“I’m-” She cut him off, shaking the hand firmly. She had some kind of grip.
“Ian Sodaro. I know of you,” she said simply. “Your story has reached the shores of my country.” Ian was a little surprised by that. He hadn’t really expected that anyone outside of the campus would know much about him at all.
“My story?” he asked in a low tone. Aiko smirked a little. She could see that Ian was fishing for an explanation.
“Yes. In Eriko, you are spoken of very reverently. The children call you Ian the Undying or Aionios Solchar the Eternal.” That brought a rosy color to Ian’s cheeks. Ian the Undying? Aionios?
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life. Never been called that before, though.” A short pause rested on them suddenly. Ian looked into Aiko’s eyes, and she back into his. She was the first woman on campus other than Rebekah who had looked him in the face.
Ian shook himself. He knew he mustn’t stare. But Aiko had a quality in her eyes that was strangely alluring. He looked at his feet a moment and tried his best not to look nervous. Aiko stood still, her hands clasped behind her back, as though waiting for the order to rest. Ian looked up again and tried not to meet her eyes too directly.
Aiko did her best impression of calm reserve. Not that she was having much luck with it. In fact, it was everything she could do to keep her knees from knocking. She adopted her parade rest stance, hoping that her military training would see her through. She decided it best to revert to her country manners, asking a polite question to end the silence.
“You are uncomfortable with me?” she asked finally, her posture never giving away her anxiety. Ian shook his head, and then nodded.
“I’m not used to people looking into my eyes lately,” he said, only revealing half of what he really felt. Truth was Ian had never had a date before. Ian hadn’t had a love life. Not a normal one anyway. He’d never really considered it. His life had always been too busy with the business of survival. He hadn’t ever given himself time to think about anything else.
“That is what I have been told. But where I come from, we do not judge by appearance. To do so is considered . . . impolite.” Ian shrugged a little, leaning on the tree they stood under. Aiko was surprised by his casual manner.
“Well, where I come from, we call it rude.” Aiko smiled shortly at that. “You know about how this happened?” Ian pointed at his white eyes. Aiko nodded. “Then you know why paladin women tend to shun me?” Aiko nodded again, this time with a bit less conviction.
“A failing in their upbringing,” she said simply. “It was my mother’s belief that women have forgotten that men have feelings as well. Some of them, deeper than women. And those that women shun are those that have the most worth in them.” Aiko said it haltingly, as though she hadn’t meant to say it at all. Ian noticed and smiled.
“Aiko, are you uncomfortable with me?” She thought to shake her head. But her mother’s advice rang in her mind. Sheepishly, she bowed her head, nodding honestly.
“In my country, women do not approach men. It is considered to be a sign of bad upbringing. Men in Eriko do not want women of such desperate means." Ian grimaced at that. "But I have noticed that women here on this campus share an equality with men that is not embraced by my people.” She stopped. She was getting off track. “I am attempting something I have never considered before.”
“You were going to ask me to the Littlefield Cotillion?” Aiko looked at her feet. Her posture had become very shy suddenly. She shrunk just a little around the shoulders, having a little trouble figuring what to do with her hands. "I wouldn't call asking someone out to a dance a case of desperate means. Truth be told, I am in ‘desperate need’ of a date anyway."
“Women do not ask men out to courting events. Where I come from, men initiate the courtship, only as a prelude to marriage. Women have very little say in the matter.” Ian blanched. That was something he hadn’t heard the Cotillion referred to before.
“A courting event, huh?" Aiko nodded quietly. "Well, if it helps, I don’t know you well enough to start a serious courtship anyway. I don’t believe in marriage on the first date,” he said with a wry smile. Aiko continued looking for something to do with her hands. Ian could see this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He decided he needed to put away his own anxiety and leap for once.
“Okay,” he said finally, taking one of her hands in his. What’re you doing? He asked himself. But his mouth continued forward without him. “You’ve never asked a man out to a 'courtship event.' Well, I’ve never asked a woman anywhere. So why don’t neither of us do that, forget about any thoughts of weddings or taboos or anything else and just go to the Cotillion together?” Aiko looked up and nodded.
“I think I would like that.” Ian smirked.
“Besides, if we keep going on like this, we may end up at a senior citizen’s ball.” Aiko chuckled a little, stifling her laughter with her free hand.
“I will meet you here before the Cotillion,” she said finally. Ian nodded.
“I’ll be late.” That got Aiko’s attention. Her face wrinkled with concern.
“What? Why?” Ian smiled as he released her hand finally, starting for the center of the quad.
Aiko half-smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here.” And then Ian headed off. Aiko smiled brighter than she had meant to. She quickly composed herself, straightening her face so as not to show so much enthusiasm. It wasn't the Erikan way.
She didn’t know Ian very well. She’d only seen him one other time before this. The stories she’d been told about him were all very skewed. But most stories of that kind leaned in that direction. The hyperbole was certainly there at the moment. Ian Sodaro, Ian the Undying, Aionios the Eternal was not the monster she had been warned of.
Marcus sat in Jacob’s Quarters, trying not to think about tomorrow. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited about having a real, actual date with Rebekah. In fact, he was looking forward to that. And he wasn’t so much worrying about the press. They’d been making up their own stories of late, so this was Marcus and Rebekah’s chance to set the record straight. In the end, this was a chance for the two of them to be themselves for the first time since Marcus had rode into Norik over a year ago.
Marcus had come to the quarters to do a little work, and try to concentrate on something that wasn’t his upcoming rendezvous at the Cotillion. He had thought that working a little on Jacob’s disappearance would help to clear his head. Instead, what he had found was puzzling him.
Marcus had been looking over the journal entries that Jacob had made in the months and weeks prior to his disappearance. Nothing was terribly unusual. But Jacob had mentioned many times during that period that he was uneasy about something. Marcus couldn’t figure what that was, and Jacob had not elaborated.
Over the last few days, Marcus had gone over many of Jacob’s Journals, compiled a time line for his mentor’s whereabouts for the month previous to his capture, and gone over the sensor logs and reports that Donavan had provided. None of it had given him any clue as to what had happened. But it wasn’t even those things that were bothering him.
Rebekah had left him to look around about an hour ago. She’d said something about a hair appointment. Marcus figured he wouldn’t see her again until the Cotillion, so he hugged her goodnight and continued to work. After sitting for a moment and clearing Rebekah from his thoughts, which took some doing, he grabbed another book from off of Jacob’s singular bookshelf and opened it.
It took a moment to realize what it was he was reading. After a sentence, he realized he wasn’t reading Jacob’s journal, but someone else’s. The thought occurred that he should close the book and move on, until he saw his name in the writing. Marcus read further, and saw his name again. A few cursory glances through the pages confirmed what he thought. Jacob was keeping a journal for someone else. And someone had been writing about him.
Let’s see who this belongs to. Marcus gave the inside cover a quick look, and saw the words inscribe
d within. “For my dearest Wren.” Marcus allowed himself to sit for a moment. That’s my father’s name. Jacob was keeping Wren Kasidyne’s journal. But why? Marcus pondered it for a while, then decided it was best to see if Jacob had anything else in his quarters that dealt with Marcus’s father. After a quick search, he found nothing. Just a journal, the contents of which cataloged a four-year stretch.
‘Marcus is going to be starting school soon. I’m just glad I’m finished with my duties as a Withholder so I can see him grow up. I’ve missed a whole bunch of his life so far. Being away with Jake has kept me away from my family for far too long.
‘Marina and I have been talking a lot more. She’s so happy that I’m staying home. And I can see in her eyes that she wants it to stay that way. We even talked a bit about having another child, not that I think we’re ready for that just yet. We decided that it was best if we talked to Marcus about what he thought.’
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. He felt strange reading his father’s words in front of him. He hadn’t known much about his father, and his mother had done her best to give him a picture of a good man who died too young. It was odd to get into his head this deeply. Marcus turned the page and read some more.
‘I haven’t written in a little while. Not that I haven’t thought about it. But I’ve been busy enjoying life with my family. Sometimes it’s hard to write things when you’re caught away enjoying what it is you’re supposed to be writing about.
‘Marcus doesn’t think he wants a little brother or a little sister. He said something about having more than one kid only causing trouble. Marina and I tried to reassure him that that wasn’t going to happen, but he insisted that if he had any brothers or sisters, that they’d only make trouble.
‘I wonder if he knows something we don’t.’
Marcus closed the journal and held onto it for a moment. He started to feel his eyes stinging a little. He’d been part of a family. He’d had a father that loved him so much. It took him a moment, but he composed himself. He decided it best to take the journal with him. He’d have questions for Jacob when he finally found him. But the journal would distract him from his searching. He needed to read it some other time.
Night fell over Littlefield, and quiet overtook the campus. Most everyone was in their quarters, studying, sleeping or otherwise ending their day. Marcus was coming back from Ellen’s Landing, his father’s journal in hand. He’d spent a portion of time there, just pondering the life of his father. It hadn’t been bad, but it still left him with some very deep questions. Marcus’s face belied his conflict.
His father’s writings had spoken of many things that Marcus did not remember clearly. His mother wanting to have another child. His father wanting so desperately to be the father his own had been. The vacation they had taken in Alundria when he was seven. But what was really confusing in the reading was what had transpired in the year previous to that.
It had all started with the simplest of things.
“Don’t mess around about this now. You know I don’t like it when you try to get a reaction outta me,” Wren said, the slightest hint of humor in his tone. Marina stood in front of him, not wanting to give away her advantage in keeping her husband on his toes. Wren watched her giving him her coy stare and shook his head.
“That couldn’t be true. You wouldn’t keep something like that from me.” Marina batted her eyes a little, taking a long, phony glance at her fingernails. Wren felt his heart fall from the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Believe whatever you want, oh husband of mine. But I’ve got the truth on my side. You can either accept it, or you can deny it. But that doesn’t change what is.” Wren frowned. She was being deliberately evasive. Marina glanced over from the corner of her eye and winked. Wren shook his head again.
“You’ve always gotten a weird pleasure out of messing with my head. I’ll never understand that.” Marina smirked a little. She flipped her night black hair away from her face and took a long breath.
“It’s not your head I’m trying to mess with.” Wren looked up with a wry smile. “So, Mister Kasidyne, I say again. Go fish.” Wren made a move to look at his wife’s cards. She quickly pulled them to her, avoiding giving anything away. With a grunt, Wren pulled another card. It wasn’t the one he wanted.
“I shouldn’t play card games with you.” Marina nodded.
“You’re right about that.” Marina gave her cards a quick once over and looked at her husband. “Gimme you’re five.”
“That’s not how you ask.” Marina put out her hand. Wren smirked. “No, I don’t have one.”
“Paladins can’t lie. I know you have one. You asked about it earlier. Now give me the card.” Wren shook his head.
“Go fish.” Marina kept her hand out for a little bit, but Wren would not be moved. Finally, she took one from the deck.
“Fine. But I won’t have to live with the lie.” Marina pulled up the card and frowned. She flipped it over to show him. It was the advertising card. “You’re supposed to pull this out when you open the deck, you know.” She handed it to him and took another from the deck. Wren could see from the light in her eyes that she’d gotten something good.
“You know, I’ve got a better idea. How about I give you this card, and we forget this game. I’m going to lose anyway.” Wren put the instruction card back in her hand and kissed her. Marina tossed the card aside and kissed him back. In a moment, they were setting down their hands.
“Hold on,” Wren said through her lips. “Do you have a four?” Marina could barely think. She looked down at her hand, which lay in disarray on the floor. She had three of them.
“Go fish?” she said shyly. Wren kissed her again.
“You little cheat.” Marina jumped up and headed for the spiral staircase, a playful smile on her face.
“It’s not cheating. Look, you asked for a five and you don’t even have one.” Wren shrugged as he stood.
“And you didn't call me on it. That’s called strategy. I wasn’t lying. You just thought I had a five, because that’s what I wanted you to believe.” Marina was halfway up the stairwell when she turned to look at him.
“Well, I hope you weren’t bluffing when you said you’d always rescue me. Because I feel a need.” Wren smirked and headed for the stairs. Marina started up, knowing Wren had a chase in mind. And if he caught her, it would be tickles all around.
Marina stepped down, and her center of gravity seemed to fail her. She looked down, seeing her right foot slipping away behind her, a playing card under the toe. She tried to brace herself as she toppled forward, but it wouldn’t be soon enough.
Wren was moving with all the speed allowed him. He was at the stairs in a second, having vaulted the couch and broken into a run. He’d sensed it before he saw it. But he wasn’t close enough. Marina let out a half-formed cry before Wren heard a nasty thunk. Marina’s form went limp as she cart-wheeled backwards down the spiral staircase and to the floor.
“Marina!” Wren gave her the quick once over the first-aid teacher at the academy had taught him. Marina was unconscious. Her head was bleeding and she was out cold, but she was breathing. More than that, Wren couldn’t tell. He said a quick, desperate prayer and tried his best not to panic. Marina needed him right now. She needed him to save her.
It was a marvel to Marcus that his mother had been hurt so. She’d never spoken of it. In fact, he didn’t ever remember seeing her with a bandage on her head. But then, why wouldn’t it be true. His father had written it down. And if Marcus remembered one thing about his father, it was that he was honest.
The quarters were dark when Marcus finally walked into the room. It wasn’t terribly late yet, but it was far enough into the evening so that he would need the lights on. Again, the lights came on slowly, per Marcus’s preferences.
The room was quiet, which gave Marcus plenty of mental space. He didn’t need any distractions as he puzzled over the things he’d learned. His closest neighbor, Sir Nance R
amel, was thankfully asleep, without the usual thumping on the wall. That had meant that Ramel was studying, and tapping his very large toes on the drywall. Marcus had tried to get him to stop, but Ramel wasn’t very successful in complying.
It was as Marcus went to set down his father’s journal that he saw it sitting silently on the bed. A formal uniform of deepest blue and brightest white lay across his pillow, a note attached to the lapel.
‘Marcus. I had your dress finery cleaned and pressed. I know you don’t usually wear these, but I figured you could dust them off this once. I’ll see you tomorrow night. You can pick me up in the common room of the women’s dormitory at seven. I love you. Trouble.’
Marcus smirked and set the letter on his nightstand. He picked up the finery and hung it on the closet door. He knelt down for his evening prayer, still smiling from the letter, when there came a knock at his door.
“Yes?” he said, only sounding a little frustrated at the interruption. The door swung open, and Ian stepped in. “Of course,” Marcus muttered to himself.
“Can I talk to you?” Ian asked quickly. Marcus nodded, a little surprised by the man’s nervous posture.
“Would it stop you if I said no?" Ian looked puzzled. "Still can’t find a date?” Ian stopped fidgeting and shook his head.
“No, I’ve got a date.” Marcus nodded his approval.
“Well, good. I’m glad you found someone to go with.” Ian sat down in a chair and looked a little haggard. “Something wrong?” It took a moment for Ian to organize his thoughts. He opened his mouth a few times, but made no sound.
“I’ve never been on a date before Marcus.” Marcus’s eyebrows popped up from that.
“Really? Jeez, Ian you’re gonna be nineteen this year.” Ian nodded. “Just waiting for the right girl?” Ian shook his head.
“No. I just . . .” he paused again. He looked as though he had lost the thought he’d been thinking of. “I was so busy trying not to die in Meridian that I didn’t think much about dating. In fact, I didn’t think about it at all.” Marcus sat himself down and thought for a moment. Ian had been a lot of things over the last year and a half, but nervous was not one of them.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 14