The others at the table turned toward him, and Aedan saw a few more familiar faces, but mostly new ones. He did not see Caitlin. Strange, but until that moment, he had not thought of her in years. As the others rose to their feet, Aedan waved them back down.
“No, no, resume your seats, please,” he said. “I am not here in my official capacity tonight. I just came to get drunk.”
“Well, you have come to the right place then,” Vaesil said, sitting down heavily. His speech was only slightly slurred. He still had the bard’s voice, and a control over it that only a man long in his cups could exercise despite the drink. “And who is that with you?” He squinted. “By the long-dead gods, is that an elf?”
“Her name is Sylvanna,” Aedan said.
“So, you’ve turned your back on your human friends and taken up with elves now, have you?” Vaesil commented. The others sat in shocked silence, amazed that he should address the lord high chamberlain in so familiar—and so rude—a manner. “I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised,” continued Vaesil. “You’ve both butchered your share of humans.”
“Vaesil! Have you lost your senses?” one of the others at the table said in a shocked voice. “Remember whom you are speaking to!”
“It’s all right,” Vaesil said. “Lord Aedan and I are old friends, are we not? True, it has been years since we have drunk together, but then he’s been a very busy man of late. Sit down and join us, Aedan, and your elf girl, too. You can regale us all with tales of your last campaign. I understand the body count on this occasion was particularly high, and you did not even encounter Arwyn’s army. Just a sort of lethal training exercise, was it?”
Several of those present got up from the table and left without a word, their gazes sliding away from Aedan’s as they departed. The others all just looked into their drinks, not knowing what to say or do.
“Oh, dear,” said Vaesil. “I seem to have offended a few tender sensibilities.”
“I should think you’d be quite used to that by now,” said Aedan in an offhand tone.
“Oh, well struck!” said Vaesil with a grin. “An excellent riposte! I see your diplomatic duties have improved your wit. Or perhaps it’s simply been emboldened by all your heroic actions in the field. You were never quite so forthcoming in the old days. That deserves a drink. Dierdren! Some of your best wine for my esteemed guests!”
To Sylvanna’s surprise, Aedan sat down at the table with Vaesil. Frowning with puzzlement, she joined him.
“Speaking of the old days, Vaesil, how is Caitlin? Do you see her anymore?”
“See her?” Vaesil snorted. “I married the sow. Not one of my better judgments, that, but she got with child, and as I was reasonably certain it was mine, I felt it only right and proper to do the honorable thing. I haven’t done all that many honorable things, you see. In fact, I believe that was the first and quite possibly the last, as well. I rather enjoyed the novelty of the experience. For a time, at least.”
“So you’re a husband and a father,” Aedan said. “Frankly, I never saw you in either role.”
“Mmmm, neither did I,” said Vaesil, wrapping his fingers around his goblet. The serving maid brought their drinks, and Vaesil fumbled around his person, looking for his purse.
“I’ll buy,” said Aedan. He paid her, including a gratuity, and she thanked him with a curtsy and a smile, then left.
“So have you a daughter or a son?” asked Aedan.
“One son, two daughters, and another baking in the oven,” Vaesil said. “I am beset with squalling children and a shrewish wife who has grown broader in the beam with the delivery of each new addition to our loving family. Ah, the bloom is off the rose, indeed. But if I get drunk enough, I can still fulfill my duty as a husband. For a few minutes, at least.”
“I am surprised she lets you,” said Sylvanna.
“Ah, you can speak! Capital! I was afraid I should have only Lord Aedan to trade barbs with.” By now, all the others at the table had left as well, without saying a word. Vaesil took no note of it after his first comment. “Yes, well, the pathetic soul still loves me, you see, despite her constant harangues about my drinking. But you see, I must drink to support my growing family. The muse requires fuel. I can no longer compose when I am sober.”
“Perhaps you will honor us with one of your recent ballads?” Aedan said.
“Perish the thought!” said Vaesil. “I do not perform them, I merely compose for others who have more appealing stage presence. The last time I tried to regale an audience with one of my compositions, I fell off the stage. Broke both my wrist and the harp. Can’t play worth a damn anymore, not that it matters, the sort of drivel I compose these days. I couldn’t sing the stuff with a straight face, anyway. If I wrote what I really think and feel, no one would pay me for it, and I have hungry mouths to feed.”
“If you are in need—” Aedan began.
“I do not require your charity,” Vaesil interrupted him. “In truth, I am obscenely prosperous. By my standards, anyway. Caitlin’s father died a few years back and left us his blacksmith shop. I could not manage it, of course, so I took on a partner, a most industrious young chap who was fawningly grateful for the opportunity and has made quite a success of it. And my ballads, worthless, sentimental dog droppings that they are, are in considerable demand. I even wrote a few about your emperor, glorifying his wonderful accomplishments in fighting to unite the empire and his unparalleled heroism on the field of battle. If I had any shame left in me, I would die of it. But I continue to live, worse luck. Well, shall we drink a toast for old times’ sake?”
“What shall we drink to?” Aedan asked.
Vaesil considered for a moment. “To the past,” he said. “The future is too depressing to contemplate.”
“To the past, then,” Aedan said.
They lifted their goblets and drank.
“Well, I suppose I should be staggering back to my humble domicile,” said Vaesil. “I would not wish to disgust you any further, and my wife is doubtless waiting for me, wondering if I shall make it home alive or if the morning will find her a rich widow with a handsome, muscular young blacksmith at her beck and call. If I were him, I would be building on my future by working at her forge. She’s still a saucy wench, despite having lost her girlish figure.”
“Please give Caitlin my warmest regards,” said Aedan.
“I shall do that, and I am sure it will please her to be remembered.” He lumbered to his feet. “You wanted her, as I recall. I can remember how you used to stare at her, like a moonstruck calf. You should have tried to take her from me. I know you never could have married her, but I would have been too proud to take her back when you were finished, and she would have been much better off. Well, good night to you, my lord chamberlain and lady elf. And give my regards to your bloodthirsty bastard of an emperor. Tell him I shall continue to extol his noble virtues while I curse his noble name.”
He lurched off toward the door.
“What a horrid, loathsome individual,” said Sylvanna with disgust. “I have never met anyone so beneath contempt. I cannot believe you allowed him to speak to you that way. Was he truly your friend?”
Aedan sat silently for a moment, staring into his half-empty goblet. “I don’t think that Vaesil was ever anybody’s friend,” he said at last. “Believe it or not, there was a time when he was quite handsome and engaging. Oh, he was acerbic then, but not to this extent. Back then, he seemed very daring, spirited and charming in a dangerous sort of way. I wanted very much to be like him.”
“I find that difficult to imagine,” said Sylvanna. “He is the most detestable person I have ever met.”
“He has become bitter and pathetic,” Aedan replied. “As a Fatalist, he had believed in nothing greater than himself. And when he lost his belief in himself, he was left with belief in nothing. I do not think you could detest him half as much as he detests himself.”