Chapter 14
They rode back a little slower than absolutely necessary, but Tristan needed the rest. Of course traveling and camping with a woman was very different than traveling with an all male company. The necessities of privacy and decency had to be observed and with a little extra effort were strictly adhered to. It was a joy to travel with one of his colleagues again. He did not always have to be watching what he said and did, fearing which small slip would shatter his disguise, and they had much in common and much to discuss. True, she was a musician and he was more of an adventurer or a soldier, but this gave them ample things to speak of. Taragon was eager to have another unicorn to travel with, especially a mare. The mare tolerated him as best she could, but still had to use a few well timed kicks or nips to rein in some of Taragon's enthusiasm. Unicorn courtship was a strange business and by tradition, they did not participate in such activities while in the service of the Brethren. But that did not mean he could not show his interest. They rode side-by-side so they could talk more easily. "What will you do once we reach our destination?" asked Tristan.
"I plan to sing at whatever inns or other gathering places will have me," said she.
"Some of your lore may not be very popular among the majority of the citizenry," said Tristan.
"I know this will be hostile territory and will be careful," she said mock-sternly, "you cannot lock me away in a cage to keep me safe, but I appreciate the sentiment." Tristan blushed and turned away. They were silent for a time and then Arora said, "what do you think your next task will be once we get back?"
"I fear it will be tracking down any of these Brotherhood characters on the loose within the Order," said Tristan.
"You fear?" asked the lady.
"Order Headquarters is the last place I wish to spend any amount of time; it would be a very tedious assignment," said he.
"A man of action and not beauracracy," she mused, "fascinating." He was not sure how to take that.
Changing the subject Tristan said, "so tell me about yourself.”
She gave him a very bland look for such a boring conversational topic. “But what is there to know of me that you do not know already?” she asked lightly.
“Perhaps your age,” said Tristan carefully.
“You dare ask a lady her age?” she said dangerously.
“Well you do not look a day over 200,” said Tristan as seriously as he could.
“200!” said she indignantly, “why I am only 93.”
“93?” said Tristan, “why you are little more than a girl.”
“And how old would you be my fine grey-beard?” asked Arora.
“Has no one told you it is impolite to discuss one’s age?” asked Tristan.
“As I thought,” she said, “you must be nearly 300 to evade such a question.”
“I am a youthful 135, thank you very much,” laughed Tristan, “and still young enough to outrun a youngster like you.” Catching his mood Taragon took off like the wind, but Arora’s mare was not to be so easily outdone. They raced through the gold-drenched evening weaving effortlessly through rolling meadows of yellowed grasses belly-deep on the unicorns and forest glades afire with the yellow and crimson of autumn. The evening faded from gold to blue and nearly to black before they pulled up their mounts and caught their breath. It had been an exhilarating race.
Tristan knew of an inn nearby and they walked the unicorns in that direction. “I guess you can keep up with an old man,” laughed Tristan.
“Perhaps you are not as old as I thought,” laughed Arora.
“I will remember you said that,” replied Tristan. Shortly they arrived at the inn, and handed their mounts over to the groom and went inside for supper. Over their meal, they continued their conversation.
“We have heard something of this Brotherhood of the Serpent from the Lady, but what do you know of it and why does it concern the Order?” she asked. He told her what he knew. When he had finished she said, “it is good that you have someone to watch your back.” He looked at her skeptically. “You know what I mean,” she said, “you can hardly trust most of these Order-types, but I can keep my eyes and ears open about the city and see what I can find out. And if ever you need someone to talk to or someone to do some minor task I would be happy to oblige you.”
“I would enjoy seeing you occasionally once we reach Panmycea, but I fear we must not make our acquaintance known to anyone outside the Brethren,” said Tristan. She looked a bit perturbed at this news but saw the sense in it. “When we get close to town I think it would be best if you stayed the night at a village inn nearby and ride in in the morning,” said Tristan, “I will ride in immediately and see where my duties take me next. I would very much like to drop in some evening and hear you sing.” She smiled at this and agreed to do as he suggested.
They talked much as they rode on the journey to Panmycea, and each dreaded the day of their parting. Finally, the dreaded day arrived. Tristan stopped Taragon outside a small village within an hour’s ride of the city. “Here we must part,” he said, “I hope the day comes swiftly when we meet again.” He bowed from his saddle, turned Taragon, skirted the village, and headed towards the city. Arora watched his departure with sadness but hope stirred in her heart that they would meet again before long. She walked towards the inn and prepared for an evening of singing.
Tristan rode at a gallop away from the small village; any slower and he feared he might turn back and not be able to part from her. His mind was a complete muddle. He had never intended to fall for a woman. There were almost nine men to each woman within the Brethren, their lives were so unpredictable, and danger lurked everywhere that very few ever married. Although it was allowed within the Brethren, was it worth the price? His constant journeys and missions kept him occupied and gave purpose and direction to his life. He was content and never asked for more. But since meeting Arora his life had been turned upside down. He wanted to spend each waking moment with her and he could think of little else. She fascinated him as little else ever had. If he did not know better, he would have thought she had put some sort of enchantment on him. He tried vainly to clear his mind and focus on other matters. “Women are trouble,” he said to Taragon, who snorted in amused agreement.
By late afternoon, he arrived at the gates of the city and rode as quickly as he could through the crowded streets. Once inside the castle, he was directed immediately to the Colonel’s quarters. Tristan bowed to Karly and gave a full report of his dealings with the garrison at Westhope and the shadowy assassin. “Well,” said the colonel, “we have attracted someone’s attention. I think this proves there is indeed more to this than too many new recruits and poor leadership. Someone is very eager to have you out of the way, and I suspect myself and captain Frey as well. Though, if we disappeared from the Citadel it might arouse suspicions and garner inquiry into things they would rather keep quiet. I suggest that you be very careful and try not to spend too much time alone for the time being. I also think that you should spend some time here and try to find some evidence of who is behind all of this.” Tristan bowed in acceptance but shuddered to think he might be stuck in the Citadel for months on end. His only hope was to figure this thing out quickly and get away from this center of intrigue and bureaucracy. The only thing that appeased him was the thought of slipping out and seeing Arora occasionally. The next few days he spent attending meetings and overseeing various menial tasks as Colonel Karly’s Secretary. He kept his eyes peeled for any evidence that might further his quest, but saw nothing.
Meanwhile, Arora spent the night at the inn and the much appreciative innkeeper begged her to stay another night, but she said she could not and headed out early the next morning. After she arrived in the city, she made a thorough tour of the place and tried to decide where to go first. She looked longingly at the Citadel that towered over everything, wondering if Tristan thought of her as mu
ch as she did of him. Drat the man! She was an independent and capable woman; he had no right to confuse her thoughts as he did. She had a mission to reach the world with her songs of history, lore, and Truth. How would attaching herself to such an adventurer affect both their duties? She sighed as she walked into a moderately sized inn on the edge of town and applied to the innkeeper about the possibility of singing for his guests that night. He gladly accepted her offer and hoped she was good enough to draw a crowd. Things had been a bit slow lately and he could use the business.
Evening came and she took her place on the makeshift stage in one corner of the common room. A few eyes looked up hopefully, but most just stared bleakly into their mugs hoping to find some truth or meaning; another third rate performer really did not interest them much. She began with a stirring dance tune purported to be from West of the mountains and every eye in the room turned in her direction. That got their attention. Next came a love ballad with a stirring finale. After that, she began an epic tale of war and much sorrow. She continued for most of the evening and drew many passersby into the inn. The place was packed by the time she put her instrument away for the evening. The innkeeper was ecstatic. Within a few days she had become something of a local phenomenon and the innkeepers were fighting desperately to have her frequent their establishments, but she paid no heed to their offers of money, she visited the smallest inn as frequently as the grandest. Sometimes, when the weather was fine she abandoned the common rooms and performed outside the city in an empty hay field. The first few nights she skipped any songs of the Truth or the Master and focused on dance tunes, histories, legends, and lore, but as her audience grew so did her boldness, and soon she sporadically tossed in a song or two of the Master and his ways. Some people disliked this apparent act of defiance but most just enjoyed her voice and skill.
She also gained the attention of certain individuals within the Order, some who secretly adored her. It was suggested that perhaps she could perform for the High Council and the higher-ranking officers within the Order. This was readily agreed to and Colonel Karly’s Secretary was dispatched to make the arrangements. After days of tedium and no progress, Tristan could not believe he actually received such an assignment. He gladly went in search of the mysterious songstress that had enchanted the city. He found her at a small inn in the middle of town. The innkeeper told him she was indisposed at the moment, but she appeared suddenly and firmly told the innkeeper she would see any who called upon her when she was not actually sleeping. He muttered sullenly about her needing her rest and walked away. Tristan bowed formally and asked if he might have a private word with her. She nodded solemnly and escorted him to her sitting room (she had the best room at the inn courtesy of the grateful innkeeper).
Once they were safely away from prying ears she said, “I have missed you greatly.”
“As have I,” said Tristan.
“But I thought we were not to be seen ‘together’ by anyone outside the Brethren,” said she.
“But I am on official business for the Order,” he said mock-formally.
“I see,” she said without expression.
“Though it is an errand I happily perform,” he said warmly.
“I see,” she said thawing a little.
“The Order requests your presence at a special performance for all the high-mucky-mucks,” said Tristan.
“That is their exact wording?” she asked archly.
“Of course,” said Tristan with a straight face.
“At least they have not come to arrest me,” she laughed. Tristan looked concerned. “You need not worry,” said she, “I have ruffled a few feathers but no one has complained about it or threatened me.” He relaxed and she continued, “I do not usually do command performances for royalty, but how could I resist the chance to sing of the Master before such an audience?” She almost giggled with the irony of the thought. “Yes,” she said, “I shall certainly sing for your masters.” Tristan looked irritated at that but she laughed all the more.
“Please choose your repertoire carefully,” begged Tristan.
She sobered her tone immediately and said, “would you back down from facing a foe just to save your own skin? You fight evil with the sword; my battle against the Enemy is with my voice and my songs. I will do what I must, regardless of the cost to myself.” She quietly added, “or to us.” Tristan nodded in sad acknowledgement; it was who and what they were. To deny or ignore the Master simply to protect yourself from an awkward situation was contrary to their mission and the Oath. She must do as she felt she must. This would be an opportunity of speaking (or singing) the Truth where it was never heard. Tristan brightened slightly at the mention of ‘us’ but could no longer look forward to her performance without trepidation.
The day of her performance arrived and the High Council and the assorted officers filled the main audience chamber of the Citadel. A mere captain of Tristan’s standing would not have qualified even for a space to stand and watch, but as he was the secretary to a colonel, they allowed him a seat near the back. They had asked him to convey to Arora that she should refrain from any ‘questionable’ material; he had done his best but she had the right of it and she was prepared to face the consequences whatever they might be. At the appointed time, she stepped out into the middle of the room dressed in a simple white gown with a silver unicorn embroidered on one shoulder. The audience surrounded her, for the chairs rose in tiered levels on every side. All lamps were dimmed save for those around her. She felt very small and alone under all those eyes, but she was determined not to fail. Picking up her instrument, she took a deep breath and began. She had chosen her repertoire with care, for such a militant audience she chose songs of war, battle, and glory. One could almost hear the thump of booted feet, the clanging of swords, the sound of horn and drum, and the thunder many hooves.
She sang of desperate battles, last stands, glorious victories, and lost wars. She sang of the terror and heat in the midst of battle and the drudgery of long marches, cold nights, and short rations. For many of the old campaigners long since buried in paperwork and meetings, it almost felt as if they rode again on the path to war; their blood stirred and their hearts sang. Old memories of glory, death, and pain filled their minds. They listened in dumbfounded silence, hanging on every note and word. She had them mesmerized, but next came the dangerous part of her plan. She switched her songs from grand battles and forgotten wars to a subtler arena of honor, duty, and love. Instead of marching off to battle, the stories told of fighting evil on all fronts and in all ways, not just with a sword, but with all your being and abilities. She sang of devotion to others, the willingness to die for a just cause, of charity for the weak and poor, and justice and mercy for high and low alike. This led into her finale, which was a beautiful retelling of the Master’s sacrifice for erring man. Every ear and eye was transfixed on the beautiful songstress; as she finished her last song, silence hung in the air and no one dared even to breath.
All sat frozen, save one man. Something caused Tristan to turn his head slightly and glance at a small movement caught out of the corner of his eye. He sat at the very back, perched like a bird upon some lonely precipice of the sea. Nearby in the darkest corner of the room, a shadowy figure quietly drew back the string of his bow, unseen by any eye but Tristan’s. Tristan leapt from his chair and tackled the man. A sharp twang rang through the chamber as the man lost hold on his arrow and it ricocheted off the low ceiling. Between the noise of the scuffle and the arrow, the singer’s spell was broken and everyone jumped as if awakening from a sound sleep. All eyes turned from the songstress to the noise in the back of the room. Lights were called for and several strong arms pulled the struggling men apart. “What is the meaning of this?” growled a scar-faced general. He glared balefully from one man to the other and back. “Is this any way to behave in the presence of the High Council?” he barked. The dark
man glared with loathing at Tristan, a little blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “Colonel Karly is not this your secretary?” snapped the general.
“Yes sir,” said the Colonel, “and I am sure he has a very good explanation for interrupting the evening’s entertainment.” He looked significantly at Tristan.
“Who is this other character?” asked the general, “he gives me the creeps.” “Well?” he growled at Tristan.
“Sir,” said Tristan confidently, “I have no idea who this man is, but he had an arrow aimed at someone in the front. Whether it was the singer or one of the Councilmen, I do not know. I only knew he must me stopped.” A wave of surprise ran through the gathered crowd.
“Is this true?” snapped the general. The vile man just sneered at the scarred-face.
“Here!” yelled someone from the crowd and an arrow was passed to the front.
“I see,” said the General. “Let the captain go,” he said gruffly.
Tristan was released but asked, “Sir, may I check something?”
“If you must,” said he. The audience gasped as Tristan pulled forth a dagger and approached the would-be assassin. He used it to rip the fabric of the man’s sleeve over the appropriate shoulder. An evil serpent snarled up at him.
“Sir!” gasped Tristan, “it is as I feared. Could we retire to somewhere private with this man, Captain Frey, Colonel Karly, and whoever else of your choosing? There is much to discuss.” The bewildered general nodded automatically and led the way to a private room just off the audience chamber. Tristan had one moment to exchange a reassuring smile with the worried Arora before he was lost in the crowd.
The men Tristan had requested and several other high-ranking officers along with those restraining the man found themselves sequestered in the little room. All non-essential personnel were excused; the man was searched, tied up, and relieved of his weapons. “Now what is going on?” demanded the General, “this has been a disappointing end to a lovely evening.”
“Actually sir,” said Tristan, “I am ecstatic that one of these traitors has finally been caught alive.”
The General’s irritation melted into curiosity. “Go on,” he said.
Tristan continued, “twice now men of this group have attempted to kill me. The latest was on my mission to the garrison at Westhope. Each time the attacker was killed in the attempt or took his own life when capture was imminent. Each had a snarling black serpent tattooed on his shoulder and upon death melted into a nasty black puddle of goo.” Looks of disbelief and horror appeared on every face. He continued, “my first encounter with these men was during my leave of absence when I crossed the Western Mountains and entered the land of Westria. There the Queen was under the sway of one of their number and another tried to kill me when I became a hindrance to their plot. Both were killed before we could capture them and a third fled. I made some enquiries and a reliable source revealed that a group called The Brotherhood of the Serpent was behind everything.” The man seemed to wince at the name, which only confirmed Tristan’s suspicions. “They are a shadowy and mysterious group and I know little more about them than that they are steeped in evil beyond imagining and have some access to powers arcane and dark,” finished Tristan.
“What does this have to do with the Order?” asked the general.
Karly cleared his throat and began to explain, “Sir, some time ago some of us began to notice a breakdown in the discipline of the Order. At first, we thought it a result of too many new recruits and not enough leadership or perhaps lack of enforcement of Order protocol, but things deteriorated quickly and unspeakable things were going on in the field with not even a word of reproof from the Council. We began to wonder if there was not some darker force at work. I sent the captain here out into the field to straighten out a few of the more rebellious units and he has done a remarkable job, and this has convinced most of the other field units to get back in line. On his last trip, as he already stated, someone decided that he had become a nuisance and must be gotten rid of. This seemed to confirm our suspicions about some malevolent force behind the Order’s decline. I do not know who this man was attempting to kill, but he is our only link to whoever is behind this sinister plot.” They all stared at the restrained man.
He scoffed, “I was trying to do away with that pretty little singer of yours. What would it matter to you? She is no part of your precious Order. Her words and songs have too much influence and she needed to be silenced. If you will not do your duty and squash such rebellious chatter, we will do it ourselves.”
“We?” asked the general.
“Those of us who have to gain from chaos and strife,” laughed the man.
“In Westria,” began Tristan, “one of these men spoke of his master using chaos and confusion as a means to cover all the world in darkness. If everyone is looking out for himself and all are at war with one another, instead of facing a strong and united front, this shadowy enemy could simply walk in and sweep us all away as we squabble amongst ourselves.”
“You see much,” growled the prisoner, “too much. My masters will see that you are taken care of.”
“I still do not see what this has to do with the Order,” scowled the general.
“We fear sir,” began Karly, “that there are more members of this terrible brood amongst our own ranks or perhaps influencing them.”
“Speak!” commanded the general of the stranger, “what do you know.”
“That you will never discover,” laughed the man as he fell over dead.
“What?!” squawked the general as he stared at the puddle that had been his prisoner.
“It seems these creatures have the ability to die at will,” said Karly in a shocked voice. “I guess it is a good way to keep a secret, but it certainly makes our job more difficult,” he continued.
“Now what?” asked Frey. “At least we know there is a link between this evil brotherhood and the Order, but how do we find out who is working for or influenced by these vile men?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” said Tristan, “we let it be known, at least among the highest circles of command, that we have captured and interrogated one of these evil men and have learned much useful information. Then we watch and see who flees or starts acting a little strange, then perhaps we will find more leads to follow.”
“It sounds like our only option,” said the general morosely.
An emergency session of the High Council was called and all of the highest-ranking officers were ordered to attend. It was made public that there was some scheme to influence the Order from the outside, and that one of these sinister conspirators had been detained and questioned thoroughly. As more leads became obvious, others would be called in for questioning and the perpetrators would be found and dealt with accordingly. Everyone present was sworn to secrecy and told to be on their guard and report any suspicious activity immediately. During the meeting, Tristan sought Arora among the milling crowd. He caught her eye and she followed him at a distance to a small room on the side of the audience chamber. When they were alone he said, “you did beautifully tonight. I am sorry I ever doubted you or worried for your safety.”
She smiled at him and said, “I know what you said was only out of concern for me and that you were not asking me to violate my Oath. I appreciate your concern, but if this is going to work, we must both make sure it will not compromise our duties. We serve the Master first and everything else is second. Agreed?”
Tristan wondered what ‘this’ was, but said, “yes, I agree completely.”
“What happened up there?” she asked.
“Apparently you have been targeted as a nuisance by this Brotherhood and they attempted to kill you with an arrow. I tackled the man, but we did not get much information out of him before he somehow willed himself to die,” he said.
She gasped in horror and relief. “Where do we go from here?�
�� she asked.
“We both need to be very careful,” he said, “but we must not shirk our duties for fear of a knife in the back. The Order is now aware of this menace, and is acting to purge itself of its influence. Hopefully this will all be over soon.”
She withdrew from the small room first and Tristan followed a great while later. She had many admirers amongst the crowd and talked long into the night with them. Tristan stood at a distance and watched for danger until he was summoned to Karly’s chambers.
“Well done tonight,” the colonel said when Tristan arrived, “I think we may finally be making some progress.” Tristan nodded his agreement. He continued, “now I have a slight change in your assignment. General Hark, the charming man you met earlier tonight, has taken quite a liking to this singer. He wants her protected and he has decided that you are the man to do it.”
“Me?” gasped Tristan.
“Yes you,” continued Karly, “as long as she stays in Panmycea you are to act as her bodyguard. He also thinks that since both of you have been targets of this group before you may be so again, therefore he hopes that you may perhaps draw more of these villains into the open.”
“Bait?” asked Tristan.
“So it seems,” said Karly. “The general also hopes the songstress will sing again on a fairly regular basis at the Citadel. Not just for the higher-ups but for everyone. He thinks it would be good for morale and behavior. I agree,” said Karly. “You will talk to her about that as well,” said he. Tristan bowed not sure whether to sing for joy or run for cover with such an assignment.
His official duty was now to protect Arora, but he was also responsible for whatever schemes Karly decided he could handle while doing so; not to mention acting as bait for any would-be assassins. How did he get himself into such dilemmas? Instead of being driven from the Citadel by a rioting crowd for heretical singing, Arora had been personally invited back by several members of the Council and was officially protected by men in the Order’s service. She was to perform once a week and anyone who wished to attend was able to. Tristan marveled at the receptivity with which her songs and message were received, but sometimes he forgot how even the most powerful hungered secretly for truth, meaning, and love. There was a time for secrecy and discretion, but boldness was often needed to make a true impact. Perhaps in the end, she would accomplish more with her songs than he ever would with his sword.
After each performance, a number of her hearers would come up and ask questions about her music, herself, or her message. This one-on-one time was where she could direct each heart in the direction it needed to go. Many times, she was asked if she were married, but she only replied with a laugh that men were trouble and she had worries enough without such entanglements. When she was not singing for the Order, she was making her rounds of the city and drew a large following wherever she went. Off-duty knights of the Order often went in search of her when she was not singing in the Citadel. Tristan knew that he could not stay awake and protect her all of the time so he went looking for a couple more men to share in the guard duty. There was no shortage of volunteers. Tristan chose two of the most skilled and trustworthy men stationed at the Citadel: Harper and Wayne. They rotated sixteen hours on and eight off so that Arora had two men with her at all times. When she required privacy or sleep, one man was stationed at her door and another outside the building. She thought it a great joke that one of the Brethren would be so heavily guarded by the Order! It was an irritation to never be free of her entourage, but under the current circumstances she accepted it gracefully. Tristan’s constant presence was a comfort to her, though they never showed any outward sign of their growing regard for one another, they each knew how the other felt.
Several months passed in this fashion and no more attempts were made on Arora or Tristan’s life. One of the members of the High Council fled in the night and several high-ranking officers were detained on suspicions that they were preparing to leave as well. The detained officers were part of the conspiracy, but had not yet sworn their lives to the Brotherhood. They were able to bring the other members of the conspiracy to light and the whole fiasco was finally put to rest. The fled councilman was declared a renegade and field units were ordered to seize him upon sight. Recruiting efforts were slowed to normal rates when it was discovered that the renegade councilor had been the main push behind the effort, especially when Tristan divulged what he knew about the connection with Westria. Karly was voted into the vacant seat on the High Council for his work in stopping the plot against the Order. Many changes were made to the regulations and protocols governing field units and were strictly enforced. The Order finally seemed to be heading in the right direction. Changes were also made to the Order’s mission and future plans. Instead of seeing commoners as ‘common,’ they began to see them as people who had wants, needs, and feelings just like the nobility. Instead of viewing them as a group to be exploited, they were now viewed as a group to be served. The Order’s newly declared purpose was to protect the weak and uphold justice and the Common Law. Tristan nearly fell over with surprise when he heard about this complete change in attitude. Finally, the Order was becoming a respectable group to be part of; which probably meant that Tristan’s time there was at an end. They even went so far as to ask the Lady to send experts on the Common Law to assist them in revising their policies; she happily complied. She also sent several bards and teachers along to take Arora’s place when she left. The ‘garrison’ in Astoria was disbanded though Bristol stayed on as the Order’s “advisor’ to the Lady. Tristan and Arora were ordered home.
Tristan knocked on the door of the Councilor’s chambers. A servant answered and after a brief exchange with the Councilor, Tristan was allowed to enter. “Captain!” said Karly, “this is an unexpected pleasure.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tristan, “I wish I had better tidings.”
“What can dampen the joy of so many victories?” asked Karly, “for the first time in my life I am proud to say I belong to the Order.”
“I am very happy about the recent changes sir,” said Tristan, “but I must resign my commission.”
“Why?” asked Karly, “the High Council was thinking about promoting you. No one has come so far so fast. It would be a devastating loss to the Order to lose a man of your talents. Especially since you had so much influence on our recent policy changes.”
“Me sir?” asked Tristan in a bewildered tone.
“Yes!” said Karly, “you and those with whom you have worked have shown us what can happen when we put others first. It is pointless serving ourselves. The Order was rotting from within because we had no greater purpose or meaning. But thank the Master, you and that lovely songstress were able to shine some light into our darkened hearts. We now have meaning and purpose and the world (and the Order) will be a far better place because of it. You gave us the example and the singer inspired us to act by reminding us of the virtues we had forgotten or ignored. We have even allowed some of these Brethren to speak at some of our councils and meetings. We have much to learn, but we are eager to do so.”
Tristan spoke, “sir, I am greatly comforted by all the changes you have wrought in so short a time and look forward to seeing what the Order will become in future. But as for my resignation, I have been ordered back to Astoria by the Lady.” He let the full meaning of his words sink in before he continued, “she is the one who ordered me to join up with the Order in the first place. She feared the direction the Order was taking and wondered what they were up to. Neither of us knew what to expect and I certainly did not expect to find something as terrible as this Brotherhood of the Serpent. Now that the Order and the Brethren are at least communicating and the Order is free of the Brotherhood I am needed elsewhere. My duty is to the Lady and the Master, and is much broader than my allegiance to any one organization. While the immediate threat to the Order has subsided, the Brotherhood is s
till out there and must be discovered and destroyed wherever it lurks. I am grateful for my time here and the support you have shown me. I only regret the brevity of my time with you and the other honorable men with whom I have had the pleasure to serve.” He bowed formally.
Karly was silent for a few moments as he absorbed what Tristan had just said. He knew the man was skilled, faithful, and honorable, but he had no idea he was one of these almost mythic Brethren. A great respect for Tristan and his Brothers grew in Karly’s heart. “It was my honor to serve with you,” said Karly, “it saddens me to see you go, but what must be must be. If ever you need the support of the Order or wish to return to us all you need do is ask. I will try to increase our communication and interaction with this Lady of yours. I think there is much she could teach us. Farewell.”
Tristan bowed again and slipped from the room. He said goodbye to the men he was closest to, withdrew to his quarters for the last time, and slipped out of his uniform and into some plain clothes. He glanced at the uniform laying forlornly on the bed and a small pang of sadness crept through his heart. He had never wanted to join the Order but a part of him would miss the men with whom he had shared some of the strangest days of his life. He left the Citadel for the last time and rode out of the city to a small, quiet inn. Arora was singing a quiet, hopeful song when he walked into the common room and squeezed into the last free corner. She went through a few more verses and ended on a note of expectation and joy. It eased many tired hearts and worried minds. She returned her instrument to its case and spoke quietly to anyone who wished to talk. Outside, the sun vanished from the sky and night engulfed the world. The candles had burned low by the time the last curious bystander was satisfied and had retired for the night. She smiled warmly at Tristan and bid him a quiet goodnight. He took a room and slept soundly. The next morning, they awoke with the sun and shared a pleasant breakfast. They then mounted up and set off for Astoria and the next leg of their adventure.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 15