether I was all right. And although I no longer lusted for her as a man for a woman, I loved her no less.

“After your mother gave birth to the twins, life settled down for a few years. Warburm departed on an errand for Ferguson. When he returned, he brought with him influenza. It’s perhaps unfair to blame him for your brother’s death, but I know Kara always has. Until he returned sick and coughing and set off an outbreak that swept through our settlement and killed four people, she regarded him with the affection of a girl for a favorite uncle. The death of her first-born son frosted their relationship, and the ice has never fully thawed. It was heartbreaking watching your mother caring for her dying boy, all the while knowing that she might have to sacrifice the other one someday. I sometimes wonder if it would have been different had the disease taken the other son. But questions like that are better left to the gods, and they are no more.

“After your brother’s death, Ferguson decreed that it was too chancy to place all our hopes in one boy. ‘There must always be at least two.’ So he recalled Maraman from wherever he had gone to ground and the moon cycle ritual was repeated. Three seasons later, Kara gave birth to a girl. There was some disappointment about the sex, but Ferguson assured us there were no prohibitions regarding female wizards.

“For ten years, there was harmony. Kara and her children, Braddock and Ariel, lived a simple, peaceful life. I was always there for them. Warburm came and went, frequently running errands for Ferguson. During that decade-long interval, we could almost forget our greater purpose and experience the simple beauty of living. But, as Braddock approached his Maturity, it became necessary to tell him of his heritage and teach him of his purpose.

“He reacted well, as might be expected from one born to duty. From the day he was told he might die at the portal to the moment when he did, his faith never wavered. He had absolute confidence he would pass whatever test was set before him. He died in fire and pain, with only three witnesses to view his failure: myself, Warburm, and Ferguson. Never before or after have I seen the prelate so shaken to his core. Like Braddock, he never considered
failure
. Faced with its certainty, he didn’t know how to cope.”

“Why did my brother die?” asked Sorial. He knew the theories; he wanted to know Lamanar’s opinion. Lamanar, who had been there.

“Ferguson blamed the portal, believing it to be defective. He might have blamed me, accusing me of siring Braddock and his brother, Craddock, if the boys’ appearances hadn’t argued otherwise. He also considered the possibility that we mistimed the attempt. Though he was sure the gods were going to restore magic, perhaps they hadn’t yet done so. Ferguson made excuses for the failure but ignored the most likely cause: that his ‘foolproof’ method for making a wizard was flawed. No matter how strong the pedigree, there was no guarantee the candidate was touched by magic. Braddock was unmagical and the portal did what it had always done to the unmagical - it destroyed him.”

“As it may destroy me,” said Sorial, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. For the first time, he realized how strongly he had relied on the protection of his heredity. If Lamanar was right and it didn’t matter...

Lamanar sighed, then coughed weakly before responding. “Your blood will give you a better chance than someone like me would have, but Braddock is proof there’s no certainty in this. Deep down, Ferguson knows this. I have no doubt there’s another option should you fail, although it’s not a child of Kara’s. Ferguson has planned this for too long to have everything invested in you.”

In Ariel, Sorial had found a cause for hope. His sister was magical. She had survived the portal. So there was at least some validity in Ferguson’s theory. But he had no way of knowing his chances. Had Braddock been an outlier? Or Ariel? Or was the truth somewhere in between. Might he have the same odds flipping a coin as facing the portal?

“Things changed after Braddock’s death. The spark of optimism faded. A number of followers left the settlement, never to return. Your mother kept to herself, accepting the blame for Braddock’s death. The one most profoundly affected was Ariel. Until her brother’s demise, she yearned for the day when she could embrace the portal and join him - two great wizards of the new order. As he embarked on his final journey, she said how much she envied him. Afterward, her extraverted spirit collapsed. She became moody and prone to bouts of crying. And, one day about a year before her date with the portal, she fled during the night.”

“What happened to her?” asked Sorial. He, of course, knew the answer.

“No one knows,” said Lamanar. “We conducted extensive searches but there was no trace. It was obvious that her exodus was well-planned, not a sudden impulse of panic. Looking back, we understood that the long ‘hikes’ she’d been taking for more than a season leading up to her disappearance were scouting expeditions. She got to know the land as well or better than those who tracked her. She learned how to cover her tracks and undoubtedly smuggled out provisions. It’s even possible she had a mount waiting for her somewhere. We’ll never know.

“Your mother persists in a belief that she’s alive. I think that to be overly optimistic. The wilds are cruel to children although, in some ways, civilization is more hostile. The best she could have hoped for was to end up working in a brothel or as a serving wench in a highway tavern. She was comely and could have traded on her looks, but in that line of work such things wear out quickly. If she didn’t fall prey to wild animals, bandits, or the other perils of traveling in the North, whatever beauty she possessed would soon be gone.

“You owe your existence to Ariel. Her flight forced Ferguson to recall Maraman one last time. On this occasion, he was there under duress. Age had sapped his stamina and strength, but there was something else about him that set my teeth on edge. He had lost all faith in what we were doing and made it plain that his lone reason for being in the settlement was to pay a debt. After a fortnight of often frustrating sessions with Kara, he left. I haven’t seen him since although Warburm claims to have met him several times, once as recently as three years ago at the inn. For all I know, you may have tended to his horse and taken the reins from him. He’s an old man by now but, as Ferguson has proven, old men can be dangerous.”

Lamanar’s pronouncement caused Sorial’s memories to strain back three years, trying to remember the faces of old men who had passed through the stable. It was an impossible task. Everything about his life working for Warburm was one big blur and there had been more old men than he could count on his fingers and toes ten times over. Attempting to resolve individual patrons was impossible. The thought that he might have encountered his father, however briefly, and possibly exchanged the usual pleasantries was disconcerting. Perhaps the more pertinent question was whether Maraman had known
his
identity if they had met. Would it have been to Warburm’s advantage to keep it hidden or reveal it?

“Maybe it was the last boon of the gods that you were born. The odds were against it. Maraman was near impotent and your mother was at an age when many children are lame of mind or body. Yet you were a hale, healthy baby. And your birth signaled the end of an era.

“Ferguson didn’t want you raised in a wild settlement like Sussaman. He wanted you close to him, where he could watch over you if necessary. The decision was made that three of us would accompany you to Vantok: your mother, Warburm, and me, posing as Kara’s husband and your father.

“It was then, I think, that I lost whatever faith was remaining to me. I saw my life spread out before me as a farce. At long last, I could spend my days with the woman I loved, but not as a man, because I had given that part of myself to the gods. So, instead of marrying her with the blessing of the Temple, I was cursed to sleep beside her as nothing more than a bed warmer on cold Winter nights. Some would say I should be thankful to have been able to live with her and work beside her for so many years, close enough to touch any time I wanted. Those who would say such a thing know nothing. It’s a peculiar kind of torture, and it seemed that the gods, whether alive or dead, were laughing at me. I saw you as a symptom of the mockery my ‘true and faithful service’ had become.”

Over the course of his narration, Lamanar’s breathing had become increasingly labored and his voice had dropped to a whisper. But, despite his obvious distress, he showed no signs of stopping until every secret was revealed. After a lengthy pause during which he sucked greedily on a damp cloth to relieve the dryness of his mouth and tongue, he continued. Sorial had to bend close to hear him.

“There was a disagreement about what to do with you. Your mother wanted you to stay with us. Her reasoning was that you would be more isolated from prying eyes and safer as a result. Farmers rarely had visitors and it would be many years before a trip into the city proper would be necessary. Of course, Kara’s real reason was that she wanted you to be with her. She had lost three children and wanted the comfort of raising the fourth. I supported her not necessarily because I agreed with her reasons but because it was what she wanted.

“It wasn’t to be. Warburm argued that it made more sense for you to be at the inn. The girl with whom you were to be matched would have no way to meet you at the farm while encounters could be contrived if you lived in the city. Even then, when you were but a toddler and the Lady Alicia an infant, we had mapped out your lives. It took little effort to convince Duke Carannan to support our cause; it gave him hope that his daughter, whose status as The Wizard’s Bride was sealed upon her birth, might not die a disappointed spinster as so many had before her. And for you, how much sweeter the enticement of a pretty face and a fine figure when true love was involved? Ferguson, despite his status as a lifelong ascetic and confirmed bachelor, understood this and used it as his sharpest weapon against you. He knew that if you two fell in love, he would have control.

“I’ve said all I can say,” gasped Lamanar, his breathing now erratic. “Go back to waiting so I can die in peace. I’ve told you these things not because I desire absolution - it means little in a life when gods no longer exist - but because you deserve the truth, and I’m not certain anyone else will give it to you without first dipping it in honey and perfume. I’m headed for oblivion and I welcome its embrace. Those who love life are fearful of its end. My existence has become a burden I yearn to be free from. When I’m gone, you can do with my body as you see fit: burn it, bury it, or leave it for the animals. It will be of little import to me.” He paused, again struggling for breath, before adding. “And if you see your mother again, tell her my final thoughts were of her as she was during those early years. She was the one good thing in my life. I want her to know that.”

So saying, Lamanar closed his eyes to shut out the world around him. The sword remained in his lap. For a moment, Sorial thought he died with those words on his lips, but he saw that the chest was still rising and falling and knew Lamanar had at least a little time remaining. He did as he was bidden and returned to the spot across the clearing he had previously occupied. Darrin noticed his movement and gave him a curt nod and a half-smile.

For a half-hour nothing happened. Time crawled as the wait for Warburm’s return continued. Then, in a few moments of blood, anguish, and chaos, it all changed.

Sorial, who had been gazing in the direction in which Warburm and Brindig had departed, turned when he heard a strange gurgling noise followed by a thud. Greeted by a horrific tableau, he dropped to a fighting crouch and drew his dagger. Always a source of pride and comfort, Alicia’s gift suddenly seemed small and inadequate.

Lying face down near the edge of the clearing with the shaft of a spear protruding from the center of his back was Darrin. The weapon had been driven with such force that his thin vest of boiled leather provided no protection. The dirt beneath him was turning a muddy, rusty brown as the blood from the mortal wound seeped into it. Twenty feet to his right, Lamanar sat as he had when Sorial left him, except a thin red line had opened across his throat. The gaping wound dripped blood down his front and onto his lap, where his unsheathed sword rested. His eyes were closed.

There was no time for shock or grief. Six men were advancing on Sorial, the ones to the immediate left and right moving into a flanking position. They resembled the marauders who had pursued them to the north, with ragged cloth shirts and leggings and tattered boots that provided little protection from the terrain. Their weapons were crude, dented swords, although one had his blade strapped to his back and was hefting a spear like the one that had felled Darrin.

Sorial had only a split second to react. Warburm would have commanded him to flee and, for a moment, it remained a possibility. But he was committed to staying and meeting his fate. Then his enemies had him surrounded, ensuring that he would stand and fight and, like Darrin and Lamanar, die.