The Sapphire Crescent soa-1

by Thomas M. Reid

  Hell, Dregaul was the one who encouraged me to join the temple, Vambran thought, though he knew good and well that, at the time, the man was simply trying to get his nephew out of his sight. Anything to avoid reminding him of what happened, Vambran mused, sighing.

  Even so, Vambran knew that soldiering was not what Dregaul had had in mind, and he made a point of expressing that any chance he could. And that was really what the lieutenant's reluctance was all about. Every time Vambran returned home, his uncle and his older brother would poke and prod, hoping to hear that he was finally going to give up the soldiering, join the ranks of the true temple clergy, and rise to a position of prominence, which would in turn strengthen House Matrell's position with the Waukeenar. He hated it, and he wanted more than anything just to avoid the whole issue.

  When are you going to grow up? the lieutenant could hear his uncle asking. When are you going to stop wasting your time and opportunities doing a common man's work?

  What you really mean is, when am I going to make amends by being more useful to you, right, Uncle?

  Just thinking of the impending confrontation set the lieutenant on edge. Common or not, Vambran liked commanding soldiers, and he wasn't planning to give it up any time soon. But though the young man might have the firmest of convictions, Dregaul had a habit of manipulating his nephew with guilt. Sooner or later, his uncle would win. He always did. Standing up to Dregaul just made Vambran's stomach roil.

  Though that could be hunger, too, Vambran thought, smelling the thaek buns again. He supposed he was hoping a little wry amusement would ease his tensions, at least for a time.

  Turning onto a cobblestone-paved street winding up the hill from the harbor, Vambran left the wharf behind and moved deeper into the city of Arrabar, keeping half an eye out for the Matrell carriage. The street was alive with people gathered together or moving in large clumps, many of them dressed gaily and laughing together or singing. Lengths of rope or chain had been strung between buildings or along balconies, from which dangled hundreds of lanterns and multicolored pennants and streamers that wafted in the lazy, salt-laden breeze. The celebration of Spheres was in full swing, he realized.

  Vambran spotted a thaek bun cart offering the delicious meals and his mouth began to water. He shifted his satchel to his other shoulder and pulled his coin pouch free of the hidden pocket where he kept it inside his naraebul. He fumbled a pair of coppers out, slipped the pouch back underneath the short cloak, and strolled up to the cart. The proprietor passed him a large bun and took his coin with a smile, and Vambran was on his way, biting into the snack gingerly. His first mouthful rewarded him with spicy meat, mushrooms, and onions soaked in a tomato-and-peppers sauce. He closed his eyes in contentment, savoring the taste.

  It's always the food I miss the most, the lieutenant mused, taking another bite.

  At the next corner, Vambran was forced to stop, for the crowds there had gotten a lot thicker, and he could see why. One of the many parades common to Spheres was passing by, led by a mite red Halanthi bedecked in his overly gaudy vestments. Even from that distance, Vambran could see the numerous gems and thread-of-gold sparkling all over the Waukeenar priest's scarlet cloak, as well as the robes themselves. The lieutenant thought he recognized the Halanthi, though he wasn't certain. Not that seeing an unfamiliar face bedecked in Waukeenar vestments would have surprised him. The temple swelled with new priests almost every day, drawn to its resurgence since Waukeen had returned to Brightwater. In the two years since the Merchant's Friend had reappeared, the temple's ranks had nearly doubled.

  The priest waved and smiled at everyone as he strolled past, followed by a horde of musicians playing a lively dancing tune. They in turn were followed by a large oxen-drawn wagon, also brightly decorated, upon which sat a handful of Telchar and Coins, the most novice of priests in the temple. As they rumbled by, those young men and women alternated between smiling and waving at the crowds and tossing fist-sized spheres of glass up into the air that were filled with cheap pretties-small imperfect gems, a few coppers or silver coins, and perhaps a necklace of beads or two. The spheres shattered whenever they struck anything, though they had been magically altered so that the fragments of glass became as soft as parchment afterward. The crowds who'd gathered along the parade route laughed and ran, trying to scoop up the treasures where they landed, or even attempting to catch the delicate orbs as they fell from the night sky.

  A drunk man, amber foam flecking his thick beard, staggered past Vambran, his eyes twinkling in merriment, one cupped hand holding a combination of sphere fragments and coppers, the other a beaten tin belt cup half full of frothy beer. He wore three or four colored necklaces around his neck, and as he neared a woman standing next to the lieutenant, the man paused, smiled broadly, and attempted to pull one of the strands free, presumably to give to her. Unfortunately, he went for the necklace with the belt cup still in his hand and wound up tipping beer out onto the cobblestones. He stopped and stared forlornly down at the widening puddle as the lady laughed, then leaned in a gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before trotting off, disappearing into the crowds. The drunk man watched her vanish, then turned and gave Vambran a wink and a smile before staggering on his way.

  Vambran laughed, deciding that, for the moment at least, he was happy to be home. He hadn't remembered it was Spheres until they were only a day out of Arrabar, but it was a good if unintentional welcome-back celebration, he decided, and he was glad for it. He turned to see if he could find a way through the crowds since the parade had passed and thought he heard someone calling his name. He stopped and peered around, uncertain if he'd imagined it.

  "Vambran!" the call came again, and that time, the lieutenant heard it clearly.

  He turned in the direction of the sound and was nearly knocked to the ground as a woman in a brightly colored dress launched herself at him and wrapped him in a bear hug. He nearly dropped the remaining chunk of thaek bun to the street in surprise. It took him another heartbeat to recognize the shoulder-length tresses of windblown black hair, slightly damp from the sultry air.

  "Em!" Vambran cried, returning the hug and laughing. "I didn't recognize you!" he said, pulling back at last to get a better look at his sister. "By Waukeen, but you must have grown a foot since I last saw you."

  Emriana rolled her dark eyes at him.

  "It's only been two months," she chided, but her beaming face told Vambran that his comment delighted her.

  In truth, the girl only came up to Vambran's chin, but she still seemed to have matured considerably. He raised an eyebrow at her rather snug dress.

  "Been teasing Denrick again?" he asked, gesturing at her figure, which he realized was no longer that of a little girl's.

  His sister was rapidly becoming a woman, and a startlingly pretty one, at that.

  Emriana smirked, rolling her eyes again.

  "Please," she said with more than a hint of disdain. "Don't ruin the evening by mentioning him." The girl cocked her head to one side, staring Vambran squarely in the face. "Three?" she asked, obviously puzzled.

  The lieutenant started to shake his head quizzically, then he realized she was referring to the three painted dots upon his forehead.

  "Ah, yes," he said, nodding and smiling. "That's my new surprise. I've been working with one of the other Crescents, and I've managed to learn a few simple tricks."

  Emriana's eyes widened, first in surprise, then in delight.

  "Really? You have to show me! That's wonderfu-" The girl froze as something occurred to her. "Wait," she said, turning her head sideways, looking at her brother askance. "Is that how you sent me your message?" she asked, growing excited again. "That was wonderful! You must teach me."

  Vambran shook his head and held his hands up, trying to calm his sister down a bit.

  "No, no," he said, laughing at her exuberance. "That was something else entirely. I'm not that good with the magic, yet."

  Emriana glared at her brother.

  "You know
what Uncle Dregaul will say, once he sees that on you," she scolded. "Sometimes I think he's convinced that every wizard in town is secretly preparing to bring back the magic plague."

  Vambran started to tell his sister that he had no intention of letting his uncle see the third mark and risk his wrath unnecessarily, but he never got the chance. Emriana lunged at Vambran again, hugging him tightly once more.

  "Oh, it's good to see you home," she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. "When I got your strange message that you'd be home tonight, I knew I had to come down and meet you. Sorry I'm late. I'm glad I didn't miss you."

  Vambran pulled free of her embrace and stepped back.

  "Only you?" he asked, his mouth beginning to curve in a barely concealed smirk. "Sneaking out again?" he added, his tone teasing.

  "No, not just me. Prandles has the carriage on the other side of the road," she said, pointing toward the black vehicle with its attendant horses. "But Uncle Dregaul wasn't going to let me come. I'm going to turn sixteen in three days, and he still treats me like I'm five."

  "So how did you change his mind?"

  Emriana smiled and said, "I didn't." At her brother's bemused smile and mildly shaking head, the girl pretended to grow indignant. "Stop it! I missed you!" She gestured toward the remains of the thaek bun in her brother's hand, and at the celebration going on around them. "And I knew it would take you forever to get home with all this going on, and I couldn't stand waiting."

  "So you snuck out." Vambran said, still smirking. "Again."

  "Yes," Emriana replied, stamping her foot in frustration. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?" Vambran laughed.

  "Well, it's no skin off my nose, but don't be hiding behind me if you get caught," he said, pretending to sound stern. "I may command an entire company of professional soldiers, but Uncle Dregaul is still the man to answer to in House Matrell." He chuckled and added, "At least this way, if you sneak back in, you have to pretend you haven't seen me yet and I get a whole new set of hugs."

  In response to his teasing, Emriana stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Then she took his free hand and they turned toward the carriage together. As the pair of them approached, Prandles hopped down, bowing repeatedly at Vambran.

  "Evening, Master Vambran," the driver said, his voice somewhat rough and gravelly and his accent common. "Good to have you home again. Do you have other things for me to fetch?"

  Vambran shook his head and replied, "We can send a wagon to get them off the ship tomorrow, Prandles. Let's just go home."

  "Very good, sir," the driver said.

  He climbed up onto the bench once Vambran and Emriana were seated and the door was properly shut.

  Soon, the carriage was on its way, making reasonable progress through the crowds, which were thinning somewhat because the parade was long past.

  "So," the girl said as they rolled out of the port district, climbing the gentle hills upon which Arrabar had grown. "What did you bring me from Sembia?"

  They were moving into the trade district by then, where the buildings were spaced more widely apart and loomed behind formidable walls. Imposing estates of white stone with highlights of burgundy, deep green, azure, or any of a dozen other rich colors sprouted numerous golden-spired domes and towers. Those were the palatial homes of the city's wealthiest merchant-nobles, and among them rested the Matrell estate.

  Vambran snorted and said, "What makes you think I brought you anything?"

  Emriana laughed and playfully punched her brother in the arm.

  "Because it's almost my birthday, Meazel-face!"

  Vambran feigned shock and dismay.

  "It is?" he teased. "Oh, that's right… Em's birthday."

  He tapped his chin, pretending to contemplate that news.

  Emriana glared at her brother again and said, "And I know you're smarter than to show yourself around here without bringing me a birthday present."

  Vambran mimed horror at the suggestion, then grinned again.

  "You're not sixteen yet. You'll just have to wait until your party to see what it is."

  Emriana growled in exasperation, but her delight wouldn't allow her to hold the scowl.

  "Grandmother Hetta is planning something amazing, so I hear from Jaleene," she gushed. "But no one will tell me anything," she continued, pouting again. "It's supposed to be a complete surprise."

  "As well it should. It's not every day you turn sixteen, you know."

  The carriage continued on, passing the houses of the truly great merchant families. On the left was the ever-private House Darowdryn, whose occupants all sported hair so fair as to be almost white. Several blocks down and on the right was the sprawling Cauldyl estate, home of the most sneering and pretentious family Vambran had ever had the displeasure to meet. Up the next rise, the spires of House Mestel rose up, peeking over a whole grove of suth trees strategically planted around the entire perimeter of the grounds, just behind the outer wall, for privacy.

  Vambran grimaced slightly, thinking of the Mestels, and how his grandfather had been born a bastard to one lordling of that family. Even after Obiron Matrell had changed his name and made a fortune with his own merchant company, the Mestels still looked down their noses at what they considered cousins born on the wrong side of the district. Vambran doubted it would ever be any different. House Matrell was a fine merchant empire, but it was small compared to the half-dozen or so truly ancient ones, in existence almost since the founding of the city.

  The lieutenant shook his head, ridding his mind of such unpleasant thoughts.

  Instead, he turned to his sister and said, "So, Em, tell me what's been going on in the great halls of our beloved homestead. How's Mother?"

  Emriana shrugged and replied, "She's fine. Spends all day with Grandma, or staring out the window daydreaming, as usual."

  "Hmm," Vambran grunted. "How about Evester? How are the twins?"

  "Evester is turning into Uncle Dregaul more and more every day," Emriana replied with a sour tone. "The two of them go off to the offices and hunch over their books all day. He hardly has time for his own children, much less me. But the twins are fine, though I can't keep Quindy out of my rooms, lately. She wants to try on my clothes all the time. And Obiron is just a wild thing. He actually went running through the garden the other day with a loaded crossbow, screaming at the top of his lungs. I thought he was hunting one of the panthers or something."

  Vambran swallowed hard at that image and shuddered. Emriana seemed not to notice. Recovering, the lieutenant forced a chuckle.

  "Now you see why I joined the Crescents. Too much niece and nephew is never a good thing."

  "Yeah, well, I've been lobbying Grandma to build me a private wing. After the crossbow incident the other day, I think she was almost convinced."

  Vambran laughed out loud at that. He could only imagine how Grandmother Hetta, the matriarch of the family, would have reacted. He found himself honestly smiling again, thinking fondly of seeing her. He doubted she would have retired for the evening-the woman kept long hours, even at eighty-one years of age. Uncle Dregaul might have managed the day-to-day operations of the family business, but Hetta Debrinne Matrell was still the head of the household.

  It's good to be home, Vambran decided.

  He turned to his sister to tell her so, but the words never came out. A loud, desperate scream issued from an alleyway between two blocks of shops, cutting him off.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Stay here," Vambran instructed his sister. He stood up in the carriage and leaped over the side to the street before it had even come to a stop. The lieutenant broke into a run even as he hit the ground, sprinting full-out in the direction of the screams still reverberating from the alley, which was flanked by a bakery on one side and a chandler's shop on the other. Both businesses were dark and shuttered, as were the windows on the stories above, where the shop owners and their families dwelt. Only the light of the moon showed the soldier the route into the alley.

 
As he dashed down into the deeper darkness between the two businesses, Vambran slipped a narrow-bladed steel sword free of the scabbard that hung on his left hip. With the weapon in one hand, the lieutenant deftly reached inside a pocket of his shirt, pulling free a scrap of parchment with the other. Another scream echoed through the air, definitely the voice of a woman. That was followed closely by a second cry, delivered by a man. It was a cry of pain.

  Surging forward, Vambran rounded a bend in the alley and into a small courtyard with no other apparent exits. The backs of several more shops and homes formed the barrier to the open area, which was perhaps twenty paces across at its widest point. In one corner, a handful of figures gathered in a clump.

  Slowing for a moment, Vambran closed his eyes and muttered a quick prayer to Waukeen. He pulled out a gold medallion that hung from a chain around his neck and that displayed the Merchant Friend's profile. He brought the coin to his mouth for a quick kiss, the scrap of parchment held between his lips and the coin face. Crumpling the parchment and moving it in a circular motion around his body, he finished the prayer. The lieutenant felt the parchment fragment dissolve into dust in his hand and he opened his eyes to confirm that a shimmering, glowing aura surrounded him. He stepped out into the dead-end courtyard and advanced openly toward the gathering of thugs.

  Half a dozen of the attackers were huddled with their backs to Vambran, weapons drawn. Most of the figures were standing, gathered around a trio of others who were down on the ground. One of the standing shapes held aloft a lantern, and by its light Vambran could see that two of the figures lay motionless on the cobblestones of the alley, while the third held a thin dagger in his hand. The kneeling figure thrust the blade into the body closest to it, which convulsed once at the attack, then lay still again.