Alicia squealed with delight then moved away from him before splashing him full in the face. “For that compliment, I’ll let you go without telling the guards,” she announced.
“It’s your choice, Milady,” said Vagrum. Sorial thought the bodyguard didn’t agree with the decision.
“So tell me, stableboy, why are you here?”
“Sorial.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Sorial.”
“I don’t care what your name is. I’m the daughter of a duke and you’re a serf. I’ll call you what I want to.”
“Sorry, Milady,” murmured Sorial, still rooted to the spot where he had stood since first spying Alicia.
She suddenly disappeared under the water, only to reappear moments later, smiling and giggling and tossing her head from side to side to shake the water from her hair, her braid whipping like a living thing.
“When you came, you weren’t looking for me, were you? Did you know I lived here?” asked Alicia.
“No. My friend Rexall brung me here a few weeks ago. He ‘found’ this spot in his wanderings.”
Alicia pouted at his response, although Sorial couldn’t tell whether her disappointment was genuine. “Why are you here, then? Public baths not good enough? Not enough pretty girls there? I’m sure most of them are wearing less than I am.”
“The public baths are crowded and dirty. It’s cleaner and quieter here.”
“Obviously, since my father doesn’t allow random vagabonds to swim in his part of the river. Otherwise, it would be crowded and dirty here as well. But I thought dirt didn’t bother you.”
“It doesn’t, but I like being cleaner after swimming than before.”
She pondered that for a moment. “You look nice cleaner. You should try bathing more often.”
Turning to her guardian, she called, “Vagrum, throw him his clothes so he can put them on in the water. I think he might be shy about climbing out to get them.” To Sorial, she added, “Not that I haven’t already seen everything.”
Shortly thereafter, a dripping Sorial was standing near Vagrum on the bank while Alicia continued to drift in the water. “You can go.” With that curt dismissal, she seemed to lose all interest in him.
As Sorial turned to flee, Vagrum had a word of advice. “You shouldn’t come back, with or without your friend. Not everyone you might encounter would be as forgiving as Lady Alicia. You’re fortunate she’s got a soft spot for you. Anyone else’d be hauled in front of the Duke for trial. I’ll honor her wishes but if’n it was up to me, there’d be a reckoning for this. I’ve broken more than a few laws in my time, so I’m sympathetic but, without punishment, ain’t nothing to prevent this from happening again.”
That was enough to convince Sorial that, no matter how much Rexall prompted him in the future, his days swimming in the river were over.
As he retreated toward the city, Alicia again took notice of him again. Her laughing voice pursued him: “See you soon, stableboy!”
CHAPTER SIX: THUNDER
For the second time in less than a week, Sorial was staring into those green eyes. This time, however, they weren’t dancing. As on the occasion of their first meeting, Alicia’s father left her and Vagrum waiting in the stable while he attended the latest of Warburm’s mysterious closed-door sessions. The attendance for these was so varied that they were beginning to excite speculation among the innkeeper’s employees, but no one knew what they really meant. The most frequent topic of conjecture - that it was a conspiracy against the Crown - was dulled by the participation of some of the king’s most loyal supporters, including Alicia’s father, Duke Carannan.
Alicia was less inappropriately attired to spend time in a stable than on her previous visit. Instead of a gown, she was dressed in light colored skirts that ended just above the knees and a plain, loose-fitting top. A light green ribbon braided in her golden hair matched the color of her eyes. Her face was twisted into an expression of profound disgust. For a moment, Sorial thought it was his appearance that offended her - stripped to the waist, he wasn’t a picture of decorum. Straw and dirt clung to his sweat-dampened torso like a second skin. But Alicia’s sense of sight wasn’t under assault. With a strangled cry, she fled through the door to the inn’s courtyard. The sound of retching followed.
Vagrum’s tone was neutral. “It smells ranker in here than the privy in a brothel. Had to clean one of those once and this is worse.”
Sorial nodded. The big man wasn’t exaggerating. Everyone mentioned it but there was little Sorial could do beyond what he was already doing. It wasn’t enough, he knew. Visnisk’s whore refused to set foot in the place and more than one rider handed over their reins while still outside.
“Something died,” noted Vagrum.
“Mice. Or rats. No more’n usual but the heat rots ’em quicker and makes the smell worse.”
Her face as pale as the grave, Alicia re-appeared at the door but didn’t cross the threshold. “I’ll wait for my father outside.”
“You will not.” Vagrum’s tone was stern, brooking no refusal. Admittedly, Sorial hadn’t spent a lot of time in the girl’s company, but this is the first time he could recall when Vagrum didn’t defer to her or address her as “Milady.”
Alicia was taken aback.
“Your father left you here because he wanted you out of sight. If he intended for you to wait in the courtyard, he’d have left you in the courtyard. You can stay close to the door, but you’ll wait in the stable.”
“If I stay in here, I’m going to be sick again.”
“Then you can step outside to throw up.”
Alicia scowled but didn’t say anything else. After staring moodily at Vagrum for a few moments, she turned an equally black look in Sorial’s direction, as if blaming him for her current state of discomfort. He pointedly avoided meeting her eyes and returned to his work with a pitchfork.
Vagrum noticed that Carannan’s and Alicia’s mounts were the only ones occupying stalls. “Is business down?”
“Fewer late-Harvest merchants. With the end of the season crops withered, ain’t much buying or selling. Warburm’s trade ain’t down, though. Fewer overnighters but the common room is always full. People will always need to drink, he says, and the worse things get, the more they drink.”
Vagrum grunted his agreement. “It’s like that the world over.”
“Where are the mice?” asked Alicia. Sorial turned back to her and noticed she was scanning the floor.
“Some are dead - you can smell ’em - and others are burrowed under the straw where it’s cooler. They come out at night.”
“Sometimes, I think it might’ve been better being born a mouse,” mused Vagrum, sounding almost philosophical. “Eating, drinking, shitting, fucking all day and night. Wouldn’t be a bad life, even if it was a short one.”
“That’s all you do, anyway,” retorted Alicia.
Vagrum chuckled. He asked Sorial, “In this heat, does the innkeeper let you sleep indoors?”
“No. I never asked about it. Except in the cellar, it’s hot all over. The inn is cleaner but noisier. I’m used to sleeping here.”
“But the smell…” interjected Alicia.
“The whole city stinks. Every privy pit smells ten times worse. Out here, it’s shit and dead mice. Inside, it’s stale ale, vomit, piss, and sweat. Once you’re asleep, you don’t notice.” Admittedly, though, getting to sleep could be a problem. Tossing and turning had become commonplace of late.
“Something just moved,” squeaked Alicia, backing away from where she had been standing.
“Under the straw, there’s a nest with a mother and her new litter.” Sorial walked over and kicked away the covering, revealing a brown mouse and a half-dozen pink, hairless babies. Alicia initially took another step backward, then inched forward for a closer look.
“They’re ugly,” she pronounced.
Sorial covered them back up. “All babies are ugly.”
“Not people,�
� said Alicia.
“Including people. It just ain’t polite to say so. But human babies are as ugly as those mice.”
“True. Even you, Milady.” Vagrum was more visibly relaxed than on his previous visit.
Sorial returned to work. He had just finished feeding and watering the horse and pony when Alicia, who was lingering near the wide entranceway, observed, “There’s a storm coming.”
Vagrum and Sorial followed her gaze. The sky to the north was thick with clouds as black as pitch. Even at this distance, their underbelly was tickled by frequent flashes of lightning. Sorial thought he could detect the faint echoes of thunder. It had been weeks since Vantok had seen anything but blue skies and clear nights.
“At least we’ll get some rain. Maybe it will break the heat,” said Sorial.
“Not likely. It looks like a dry storm.” Vagrum frowned. “Haven’t seen one of those in years - maybe not since afore you was born. Bad things, they are. Wind and lightning and hail, but no rain. The lightning starts fires, the winds whip them up, and there ain’t no rain to put them out. City’s bone dry as it is. We’re in for a bad time.”
“What’s the point of a storm without rain?” asked Alicia. “I’d love to run naked through a downpour.”
Sorial caught himself thinking that was something he wouldn’t mind seeing.
“And you, stableboy, could use a bath - one that doesn’t involve trespassing on someone else’s property.”
“Don’t see many of these.” Vagrum stared at the slowly advancing mass of impenetrable darkness. When the clouds arrived, they would blot out the sun and turn day into night. “It’s an ill wind that blows one here at this time. I wonder what we did to anger the gods.”
“Some say the gods are no more, that we have to look after ourselves.”
Vagrum grunted in response. “How sturdy is that roof?” he asked, gazing dubiously at the rafters.
“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any rain?”
Vagrum shrugged. “Ain’t rain I’m worried ’bout. I’m sure this stable’s been rained on thousands of times. No, it’s the hail.”
“What’s hail?” asked Sorial.
Alicia gaped at him, as if he had said something incomprehensibly ignorant.
Vagrum ignored her expression. “Ice balls. Strange as it may seem, hail usually happens when it’s hot. Not much hail in this part of the world, but I’ve seen some bigger’n a man’s balls. If the roof’s rotted, they’ll punch holes in it and we’ll be ducking for our lives.”
“It should hold.” Sorial was dubious about the claim that there could be a storm of ice balls with the furnace-like temperatures outside. He was more concerned about lightning hitting the stable and starting a fire. The place was a tinderbox.
The storm’s approach was slow but inexorable. By the time the clouds had filled half the sky, people outside began taking notice and scurried to find a safe port until it blew over. The rumbling of thunder was audible over the everyday din.
“Would you like to sit down?” asked Sorial of Alicia, gesturing toward one of the many bales of hay.
She took a step forward, but a look of consternation crossed her face. “I don’t think so.” He could tell by the droop of her shoulders that she was tired. The daughters of dukes apparently weren't accustomed to spending long hours standing. Taking pity on her, he located his discarded tunic and laid it atop a hay bale, figuring she might be more willing to sit on it, even though it was just as filthy as the straw it covered.
Without a word, she sat. Out of her line of sight, Vagrum nodded approvingly.
Not much was said as the three watched the advancing clouds. When they passed in front of the sun, a false dusk descended. Since it was afternoon, none of the street lanterns were lit, making it seem darker than it actually was. Of course, the blackness wasn’t absolute, broken as it was at frequent intervals by flashes of lightning. Most of the bright white branches flickered from cloud to cloud, brightening the canopy above, but there were occasional downward bolts punctuated by loud blasts of thunder.
“The wind is hot, but it still feels good.” Alicia undid the restraints on her hair and let it swing free so the breeze could catch it.
Sorial was forced to agree. There was nothing refreshing in the arid wind, but any stirring of the air was welcome after the stagnant oppressiveness of recent days.
With a crack of thunder so loud that it shook the stable’s rafters and caused all three of them to start, the hail began. At first, the chunks of ice were like pebbles, but they soon doubled and tripled in size. The noise on the roof was deafening and, in the streets, citizens were yelping in pain and fear as they dashed for cover. The lightning flashes came so frequently that the pulsating illumination was continual and the thunder was loud enough to compete with the cacophony of hailstones. Conversation was impossible.
Vagrum endured the storm with an expression of seeming stoic indifference. Alicia also exuded a calm aura. Her eyes were closed, her head was tilted back, and her lips were slightly parted. She appeared to be enjoying the storm’s rage and wasn’t the least frightened by it. Sorial wished he could say the same for himself. At least the horse and pony shared his terror.
The hail stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, but it took the thunder and lightning longer to subside, and still more time for the black clouds to peel back and the midday sunshine to return. As Vagrum had predicted, there was no rain, but the ground was littered with melting ice, almost as if it was the middle of winter. When the hail succumbed to the heat, it would provide, however briefly, desperately needed moisture for a parched earth. Sorial could almost feel the ground’s relief.
“That was fun.” Alicia was smiling. Her unbound hair, tousled by the wind, made her look untamed - a far more wild girl than the one who had arrived at the stable earlier in the day.
“We have different ideas of fun,” muttered Sorial, heading over to the stalls to check on the animals.
“Don’t tell me it didn’t excite you?” demanded Alicia, affronted by his lack of enthusiasm.
“I could go the rest of my life without being ‘excited’ like that again.”
Vagrum, who had momentarily stepped outside, announced, “Judging by the smoke, there are fires, but not as many as I feared. We’re lucky most of the lightning remained in the heavens rather than crashing to the ground. There was enough power in that storm to reduce Vantok to a pile of charred embers.”
“A storm like that needs rain,” said Alicia. “Lots and lots of rain. Rain pouring down. That would have made it better than anything else.”
Sorial gazed at her strangely. “Did you hit your head when I wasn’t looking?” He was having trouble understanding how she could be rhapsodizing about something that could have killed them. Even Vagrum appeared nonplused by her reaction.
“Watch your tongue, stableboy!” she snapped, her imperious tone returning. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect someone who lives in a place like this to have respect for the majesty of the gods when it’s on display like this.”
“Alicia, that’s enough,” said a baritone from the entrance to the stable. The duke had returned. “This boy didn’t ask to be born into poverty and raised here. We’re all where we are by the grace of the gods, and you would do well to remember that. At their whim, your positions could have been reversed, with you toiling away in the inn’s kitchens and him in our house. I thought I taught you better than to look down on those whose circumstances are less fortunate than your own.”
Alicia’s fair skin reddened noticeably at the rebuke. She lowered her head and murmured, “Sorry, Father.”
“Apologize to the boy, not me.”
“Sorry, stableboy.” As she raised her eyes to look into his, Sorial noted that their flash was anything but apologetic.
Turning to Vagrum, the duke said, “We were done a little while ago but decided to wait out the storm in the inn. Any problems out here?”
“None, sir. I’d say there was som
ething unnatural about the storm, though.”
“You’re not alone in that opinion.” He tossed Sorial a small pouch of brass studs. “Thank you for helping keep my daughter safe during the foul weather.” Glancing at the tunic Sorial placed on the hay bale, he added, “And for providing her whatever meager comforts this place has to offer.”
Sorial mumbled his thanks then, without another word, retrieved the Duke’s steed and Alicia’s pony from the stalls. In the wake of the storm, the animals were skittish, but their owners were able to calm them with soothing words. Soon, the three were gone and Sorial was alone in the strangely silent stable. Outside, activity was picking up again but many were afraid to emerge into the sunlight from wherever they had holed up. The crust of hailstones covering the ground was nearly gone. Subjected to the unrelenting heat from the sun, they couldn’t sustain long.
Sorial wondered if he would see the Duke, Alicia, and Vagrum again. Logic told him it was unlikely but intuition hinted at an inevitability. Some whim of fate or prodding of the gods had bound them together for reasons Sorial couldn’t begin to guess at. His mother might know but... Sorial felt another surge of frustration at the idea that the answers - at least some of them - were so close.
* * *
The day after the storm brought little traffic to the inn. In addition to the unprecedented heat, there was now a concern among the citizenry that worse things than yesterday’s explosion of hail and lightning might be lurking beyond the horizon. Soothsayers warned of dire omens and a populace already cowed by rumors of the gods’ abandonment became more fearful. With merchant travel having diminished as a result of the city’s lack of saleable crops, Vantok was in danger of becoming isolated from the rest of the continent. Basingham, a mere two weeks’ walk to the northwest, was said to be experiencing normal conditions.
For Sorial, the only thing to matter was that the slackening of trade meant less work to do in the stable. So any animal - even the piebald mare currently occupying the largest stall - received an inordinate amount of attention, if only as a way to stave off boredom. Sorial had just finished brushing her down and was approaching with a bucket of oats when he felt something hard and round pressed into the small of his back.
The Last Whisper of the Gods Page 8