Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

“You and Laren?”

Marac sighed. “Yeah, after we suspended the wedding plans. She still saw me after that, and she’d always climb up and down my back about the drinking and my night life. We made up each time, though. We know that we’re meant for each other.”

“You’re making me rethink this whole thing, Marac.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Is it?”

“I only mean to say that you have to know. When you know, you’ll know , but don’t do anything too hasty before you’re sure. Take things slow. Get to know her well before pursuing anything permanent.”

“I’ve never seen this side of you before, Marac. I have to admit that it’s kind of nice.”

“There’s more to me than drunken wildness and chasing women I don’t care about. You should know that, Laedron Telpist.”

“Of course that’s not all I think of you. I only mean to say that it’s a pleasant difference from what I’ve witnessed lately.”

Marac nodded. “We’ve been through a lot. The war, fighting with priests who turned out to be Zyvdredi sorcerers, and the heartache. Every day that passes, I worry that I’ll never see Laren again.”

“You’ll see her. I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so.”

“Enough of this talk for now,” Laedron said. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“A walk?”

“Yes, a walk. Have you forgotten how?”

Marac stood. “I only wonder why.”

“With everything that’s happened, we’ve never been able to take in the sights. The city bears many places to see, and we may not have a chance to visit here again.”

“All right. It could be nice.”

“That’s the spirit,” Laedron said, opening the door.

Marac followed him outside. “Where do you want to go?”

“We’ve seen most of the Ancient Quarter, and I’d rather go somewhere a bit more secular, to tell you the truth.”

“Secular?”

“To get away from the religious themes for a time.” Laedron started walking. “The city’s covered with symbols of Azura, but there must be somewhere that doesn’t exist as a tribute to her.”

“We are in the capital of the Heraldan Theocracy. It may be difficult to find what you seek.”

“The university wasn’t bad, only a few Azuran Stars here and there. How about the seaside?”

“The city doesn’t extend all the way to the sea, but the channel runs along the north end. Want to try there?”

“It’s worth taking a look.” Laedron turned onto a boulevard leading north.

They crested the last hilltop before the Heraldan Channel, and Laedron could see a number of masts rising above the roofs lining the water. “Seems the blockade’s been lifted.”

“How can you tell?”

Laedron pointed at the masts in the distance. “The flags. I recognize the Cael’Brilland banner, but not the others. I do know they don’t belong to the theocracy, though.”

“Well, you know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Where there’s a Cael’brillander, keep a watch on the keg.” Marac laughed.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn I heard that before, but it was said about a Reven.”

Marac poked him. “Ah, Lae… they’d be right about that, too.”

Brice followed the boulevard to the Ancient Quarter, taking note of the spectacles he saw along the way. The people had already begun their peace celebrations, and the entire city seemed to boast a pleasant, happy aura. Jubilant relief showed in the faces of every man, woman, and child he passed. Every cart was full of goods and the merchants handed out baked rolls at no cost to anyone who wanted one, including Brice. When he reached the entrance to the Ancient Quarter, he tossed a couple of the rolls into a bush, unable to stuff any more into his stomach.

Arriving at the former residence of Vicar Forane, he spotted a militia guard standing post at the front door. “Have you seen Collette?”

“Who?” The guard swayed a bit, probably from an ache in his feet after standing guard for quite some time. “I don’t know any Collette.”

“The servant girl who resided here,” Brice said. “What has become of her?”

“Ah, yes. You may want to speak with Commander Wilkans outside the gate.” The guard pointed at the portcullis behind Brice. “I remember mention of a girl, but I don’t know where she went. I only know that she’s not here.”

Brice turned and walked to the nearby militia headquarters. After passing through the front entry, he ascended to the third floor and knocked on the heavy wooden door still bearing Master Greathis’s name.

“Come in,” a muffled voice said.

Opening the door, Brice glanced at the boxes and crates all over the room. “Master Wilkans?”

“Yes. Come, have a seat.”

Brice sat in one of the two empty chairs in front of the desk. “Moving things around?”

“Master Greathis’s things. I’m preparing them for shipment back to his relatives in Falacore.”

“I won’t waste your time, then. I seek Forane’s servant girl. Her name is Collette.”

“And what, pray tell, for? She’s suffered greatly at Forane’s hands, and I’m not inclined to let anyone trouble her any further.”

“I want to thank her for what she’s done. She was just as important as the rest of us in revealing Forane’s plans and stopping the Drakars.” Brice tried to think of something better because Wilkans looked unconvinced. “I won’t cause her any suffering. I swear it.”

“You’re a friend of that sorcerer fellow, aren’t you?” Wilkans asked, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you were here just the other night helping us. Very well.” Wilkans leaned forward and scribbled on a scrap of paper, then handed the paper to Brice. “Go on the boulevard west of the Ancient Quarter and take your third right. There you shall find House Steadfahl.”

“House Steadfahl?”

“Aye, a manor house, and you will have trouble missing the sight of it. She comes from a wealthy, influential family. Pity that her father passed while she was imprisoned in Forane’s house. Double the torture in my mind.”

“Thank you,” Brice said, rising and heading for the door.

* * *

Brice found the mansion with little difficulty. The house consisted of two wings attached by a great hall through the center which ran parallel to the street. Two massive chimneys stood at the far ends, and smoke billowed out from them. He stood at the wrought iron gate and tried to summon his courage. It won’t get any easier than right now. What’s the worst she can do?

The creaking of the gate set his nerves on edge, heightening his anxiety. He only hoped that he could reach the front door before anyone saw him from one of the second-story windows. Relieved at reaching the awning without any apparent notice of his arrival, Brice rapped on the door. He quickly groomed his hair, then spit in his hand and used it to wipe away any dirt he might have had on his face.

Brice threw his hands back down to his sides when the door opened. “Evening, sire. Might I speak with Collette of Steadfahl?”

The butler, his nose fixed permanently in the air, asked, “And what business have you with her?”

I’ve come all this way and gone through all this trouble to be stopped by a man wearing a tight suit and wielding a snobby accent? Brice considered whether he should be polite and ask again, or if he should demand her presence and state in a clear and loud voice that he wouldn’t be insulted by the likes of a butler.

Before he could decide on how to respond, Collette appeared at the bannister above the butler and said, “Let him in. He’s no trouble.”