Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

“I don't know,” Marac replied. “There was a flash of light, and he just… appeared.”

“Appeared?” Stepping over the vomit, Valyrie fell to her knees on the other side of Laedron. “Lae? Can you hear me?”

“I… made it.” When he heard his own voice, Laedron likened it to a handful of gravel being ground into power.

“Made it? What in the hells is that supposed to mean?” Marac, with Valyrie's help, rolled Laedron onto his back. “What have you done?”

“A new spell.”

“New spell? What kind of spell?”

Laedron turned his head and spat the foulness out of his mouth. Brice handed him a mug, and he took a swig. He used the first mouthful to rinse his mouth and spit, then he swallowed the next few.

“I call it 'instant escape.’”

Marac furrowed his brow. “Instant escape, eh? Looks more like ‘instant regurgitation.’”

After taking another sip from the cup, Laedron felt his belly rumble, then he vomited again, doing his best to avoid hitting Valyrie or Marac. Afterward, he lay flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Looks like I've overdone it this time.”

“That's an understatement,” Marac said, reaching to lift him.

“No, no.” Laedron waved his hand and wriggled away from Marac. “Not yet. Can't get up.”

“Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself, Lae.” Marac folded his arms and stood. “We're supposed to be leaving today, and you go and do something like this?”

“He's been restless,” Valyrie said. “Completely unable to sleep. We can't fault him for trying to find something constructive to do with his time. Oh, Lae, I should’ve stayed with you.”

Perhaps she hasn’t grown cold to me .

Brice shook his head. “Yes, he's found a new way to summon up two days' worth of meals and decorate the floors with them.”

“This is no time for jokes.” Laedron turned onto his side in anticipation of more heaving, but the dizzy feeling was beginning to subside. “Oh, my head!”

“Do you think you'll be fit to travel by midday?” Marac asked.

Laedron started to nod, but thought better of moving his head again. “I hope so.”

After lying on the floor for several minutes, he pressed his palms to the floor and raised himself to his knees. The dizziness had subsided, and he was left with a light-headed sensation. “Such is the way with progress. I’ll have to adjust the spell.”

“You intend on trying this again?” Marac threw up his hands. “What if you suffer the same effects? Or worse?”

“I’m a sorcerer, Marac. This is the sort of thing sorcerers do.”

“I can’t see how anyone could find this attractive,” Marac replied, glancing at the pool of vomit.

“We study magic and learn its secrets. The spells that I can perform now had to be learned and studied, and I cannot accept that what exists now is the only possibility. New magic remains uncovered, just as I’ve demonstrated.”

Marac sighed. “Would you at least tell someone before you attempt something like this again?”

Looking at Marac, Laedron felt some measure of guilt for having performed the spell without telling them. But they were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb anyone . He nodded, accepting the fact that his friends deserved to know his intentions. “Very well. I promise.”

“Good.” Marac helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Care for anything to eat?”

Laedron held up his hand, imagining what effect food might have on his upset stomach. “No, not just now. Perhaps in a while.”

“Upstairs, then. A change of clothes and a wash would do you some good,” Marac said.

* * *

By the time the sun stood directly overhead, Laedron had taken a bath, changed his clothes, and eaten a light meal-soup and some greens. Hearing a coach stop outside, Laedron and the others went to the open doorway to see who had arrived.

The black cab had a solitary Azuran Star on the door. After a moment, Demetrius Hale hopped down from the back. Laedron dipped his head. “Master Hale, I had no idea you would be personally seeing us off.”

“Of course. I’ll go with you to the docks to ensure you have no problems getting aboard your ship.”

“Then, if you don’t mind, we’ll gather our things.” Laedron ascended the stairs, gathered his things, and met the others by the cab. The coachman loaded their belongings into the trunk.

Laedron spotted Piers and Caleb on the front steps. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Laedron said, shaking their hands. “Without you, we would not have been able to complete our mission here.”

“Without you , we would still be milling around in the dark.” Piers handed Laedron a small leather pouch. “Take this with our thanks. May it help you on your journey.”

“What is it?”

“A bit of money we were able to save up. It’s not much, but perhaps it shall be enough.”

Laedron eyed the pouch, then tried to hand it back. “We cannot take this. The order needs-”

“You’ve given our chapter everything that we need, Sorcerer. Now, take this charity as a symbol of our appreciation.”

Laedron nodded, then returned to the cab and climbed inside. He gave the Shimmering Dawn headquarters one last glance as the coach lurched into motion, then he prayed that the Creator would protect them in the days to come.

“Didn’t you want to say anything to Caleb?” Laedron asked, glancing at Brice.

“Already did. We had a long talk this morning.” Brice waved to Caleb through the window. “I hope things go well for them here.”

“They will,” Marac said. “I’m sure of it.”

Laedron nodded. “With the Zyvdredi threat gone, they should be free and clear. What step they take next will dictate their future, but we’ve done all that we can for them.”

“You’ve done more than you had to,” Hale said. “More than I would have ever expected you to do.”

“Why do you say that?” Laedron asked.

“A Sorbian Sorcerer? Coming all this way to free us from an unknown enemy? The theocracy would have lost the war, and you easily could have left us to the path of destruction. Instead, you came and did away with Andolis.”

“No, we couldn’t have sat idly by. Scores of our countrymen would have been killed, many more than we’ve already lost. My presence here is self-interest as much as anything else.”

“We can be glad that your self-interest has matched up well with our mutual interests, then,” Demetrius said, smiling.

The coach rolled to a halt near the docks, and Laedron caught a glimpse of the ship that would carry them to Nessadene, the largest city in the south of Lasoron. Laedron read the name painted on the side of the vessel. The Galerunner. Opening the door, the coachman extended his hand for each of them as they departed the cab, then stacked their bags on the pier.

“You’ve been a great help, Master Hale. We appreciate this special favor,” Laedron said.

“And you, too. The ship’s sound and shall carry you swiftly to your destination.” Demetrius produced a pipe and chewed on the end, presumably due to a lack of fire to light it. “May Azura, the Creator, or the Fates, whichever you believe in, take you safely there.”

Laedron raised an eyebrow. “A scholar such as yourself doesn’t know to whom or what sorcerers pay their respects? The Creator, of course.”

“The Creator, then. Customs and culture were always lost on me, my young friend. I apologize.”

“No need. Farewell,” Laedron replied, picking up his bag. Glancing back at the street by which they had come, Laedron thought of Jurgen and the trials and tribulations of their journey together. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye this last time . Then he glimpsed the white horses drawing a white coach coming over the hill above the docks, and his heart warmed.