R. Salvatore - The Bear

When that was accomplished and Brother Pinower returned the next morning with news that Lady Dreamer had put out, the more immediate planning went into full swing.

"You cannot expect me to take him or his proposition seriously," Bannagran said to Reandu. "Ethelbert wears his desperation clearly. He is afraid and knows the war is soon to end, and so he tries to turn us to his cause. He has nothing else to play."

"His cause is Dame Gwydre's cause," Master Reandu reminded.

"Father Artolivan's, you mean," said Bannagran. Reandu straightened at that, unable to dispute the simple truth of it. His belief in Father Artolivan and St. Mere Abelle was surely his disadvantage in his dealings with Bannagran, but so be it. Master Reandu would not disavow the church whatever the personal cost of fealty.

"You would have me join with Ethelbert," Bannagran accused. "You would have me turn the army of Pryd about and assault King Yeslnik for the sake of Laird Ethelbert and your church."

"Do you think Yeslnik a more deserving king than Laird Ethelbert?" Reandu asked bluntly. "Truly?"

"I think that the ways of the world do not ask my opinion."

"The ways of the world asked neither Delaval's nor Ethelbert's nor Yeslnik's opinion!" Reandu shot back. "No divine angel swept down and told Delaval to claim the throne. No just and good god would ever ask that of the idiot Yeslnik!"

Bannagran's stinging slap staggered Reandu back several steps. He held his balance, somehow, but came up holding his aching jaw and staring at the Bear of Honce incredulously.

Several times Bannagran-who seemed as horrified as Reandu-started to respond, but each time he just growled and scowled and shook his head.

"You cannot speak of the King of Honce such," Bannagran finally explained, though it sounded hollow, even to him. "I have pledged my fealty to him."

"You have often called me friend," Reandu countered.

"And you make it a difficult proposition ever."

"If I am your friend, then I must be able to speak my heart to you," said Reandu. "And I did." He rubbed his jaw again pointedly.

Bannagran glanced around to see a couple of groups looking over at him and Reandu curiously. They couldn't hear the conversation, but they had no doubt seen the slap. The Laird of Pryd scowled at those onlookers fiercely until they retreated beyond the nearest tree line.

"I know the treachery you plan," Bannagran whispered when he was certain they were very much alone. "You are encouraged by the arrival of Laird Ethelbert. I know that you will flee at the first opportunity with those brethren you have brought, and Ethelbert's men will no doubt rejoin him."

"They will not," Reandu replied. "On their word. They are out of the war as they promised. Laird Ethelbert's arrival here does nothing to change that."

"We shall see," said Bannagran. "And if not to Ethelbert, then they will go with you to your home chapel, to the side of Father Artolivan, where your loyalty truly lies."

"I'll not deny that," said Reandu. "Never have I. I am a brother of the Order of Blessed Abelle. It is his path I follow above all others, and that path leads me to St. Mere Abelle and Father Artolivan and not to Father De Guilbe. The man is a godless opportunist, who has placed personal power and glory above the call of the order."

"Many believe that would make him a wise man."

"A coward!" Reandu insisted. "Throughout the short history of our order, brothers have sacrificed their lives before renouncing Blessed Abelle. I expect no less of myself."

"Because you expect a reward in the afterlife for your grand sacrifice," said Bannagran. "The Samhaists would not agree."

"No," Reandu replied. "No, my friend. It is not for the afterlife or the promises of Abelle, great though they are, and indeed I do believe them. No, it is the principle of behavior that I place above even that promise. The greatest gift of Blessed Abelle is the promise of better lives for all men if all men followed the tenets of his order. The greatest promise is brotherhood joined, is common gain for common cause."

Bannagran began to laugh, and that gave Reandu pause.

"You truly believe that?" the Laird of Pryd asked.

"Enough so that if you present me with the choice of abandoning my course or feeling the mortal bite of your great axe, I will suffer the blow."

"So you say until the axe hovers above your neck."

"So I say until my voice is quieted forever." Reandu straightened his shoulders with his proclamation and stared at Bannagran unblinkingly.

For a moment it seemed as if Bannagran would respond, but the powerful man just snorted and walked away, shaking his head with every step.

Master Reandu breathed a sigh of relief.

"He is right, you know," came a voice from above, and Reandu, startled but not surprised, just closed his eyes and sighed.

Bransen dropped to the ground in front of him. "Your idealism is foolish, childish even, in light of the darkness that has come to Honce."

"And without that idealism, my life would be empty," Reandu replied.

Bransen stared at him doubtfully.

"You are to judge me?" Reandu asked. "You, who thought yourself a murderer and nearly destroyed all that you have achieved in that ridiculous self-deception?"

The simple truth of that reminder had Bransen back on his heels.

"Bransen the assassin," Reandu said dramatically, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. "The rogue Highwayman who kills without mercy!"

Bransen pushed past the embarrassment and shrugged off the insult. "Once I believed as you claim," he replied. "And then Garibond was murdered."

Bransen had reversed the conversation and now it was Reandu settling into a defensive posture.

"And I dared to believe again," Bransen went on. "And then Jameston Sequin was murdered. Bitter experience tells me that you chase a fool's road as Bannagran declared."

"Bitter disappointment has weakened your heart and your resolve, you mean."

"You call Father De Guilbe a coward, but you say it from the shadows. Why did Reandu not so declare that to Father De Guilbe back in Pryd Town, I wonder?"

"Because to invite such wrath would be foolish and counterproductive to the cause I serve," the monk replied without the slightest hesitation. "And because other men depend upon me to lead them to safety, and I would not throw that trust to Yeslnik's ill justice. And yes, Bransen, Father De Guilbe is a coward and an immoral opportunist who sees a chance to usurp the power of rightful Father Artolivan."

"And, thus, Bannagran of Pryd must also be a coward," Bransen reasoned.

"A cynic," Reandu corrected.

"They are the same by your definition."

Reandu considered that for a moment, then nodded. "And so is Bransen Garibond, too, a coward?"

"Will he abandon you in your glorious cause, you mean?"

Master Reandu didn't blink.

Bransen considered his own words for a short while, then pulled the soul stone from his forehead and reached into his pouch to collect the other magical gems Reandu had given him. He held his hand out to the monk.

"You cannot bring yourself to profit on the blood of innocents," Reandu replied, making no move to take the gemstones. "And so, since you know that there is no personal gain for you here, you determine that this is no longer your fight. Bransen will run away."

Bransen did not retract his hand.

"You can run from this fight, Bransen," Reandu said. "But you cannot run from yourself. The gemstones are yours, forevermore. I grant them to you without demand, but with expectation that one day you will admit the truth to yourself."

Very slowly, Bransen pulled back his hand. He didn't want to accept the stones, but he knew that without them he would have no chance of defeating Affwin Wi and retrieving his sword or the brooch. Without them he wouldn't likely even traverse the many miles to get back to his wife.