“You trust him, Rafe?” Tess asked.
“The Germans, Bavarians I think, were strict about their honor codes when Rowle was young. If he swore to offer us hearth and bed then it would violate everything he believed in.”
“But does he still believe in it?” Cris asked.
“He’s sworn our safety, in front of his ‘apprentice.’ If he were to betray our trust, how would he ever get Alex to believe anything else he said? Besides, I think he’s confident that he can always come after us later, he doesn’t need to attack us in his home.”
Beast grunted something and I chose not to hear him.
Lights came on, not under the carport, but on the walls and along the edges of the wide deck on the side of the house. I raised my hands; Cris took my left, and Tess my right. We walked up the drive toward the steps that led up to the deck. The steps were carved of stone, the same granite that made up the four faces of Rushmore. It was shortly after noon, but the sky was so dark that recessed lights came on as we reached the steps. We climbed into the face of a strong wind, growing stronger as we walked. When we reached the deck, the wind was cut by the mass of the house. From here, I could see that the walls were made up of at least sixteen-inch thick, Swedish cope logs. Everything about the house spoke of power and money. How long had Rowle lived here? When he stopped serving Fate, did he settle down? I’d always assumed he kept moving, like all the Wanderers. Even the months we’d spend working out of Joe’s little cabin had given me a touch of claustrophobia. I was always anxious to get back on the road.
There was a six-place setting of a very expensive looking furniture set arranged around a fire pit in the center of the wide deck. Ten-foot high, French doors led into the house. As we approached it, a shadow appeared in the glass doors and then both doors opened inwards. Rowle stood in the doorway, wearing what I swear was a smoking jacket over lounging pants. Not exactly how I would have pictured him.
“Welcome, Wanderers and lady. Welcome to my home. You may feel comfortable while you are here. Eat, drink, and rest. In the manner of my people, I offer you the protection afforded to all who come in peace.”
His smile wavered as he noticed the crossbow slung over Tess’s back. “Let me add one footnote to that, the rules say that I must honor your safety as long as you draw no blood in my home.”
Tess nodded slightly and then said, “I wouldn’t think of violating such an offer of peace.”
Rowle’s smile brightened again. “Excellently put, Wanderer. Raphael is training you properly.” He seemed to notice Bruno for the first time and smiled. “I see you’ve picked up a stray. Wyvern’s have been known to make good familiars among the witches, but I’ve never seen a Wanderer with one.”
Tess stroked Bruno’s head. “He’s a pet. I think he’s cute.”
Rowle smiled and then glanced upwards at the growing storm, just as the first of countless snowflakes swirled down. He snapped his fingers and the wind and cold disappeared as an energy shield formed over his deck. “Come in, come in. I have a fire in the hearth and Alex is setting out drinks and snacks.”
“Thank you for having us,” I said. “I look forward to speaking with you at length.”
“And I with you. Now, come along, oh, you may tell your beasts that they may shelter in the barn if you like.”
I turned to look back at Beast and Maia. If the storm became as bad as it was threatening, then they might like shelter. I waved a hand and our familiars leapt into the air and flew to us. The porch was plenty wide for them to set down, but not while Rowle’s energy shield was up.
When they were within earshot, I shouted, “You can stay in the barn while we talk. The storm looks to be bad.”
“Very well,” Beast growled.
Maia nodded in the affirmative.
I turned back to Rowle. “How about your familiar? Is it in the barn?”
“Certainly, but he has his own paddock. Your animals will not be bothered as long as they stay out of his area.”
Animals, what Wanderer thought of his familiar as an animal?
“You hear that Beast? Leave his familiar alone.”
“I understand,” Beast said and the two of them flew off over the house.
Rowle stood to the side to let the women enter and motioned for me to precede him also. I gave him a nod and stepped into his home’s great room. It fit that definition in every way. The ceiling rose to a peak at least twenty feet above the hardwood floors. More hardwood, tongue and groove by the look, made up the sloping sides of the cathedral ceiling. A massive stone fireplace rose all the way to the ceiling on our right, between the French doors and a bank of windows. The faint smell of burning wood filled the room and there was a glow of the fire against the furniture and the ceiling. A wide seating area made up the space in front of the fireplace. A long sofa of dark leather and two wide over-stuffed chairs of the same material were at either end with square end tables bearing lamps fitting into the corners. As we entered, the lamps lit with a soft glow.
A formal dining area with a long table of thick wood surrounded by a dozen high-back chairs took up most of the left side of the room and in the back was a kitchen with red cabinets so dark that they were almost black. Black stainless steel appliances were set in the far wall, including a Frost King reefer unit that looked as though it could hold an entire steer carcass. A wide island and the rest of the counter tops looked like variegated marble.
Several animal heads were mounted on the walls, including both a brown and a polar bear. The rest were in the deer family, except for one grizzled old boar.
Alex, my son, was coming from the kitchen with a tray that bore the promised snacks, a couple bottles of wine, and five glasses. He eyed me for just an instant before switching his gaze to first Cris, who he nodded towards, and then Tess who he met with a wide smile. Alex set the tray on the coffee table that sat between the sofa and the fire.
I looked at the different sitting positions and waited to see where the ladies would sit. Tess didn’t hesitate, she moved to the far end of the couch, where Alex still stood. The two hugged briefly and after leaning her crossbow against the end of the sofa, Tess sat down there while Alex took the overstuffed chair beside her.
Cris moved to sit beside Tess and I took the nearer end of the couch. When I sat down, Cris made a small, but noticeable, move toward Tess.
Rowle shut the doors and came in, taking the chair nearest me.
“Alexander, will you pour for our guests?” he asked.
“Certainly. How have you been, Tess?” Alex said as he picked up a bottle of a deep red wine and split it between the five glasses.
“Good, Alex. It’s great to see you again,” Tess replied.
“And this must be Cris. It’s nice to see you in person after our phone talks,” Alex said as he handed a glass to both Tess and Cris.
“Yes, it’s good to meet you also. Although, I was surprised and saddened to hear about your recent demise.”
“Hah, yeah, it was a bit of a surprise to me too, but everything worked out in the end,” Alex said. He held out a glass of wine to me. Our eyes met and I was shocked by the ferocity I saw in them.
What the hell? I wondered. I took the glass from him and noticed his jaw muscles twitched.
He gave another glass to Rowle, picked up a plate of cheese and crackers, and offered them to Tess.
While the ladies and Alex started nibbling, I turned to Rowle. Rowle looked to be pushing fifty, which told of his incredible age. Walt had thought he’d become a Wanderer during the revolution. He’d been a German mercenary, one of the infamous Hessians, when he’d died and had been reaped. He had served Verðandi for fifty or sixty years before refusing any more summonings from her. There were a few old scars on his face and he looked weaker than when I last saw him, just before my own near death in the mouth of his black dragon.
I sipped at the wine; it was an incredibly good cabernet sauvignon, while I considered my words carefully.
“Rowle,
I think you should let me train Alex. It’s what Verðandi wants.”
Rowle didn’t reply immediately, but made a show of sipping at his own wine and letting the liquid sit on his tongue while he savored it. Finally, he swallowed and met my gaze.
“Straight to the point, eh, Raphael? You are the first Wanderers to visit me here in nearly a hundred years. Can’t you relax for a moment and enjoy the wine and the company?”
“Rowle, you and I have our differences and they are massive. We can’t just pretend none of the past has occurred. While I am interested in finding a path that will let us live in peace with each other, I have to see some sign that you’ve changed before I can accept that.”
“Changed?” Rowle seemed surprised by my statement. “Exactly what form of change were you looking for?”
“Mostly that you’ve given up this insanity of trying to start Ragnarök. Whether you return to being a Wanderer or not is totally up to you, but you know I have to prevent anything as world changing as Ragnarök. You and the loyal Wanderers maintained a peace for nearly two hundred years before you started this quest of yours. Can’t we go back to that sort of relationship?”
Rowle took another sip and studied me. I noticed the girls and Alex had stopped talking and were listening to our conversation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bruno had left Tess’s shoulder and curled up on the stone hearth in front of the fire. His hide nearly glowed with heat.
Before replying, Rowle made a hand motion and a four-foot long oak stick, at least a foot in diameter, floated from a bin in the far corner and maneuvered itself into the fireplace. Rowle watched the flames for a few seconds more and then turned back to me.
“Suppose I agree that it’s time we stopped our fighting. Will you agree to let Alex be my apprentice?”
I frowned and shook my head slightly. “That’s not really my call, Rowle. He was reaped just as all of us were and Verðandi sent me to train him.”
“But if I were to promise to train him in the ways of the Wanderers and even allow him to decide for himself if he is to serve Verðandi when the time comes, could you not see your way to let me have an apprentice. You know I am better qualified to train him.”
“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter,” I said. “Verðandi–”
Rowle interrupted me. “Verðandi isn’t perfect. She’s just another damn god who wants to interfere in the business of mortals. You know she cares very little for humans, other than her precious Wanderers.”
“No one is perfect, Rowle. Least of all, us. Whether she has any fondness for humans doesn’t concern me. She has given the Wanderers a noble mission–”
Rowle cut me off again. “Noble? Please, she just wants you to take care of the things she wants taken care of. Wanderers could solve many more problems if she would just let them know about them ahead of time. She’s Fate, Raphael, she’s knows much more than she lets on and only sics you on the problems she cares about.”
“That may be,” I acknowledged. “But our job is to aid her. She gave us all this power for a reason and it’s our obligation–”
“You feel obligated to be her lackey?” Rowle asked with a snarl of scorn.
“I don’t like that word, but yes, lackey or vassal or trouble-shooter, they all mean that I serve Fate, just as you once did.”
I took a breath and studied the man who’d been my enemy for so long. “Rowle, what changed in you? You served her just as we do now. What happened that made you decide that you couldn’t do that anymore?”
“I have my reasons,” Rowle said.
“Care to discuss them? I’m trying to see your side of this and it’d help if I knew what caused this rift between you two.”
“Haven’t you asked Verðandi?”
“Yes, I did. She didn’t answer me.”
“Of course not, the old hag wouldn’t be willing to admit anything that would lower your faith in her.”
“So then, you tell me.”
Rowle downed the rest of his wine and motioned toward another bottle. It rose from the tray, its cap peeling back as it did. The cork slid silently from the bottle’s neck and flew into the fire. Rowle held out his glass and the bottle tilted enough to fill his glass half full. He looked at the rest of us, but we still had enough wine in our glasses that he didn’t see the need to top them off.
“Well, if you want the story, I’ll give it to you. Back before I ever came to this country, I was married. We lived in a part of Germany referred to as Prussia back then. Many of the young men in our country hired themselves out as mercenaries in the many wars that were sweeping Europe in the seventeen hundreds. I was the captain of just such a platoon. I was assigned to help the British with their rebellious colonies and we came over shortly after Washington made his famous Christmas attack on Trenton against some of my fellow countrymen.
“We served our paymasters well, trying to make up for the disgrace of those colleagues. In their defense, I should mention that in that time, it was considered un-Christian to make war on Christmas day. My countrymen made the mistake of thinking Washington was a God-fearing Christian and they let their guard down.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t for me to make apologies for Washington’s bad form, as the British would say.
“I led my men for the next six months before I was killed by a musket ball from someone I never saw. You know what comes next. Verðandi sent a Wanderer to train me. I was told not to go home to my family. I had a son and daughter, twins, who were ten years old when I left for the Americas, but I was used to taking orders. It was the way Prussian soldiers were raised. My Prince, a second cousin on my mother’s side, took care of my family and saw to it that my wife was remarried to a man with prospects.
“I managed to check on my family from time to time, even though I disguised myself when I was in the area. Eventually, my wife’s new husband moved them all to the newly created United States of America. They settled in the Carolinas, south of Charleston.”
Rowle paused and noticed my glass was empty. He made the bottle tip more wine into it and into the other’s glasses, emptying that bottle. Alex got up without speaking and carried both empties into the kitchen. He was back with a third bottle when Rowle started up his story again.
“My son prospered in the new country and my daughter was married to a wealthy landowner in Virginia. I watched from afar and as my descendants grew in number and wealth. Then came the second war with the British. My family remembered the traditions and two of my grandsons joined the small American army. They were both young men of high birth and training and were given commissions and the command of platoons of men.
“I worried about those two. One had been given my name, Rowle, and his cousin, Frederick were both in the 1st Regiment of U.S. Light Dragoons in 1814. They served under a Frenchman who had migrated to this country after fighting with the French during the battle of Yorktown. Laval’s men were not probably outfitted, hell; they were not even given mounts until a week before the infamous Battle of Bladensburg. The battle was an embarrassment for the Americans. A smaller British force made them turn tail and run. It wasn’t so much the men’s fault as it was of their leaders.
“During the battle, both of my grandsons were killed. I know because I was there. I had asked Verðandi to take one or both of my grandsons as Wanderers if they were killed in battle. I still hadn’t received an apprentice by then and both would have made excellent Wanderers. Verðandi ordered me not to interfere in the battle in anyway and promised she would consider taking both of them as my apprentices.”
Rowle stopped and drained his second glass of wine. He summoned the third bottle and refilled it. Taking another healthy swig and making no pretense of actually enjoying the drink, he went back to his tale.
“When my grandsons fell, I was close enough to have saved both of them, but Verðandi had ordered my hand stayed and besides, I fully expected them both to rise after the battle and join me.
“When there was no sign of a Valkyrie
coming to reap my boys I tried to save their lives, but it was too late. They were past even the power of a Wanderer to resurrect. I couldn’t believe Verðandi had betrayed me. I summoned her, but she refused my call. Finally, after nightfall when the battlefield was left to the dead, the dying, and the scavengers, Verðandi appeared.”
“I demanded to know why she hadn’t reaped my boys. She told me that they didn’t die honorably enough. That they were retreating when they were killed. I argued that they were following orders to retreat, that the entire army had retreated, but she was having none of my logic. She told me my grandchildren were not worthy of becoming Wanderers.”
Rowle took another drink and eyes literally glowed with anger.
“The hag said my boys weren’t worthy. I could have saved both of them. Only Verðandi’s promise to have them be Wanderers had stayed my hand. I was betrayed by the god I’d served for forty years.
“I swore then that never again would I answer her summons.”
I thought of his story and understood that if he stated things correctly, then Verðandi only said she would consider both his children for Wanderers, not that she’d actually take either of them. I was not so foolish that I would point that out to him in his current state.
“So, you already knew about our relationship with Verðandi?” I asked.
“What relationship?” Alex asked.
“Yes, yes, that is why I knew my offspring could become Wanderers,” Rowle said. “You see, Alex, we are all descendants of Verðandi’s dalliance with a mortal. All of us, except for this lady, Cris, that is. All Wanderers are descendants of a god. A lot of good that will do you if the god turns her back on you.”
“While we are talking about descendants,” I said. Glancing down the couch toward Tess and Alex. “Verðandi tells me that we are also descendants of yours.”
Rowle nodded. “Yes, one of my granddaughters were both of your ancestors. So that would make me something like your five times great-grandfather. Is it any wonder that I couldn’t bring myself to kill you in all the times I could have?”
Wanderers 4: A Tough Act to Follow (The Wanderers) Page 28