“Five of ’em?” asked Sorial with a smile. Warburm employed that many barmaids. His wife and daughter also worked in the inn, but they were off-limits.
“Start with one,” she advised. “Five might be too many for a young lad like you. You’ll need to build up your staying power.”
“Maybe you underestimate me.”
“Maybe, but you’re young and most lads your age don’t last more’n a minute. I can remember a few that were spent before I had my knickers off. I expect better from you.” With a smoky laugh, she headed back to the inn. “Find me when you’re done your shift,” she called out. “I’ll show you to your room.”
The stable was quiet for most of the day. After completing his chores and checking on the two animals quartered there, Sorial lay back on a bale of hay and daydreamed of his new bed. It would be hard and lumpy but luxury compared to what he was used to. The only time he could remember sleeping anywhere other than the loft was when he had been convalescing in the inn following his injury. That was nearly two years ago.
“Good afternoon, Sorial,” said a familiar voice. Smiling, the stableboy rose to his feet and approached Duke Carannan. Lately, the nobleman had been a frequent caller at The Wayfarer’s Comfort, although his purpose for visiting remained mysterious. Even Annie didn’t know why he was here so often. He and Warburm would meet in secret, frequently with others in attendance. Maybe now that he would be sleeping inside, Sorial might unearth some clues.
The smile died on his lips when he realized the duke wasn’t alone. Carannan’s daughter, wearing a gold-and-green dress to complement her hair, sat astride her pony. Her burly guardian was on foot.
After dismounting and handing his horse’s reins to Sorial, Carannan said, “I’m sure you remember my daughter, Alicia. She provides a lasting impression and I’ve brought her here a time or two before. I’ll leave her and her protector in your capable hands while I’m inside. Alicia can be headstrong; if she gives you any trouble, you have my permission to tie her up and gag her. Vagrum will be more than happy to help, I’m sure.” Alicia looked mortified at this suggestion but her father was smiling.
Only after Carannan departed did Sorial meet the girl’s eyes. Although it had been less than a year since their encounter on the day of the storm, Alicia was showing the rapid maturation evident in girls of her age. Her body was noticeably more curvy and her delicate features showed better definition. Those remarkable eyes, however, hadn’t changed. She might not be smiling, but they were laughing at him.
“You realize, of course,” she said. “He wasn’t serious. My father has a peculiar sense of humor.”
“Of course, M’lady. Your father and I’ve met many times. I ne’er took his suggestion as anything but a jest.”
“Many times? Here?” She was incredulous.
“He’s a frequent visitor to The Wayfarer’s Comfort.”
She turned to Vagrum, who was following the exchange with his characteristic impassivity. “Why would Father come here? What could this place possibly have to offer to him?”
At this question, Vagrum looked uncomfortable. He was aware that rich men such as the duke often arranged liaisons at inns of low repute, but how to phrase that in a way that wouldn’t offend his charge?
Sorial rescued him. “He meets with Warburm, the innkeeper, and others. I don’t know their purpose.”
“Men?” inquired Alicia. “Or women?” One eyebrow arched.
“Men.”
There was a break in conversation as Sorial led Carannan’s horse and Alicia’s pony into stalls and provided them with food and water. The girl, more relaxed than on her previous visits, hopped onto a bale of hay without the benefit of Sorial’s tunic as a blanket, and watched him as he went about his work.
He emerged to find her staring at him. She started and looked away.
“Hot work,” said Vagrum. “You still sleeping out here? Can’t imagine that’s easy.”
“Warburm just gave me a room in the inn. Tonight’ll be my first chance sleeping inside.”
“Won’t be any cooler, ’less it’s in a cellar. M’lord’s given me quarters underground with the wine and ale. Not as nice as the place I had upstairs, but more comfortable. Helps get me through these hot days. I’ll give up a posh room for a cool one any time.”
“How’s it for you, M’lady?” asked Sorial, turning to Alicia.
“Unlike everyone else, I adore the heat. Once you get used to sweating all the time, it’s fine. And there’s always the river.” She smirked. “You could use a bath.”
Vagrum gave her what appeared to be a disapproving glance, but didn’t say anything.
Sorial shrugged. The older he got, the less the dirt bothered him. It was an undeniable fact of life. “It rains once in a while, and that does me fine. If I went to the river - at least the parts I ain’t been forbidden from - I’d be more dirty after going in the water than before.”
“My father and mother and me go swimming every day. Lately, I’ve been using your method of dress - which is to say, wearing nothing - and it’s an interesting way to swim. You wonder about fish going into your privates - or I do, at least. I don’t think my mother approves at all, but she’s a prude. It doesn’t bother my father. He finds it amusing; he asked if I learnt it from a commoner. Don’t worry - I didn’t mention your name, stableboy.”
“The mice have missed you.” Sorial glanced toward Alicia’s booted left foot, where a little rodent was on its back feet trying to decide whether or not to leap for the toe. The girl jerked back her foot and jumped atop the bale of hay with a gasp, but she refrained from screaming. The startled mouse scampered for cover in a remote part of the stable.
“Milady has been practicing being less frightened by them little shits,” said Vagrum. “She’s made a wee bit of progress, though not as much as she thinks.”
Biting her lip and looking sheepish, Alicia returned to a sitting position. “It startled me,” she muttered.
The next half-hour was spent in silence as Sorial went about his chores. He found it disconcerting how Alicia’s eyes followed him, scrutinizing him in a way that made him self-conscious. It was odd how the powerful Vagrum unsettled him less than his diminutive charge. The man remained upright but his eyes were closed, causing Sorial to wonder if he was sleeping standing up. When he was done with the horses, he asked Vagrum.
“It’s an ole soldier’s trick. Everyone needs sleep and you learn to get it when and how you can. I don’t get much at night since I’m paid to stand the first shift outside her room. This seems a safe enough place to take a nap, an’ if anything was to happen, I’d be alert in an instant.”
“The stable is safe. Usually.”
Vagrum nodded. “I heard what happened to you a coupla years ago. You were lucky to have Master Warburm around.”
That comment piqued Alicia’s interest. “What happened to him?” Turning to Sorial, she repeated, “What happened to you, stableboy?”
He shrugged. “A bandit came in here to steal a horse. When I tried to stop him, he cut me open with a knife then almost shot me. Warburm killed him.” Sorial indicated the scar on his face. Since that day, he had never felt as at home in the stable as before.
“A bandit did that? What about the other scar. The one on the other side of your face.”
“Got that in a brawl.”
“Milady, would you like an accounting of my scars?” asked Vagrum, feigning jealousy.
“No thank you, Vagrum. I’m sure we don’t have that much time.”
Sorial took a bucket of water and doused himself with it. It was neither cool nor clean, but it washed off the thickest layer of dirt. Alicia continued to watch him, her expression unreadable. Any time he met her eyes, she looked away.
Shortly thereafter, Carannan returned, not looking at all happy. “Time to go,” he said to his daughter. Sorial brought out the steed and the pony.
“Father, I’ve had an idea,” said Alicia. “Why don’t we let the stableboy
use our part of the river. He doesn’t go swimming because the public part is too muddy and crowded.”
“Alicia, we can’t invite every lad in the city to bathe in our river. Besides, don’t you think he might be a little intimidated?”
“Oh, I doubt that,” said Alicia with a smile.
Carannan considered for a moment, then turned to Sorial. “All right, young man. Since my daughter endorses the notion, I’ll inform the guards to let you pass. Don’t abuse the privilege. You may bring one friend with you, and one friend only, and I expect you to be respectful to the land and the river. And you won’t bathe while any member of my family is there. Is that clear?”
“Yes, M’lord.”
“Very well.”
As they were leaving, Alicia turned to him. “See if your master will let you come tonight. Even after upturning that bucket of filthy water over yourself, you need a bath.”
* * *
If Sorial’s first night in his new room wasn’t all he hoped it would be, it was nevertheless a vast improvement over sleeping in the stable. Warburm elected to quarter him in the same place where he had spent his convalescence two years ago - and it looked as if no one had been in the room since then. A thick coating of dust covered everything and the grime on the windows was so thick as to be almost impenetrable.
“Don’t worry,” said Annie as she surveyed it alongside Sorial. “I’ll clean it up for you tomorrow, and we can steal a better mattress from one of the other rooms. Good luck and good night.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek then, as if changing her mind, pressed her lips to his and let them linger like a promise of what might be.
“Lock your door behind me.” She said this with a smile. “You don’t want one of the other girls sneaking into bed with you tonight.”
“The mattress’ll keep ’em away.”
“You’d be surprised. If you were a little older, it wouldn’t be enough to keep me away.”
Sorial was up before the cock crowed and had replaced Visnisk by first light. He didn’t feel refreshed after a night’s sleep inside. It wasn’t noticeably cooler but at least it smelled of mold and mildew rather than rotting straw, mice, and horse droppings. Despite having washed thoroughly this morning, he felt sticky and dirty. Tomorrow was Restday; he decided he would accept the duke’s offer and bathe in the river. Maybe he would meet Alicia. It surprised him to discover he hoped that would be the case.
The next day, Sorial made the pilgrimage to the river but encountered no one. The same was true on subsequent Restdays throughout the long, hot Summer. Any disappointment he might have felt at not seeing Alicia was washed away by the bliss of floating in the water - the only real respite from the heat he could find (unless he snuck down into the inn’s cellar when Warburm wasn’t looking).
As the temperature climbed and the bright, cloudless sky provided little relief by way of rain, tempers shortened and work became unbearable. The streets bustled after dark but were nearly deserted at noon. Water was no concern - none of the city’s wells were running dry and the river, which found its source far upstream where the heat wave didn’t hold sway, was down only a little. Food, on the other hand, was scarce. Farmers were taking the brunt of the heat. Crops couldn’t survive and livestock was dying. Itinerant merchants traveling from the other cities often had their goods spoil before they could unload them and, without anything to fill their wagons for the return trip, they found minimal profit in pursuing the southern route. Warburm was no longer selling meals. His menu consisted of the basics: lukewarm ale, cooled somewhat in the underground cellars, and bread. Despite the meager fare, The Wayfarer’s Comfort was no less popular than it had ever been. It was a refuge from the sun during the day and a place to commiserate about the abandonment of the gods at night.
Harvest brought a welcome respite from the heat and things returned to near normal. Some farmers, heeding the weather forecasts of augers, planted once Summer’s fury abated, hoping for a warm enough Winter that their crops would grow rather than be buried under snow. If it worked, Vantok might be able to stave off a season of starvation. If it didn’t, it would be a cold, hard wait for Planting.
Lawlessness had risen to an unprecedented level, forcing the king to call up reservists in the militia to supplement the Watch. The anti-religious rumors were rampant, with the Temple’s “examples” of answered prayers and miracles no longer damming the growing fear of abandonment. People spoke of this new doctrine openly in taverns, brothels, and the market - an unthinkable thing as recently as a year ago. The heresy was too widespread to invite punishment and the priests had enough difficulty maintaining their own faith. Prelate Ferguson made several lengthy public speeches about the need for belief being greater during times of tribulation than during times of prosperity, but although many heard, few listened. If there were no gods, there was no afterlife, and that meant the here and now was all there would be. This allowed people to contemplate acts they might not otherwise have done.
Although Sorial didn’t again encounter Alicia, he saw her father on a regular basis. Carannan visited Warburm’s inn every other week and engaged in friendly banter with the young man he considered to be “the most conscientious stableboy in the city.” At times, despite the duke’s wealthy garb, Sorial nearly forgot he was a member of the nobility. He had a way about him that allowed others to feel at ease in his presence, regardless of their class. Sorial observed this with others as well as experiencing it himself.
One day, as Harvest bled into Winter and the year on the calendar changed, Sorial thought to ask Carannan about Alicia. The girl had infected his thoughts; even though he had only met her a handful of times, he found himself thinking about her with a disquieting frequency. Every time the duke arrived at the stable, Sorial couldn’t help but look beyond him to see if she was there.
“Your Grace,” he began as he saddled the man’s horse following a two-hour meeting in the inn. “Might I ask how your daughter is?”
The duke didn’t seem surprised or offended by the inquiry. “She’s well. She was disappointed not to have seen you during the swimming season. I’d bring her with me into the city more often but I don’t think sitting around in a stable for a couple of hours would be high on her list of favorite things, no matter how pleasant the company might be. And I daresay she’d try your patience. At thirteen, she’s more willful than ever.”
Sorial was about to protest, but Carannan forestalled him. “She can be charming when she wants to be but, like all women, she can also be exasperating. I love Alicia dearly, but there are times when it’s pleasant to be away from her for a little while.”
After the duke departed, Sorial considered his words. He understood Carannan’s point. Having not seen Alicia for two seasons, he missed her presence, but he recalled that on nearly every occasion they had been together, he had found her to be irritable and bratty.
Winter passed lazily into Planting, with no more than a few flakes of snow drifting groundward. For the second year in a row, the Midwinter’s carnival was held without snow or ice on the ground. The holiday generated some badly need optimism and ability of the farmers to harvest crops during a time normally reserved for the fields lying fallow, allowed people to hope. But as the heat began to build with the onset of Planting, the pessimism and unrest once again began to pool. One ill-fated day, it impacted Sorial directly.
It was an evening like any other and Sorial was doing what he did with the onset of night - a final mucking of the stalls followed by a few trips to the inn’s well to water the horses. There were three tonight, although the number might increase before midnight. He heard a noise outside - the sound of someone running - and turned to see a tiny figure rushing headlong toward him, a blur against the twilight background.
It was Alicia, but unlike the composed girl of their previous encounters. Her clothes were torn and mud-spattered. Her hair was in disarray. Tears and grime streaked her cheeks. Caught between bewilderment and alarm, he allowed her to fling herse
lf at him and seize him as if in a death grip. Burying her head against his shoulder, she wept uncontrollably - great, wracking sobs.
Nonplused by the situation, Sorial, who had never been good coping with strong emotion in others, was at a loss how to respond. Tentatively, he closed his arms around her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. She was shivering as if fevered and he could feel how fast her heart was beating. As if by instinct, one hand slid up her back to stroke her hair. He was surprised how soft it was.
Sorial looked over her shoulder toward the entrance of the stable, searching to see if someone was following her. He could see no one, but dusk had descended. The two lanterns flanking the wide doorway offered poor illumination. He thought of his dagger, but it was hidden in the straw of his mattress, far beyond his reach at the moment.
Eventually, the storm of tears lessened and Alicia disengaged herself from Sorial, stepping back a short distance. She took a deep breath to compose herself. “It’s Vagrum. I think he’s dead. I… I don’t know what happened… it was all so fast and confused… but we were set upon by ruffians. They pulled me from my pony then overwhelmed him before he could draw his sword. There were at least ten of them. He yelled for me to run. There was nothing I could do… there were too many. Shepherd was rearing and one of them plunged a knife into his side. The sound he made… Then I heard a gunshot and Vagrum disappeared beneath them.”
“Come with me!” He grabbed her hand and half-led, half-dragged her toward the inn. Once inside, he raced into the kitchen, barely noticing the gapes of the customers and the shocked expressions of the serving girls and Mistress Ponari.
Warburm was where he always was at this time of night, baking that last loaves of the day’s bread. He glanced up as Sorial entered. A sharp rebuke died on his lips when he saw Alicia’s condition. Sorial related the situation in rushed words that tumbled over one another. The innkeeper reacted swiftly, springing into action before Sorial completed the story. He stripped off his apron reached for the locked box where he kept his pistols.
The Last Whisper of the Gods Page 11