She felt Arcil's eyes upon her. His expression was solemn. What did he believe she was thinking? He tipped his head a fraction of a degree toward the others, whose heads were still bowed.
Ah. He thought that they two were comrades and knew better than these hangers-on. Perhaps they did.
She realized that all three men were looking at her.
"We are ready," Drelm told her.
Renar wiped tears away and nodded. His cheeks were red and raw.
Elyana had allowed her thoughts to scatter. She marshaled her discipline. "Arcil, you can teleport these two straightaway to Stelan, can't you? You know the place."
"I could. Are you ready?" he asked the others.
"You will not use magic upon us," Drelm said with a low growl.
Arcil paused briefly, and his eyes glinted. "Well, I suppose you can walk back to Adrast, then. Good luck on your journey." He turned to Elyana. "Shall we?
"We can't let Vallyn get away," Renar interjected.
"Arcil and I will find him. I gave my word to help, but I did not pledge your aid as well."
A deep rumble rose from the half-orc's throat. "Lady, the crown is promised to the holy church."
Arcil gasped in horror. She'd forgotten that he hadn't known what she planned with it.
"Abadar honors those who honor their promises," Drelm said. "I will ride with you. For the crown. And because it pleases me. And because the bard needs killing."
"That he does," Renar said fiercely, surprising Elyana a little. "Besides, we can't let the Galtans get the thing. Didn't you say it allows the power over life and death? What will they do with that?"
"They've an endless supply of bodies," Arcil said. "Mostly headless, all ready to be animated as wights—or worse. Knowing the Galtans, they're planning an invasion to bring ‘liberty' to Taldor or the River Kingdoms."
Renar's eyes widened. "An invasion?"
"I don't know," Arcil said. "It's the blunt and obvious thing, which is typical of Galtans. That or an army of shadow beings are their most likely aim."
"Abadar preserve us," Renar said, then eyed Arcil suspiciously. "Why do you want it?"
"That's private."
"Private," Elyana repeated. And suddenly her composure snapped. "It's anything but ‘private,' Arcil! People have died because of you. Now you're telling us that Vallyn might be giving the Galtans a powerful weapon? They wouldn't have access if you hadn't sent us after the crown."
"I didn't send you after it," Arcil pointed out. "And it's not my fault that Vallyn's a backstabbing traitor. Although I could have told you that."
"You have no honor," Drelm spat, and the wizard bristled.
"You have no idea who you're speaking to, you ignorant savage!" All civility had vanished. "I can slay you with a wave of my hand. You know nothing about my honor!"
Elyana held up a hand to Drelm, but as she looked over Arcil she could not keep from a final statement, her words dripping with disgust. "You think that honor is merely keeping your word, and being loyal to the few you deem worthy."
"I find it charming you think it something more," Arcil snapped. His voice took on a sanctimonious note. "You have an endearing notion that kindness begets kindness. But most people are only out for themselves. How much kindness did you give to Vallyn? And he betrayed you. In a lifetime you might encounter but one or two people who are really worth your trust."
It was long past time that she might have been able to get through to him about matters of honor. There was one point, though, that he had to be made to understand. "Drelm is an ally. You will cease threats against both him and Renar, Arcil."
"So long as they do not threaten or insult me."
"You heard him," she said without much enthusiasm.
Drelm grunted. Renar remained silent.
"All right, you two. I welcome your company, and thank you for it. So does Arcil," she added. "Gather our horses and some spares. We're going after another one of my old friends. You know the funny thing, Arcil? He always predicted we'd have to hunt you down."
Interlude
The Last Gathering
Well," Stelan said, uncharacteristically hesitant, "what do you think?"
He stood in a ray of sunlight that beamed through the wide window of his great hall, his arms raised high at his sides, palms up, as though he were a priest urging his congregation to their feet. But he spoke only to Elyana and Vallyn.
Fine white robes with blue piping draped him. Elyana had just finished knotting a matching blue sash about his waist.
She stepped back to admire the effect, glancing over at the bard. Vallyn sat on the nearby mead hall table, one leg dangling off its edge, the other propped on the nearby bench. Servants would shortly be gathering in the hall to set the places for Stelan's wedding feast, but for now they were alone.
"You look wonderful," Elyana told him. And he did—the sunlight shone down on the neatly combed hair, granting him a false halo and highlighting a few curling strands that had refused to remain ordered. In the bright light his hair looked almost blond, and his eyes shone. With his broken nose and scarred face, he could probably not be called handsome, but he was fair, and she loved him. And he was hers no longer.
"You look so good I'm thinking about marrying you myself," Vallyn quipped, and Stelan chuckled.
The baron's eyes tracked to the narrow archway through which they had all come a quarter-hour before. Just visible were the first of the worn steps that wound up to the living quarters.
"Where are Eriah and Arcil?" Stelan asked.
"They were still drinking when I went to bed," Vallyn replied.
"Arcil, drinking?" Elyana had rarely seen the man indulge himself with anything, most especially drink. He hated being out of control.
"Oh, yes," Vallyn answered. "Surely you saw. He was in an even worse mood than usual."
"I don't know what he has to be mad at you about," Stelan said.
Vallyn shook his head. "It was foolish to invite him. He went bad a long time back."
Stelan made a half-hearted scoffing noise.
"He's been treading the dark path a long, long time," Vallyn continued.
Elyana thought that assessment a little too simplistic, but she did not correct the bard; it was she who'd insisted that Stelan invite their old companion. They hadn't seen him in more than six months, not since they'd parted ways outside the keep.
Vallyn would not leave off. "He's been studying those tomes, and they've rotted his brain. We should've burned them."
"He was a loyal friend to us," Stelan said. "It would be ungracious to leave him out. It is you who never liked him."
Vallyn shrugged. "He never liked me."
"Well," Stelan said, "I like you both. Let's hear no more of this." He clapped his hands, and after a short moment a pageboy came running. The lad's hair was newly shorn, and a little unevenly. His red tabard, emblazoned with Stelan's coat of arms, was improbably clean. Elyana could not believe that he was wearing it with two hours left to go before the wedding ceremony, but someone had allowed him access to the garment, and he was so proud to be dressed in it he practically strutted. The boy bowed grandly and gazed up with eyes shining in adoration. "Yes, Baron?"
"Go look in on master Eriah and master Arcil, if you please. If they are not awake, rouse them. But gently."
"Yes, Baron." The boy bowed deeply and then dashed off in such a hurry he almost missed the stairwell. He scampered up the steps and his footfalls could be heard against the stone in quick succession.
Vallyn cupped hands to his mouth and called after: "If they don't get up, send for me, and I'll wake them with a bucket of water!"
"Now that you say it," Stelan said, "you'd best follow. That boy might be in for a rude surprise if they're both hung over."
&nb
sp; Vallyn grinned, hopped down from the table, and started up the stairs, though at a far more relaxed pace.
Then Elyana found herself alone with Stelan in his wedding raiment. Judging by his expression, Stelan had just realized the situation himself. For weeks, he'd been quite careful that they not be alone together. Lenelle remained keenly aware of their past relationship.
"So," Elyana said brightly, stepping closer. "This is your wedding day."
Stelan spoke as if unaware that anything were awkward. "It is good to be surrounded by friends. We have done so much together. None of this would have been possible without you. My lands restored. The people on them safe. The shadow wizards dead or driven into hiding. I owe so much to you." Stelan cleared his throat, and an awkward silence settled between them.
"Stelan," Elyana began softly, "have you told her everything?"
"She knows that we were intimate," the baron answered uncomfortably.
"That I gathered when her attitude grew even colder."
"Be more generous, Elyana. It is only natural to be jealous of you."
"Is it because she knows you still love me?"
"I don't want to do this again."
Neither did Elyana, really, so she fell silent.
Apparently Stelan hadn't quite had enough, though, because he kept talking, almost shyly. "I shall never forget you. But ...we're too different."
"We are far more alike than we are different," Elyana reminded him.
Stelan looked away from her. "Revisiting this isn't like you, Elyana. We've made our choices."
"You don't have to make this choice. I don't think you really want to marry her. You like her; you think you can grow to love her, out of duty. You do not have to grow to love me. You already do."
"I do," Stelan conceded. "But what of it? How does that help my people? Will there be children?"
"There might be."
"If you wish it. And you do not. I must have children—you saw what happened to the realm—"
"Then appoint a successor."
"It's not just about you, Elyana," Stelan said, sounding disappointed. "And it's not just about me," he added, so low that she barely heard him.
"There are other ways, Stelan. This is our last chance. When you pledge your vows—"
"Would you take up the call of Holy Abadar, Elyana?" He stepped forward and roughly clasped her hands. "Would you do that? You ask me to give up hope of a son and heir, for you. Would you do that, for me?"
She looked into those dark eyes. "Why must you cling to that god—"
"The god of my family, for generations."
"So I should take up your religion because it is habit? He is lord of the moneychangers!"
Elyana grew conscious of a patter of feet on the stairs. The pageboy, from the sound of things, coming at a run. She might have paid more heed if she'd not been watching Stelan's brows darken.
"He is a lord of balance," Stelan said, his voice rising. "Do not blaspheme!" He thrust her hands away. "You will never bend. You wish me to give all, and—"
"Lord! Baron!" The page burst out of the archway and stared at them, panting. "Something horrible—Lord Eriah's dead—Lord Vallyn says you must come—"
Stelan looked at the boy as if seeing him for the first time. He fixed Elyana with a brief, dark stare, then hurried toward the child. Elyana started to go after him.
"Elyana!" Arcil's voice. She turned to find him hurrying toward her from the servants' entrance to the kitchen, lean and regal in his dark tunic and leggings, beard carefully trimmed.
Stelan did not slow his race after the boy, and soon disappeared up the stairs. Elyana paused at the bottom step, waiting for Arcil to reach her. "Did you hear that?" She meant about Eriah's death, but Arcil, as he frequently did, failed to understand her true meaning.
"I heard everything," he said, stepping closer.
"What?"
A wiser man, or one less desperate, would have been warned off by the lowering of her brows.
"You insist on wanting him, Elyana. You think he's a partner, an equal. But he has never been."
"Oh, gods. Arcil, that page said Eriah's dead—"
Arcil took a determined step forward, holding her eyes with his own. "He's a fine warrior, Elyana—an accomplished swordsman. But think back. It was always you who did the best thinking. Who dropped through the portal to fight the dragon? Who outflanked the Galtan sorcerers? Who planned the escape from Woodsedge?"
"Arcil, your timing is—"
She fell silent as he came closer than he had ever before dared and rested one hand against her shoulder. His gaze was steady, his breath fresh and smelling faintly of mint. "You only imagine that Stelan is your equal because you are lonely. You see something more than is there. Stelan knows it. He's known it for a very long time."
Slowly, reluctantly, he released her. "No one has ever mattered to me more than you, Elyana. No one. I—"
"Arcil." She spoke his name with deliberate slowness. "Eriah is dead. Do you hear? Do you care?" And with that, she turned her back on him and started up, wondering that she could care about someone so callous and self-absorbed. She heard Arcil following behind her, though he said nothing.
Up the stairs she went, then into the upper hall and the chamber with the open door, outside of which a pair of maids waited nervously. They stepped aside when they saw her and Arcil.
Within was only a small room and a small, narrow window, its shutters thrown wide. Light poured through it in a focused stream to illuminate the blankets on the bottom of the bed. Eriah had not made it beneath them; he lay across the crimson covers, one boot on, one off, his face locked in an expression of utter terror.
Alive, he and his twin had always been remarkably good-looking, with fine, even features, sandy hair, and charming smiles. But Daramont had died under the dragon's claw and Eriah had died ...how?
Stelan stood staring grimly down at his dead friend. Vallyn waited beside him, and his expression twisted in fury the moment he saw Arcil.
"Where have you been?" the bard demanded.
Arcil scowled. "What business is it of yours?"
"Eriah's dead by wizardry!" Vallyn shouted. "And what other wizards do you see around here?"
"You think I would kill him?" Arcil asked haughtily. "Why would I do that?"
Stelan's voice was low, controlled. Elyana recognized that his temper was but barely held in check. "The maids heard you arguing with him late last night. Do you deny it?"
"I do not."
Stelan pressed on, a threatening undercurrent in his voice. "Did you kill him?"
"I did not," Arcil replied evenly.
"He's lying," Vallyn spat.
"I never lie!" Arcil countered.
"What would you have me believe, Arcil? How do you explain the death of the man, in my home?" Stelan's voice rose. "On the night before my wedding day?"
"I don't know, Stelan," Arcil answered stiffly. "But I know that I did not kill him."
"What were you arguing about?" Elyana asked.
"That is a private matter."
"You and your private matters," Vallyn sneered. "It's not private now, wizard. I know how you keep your word. If your magic killed him, does it mean you did not? Is that how you think you're a truth-teller?"
Arcil's lips twisted up and he stepped toward the smaller man.
"Enough!" Stelan roared. He moved between them with arms outstretched. He gave Vallyn a brief, warning glance, then turned the whole of his attention to Arcil. "Are you responsible for his death?"
Arcil drew himself up slowly. "I am not."
Stelan eyed the man for a long, long time, then finally let out a breath. "That is good enough for me."
Vallyn made a scoffing noise. "What does Elyana say? She'll know
whether he's telling the truth or not. And I could compel him—"
"The day I let you throw a spell on me—" the wizard began.
"He speaks the truth," Elyana interrupted. She stepped over to the body. "It might be that an old injury finally did him in. Or the drink. It happens sometimes."
Vallyn looked back and forth suspiciously between her and Arcil.
"Say nothing of this to my bride," Stelan said. "She will not think it a good omen. That we should bury a guest, a friend, on the day we are to wed—"
"Say no more," Vallyn said quickly. "We'll carry on as though nothing's happened. And I can handle the burial arrangements."
"I'll speak to the servants," Elyana said. "You should ready yourself. Today you celebrate—tomorrow we shall speak over our friend."
"There are prayers that must—"
"Eriah was no follower of Abadar," Elyana said. "I will summon a cleric. Let us care for him, Stelan. You must think of your bride, and the wedding."
"Elyana's right," Arcil said.
Stelan nodded slowly, and Vallyn reached up to put a guiding hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you back downstairs. You should probably eat something, too. Wouldn't want you getting a nervous stomach before the ceremony."
Stelan nodded and glanced speculatively at Elyana as the bard led him away.
Any opportunity for their final words had now passed. It had been her last chance to reach him. She dared not allow her simmering anger to master her, for Stelan needed her aid. She called for the maids after his departure, and spoke to both them and the page, impressing upon them that the baron would be sorely displeased if word of the death were to reach the ears of the mistress this day. They assured Elyana that they would keep things secret.
Arcil waited the while, looking out the window. He did not turn back to her until she dismissed the servants and shut the door.
"That was good of you to protect me," he told her.
"You think I lied for you?" Elyana's voice was thin and cutting. "Why did you kill him? He was our friend, Arcil! What were you doing?"
"He planned to court you—I lost my ...it was a mistake, and—"
"You killed him because he planned to court me?" Elyana's voice rose shrilly. She stepped closer, feeling a murderous rage of her own take shape. "You thought I would want him? You thought he could just take me?"
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