David Drake - Tyrant

* * *

When they finally arrived at the New Emerald Quarter, Helga saw that it did indeed resemble a Confederate army camp. "Resembled," in fact, was too weak a term. For all practical purposes, at least in terms of its design and construction, it was a Confederate camp — and one of the "permanent" ones, too, not one of the hastily-erected field camps which the army would use for a single night.

"Good construction," grunted Jessep approvingly. "Too heavy on the wood — extravagant, that, not to mention a bit crude. But—"

Helga chuckled. "Half of the country around here is one great big forest. So why not use heavy logs? Easier than planing boards, when you get down to it."

Jessep didn't argue the point. Clear enough, the veteran would feel happier himself once they got within those reassuring walls.

Doing so took a bit of effort. The soldiers guarding the gates were none too keen to allow a large group of armed strangers into their compound — the more so once they got a look at Trae's arquebuses. They were quite familiar with the devices, obviously. Helga could see at least four arquebuses trained on them from watchtowers along the wall.

Trae was doing the negotiations instead of Jessep, since he was far more fluent in the Emerald language. His task wasn't made any easier by the fact that Helga insisted he keep her own identity a secret. Whether that was necessary or not was pure guesswork on her part. But she and her father had kept her carefully secluded since her return, especially once they realized that she was pregnant with Adrian Gellert's child. The likelihood that someone from Marange would think to take that information to the Vanbert capital, more than two thousand perilous miles away, on the off chance that someone would be willing to pay for it, was unlikely. But if a stray remark happened to reach one of the northern merchants who was returning to civilization anyway. .

No. Best keep it a secret for as long as possible. Outside of Jessep and Trae and Thicelt, the only people here who knew that Adrian Gellert was her child's father were the women. And she trusted them to keep their mouths shut.

Eventually, the guards agreed to let in a delegation. Trae, a dozen of his soldiers, Jessep and Ilset, and Helga herself. Then, twice that number of guards insisted on escorting them to the building which Adrian used for his dwelling.

As they approached, Helga found herself more nervous than she could ever remember being in her life. Then, when she discovered that Adrian was not home — one of his officers explained that he was meeting with a Southron chief — she found herself more upset than she would have believed possible.

But she let none of it show. The officer recognized her, as it happened. His name was Donnuld Grayn, and Helga could remember him as one of the soldiers in Adrian's company during the time she had spent as Adrian's "captive."

Grayn was affability itself, once he understood who she was. Quickly, he ordered the escort to let the rest of Helga's people into the compound, and invited Helga and Jessep and Ilset to wait for Adrian in his apartments. Trae and his men waited outside, with Grayn keeping them company.

And then. . she waited. Perched on a couch, the baby in her arms, all of her anxiety returning with a vengeance. She was too preoccupied to even notice the surroundings, or pay any attention to Ilset and Jessep's idle chitchat. She had waited for this moment — yearned for it, in truth — for well over a year. Now that it was here, she was almost gasping for breath. Her worst fears surged to the fore.

He won't even remember me. Barely, at best. By now he must have another woman. Some exotic Southron bitch. I bet he won't even—

* * *

Then, he was standing in the open door, staring at her, with Trae's grinning face visible over his shoulder.

His face was much as she remembered it, if quite a bit more pale. But his first words were. . nothing she had ever imagined in her many daydreams of this moment. They were uttered almost desperately, and in a much thinner voice than she remembered him having.

"If I get sick all over you, please don't take it personally. It's just that I found it necessary to share a cup — several, in fact — with one of the chiefs, and the stuff is the most horrible — they make it from— ulp— "

He did manage not to puke on her, but it was a close thing. If she hadn't hastily lifted her feet, she would have had to wash herself afterward. And, judging from the smell, would have had to discard the sandals entirely.

"You drank that?" She burst into laughter and held up her baby so the boy could admire his father. "See? Don't let anybody ever claim you were sired by some kind of Emerald wimp."

Ashen-faced, Adrian lifted his head and smiled weakly. Then, seeing the child, his eyes grew vague and unfocused. Helga remembered that weird expression, and almost shivered. Adrian's spirits were communing with him.

"He is your son," she said, softly but firmly. "I know it, even if I can't prove it."

The color was returning to Adrian's face. His smile grew firmer. "No need, Helga. He's my child, I'm quite certain of it."

Adrian used the word certain in a way which Helga had never heard any other man use it. Always, as if he were— certain. That was those mysterious "spirits" again. Somehow, in a manner which Helga did not understand, they had examined the boy and told Adrian that he was surely his own offspring.

Jessep came over and handed Adrian a rag, which he'd obtained somewhere in the apartment. Then, with several others, began cleaning up the mess on the floor. The former First Spear was no stranger to cleaning up vomit, clearly enough.

Adrian gave him a nod of thanks and wiped his mouth. Then, his eyes moving back and forth from Helga to the baby, asked in a still stronger voice: "What's his name?"

"I don't know. I never named him. I thought that since you were the father, you'd want to have a say in the matter. And—" She took a deep breath. "I always knew I'd see you again." The last statement sounded more like a plea than a statement.

Adrian's eyes were now focused entirely on her. She remembered those bright blue eyes. Could remember drowning in them at night and warming in them at dawn. She almost uttered the word please! — but managed to retain enough dignity not to say it aloud.

"Me too," he whispered. "The gods only know how much I've missed you."

Now she was laughing again, and it felt like all the tension of the past year was pouring out of her in the laughter itself — like water storming through a broken dike. And Jessep was laughing, and Adrian — Ilset too, with her own baby gurgling happily.

Only the child of Adrian Gellert and Helga Demansk was silent, staring wide-eyed at this strange new apparition in his young life. Wondering, perhaps, how anything in the world could be so blue.

* * *

A bit later, after Adrian and Jessep had finished cleaning up, Helga shooed everyone else out of the apartment. She handed the baby to Ilset on the way out. That had been prearranged between the two of them. By now, Ilset had nursed Helga's baby as well as her own any number of times, and she would have no trouble taking care of the infant until the following morning.

"Bet you won't have to fake it, either," murmured Ilset slyly, as she passed through the door. Helga's riposte came immediately to her lips, but before she could utter it, Adrian was closing the door and had her in his embrace.

A minute or two later, Helga murmured it in his ear. "That's one advantage to a man in a savage's loincloth. I don't have to wonder if he's faking his affection."

Adrian chuckled, but said nothing. By now, Helga was delighted to note, his normally fluent language had degenerated entirely into a series of growls.