“It’s our business when our lives are on the line.” Marac furrowed his brow. “When your attachment is so strong as to be blind, you’ll put all of us in danger.”
“My attachment?” With little regard for volume, Laedron said, “Do you not see?”
Marac and Brice sat in silence like dogs scolded by their master.
“Meklan Draive put us together. And do you know why? Because men with close bonds fight better. They are more successful. Am I close to Valyrie? Yes, but I am just as close to you, Marac Reven. Through all of this, I’ve grown closer to Brice.” Laedron walked away. Now I see the truth of what she was trying to tell me, but is it too late to salvage what we had? “We’re not cold, calculating killers. We’re friends-nay, brothers. Brothers in arms.”
“I only meant-”
“I know what you meant, Marac, but if ignoring my heart is the only way forward, I cannot proceed. We would become nothing better than the Zyvdredi-cold men with no love.” Laedron stared at Marac through a long pause. “If I deny my love for her, I must deny my love for you. I won’t… can’t.” Glancing at Valyrie, Laedron saw her stern expression and folded arms, and he felt no warmth from her. Perhaps it is too late for us. Creator, why have I allowed things to get so far? I will make this right. I must.
Marac nodded. “What did they used to say about you in Reven’s Landing? ‘Don’t argue with a Telpist. You’ll be fighting an uphill battle to win,’ I believe it was.”
“Aye.” Laedron took a deep breath. “That’s what they say.”
“You’re right, Lae.” Marac extended his open hand. “Being high in the clouds, it’s hard to see where you came from.”
“We’ve all been under insurmountable stress of late, and I can’t fault you for your words.” Laedron took Marac’s hand. “As we’ve always done, we’ll have to forge ahead despite ourselves. I dream of the day when all of this is behind us.”
“Ouch!” Brice dropped something that thunked against the planks of floor.
Bending down, Laedron picked up an ornate lock, being careful not to stick himself with the barb on the bottom of it. “What’s this?”
“Something Caleb gave me in Azura. Damn!” Holding up his hand, Brice displayed a wound on his finger with blood dripping from it.
Laedron stared at the needle protruding from the lock. The end was soaked with Brice’s blood, and he wondered how Brice had come to be injured by it. “Were you being careless?”
“I almost had it open, and that point shot out of the bottom.” Brice shook his head. “I guess that was the surprise he was talking about.”
“He gave you a trapped lock?” Valyrie asked.
Brice nodded.
Marac chuckled. “What a bastard.”
Valyrie laughed. “My thinking exactly. Will you be all right?”
“It’s just a scratch.” Wrapping his fingertip in a piece of linen, Brice sighed. “It’ll teach me to look closer at something before playing with it.”
Laedron remembered when Ismerelda had shown him the mending spell and how she hadn’t stuck him with the dagger. “A good lesson to learn, but there are other ways of teaching it.” Pulling the blankets back, Laedron sat on his cot, then pulled up his legs. “The hour’s late, and we have a long road ahead. Goodnight.”
7
Early the next morning, Laedron awoke before the others. He sat up in his cot, the sun still not above the horizon, and watched Marac sleep. What have these travels done to him? To all of us? The rage he’d observed in Marac’s eyes the previous night disturbed him. Is it fear? The not knowing? We must hold it together. We must.
Removing the tattered sheet from his body, Laedron stood, being careful not to rouse the others, then ambled to the window. Through the dirty glass, he saw Sir Paldren emerge from what Laedron assumed to be the man’s home. Paldren walked to the wall where they had first met him. I wonder who watches over the place while he sleeps.Or maybe he doesn’t sleep. Maybe he can’t.
Hearing a hideous snort from his right, Laedron scanned the area behind the counter, then sighed with relief. It’s just Brenner. The innkeeper rolled onto his side, and a handful of dust fell to the floor at the man’s shifting. Laedron’s chest tightened. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so nasty in all my life. I think I kept myself cleaner than that whilst sleeping amongst the refuse in the alleys of Morcaine.
“No!” Marac shouted. He sprang from his bed, then grabbed his chest and tried to catch his breath.
“What’s the matter?” Laedron asked.
“Sorry. Nothing,” Marac said, sweat pouring off his face.
Brice sat up on his cot. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Marac wiped his forehead. “Just a bad dream. We were on the tower again.”
Laedron sat across from him. “The tower?”
“In Azura, the Grand Vicar’s Palace. I dreamed that Andolis killed us all, one by one. He saved me for last.”
Laedron smiled and patted Marac on the shoulder. “Thanks to you, he won’t be murdering anyone else.”
“Thanks to me? No. We all had a hand in that.” Balling the damp sheet, Marac dropped it on the floor. “I can go the rest of my days without meeting another Zyvdredi master, though.”
“I know how you feel. I even feel the same way,” Laedron said, “but we’ve done a favor for countless innocent people. We stopped Andolis before he could fulfill his plans.”
“Is that our job?”
“The Shimmering Dawn sent us after Gustav, and we couldn’t leave Andolis to fulfill his plan.”
“That’s not what I mean, Lae.” Marac averted his gaze from Laedron and stared at his bare feet. “In a deeper sense. Are we the guardsmen of the world? Is it our place to save people who will not save themselves?”
“It has always been the way of Circle mages to help those who cannot help themselves.”
“Yes, yes. I understand that; help the helpless. But those who won’t lift a finger? It’s our place to solve their problems, too?”
“Andolis was a powerful sorcerer, Marac, as powerful as they come. Even if they’d tried, they would have failed.”
“I seem to remember piercing his back with my blade. He wasn’t invincible.”
“Yes, you killed him, but not before Brice slashed him and certainly not before I dueled him with magic. You must also take into account the number of militia lost on the steps of the palace, how hard we fought to make it inside in the first place.” Laedron bobbed his head. “Had he not been Zyvdredi, the Heraldans might’ve had a chance, but tales are told of the difficulties that Circle mages have had taking on a Zyvdredi master.”
“But they didn’t try.”
“And why would they try to usurp him? With his silver tongue, he told them what they needed to hear. Old stories of empire and glory drove them to go along with his plans. He used their own pride as a tool to control them, and if anyone had stood against him, they would’ve been cast out as traitors.”
“Precisely, Lae. That’s what I’m saying. We stopped him, the three of us, and if people don’t want our help because they’d rather go along with it, why should we be bothered to step in?”
“In this case, to help our own people, to end the war, and we had luck on our side. Under other circumstances? You can’t save the whole world from itself. At some point, people must make their own decisions, live their own lives, and deal with the consequences.”
Marac chuckled. “Funny thing, that. I think this is the first time we’ve agreed on something.”
“It could be.” Laedron smiled. “The teachings passed down to us never speak of fixing every problem, but when directly challenged, Circle mages must do whatever it takes to preserve themselves and the traditions.”
“You learned much in a short period of time,” Valyrie said. “Ismerelda would have been proud of you, I’m sure.”