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.
<
br /> 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."
"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.
She was right. He knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to let her go. Not now. Even though he knew it was wrong, he still wanted her. And, truth be told, he really couldn't be sure that she didn't want him, too.
He wasn't sure if her words matched her true feelings. "No," he said at last.
"But…" she said, her eyes wide and innocent as that of a child.
"I'd still like to visit you from time to time," he said. "I need you
… to talk to."
"Of course," said Isolde with a smile, her eyes narrowing almost seductively. "I will stay a while longer, milord-if you need me."
When Mirrel arrived at the lord's chambers she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, this time a faint voice responded. "Yes."
"Linens milady." "Come in," she said. "The door is open."
After a brief moment of hesitation, Mirrel opened the door and entered the room. She'd been inside it only once before and was still somewhat unfamiliar with its layout.
On one wall there was a large fireplace that had a small fire alight in its hearth, giving off only a small amount of light and heat. One side of the room was covered by a fanciful design of connected crowns, swords and roses. In the center of the design was the rough likeness of a knight who Mirrel guessed was Vinas Solamnus, founder of the Knights of
Solamnia. At the other end of the room was a small chair upon which sat Lady Korinne. She was busy reading something, an old volume by the looks of it.
She stood in the center of the room not knowing where to place the linens. Lady Korinne did not look up from her reading, and Mirrel was left with no other choice but to interrupt her. "Beg pardon, milady."
At last Korinne looked up and smiled.
"Where might I put these linens?"
"I believe there's room in the trunk at the foot of the bed."
Mirrel nodded and went to the trunk. There was more than enough room inside. She placed the linens neatly inside and closed the trunk easily.
Lady Korinne resumed her reading, but after a few moments, she realized that Mirrel hadn't yet left the room.
She looked up at her. "Yes?"
Mirrel felt her heart hammering against her chest like a smith's mallet upon an anvil. Her mouth seemed parched and she struggled to make a sound. "I, uh…"
Lady Korinne turned to face the maid and smiled. "Is there something on your mind, something you wanted to tell me?"
Mirrel nodded, thankful that Lady Korinne was so perceptive.
"Don't be nervous," said Korinne. "I'm the lady of the keep, not
Mishakal." She gestured at the chair across from her. "Have a seat."
Mirrel moved slowly across the room and eased herself gently into the chair. It wasn't that she was nervous about telling Lady Korinne what she saw, for her eyes had not deceived her. No, the reason she was hesitant was that she was unsure about what Lady Korinne's reaction to it might be. For all Mirrel knew, she might refuse to believe her, banish her from the keep, maybe even from all of Solamnia. Nevertheless, she'd seen what she had seen and she owed it to the lady of the keep to make her aware of it-just as any one of Lord Soth's knights would be bound to inform him of some curious occurrences within the keep.
"Now then, what is it?" asked Lady Korinne.
"Before delivering the linens here, I dropped off some others to the maids' chambers."
"Yes."
"In one of the rooms, the elf-maid looked as if she had been playing a harp that Istvan had lent her."
"I've heard she's quite a talented musician, especially on that instrument."
Mirrel took a deep breath.
"What is it?"
"Lord Soth was in the room with her."
The color drained from Lady Korinne's face and she suddenly looked quite pale. She placed a hand on the desk in front of her to steady herself.
"Are you all right, milady?"
"What happened?" asked Lady Korinne.
Mirrel shook her head. "Perhaps I shouldn't say. I don't want to dishonor milord."
Lady Korinne breathed deeply, composing herself. "Tell
me," she said, her voice steady and surprisingly strong, perhaps even a little bit angry. "And I promise you your words will never leave this room." Mirrel nodded, leaned forward and told her.
The night was cool, but Lady Korinne hardly felt its chill. She walked through the rows of the keep's small garden, her eyes open but seeing nothing through the emotional storm cloud that hung over her like a pall. It was made up of many different parts: rage, disappointment, sorrow, fear.
When the maid first told her what she had seen, Korinne's first reaction was to deny it. And in fact she'd tried to tell herself that it simply was not possible, that the great Lord Soth, Knight of the Rose, was bound by the Oath and the Measure and would surely never betray her in such a way. But as the maid continued to speak, Korinne knew in her heart that she was telling the truth.
She had no proof, but evidence of Soth's waning love was always there, in the way he talked to her, in the way they kissed, in the way … She was losing him… to an elf-maid.
But maybe it wasn't too late. Mirrel had seen the two kissing. Kissing, that was all. He was still her husband.
Perhaps it wasn't too late to pull him back, catch him before he strayed too far.
It was worth a try. And one thing was for certain, she wasn't about to lose him without a fight. And she knew just what form the fight would take.
"You called for me, milady?"
Korinne turned and saw the young man named Engel Silversword. He had been sent to Dargaard Keep from Palanthas by Korinne's mother. He had high hopes of someday joining the Knights of Solamnia. Due to the fact that he had ties to Palanthas and the Gladria family, his loyalty to her would be assured, and since he had yet to become the squire of any knight, she could arrange to have him sponsored in a matter of days. If he served her well, she might even be persuaded to speak as a witness to his honor.
"Yes, I did," said Korinne. She sat down on a bench. The young man moved closer to her but remained standing at a distance of two paces. "I have a task for you."
"Anything, milady."
Korinne nodded.
"I wish you to travel to Vingaard Keep."
The squire immediately stood straighter as he realized this task was one of significant importance.
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