And for what?
For evil thoughts that might or might not have manifested themselves into evil deeds. The edict lacked any consideration for the faculties of human reason and self-control. It was based on the belief that human beings were little more than animals who acted upon every impulse and instinct without consideration for any of the consequences of their actions.
Such was simply not the case.
People were basically good at heart. Sometimes the evil side of them came to the surface, but that was just a part of being human.
But despite all these thoughts, the mage continued to practice his craft on behalf of the Kingpriest in the hopes that the Kingpriest would eventually realize the damage his edict was doing to the people of Istar. Once that happened, surely he would revoke the edict and life would return to something resembling normalcy.
In the meantime, he continued to read minds.
Up ahead in the middle of the street a mother was scolding her child for dropping a bag of fruit onto the ground. This, after the child had assured his mother that he would not let the bag touch the ground until they reached home.
The mage read the mind of the mother. There were no evil thoughts there, just a proper reprimand and instruction so that a similar incident wouldn’t be happening again any time soon. She finished her talk with a single slap on the boy’s behind, sort of as an exclamation mark to her impromptu lecture.
And then the mage read the mind of the child. To his surprise, the young boy’s mind was full of evil thoughts toward his mother.
I hate you … And I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me … Then you’ll be sorry.
Evil thoughts to be sure.
But they were the thoughts of a child, an innocent who understood nothing about what he thought or did.
What then, would constitute suitable punishment for such thoughts?
If the mage reported the boy to the Kingpriest, the lad might be sentenced to death. That had been the punishment prescribed to adults who’d had similar thoughts.
But, to execute a child?
The thought made the mage sick to his stomach.
He watched the mother and child continue on down the street as if the incident had already been forgotten.
He read both their minds once more.
There was love there. Strong love. All the boy’s evil thoughts were gone.
His evil thoughts had been … harmless.
The mage stood in the middle of the street thinking about what he should do. By order of the Kingpriest, he was bound to report all the evil thoughts he had read. But, he couldn’t bring himself to report the boy and have him taken from his mother, a woman who obviously loved him more than anything else in the world.
The Edict of Thought Control was unworkable.
The realization left the mage with only one option. He decided he would take it.
He turned his back on the mother and child, and began walking west.
When he reached the outskirts of the city, he turned south, headed for Silvanesti.
To start a new life.
Chapter 13
“No matter how many times I’ve seen it,” said Caradoc. “Each time I lay my eyes upon it after some time away, I’m always in awe of its beauty.”
“Indeed,” said Soth. “It is a beautiful sight.”
Ahead on the eastern horizon, the deep red outline of Dargaard Keep stood out like a single perfect rose. After ten days at the Knights’ Meeting in Palanthas (Soth attended six of those days) and an uneventful journey home, the knights were all eager to return to the keep and relate what they’d learned to their fellow knights.
But for Soth, there were other reasons which made him look forward to his return. For one there was his wife. Dear, sweet Korinne. After such a long time away, perhaps she had some news for him. Even though Soth had vowed not to speak of such matters until she truly was with child, he couldn’t stop himself from considering the possibility.
To have a son …
Or perhaps even a daughter. He would teach her to fight, make her strong, the first female Knight of Solamnia.
He shook his head, realizing his dreams were getting the better of him.
And then there was Isolde. She would be fully healed by now, her stunning beauty completely restored. There was no real reason for him to contact her—she was merely just another person in the keep now, one of many—but nevertheless, he wanted desperately to see her, to speak to her, perhaps even to … touch her.
“The elf-maid you brought back to the keep,” Caradoc said idly.
Mention of the maid startled Soth, bringing him back to the plains. Even though he was sure Caradoc’s speaking of Isolde had been a coincidence, the uncanniness of it made Soth shiver. “You mean Isolde?”
“Is that her name?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Is-olde,” Caradoc had some trouble pronouncing the name, “is certainly a beautiful woman, elf or otherwise.”
“Yes,” said Soth, his voice noncommittal. “That she is.”
“Might make a man a fine lover.”
Soth turned to look at Caradoc. His seneschal was staring blankly out over the horizon, obviously speaking of Isolde with a sort of wistfulness that he might speak about a well-made sword or a fine bottle of wine.
Soth turned his gaze forward and tried to match Caradoc’s pensive sort of look with a similar expression of his own. “That she would,” he said, trying to say the words musingly.
When the knights entered the keep they were greeted by dozens of people, most of whom were family and friends. Soth dismounted and was quickly greeted by Lady Korinne who had come to see him dressed in some of her finest red and purple robes.
Despite his mind being clouded with other thoughts, Soth had missed Korinne deeply, and when they came together he took her up in his arms and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
“Did you miss me?” Korinne asked.
“Of course.”
“And I you.”
Soth smiled. “Then perhaps we should get away from here.”
“I thought you might never ask.”
Soth gave the reins of his mount to a squire and walked arm-in-arm with Lady Korinne into the tower leading to their chambers. When they arrived, Korinne opened the door and Soth picked her up and carried her inside, closing the door behind him with a backward kick of his foot.
He carried her over to the bed and laid her down upon it. As Soth began to undress, he noticed something different about Korinne’s smile. It was as if she were trying to contain herself, holding back some great secret that was mere seconds from bursting from her lips.
“What?” asked Soth. “What is it?”
“I’m glad to see you,” answered Korinne. “Is that so wrong?” Already her smile was starting to wane.
“Well, from the look on your face I thought you might have something to tell me.”
“Like what?”
“That you’re with child, of course.”
“Oh.”
There was a long silence between them.
“Well, are you?” asked Soth.
Another extended period of silence.
Korinne let out a sigh. “No.”
Soth let out a long sigh of his own. He was disappointed, especially because he knew it had been entirely his own fault. He had told her not to mention word of a child until she knew for certain and now he had been the one to ask the question, destroying what should have been a wonderful moment between them.
Korinne rolled onto her side on the bed and began to weep softly.
Soth didn’t know what to do. He had slain ogres, defeated whole armies, and performed a hundred other heroic deeds, but here and now he found himself wishing he were somewhere else, somewhere far away.
He was also angered by her inability to bear him a child, but instinctively knew that harsh words had no place in the room at this particular moment.
Korinne’s weeping had grown into open sobs.
> After another moment’s hesitation, Soth crawled onto the bed and placed a comforting hand on Korinne’s shoulder. It did nothing to staunch her cries, but it still felt as if it were the right thing to do. He placed an arm around her and held her close.
That night after supper, Soth excused himself from the table on the pretense of wanting to stretch his legs and reacquaint himself with the keep.
After leaving the dining hall, he made a series of twists and turns that brought him to the maids’ quarters where Isolde was now staying. He checked in the larger chambers but found the room to be empty except for eight neatly prepared beds, each with its own trundle. He checked a few of the adjoining rooms and finally heard soft music coming from one of the rooms down the hall. He tracked the sound until he found Isolde in the music room playing a harp.
Soth looked up and down the hallway, then stepped into the room, leaving the door behind him slightly ajar so as to not to make any noise that would disrupt Isolde’s sweet, sweet music.
He sat down on a stool to her right and listened.
Almost at once he recognized the tune as “The Silver Moon’s Passing,” an elven song of mourning. As he listened he could almost hear the emotions in the notes, could almost picture the swaying grasslands of the plains, the love of a young man, and the loss felt by his young bride upon his death.
She finished playing the song without realizing that Soth was in the room. When the last note faded Soth began clapping.
Isolde turned, startled to find him there.
“That was beautiful,” he said.
“I didn’t realize I had an audience.”
“Would it have mattered?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You play very well.”
She almost blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, milord. Istvan said I could keep his harp as long as I liked.”
“From the way he plays the instrument, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were glad to be rid of it.”
Isolde laughed, giving Soth reason to smile. Her face was so bright, so alive.
There was a lengthy pause between them. Finally Isolde said, “But you didn’t come here to hear me play the harp now did you?”
“No.”
She looked at him curiously. “Why did you come here?”
Soth thought about it, and realized he didn’t have a good answer to the question. Why did I come here? he wondered. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” A pause. “And perhaps I need someone to talk to.”
“Talk? About what?”
Again Soth hesitated. “Family matters.”
“I would think your wife would be the best one with which to discuss such things.”
“Perhaps, but what if she is the topic to be discussed?”
“I see,” said Isolde, her eyes darting somewhat nervously. “But shouldn’t you speak of such things to one who is closer to you? A family member, perhaps even Istvan?”
“No, I couldn’t. This is something that is best discussed with someone from outside of Dargaard Keep. Someone … like yourself.” This was true. If he let it be known to others close to him that Korinne was unable to conceive, news of it would sweep through the keep in a matter of days, and across Solamnia in mere weeks. For some reason, he instinctively knew that Isolde would speak to no one about the matter, that his secrets would be her secrets.
“All right, then,” she said warmly. “Talk to me.”
Soth began explaining how, despite all their efforts, he and Korinne had been unable to produce a child. Then he began talking of the pain and disappointment he felt each time she told him of their failure, not just for himself but for her as well. He told her too, how it was beginning to affect their relationship.
Isolde listened in silence, providing him with little response other than a slight nod of her head, or an arch of her brow.
The more he spoke, the more Soth realized that perhaps he had come here looking for someone to talk to. He was indeed feeling better, his frustration over the matter somewhat lessened by the mere act of telling someone else about the problem.
And it was a problem.
He was Loren Soth, Knight of the Rose, Master of Dargaard Keep and Lord of Knightlund. He should be the father of many, many distinguished Knights of Solamnia. The Soth family name was a great one with a hallowed history and a grand future, but if he failed to produce even a single heir, the Soth name would die along with him. For a Knight of Solamnia, it was a problem greater than any that could be created by an opponent on a battlefield. And in fact, many times Soth had wished this problem could be dealt with by the sword. But alas, it could not. This was a problem that could be remedied only by the good graces of Paladine, or the benevolence of Mishakal.
“Take these up to the maids’ chambers,” said the head laundress, a large, stout woman with arms as thick as those of some men. “And these go to the Lord’s chambers.”
The maid chewed her bottom lip to stop herself from saying unkind words to the laundress. Reminding her not to mix up the stacks was an insult to her intelligence because there was little chance that anyone could ever mistake the two. The stack which had grayed slightly and had been repaired by numerous patches was obviously for the maids’ chambers while the newer, whiter linens were surely reserved for the lord and lady of the keep. Even a child could tell the two apart.
Mirrel Martlin, had been a maid in Dargaard Keep for the past year and a half and she was growing tired of being a maid in every sense of the word. While she didn’t, mind doing the work that was required of her—she was a maid after all—she knew she was destined for better things. Many nights she dreamed of being one of milady’s personal maids, or Mishakal be praised, a lady-in-waiting. When she told others of her hopes and aspirations, they simply dismissed them as being the wild fantasies of a young girl. But she remained undaunted by this, knowing in her heart that these aspirations were not fantasies, but dreams. Dreams, she knew, sometimes came true.
Maybe she would be the lucky one.
“Now don’t get them confused,” said the laundress, already moving onto another matter.
Again Mirrel chewed her bottom lip. “No ma’am.”
The laundress didn’t answer.
Mirrel carried the linens through the keep and reached the maids’ chambers. She heard voices coming from down the hall and wished she had someone to talk to. A friendly presence might make even the task of putting away the linens seem almost pleasant.
When she was done, she picked up the linens destined for the lord’s chambers and walked down the hall in the direction from which she heard voices. She considered entering the room and perhaps greeting the maids inside when she saw that the door was closed.
Or at least, almost closed but for a tiny crack.
Mirrel could now clearly hear the voices coming from inside the room, one female, the other male.
This was curious because men were rarely seen in this part of the keep. She peered through the crack and was surprised to see the lord of the keep sitting next to the elf-maid he’d rescued on the way to Palanthas.
Isolde listened quietly, waiting patiently until Soth had finished. When he was done, she placed her hand on his and stroked it gently. “My good lord,” she said. “You are a paragon of virtue, but patience seems to be one virtue you are lacking.”
Soth smiled at this.
“Paladine does not abandon those such as yourself who uphold the laws of Good and abjure the forces of Evil. If your heart is pure, the Father of Good will bless you with a child when he deems the time to be right.”
Soth nodded at the truth in her words.
“Speaking of Paladine,” said Isolde softly. “I’m feeling much better now and I thought that I might be strong enough to resume my journey to Palanthas.…” Her voice trailed off, as if she were asking a question instead of making a statement.
“So soon?” asked Soth.
“I’ve been here for weeks. I really must think about rejoining my friends.�
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“But you can’t,” Soth said quickly, his voice walking a fine line between commanding and pleading.
“And why not?” asked Isolde, a thin smile on her face. “I’m better now.”
“I need you here,” said Soth. A pause. “To talk to.”
Isolde’s smile widened. She leaned forward and kissed Soth on the mouth.
The move startled Soth, and the touch of her sweet lips on his immediately rekindled his feelings of passion, an emotion which—up until this moment—he’d been able to keep subdued.
Without hesitation, he pulled the maid closer, and returned her kiss.
Realizing she was spying on the two, but too curious to pull herself from the door, Mirrel watched them talk. Although she could not make out their words, their conversation seemed pleasant enough, even if the lord did seem a bit troubled by something.
And then it happened.
The elf-maid kissed Lord Soth.
Lord Soth returned her kiss.
Mirrel slapped a hand over her mouth to cover the sound of her gasp.
Then she looked again, clutching the linen tightly against her chest. After watching the two kiss for several moments she moved away from the door and stood with her back to the wall. She remembered the linen in her arms—linen destined for Lord Soth’s chambers.
She would take them there.
And as she set off, she wondered whether she might run into Lady Korinne along the way.
“This isn’t right,” said Soth, breaking off the kiss.
Isolde looked away. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” She sighed and placed her hands delicately in her lap.
For several long moments they simply sat in silence, their eyes avoiding each other as the full realization of what they’d just done settled into their minds.
“You have a wife,” said Isolde, sliding a hand onto Soth’s well-muscled shoulder. “Just because she’s yet to have a child doesn’t mean she never will.”
Soth nodded.
“Perhaps it would be best if I left soon.” She raised her head and looked at him, as if to gauge his reaction.
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