The Road To Avea

by Lynn Lorenz

  "But he's hurt me so much, Holy One." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

  He settled back against the bench. "When a child does wrong, does its mother hate it?"

  She shook her head.

  "Of course not. She loves her child, unconditionally." He leaned over to touch his shoulder to hers and pointed upward. "So does He. No matter what we do, how we fail, His love still covers us."

  She nodded.

  "So, if this man, who has hurt you, was worthy enough to win your love, Sarah, then perhaps he's worth forgiving his stupidity."

  She turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

  His hands, resting on his belly, moved up and down with his laughter. "Oh, Sarah, trust me. Any man who would let you go has to be stupid or mad. Is he one of those?" He tilted his head in question.

  "No, he isn't mad. Stupid, he may be." Her mouth twisted in a grin.

  "Tell me of him."

  Sarah sighed and sat back. "His honor is everything to him, Holy One. He's devout, strong, courageous, and brave beyond words."

  "You forgot handsome."

  "And handsome, aye." She smiled. "And even though he's all those things, he is unsure of himself, painfully shy at times, and can't see his own self-worth."

  "Oh, well, then, he's just a man." The priest shrugged. "I thought he was someone special." His humor made her smile for a moment.

  "I love him." She lowered her voice. "We kissed. I swore myself to him, Holy One. Told him I belonged to him. I was so happy. Until he asked me to renounce him. I refused."

  The priest looked at her in shock. "Was the man drunk?"

  "As a matter of fact, he was."

  "That explains it. Sarah, the man was probably taken with the drunken notion he didn't deserve you and wasn't good enough for you. In that, he might be right."

  "He is more than worthy." She sat upright.

  "Exactly! You're the one to decide that, not him. He can only ask to be accepted. You make the choice. That is the way it is between men and women."

  "Do you think so?" There was doubt in her voice.

  "Men are at the mercy of women, Sarah. The hunger for a woman can drive a man mad, rob him of his good sense, and lead him to do stupid things. Like asking for your love back as if you could pluck it from your heart and hand it back to him." He made a sound of dismissal with his mouth and waved his hand in obvious aggravation.

  "He said he had other women."

  "Does he? Do you believe him?"

  "I don't know. He doesn't seem the type." She shook her head. "He could have them, scattered about the district, for all I know."

  "And didn't you have men chasing after you?"

  "Well, there was one man who showed great interest, but I was sure he cared little about me."

  "You were a prize to him?"

  "Exactly."

  "But this man, the one you love, to him you weren't a prize?"

  "I suppose so." She threw up her hands in frustration. "Oh, I don't know. We argued most of the time. I never knew how he felt about me from one minute to the next. He never said he loved me, Holy One."

  "Did you say it to him?"

  "No, but I would have, given time."

  "Perhaps so would he." He reached out and squeezed her hand. He rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle. "Well, Sarah, follow your heart, my child. It's all we have to lead us. You know what's right and wrong. Take him or leave him. Just be sure it's for the right reasons."

  "Follow my heart." She looked into his dark eyes.

  "Good evening, Sarah." He walked away.

  Sarah took a deep breath and raised her eyes to His symbols. The wands stood before her, a symbol of all she had hoped for in this new life.

  She had never hoped for love.

  They say He is generous in His gifts. But can I accept them?

  * * * *

  Sarah sat on the sofa reading a book. She had read the same page over and over and was getting nowhere. Slamming the book shut, she stood. Once she was on her feet, she couldn't decide what to do.

  She had to return in three days and when she returned, Thatcher would expect her decision. She sank back to the sofa and stretched out, pushing a pillow behind her head.

  The morning sun came through the window and fell on a spot before the hearth, warming the wood floor. Outside, she heard laughter as people passed on the street. Inside, the rooms were quiet. Luci had left that morning to visit her parents, leaving Sarah to herself.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and she slept for the first time in days.

  * * * *

  Heavy pounding on the door woke her. Groggy, Sarah sat up, rubbed her eyes, and glanced at the clock on the mantle. She'd been asleep for hours and it was after lunch.

  The pounding began again, this time even more furiously.

  Running to the door, Sarah flung it open, thinking it was Luci.

  Stefan stood there, in a spotless uniform, his pins and boots shining, and his hair clean and neatly tied back, the look on his face determined.

  "Sarah," he greeted her and stepped into the room, pulled off his gloves, and stuffed them into his pocket.

  "Stefan! What are you doing here?" Who had told him where she was? Luci most likely.

  "I had to come to you. I had to speak to you." He swallowed.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Is something wrong? Of course it is!" He ran his hand over his face. "I am. I was wrong, I mean."

  "Wrong about what?" Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

  "Wrong to ask you to take back your oath. Wrong to come to you drunk. Wrong to ask to come to your room. Wrong to tell you I had other women. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" He counted off his wrongs on his fingers as he paced back and forth.

  "I understand." Sarah folded her arms across her chest.

  "You do?" He spun around, hope in his eyes.

  "Aye. You're an idiot." She stared at him.

  His mouth fell open.

  "And you think I'm an idiot." Her eyebrow arched.

  "I do not think you are an idiot, Sarah." His voice was low.

  "You're telling me you don't keep any women."

  "I don't keep any women. I said that to make you hate me."

  "Well, Inspector, your brilliant plan almost worked. All it lacked was a clever disguise."

  He winced and collapsed onto the sofa. "When I was young, no more than eighteen, I lost my way, Sarah. I met a man, Marsh Waterford, Cordelia's brother, and joined his band of bravos."

  He took her hand and pulled her down next to him. She sat, but withdrew her hand from his.

  "We ran the districts, drinking, gambling, and whoring." He took a deep breath. "I took many whores and wenches, Sarah, but it was empty. There's no love in a whore's bed." He looked away. "For nearly a year, I ran with them."

  He paused for another breath.

  "I was young. Mad at the world. Alone, I thought. Except for Damon Thatcher. I thought at the time I could never make him proud of me."

  "Go on." Sarah folded her arms across her chest.

  "Then Marsh introduced us to a man who called himself the Sorcerer. What he promised was seductive. I let the Sorcerer burn his mark into my back." He reached for his shoulder.

  Sarah couldn't believe it, not of Stefan. "But you must have left them? You've been in the patrol for over twenty years."

  "Aye. There came a time when Marsh and the Sorcerer asked too much and at too dear a cost. I left them, found Damon, and went into the academy. When I came out, he took my commission, and I've served under him ever since. I dedicated myself to the patrol, Sarah. It's my life."

  He seemed to want to say more, so she gave him another, "Go on."

  "Recently, the Sorcerer sent me messages, threatening anyone close to me if I didn't return to him. Why he wants me, I have no idea. I wanted to protect you, Sarah. That's why I tried to push you away."

  "Didn't you think I should decide if the risk was too great? Like Rolf and Luci?"

  "Anothe
r in a long line of my mistakes." He sighed and shook his head. "I never said I was smart. I'm an idiot, remember?" He laughed ruefully. "I find more and more that I am exceedingly dense."

  They were silent for a moment, both looking at the floor.

  "I'm not a perfect man, Sarah. Far from it. You know that better than anyone."

  Again, she found herself measuring Gareth Watkins against Stefan and knew Gareth's ego would never admit to anything less than perfection. Sarah didn't want a perfect man; she wanted the beauty of a life lived, flawed and searching to be more.

  "Stefan, I never thought you were perfect." She stood and sauntered away from the sofa to stand in front of him. "So, about these women. Do you expect me to believe you haven't been with any women since you were eighteen?" She didn't hide her disbelief as she looked down at him.

  "No, I didn't say that. I said I don't keep any women in the district. It's different."

  "A subtle difference I fail to see. Besides the women you spoke of in your youth, who have you been with?"

  He licked his lips. "I use a brothel in Reynolds Grange, out of the district. It's a place I'd heard of from another inspector. The last time was this past spring."

  "You went to a whorehouse?" Sarah was surprised to realize that men were men, no matter which side of the portal they were on.

  "Aye. I spent the night there." He hung his head so as not to meet her eyes.

  "With one woman?"

  "No. Three." He looked at his boots.

  Sarah covered her mouth with her hand as she bit her lip, struggling not to laugh.

  Stefan looked at her, frowning.

  "You think that's funny?"

  "No. Three women. In one night?"

  "Aye." He nodded.

  "It's good to know," she muttered behind her hand, and then aloud said, "that you didn't have a favorite. Are there no women you bed here in the district? No emotional attachments?"

  "No, no one." He looked at her, his brow furrowed in worry. "I swear it."

  He looked sincere, but she had to be sure. "So, you've come here for what, Stefan? To tell me you lied to me just to protect me. That you're not perfect. That you've been to a whorehouse before you even met me?" She held her arms out in exasperation. The man was maddening. At first, she couldn't get him to talk and now he seemed to be babbling.

  "To ask your forgiveness." He held out his arms to her, pleading, as he sat on the couch.

  "You're forgiven." She tossed the words off with a shrug, but made no move to him. Sarah stood there with her arms crossed, as he searched her eyes for some sign of acceptance, but found only her pain. "What did you expect? You hurt me."

  "I know. It's killing me that I caused you so much pain. I promise, I vow, never to hurt you again." Stefan's eyes burned with determination.

  "So you say." Her eyes held his and let him wait, hanging on the edge of hell, for her words of salvation. Sarah walked over to stand in front of him, looked down into his eyes, lowered her eyelids, and in a deep, throaty voice said, "Tell me just one thing, Stefan."

  "Anything. Name it." He looked at her in desperate hope.

  "To whom do you belong?"

  His lips parted and his breath caught in his throat. Sliding off the sofa onto his knees, Stefan's hands wrapped her waist. He pulled her to him and pressed his face against her belly.

  "By the One God, I belong to you. It's always been you, Sarah. There is no one else and there will be only you until He takes me."

  Sarah closed her eyes and dropped her arms to press his head to her. She ran her fingers through his hair as he clung to her.

  "Tell me." She raised his chin to look in his eyes.

  She saw his passion for her burning there. "I love you, Sarah. I pray the One God forgives me for loving you more than Him. Without you, I am nothing."

  She smiled and pulled him to his feet, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss. Cradling her head in his hands, he kissed her with such reverence it astounded her.

  Pulling away, Stefan reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black box, and held it out to her. "Take vows with me, Sarah."

  Her hand reached for the box, then hesitated as she looked into his eyes.

  "I've been such an old fool, Sarah. Would you honor me and accept my ring?"

  She took the box and opened it. A ring of two vines entwined--one gold, the other silver--sat on a bed of white satin. The tendrils of the vines curled around diamonds and emeralds.

  "Stefan, this must have cost you a fortune."

  "It was the only one I thought worthy to be on your finger."

  She looked into his hazel eyes and, at last, she broke. Throwing her arms around him, she sobbed her joy as he held her, stroking her hair to comfort her.

  "I'm sorry, Sarah. Did I do something wrong?" His voice said he had no idea why she was crying.

  "Oh, Stefan, you are an old fool." She slipped the ring on her finger and kissed him again, sinking into his embrace.

  Chapter 23

  "Sir, may I come in?" Malcolm Reilly stood in the doorway to Thatcher's office and leaned his head in.

  "Of course, Malcolm." Thatcher sat back, wondering what brought his newest inspector to his office.

  "Well, I've just come back from Avea. I've been doing surveillance on Blackmoor's safe house."

  "Aye. What of it?"

  "There seemed to be a lot of activity of late, lots of men coming and going. Today, I followed one of the men to a nearby tavern. I managed to get near enough to hear them."

  "And what did you hear?" Thatcher sat back.

  Reilly's small black eyes glittered as he spoke. "The meeting, sir, the one with Blackmoor himself? It's going to happen tomorrow."

  "That's much sooner than we expected, Reilly. Are you sure of this?"

  "Completely. The man I followed was arranging the meeting. He told this fellow that the teleport block on the house was coming down at nine o'clock in the evening to let Blackmoor and the man he's meeting in. But it's only going to be down for three minutes, he said." Malcolm licked his lips.

  "You're absolutely sure of it, Reilly? Tomorrow?" Damon frowned.

  "Aye. Absolutely, sir." He nodded his head.

  "All right. I'm glad you took the initiative to follow the man and learn this information. You've done well." Thatcher smiled at the young man.

  Reilly stood and bowed deeply. "Thank you, sir. I only wish to serve the patrol."

  Thatcher watched as Malcolm turned and left the room.

  "Gustav!"

  "Aye, sir." Gustav stood before the desk.

  "Locate Bane and Creel. Tell them we move on Blackmoor tomorrow night." Thatcher bent over his parchment, writing down the information. "Take this letter personally to Chief Inspector Oliver at Heath. He's sending us some men and will need to know the raid's been moved up." He signed, sealed it, and then handed it to Gustav.

  "Right, sir." Gustav vanished.

  Finally, Blackmoor, you bastard, we'll have you, Thatcher thought.

  * * * *

  "Let's do it now, before we change our minds," Sarah said.

  "What? Are you sure? Don't you want a big wedding?"

  "No. I never wanted to get married at all." She shrugged. "Now, Luci, she wants a big wedding. I've heard no end of the details of that affair and there isn't even a groom."

  "But...right now?" He stammered and blinked. This was happening very fast, much faster than he'd thought.

  "Are you changing your mind?"

  "No. However, I'd hoped to talk to Damon about our circumstances, Sarah. I'm not sure if policy will allow it. I know a superior must not be involved with a subordinate. That means we may be very much out of line. If we marry without putting this through the proper channels..." He shook his head.

  "Would you lose your commission? Or I?"

  "Possibly. It depends on the circumstances, I suppose." He knew of patrollers that were married and serving at the same station. Even Mercy Loch had been married and serving with her husba
nd before he died, but they were both patrollers.

  "We fell in love...what better circumstances?"

  Stefan shrugged. "I don't know." He thought of all the paperwork the patrol demanded over the least thing. What would it take to authorize a marriage? Could he wait that long to be with Sarah? He pulled her to him. "Damn them. Damn the policy. Let's go now. I don't want to wait."

  He kissed her, and she opened her lips to let him in. His tongue explored her mouth, loving the way she tasted, ending his kiss with a gentle pull on her lower lip. Pulling her body to his, he pressed the evidence of his desire into Sarah.

  "This is insanity, not having you." His lips found hers again in a deep kiss. If he didn't have Sarah soon, he would surely go mad. As he ran his hand upward from her waist, he caressed her breast, and her moan vibrated against his mouth.

  "Stefan, we need to go, now, before we do something stupid."

  He nibbled her neck. By the One God, he wanted to do something stupid. The taste of her skin demanded he do something to her, and whether it was stupid or not, he didn't care.

  Reluctantly, he raised his head, smiled at her, and let out a breath. "I want you, Sarah, but you're right. If we stand here much longer, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

  Sarah found her cloak and her purse and they left the rooms, went down the stairs and to the street.

  "I know just the place." Sarah pulled him by the hand. "But first, you need a ring."

  "I?" He hadn't thought about his ring. He'd been so intent on making sure Sarah's ring was just right.

  "Of course. You don't think I'm going to let you run all over the district without a ring on your finger, do you?" She stopped and pulled him to her. "You're mine, Stefan Bane, and no one else's!" Her eyes flashed as she pulled him down to her and kissed him right there on the street. Several people passing saw the surprised look on his face at her boldness, then laughed and walked on.

  She led him down the street near the market to a small jewelry shop. As they entered, the door chimed to let the shopkeeper know he had a customer.

  "We need a man's wedding ring," she blurted out as the man approached.

  "Indeed." He eyed the couple. "Over here."

  They stepped over to a large glass case and peered into it. A dozen rings of all styles lay scattered over a black velvet cloth. Some were gold, some silver, some plain and some elaborate.