"No, no, no, and a hundred times, no," Terezio thundered, glaring at the highest ranking officer who sat on the other side of the hearth from him. "I am relieved of active duty, sir and madam; and what's more, some talents which I fearlessly practiced in years gone by are now quite banned!"
Two of the three other Purple Dragons in the room shifted uncomfortably in their ladder-back wooden chairs, reminding Stephen of his two eldest children on the one fateful night that had awakened him to the fact that he had been allowing himself to become his father. The thought of the screaming match that had brought tears to his eldest son's eyes still throbbed like a fresh-broken bone.
"You have to bring my husband's murderers to justice, you HAVE to!" the darkly clothed and veiled Human woman cried from the couch, nearly shaking. "You're neither so old nor so long retired that you might forget your oaths to Suzail and Cormyr!"
"You do have a duty to your city and country-" the officer began in a authoritative tone. Yet, even though the voice was harsh, Terezio spied a distant flicker of comraderie in the stormy brown eyes.
"You forget, Oversword and madam, that limits- very necessary limits- have been placed upon those of us with extreme talent in the school of divination," Terezio growled back, insulted. "However much duty you may both believe I have, the Suzail Writ quite clearly prohibits me from the type of activity you request. I have absolutely no desire to fly in the face of a law so newly writ that the wax of the late king's seal is hardly dry!"
"Letting an accomplice to murder walk free, when he can tell her whereabouts in a mere second!" the shrill voiced woman cried, prompting the dark haired, long suffering male next to her to wrap his arms around her in the attempt to calm her down. "It's treason! Treason!"
"No, dear, breaking the law that's been put up against telling the little spoiled darling's whereabouts in a mere second is the treason; you really must learn to listen when others speak," Druce clucked, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she leaned back in the chair that she'd placed at the foot of the stairs.
"You oughtn't to have put those women out in the first place," the officer relented as he put one hand to his silver-haired temple. "They came with the Dragonborn; they should have stayed with him."
"Well, there, a man of your age has said it," Druce huffed. "I expect that makes the idea more palatable?"
Just after she spoke, a knocking came at the door, and she glanced up at it without moving toward it. Eunice began to move toward the door out of force of habit, but a single upraised finger from the old matron convinced the young apprentice to keep her seat.
"Dearest," Terezio said quietly, turning his head to the side so that he could cast his gaze behind him and toward his wife. "You could have at least waited until they'd gone."
Druce couldn't manage to so much as attempt any kind of restitution before she was cut off by Iordyn's interrogator.
"Is it your practice to allow doors to go unanswered?" the grey haired officer grunted, only to be glared at by the Dragon who'd just spoken to Terezio. "We'd all be better served if she'd mind her place, and speak when spoken to."
"I would thank you to do the same, Ornrion Vannus," the superior ranking officer stated flatly. "That is the lady of this house, a dam of four children and worthy of respect; even if she should choose to open the door with her own hands, it shall be done only when she so chooses."
Iordyn watched the looks on Terezio and Aleksei's faces reflect their approval of the reproof, and sincerely wished that Terezio's interrogating officer had been by during his own questioning.
A louder, more insistent set of thumps sounded loudly at the door, and Druce put out a hand to convince Eunice to remain seated in the separate chair that had been placed just outside the arch whose hallway led to the kitchen. She herself got up to open the door without asking who it was, and was absolutely dumbfounded to be presented with Rafael, whom she had just released from her custody not two days before, held up by two guards. The former Purple Dragon looked much the worse for wear, as though he'd decided to live in a mildew-filled, muddy hole. The Human woman, who along with her escort had turned to see who was at the door, shrieked in response to the sight and smell of him.
"Rafa, what's happened?" she asked at once, completely ignoring the obvious ramifications of the two officers by his side.
"He's returned to his natural state, is what," Stephen murmured. Iordyn cast a vaguely annoyed glance at his brother, who shrugged.
"He's in no condition to be in the presence of ladies," one of the officers said. "Shall we walk him around a few more times?"
"No, no indeed," Druce sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "In fact, let him stand on his own. Go on, he can do it."
The officer who hadn't spoken peeked around Druce's left shoulder to catch the eye of the oversword, only letting go when that superior had given a slight nod.
Rafa foundered for a few seconds after being released, but put a hand to the door frame and steadied himself. Terezio attempted to sneak a glance at Aleksei, only to find that the Dragonborn had been looking directly at him, not the scene at the doorway. Feeling a completely uncharacteristic guilt creep upon his spirit, the bespectacled mage returned his gaze to his wife.
"Now, young man," Druce began in a very small, but appropriately matriarchal voice, "you tell me why you've done this to yourself again."
"A bit of whining," Rafa replied with a distracted, rolling tone as he studied the ground. "I been fired, divorced and disowned. All in the same day. One messenger after another. This lot came, and I wondered if I were going to the block."
"Stuff and rubbish, boy; kip up and brave it. There's worse things to be than what you are. I assume some one of those messengers came with money, too, which you've thrown to the barkeeps?" Druce frowned, planting her hands on her hips.
"Not all of it," Rafa smiled wickedly, looking up from the ground at last. "A well-endowed lass some streets over that way has the rest."
"Oh!" the widow cried, fainting into the arms of her companion, who all but rolled his eyes in response.
"This wasting of an honest soul cries out to every god," Iordyn burst, unable to sit down on his feelings. "It's no doubt that this is all due to the loss of his position and self-respect. Did I not warn against this path?"
"You did," Vannus shot back, glaring mercilessly at the archer. "And I replied that no murderer should trouble himself with the fate of a drunk."
"Ornrion," Terezio's interrogator warned, leveling a serious eye at his junior.
"I suppose it bears repeating that a sitting room cannot be made a courtroom?" Stephen piped up. "I thought your superior said that this was a conjoined effort to piece together the whole truth, else I would not have exposed my brother to the likes of you a second time."
"The truth is that an arrow killed Blade Hophni, and that this man- your brother- was the only archer anywhere near him at the time of his death!" the officer thundered, standing up at once.
"An arrow?" Rafa laughed, as though it were a great joke. "An arrow killed Hophni? Be hanged, sir; Hophni killed Hophni."
"Well, the ale's made clean work of his fear," Terezio snorted. "A man he might've saluted some days gone is now told to go and be hanged."
"Thank the gods that one were already fainted, or it'd've cost some screaming," Eunice noted from her place before the door. One of the younger guards acknowledged the comment with a hastily-given nod.
"Come, bring him in and sit him down," Druce commanded firmly. "Right there, where I was. I'll stand right-"
"You won't, or I'm no man," Rafa shot back, pulling his arms out of the hands of the officers that had stepped forward to obey the woman. "This time, Lady Druce, I'm not so far off my wits that I'm without common manners, and if you'll all hear me, I'll tell you what I know, so that you all can go home, and leave this tireless mother's house alone."
The widow, who'd finally awakened from her faint, looked about herself for a few moments as though she couldn't recognize why she was surrounded by strangers, casual temple acquaintances and a clutch of Purple Dragons. The dark eyed male that she came with whispered something into her ear for a few moments, and after a few sniffles, she turned a suspicious eye on Rafa.
"Sit down, Vannus," the senior officer said calmly, standing himself. "Men; let me mind the gentleman. My lady, if you'll take your seat?"
"Handle him with firm respect, and I'll agree," Druce conceded, moving slowly back to her chair by the steps with her gaze pinned to Rafa's sweaty frame.
"My house is made un asile," Terezio despaired as he briefly put his face in one hand.
"Please to write to Gaspozsha Ranclyffe," Aleksei counseled gently, restraining himself from touching the concerned mage. "She sees as you see, though she does not always wish to. She will not fold her hands from you, when these things are happening."
Terezio looked over at Aleksei and sighed.
"I fear that's the most sense that's been spoken in this room since six this morning."
By that time, the oversword had made it across the room to Rafa, who was only able to be convinced to move three more steps inside the door.
"Mind the lady, who is the deceased's widow, yet, tell me what you mean by saying that he killed himself," he began quietly, as though he meant to keep the conversation between the two of them. "Do you mean to say that he put an arrow in his own head?"
"May as well have," Rafa scoffed. "Always kept aback of us, using marksmanship as his excuse. He slept in trees, supposedly scouting- yet near a quarter of the company died in their sleep when the Semmites first ambushed us. He was nowhere to be found when we lost the cart in the river- I thought he was dead when I found him laying flat in shallow water. I screamed like a bloody girl when he sat up."
"Playing dead," Stephen chuckled, earning him the fierce glare of the widow.
"He hid himself when we were the last two roving guards," Rafa continued. "Never got touched by the trap wards on the trees. Left me, the four escort blades, the two female creatures, and the captive himself to fight with stinging eyes and burning lungs. When's the last time you've ever seen an escort successfully defend himself while chained to a prisoner, even when fully able to do so?"
"That is what the rovers are for," the older Purple Dragon admitted quietly, sneaking a peek at Hophni's wife, whose face was reddening more with each passing moment.
"Well, they hadn't Prince Cat's chance in the doghouse with all that noxious mist in the air. They all died, to the last man, killed by blades that sliced through solid, Cormite-forged chains as though they were bits of wool before shears, while Hophni played at scouting again, declaring that he hadn't seen any ar-"
"Am I to listen to this drunkard defame my husband?" the widow shrieked at last. "These are all lies!"
"If these are lies, then I'm the head prancing witch of the nearest coven!" Rafa spat acridly. "At the last, your dearest beloved was so stupid with fear that both women had to push him to go where he ought to have gone himself."
"No," Terezio muttered under his breath. "Not a word out of his mouth has been untrue."
The oversword looked over briefly to make another request, but turned away when he saw how weary the old mage seemed.
"I tell you," Rafa insisted forcefully, "Hophni killed Hophni, with his own fool cowardice, and it's too only too bad that it killed everyone else around him first. Had Shesua left him in the guardhouse and taken even a sickly, five year old Halfling girl instead, mayhap that bloody stubborn half-Dwarf would've lived to send you back your useless, threadbare, dry rotted washrag this very day."
"Yea, but he's fierce!" Druce marveled. "Do any of the taverns around here sell that exploding liquor?"
"I won't stand it a moment longer!" the woman screamed, leaping to her feet. "He alone of all his company lives, while my virtuous husband and all his companions lie dead! He shouldn't just be dismissed from service, he should be hung for treason!"
"Frenzywater, Dearest; frenzywater," Terezio sighed deeply as soon as he was certain that his wife would hear him. "And no; it's nearly treated as contraband."
"Hang me then; I don't beg your pardon!" Rafa hollered immediately. "Light candles in the family's crypt, or set an altar in your own house, but if you ask after your beloved's reputation anywhere, you'll hear no better than what I've said. Some places, you'll hear worse."
"My first statement about the guidance of Lathander still stands," Stephen whispered quietly to his brother, who didn't make any visible sign of protest.
"Well, ser, that's enough," Terezio's interrogator soothed, putting a protective arm against Rafa's chest. "Remember his wits are damp, dear lady; he may not know all of what he speaks."
"I can tell you this is not true," Aleksei advised. "There are many things said that people are not wanting to remember later, but in that time of drinking, all that one is saying, they are much meaning to say. What is more interesting instead is what one is not saying; listen closely to these silences."
"Never bother talking sense when no one is listening," Rafa despaired, dramatically throwing up his arms and rolling his eyes as he flopped down to the floor. "There's your sickness for you, Alex, right there."
And Terezio noticed that the Dragonborn tilted his head very slightly, as though Rafa's comment needed to fall into some hole that desperately wanted filling on the left side of his head.
"I'm listening, ser," the oversword replied, making sure to relax his posture and his face. "If you've more to say, I'll hear it- with the forbearance of my ladies?"
"Let him have his say," Druce agreed. Hophni's widow began to protest, but the matron shook her head. "I said that we women shall all bear his further speaking. If you do not wish to hear any more of him, you and your brother are quite free to leave."
"I hope people are so cruel to you when your husband dies," Hophni's widow growled.
"I hope I'm already dead when my husband dies," Druce replied simply. "If I come not by that blessing, then I might stay silent in the presence of those who wish to help me in my time of wit-rending grief."
The Human woman's face flushed with embarrassment and indignation, but the man beside her managed to get his hand around her head and force her to lean on his shoulder before she could think of something else to say.
"All that it is, is that the Semmites paid an awful lot of attention to us, going and coming," Rafa said tenuously, looking from one face to another as he spoke. "I've never heard or seen the likes of it. Attack after attack. Didn't matter that we killed them; they kept coming, and they got better as we went. Started planning for what they saw of us, I guess. Caught us in weaker and weaker spots- but left us alone when the Drow and Ser Raibeart showed up- by that time, it was just me. Someone's on the list to go to Netheril, I'm convinced of it. Say, Alex, should I tell about- about the Shadar-kai?"
"Already they are knowing about both Rasha and Bahlzair," Aleksei replied. "They are not asking, but I am still telling."
"Some one of you is on their list," Rafa nodded, pointing at Aleksei, then putting that pointer finger to his nose. "Your crimson cuthroat could get away, I think, but I hate to think of your sapphire beauty straining under a Netherese chain."
"This is no different to her than Drow chain or Human chain," Aleksei explained. "There is no chain anywhere stronger than her own, so she is free."
Terezio looked fixedly at Aleksei for a few moments, willing his desire to probe further into that statement into silence and wanting desperately for any word from Marsember to arrive.
The highest ranking officer looked over at Iordyn, whose unmistakably disturbed look reflected the concern that he wasn't allowing himself to show. "Young Ser Raibeart," he breathed, "I'm afraid that in light of this, I must ask you a question that will pierce your heart."
"Let it be asked," Iordyn replied, looking up into his strangely compassionate brown eyes.
"Do you have anything to do with Sembia or Netheril in any way?"
Iordyn closed his eyes and shook his head with a slight and temporary frown. "No, Oversword. I swear it, by Lathander."
"Battlemage Ranclyffe?" the officer asked in a voice so small that Terezio could hardly hear it.
"He is not lying," came the quiet response.
There was a weary, weighty silence that could have been mistaken for tension or mistrust, but as he looked from face to face, Iordyn got the distinct impression that most gathered was instead simply relieved not to have a Semmite operative in their midst. The very production of the question seemed to have cost everyone a great deal of emotional distress.
"I thank you, sirs," the senior officer breathed, thinking deeply.
Unfortunately oblivious to the oversword's mental processing, the widow began to pipe up.
"What justice shall be done, then? What peace will be made with me, and my family? Have none of you any sense of propriety, or mercy?"
"Be comforted, Dame Hophni," the oversword replied, momentarily turning his back to Rafa. The latter allowed some tension to go out of his body in response, and his drinking weighed instantly on his frame, forcing him to scoot himself over until he could lean his upper body on a wall.
"I will strive to understand all things about this matter, so that I may mete out the proper judgement. Much as I hate to continue to draw the matter out, I absolutely must take all this new information under considera-"
"My husband is dead NOW, and has been cold for days!" the woman hollered loud enough to fill the room. "Must I scrabble for fees in the street, like the close friend of that drunkard there? What wicked plot might elsewhere fester is little concern of mine, but I refuse to leave this room, this very spot, before someone makes restitution for this crime! Further, I shall screech the shame of Clan Raibeart to the highest heavens, until some one of that house thinks to stop my mouth by force!"
"The shame is on your house, madam, whose coward son was pushed to and fro mid-battle by a pair of outlander women!" Stephen retorted, not bothering at all to keep his voice gentle. "There is no child of House Raibeart, neither male nor female, who would turn their back and run from any enemy!"
"Oh, but let me cry retribution, and away your little whelp flies, behind you, and guards, and facts, and time, cursed time, that will wear away at the shame on your precious, spotless name!" Hophni's widow cawed with a bitter laugh.
"I hide nowhere; I presented myself readily for judgement!" Iordyn chimed in, mortified. "It's you who flees away from the way of righteousness. More shameful even than your flippant disreguard of the good soldiers' efforts is this clamor for the sort of justice that jangles in the pockets! If your husband were the most craven man alive, should he yet deserve to have his spirit wander restless while his hot-blooded mate trades due process of law for filthy coin? I am ready to meet the gallows, and to give all my part of my father's fortune to your house, yet I too must wait upon the moving of those that uphold the law."
"Are you all deaf? He is ready for his death! Take him!" the widow protested. "I know no justice other than this, that restitution be made for the loss of my husband and all that which he might have brought home, were it not for that accursed arrow!"
"If you know no justice farther than your purse strings, it is not my arrow alone that should be cursed," Iordyn shot back. Stephen, who had never seen such a sharp side of his younger brother, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, wondering if his youngest might suffer a similar conversion. The widow screeched wordlessly in response, and jumped up to put nails into Iordyn's face. Her male companion, whose long-suffering seemed to know no bounds, restrained her with a simple arm around her waist. Had the situation not been so serious, the resulting look of the two of them- complete with her wild flailing and his nearly bored facial expression- would have been outright comical.
"It is no easy thing for a young man to see the shadow of his death advancing long upon him; it must be this that has so hardened Young Ser Raibeart's normally patient, gentle spirit. Madam, I ask for your peace, that I may reason calmly with him," the oversword said calmly. The woman huffed and threw herself back into the couch with such force that the wooden frame protested, and her companion briefly checked his arm for any accidental damage before returning his attention to the oversword.
"Now, ser, though you are fearlessly righteous when you speak, I ask that you surrender your reason," the elder officer replied, sneaking a look over at Stephen as he spoke. The suspicious blacksmith raised an eyebrow at him, but the oversword remained calm as he continued. "I warn you, your heart will rail against my words, but my years greatly prevail upon those that you command; therefore, listen to me not merely as a war-forged, decorated common officer, but as an elder of your own family, whose honorably departed grandsire I fought alongside years ago. In his name, I pray you, hear my words."
"Most respectfully yours, Lord Garimond," Iordyn replied, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands like a reproved child might.
"I thank your forbearance," the oversword soothed, leaving Rafa's side entirely to stride over to Iordyn. Surprisingly for a man of his age, he got to one knee before the younger man with no sign of ailment or stiffness. "Again I tell you, your words are words of an upright man, and I see now with my own eyes why you have been followed closely by the epithet 'the Virtuous.' I believe with all my heart that you will be as wise toward this woman, once you have been given good cause, as you are now zealous toward the law, and so I will speak plainly with you.
"The law of this and any land, made and signed by one ruler, may improve or warp with the coming of another. You know in your heart that there have been some laws made that chafe you, for they are against the more righteous commandments of the gods themselves, who are to be obeyed above any existing potentate. These natural laws of the gods, whose indelible writ of survival is laid deep in every beating heart, must be served now. This woman wails not for the clinking together of coins as it may seem, but against the tears of her babes, the shouts of her creditors and the growling of her own belly. Render to her, then, such materials as shall satisfy these pressing needs, and let that be part of your just penance in this matter. Let the spirit of Andrej Hophni rest forever peacefully in death, knowing that his widow has been duly cared for by that man who snatched him prematurely from her side. Protection and providence for the home is all the worry of every mate; I say so with authority, having been married for nearly a full score longer than you have walked alive. If my woman were the shrillest shrew, I should yet roar until the gates of all the Hells shook to pieces, if she passed but one night hungry after my death.
"As touching the matter of this Semmite danger, I should rather command your living help for such time as it takes to root to the bottom of it than demand a testimony from a corpse. I thought you ran from the great claws of the Purple Dragons in your youth, but now it seems the gods themselves have so directed your circumstances that you had no choice other than to lift up your eagle's eye under the banner that every one of your forefathers has served since the foundation of Cormyr herself. Lathander, as we all know, presides over new sprung purpose and rebirth; this is undoubtedly the work of his hands, which puts to death that archer whose unattended arrow struck down an innocent man, and resurrects in his place a wiser, truer adherent to the Way of the Bow. You are a wholly different creature than that former boy; I am no more certain of this than if I saw your dame's breast graced again with babe. Let this service to the Dragons stand as the other part of your justice, and know that you will, in so doing, pay two times over what your mortal frame's death could not once satisfy. Now, what have you to say to these things?"
"My Lord Garimond, may I touch my bow?" Iordyn asked humbly.
"An honest request," the oversword nodded, getting to his feet at once. "Let me have one as well, of the poorest quality as can be found, and let all bear witness to this test- for a test I know it to be."
"I know where to find that second bow," Stephen grunted, rising. "Spare me two cart rides, to my shop and back, and you'll have the worst bow in all of Faerun."
"What a curious saying!" Terezio suddenly broke. "Why would the commissioned blacksmith of the Purple Dragons admit to shoddy work?"
"My lord, to answer you that is to put greater shame on my head than you think," Stephen replied as he headed for the door. "Spare me but ten minutes, to my shop and back."
"Go," the officer replied, looking over to Rafa, who'd in the meantime fallen asleep while leaning on the wall. The dark eyed Dragon simply walked back over to him and gave him the slightest of pushes with his knee, which sent him pitching to the other side. Sensing himself falling, Rafa woke up and sat straight without even having to stick out a hand for balance.
"We're done, then?" he asked simply, looking back at the soldier who'd pushed him.
"Two things more, one of which involves you," the oversword replied. "I must admit, I handed down your judgment sight unseen, for I do not know many men that can long survive in armed service while overly enamored of any activity that might occur in a tavern."
Rafa chuckled wearily, as though some long sickness had robbed him of most of his breath. "Upon discovering my state, my great grandsire forbid the rest of the family from even speaking my name. My wife- wife only to the coin I brought home- had found a new man long ago, and is now free to wed him openly without public reproach. I feel like a free man for the first time in my life; that's no injustice at all."
"So what will you do with this freedom?" Druce interrupted immediately, crossing her arms.
"I don't yet know," Rafa shrugged with another laugh. "I've just tried being an alms beggar, and it hasn't worked, so I'll try at being something else tomorrow."
"Had you thought of being a mercenary?" Terezio offered almost jokingly. "Your skill set almost overwhelmingly lends itself to such work."
"Which is why I'd said 'Bugger' to it, sir," Rafa stated gravely with a raised index finger. "Time for new things! Reading, and stitching, and making a proper trade at market."
"If you're going to learn stitching, I could very well start a class," Druce suggested with all seriousness. "Bittersweet, who's still abed upstairs, likes to look upon my sewing needle as well."
"Probably likes to see you prick yourself on it," Rafa replied with a frown.
"Mayhap he does," Druce shrugged. "If that's the case, I'm sorry I don't do it often. I imagine he has few pleasures in life that haven't to do with someone being harmed. I like to afford him the one I can." A light, but repeated tapping at the door brought Druce toward it. "Ser Raibeart?"
"The same," came Stephen's voice from the other side of the door.
"Well, that didn't take at all as long as you indicated it might," Druce smirked as she opened the door to see Stephen. "Have you the bow then?"
"The worst in all of Suzail, or let me be hanged," the blacksmith replied. "Where shall we go?"
"The closest tree," Oversword Garimond replied, moving toward the door himself. "Let us all go there now- with the leave of the masters of the house?"
Terezio merely nodded his head and extended an open hand as he arose from his chair, happy to have the entire company move out of his sitting room. As two of the five soldiers made it clear that they would be responsible for Aleksei, the oversword moved to take custody of Iordyn, and the ornrion was made to help look after Rafa, the old mage cast his eyes around the chairs that had been brought from all parts of the house to accommodate the session. When he was certain that everyone had gone through the front door and around the side of the house toward the small plot of natural land beyond it, he concentrated on a mental image of a single eye-like ball of energy. He fed his power slowly to this center of energy, then expanded the awareness within it from one chair, to another, and to another, until he could sense phantom traces of residual energies from the people that had recently vacated them.
Druce waited for him to open his eyes. As usual, they had begun leaking- the first thing the older woman did was remove the corrective lenses from his face and brush gentle fingers at the corners of his eyes. He offered a short grunt, unable to force his lips to obey his mind.
"You tell everyone else that you're retired, and then you do this," she cooed, all trace of her normal sharpness gone from her voice. "One of these days, you're going to be caught, and they're going to put you back to real work again."
Without another word about it, the mage tapped the bridge of his nose, and his wife put a gentle kiss there before replacing his glasses. The two smiled at each other for a few seconds, then moved out the door toward their yard, where the spectators had clearly backed up in a semi-circle to view the archer and the oversword.
"I'll ask the retired Battlemage Ranclyffe to verify that I lie not when I say it has been a full week since I last worked a bow, and that was in a training room, to ensure that I'd not forgotten how," the officer began as he inspected the bow.
Iordyn, for his part, noticed which bow Stephen had brought right away. "Stephen, I split your beam evenly with that not two days gone," he protested.
"Then we don't have to ask Battlemage Ranclyffe to tell anyone anything, for you and I both know from experience that this piece is stiff in multiple places," Stephen nodded. "That it was shot at anything with any reasonable accuracy speaks to the talent of the archer. Tymora look over you."
"It's not Tymora's judgement we beg," Garimond corrected pointedly. "Draw back, Young Ser Raibeart. Lathander's unfailing guidance will aid you."
Iordyn looked at the tree- probably a mere decade beyond being a sapling- and breathed deeply. His instrument, the ever-familiar long bow that he would not change for a composite or a cross bow even though he'd been told to on multiple occasions, seemed to weigh much more than normal. He knelt down with it, and for nearly a full minute, he simply remained on the ground with his head touched to it, as though it would whisper in his ear. The oversword, who knew better than to disturb a genuine request for divine guidance, glared Hophni's widow into silence. Finally, Iordyn spoke- and though his head was still bowed to the ground, his words were unmistakable.
"I shoot for the taking of my life as answer for my murder."
And as if released from a spell, the initiate of the Way of the Bow arose and took a single arrow from his elder brother's waiting hand. His aim was precise; the speed of his draw and the flick of his release were absolutely picture perfect, as though he were a machine that could not err even if he had desired to do so. Unsurprisingly, the iron arrow smacked into the center of the tree, biting into the bark with half its head. Stephen shut his eyes against the sight, but Iordyn nodded. No one wanted to comment on the sheer beauty of his ability- even Hophni's wife was struck amazedly silent.
"And I shoot for the double sentence; that you give no less than three year's worth of Andrej Hophni's wages to his wife as restitution for his loss, and that you give an indefinite amount of service to the Purple Dragons as it touches the affairs of this Semmite encroachment upon Cormyr's lands."
Garimond was no slouch. While Iordyn could tell that the oversword was primarily a blade wielder, the knowing power in his upper body easily moved from that brute experience to the finesse necessary to aim the bow. In fact, possibly because of the incontestable force in the elder officer's chest and arms, Saul's awful, stiff bow bent back as though there were nothing wrong with it.
If this is my end, then let it be as you will have it be, Lathander, not as I will have it, Iordyn prayed silently in his spirit, forcing himself to keep his eyes focused on the tree.
And at that moment, the arrow- one of Stephen's steel headed monsters whose tips were slit so that the thing was much more difficult to rip out of flesh than commoner work- sung away from Saul's bow. Without a fraction of an inch's mistake, the beast struck the back of the iron headed arrow. The steel head first served its purpose, driving directly through the wood of its iron cousin, then surprisingly cracked the brittle metal absolutely in half, so that Iordyn's arrow fell out of the wood in two pieces.
No one could speak.
Garimond, who himself was astounded at the unmistakable answer, walked behind Iordyn to put Saul's bow back into Stephen's hand. The blacksmith had not opened his eyes since his brother's shot, and so had to have the oversword's result pointed out to him. Stephen looked immediately back up toward the sky in silence, as though nothing on the ground interested him at all. The oversword simply patted his shoulder, swung an index finger around just once to tell his men to form up behind him, then left with them.
"Home," the male companion to Hophni's widow said in a strange tone. Iordyn looked over ad briefly wondered why the man's voice seemed so unused to sounding. "We're answered here. Or three years of Drej's lions won't do?"
"You're right; let's go," the woman whispered, still feeling her skin prickle with the nearness of divine direction. "Sirs- thank you. Thank you- bless you, even. I'll see to Andrej's services, get a job somewhere, and- and I hope you get those Semmites." She looked around herself for a few moments, as though something were going to fall on her, then turned and left with some speed.
Aleksei sat down on the ground, and Iordyn looked down at him for a few moments before turning back to the steel arrow in the tree.
"The gods will take who they will take, a woman once is telling me," Aleksei noted, "but also they will spare who they will spare. If in speaking to the gods, you hear only silence, then listen to that silence."
No comments:
Post a Comment