Paul Kemp - Shadowbred

"Fight?" Tamlin said. "Fight other Sembians?"

"Civil war, my lord," Abelar said, nodding. "It is already upon us though the armies have not yet met."

Tamlin was flushed, sweating. The combat and the news from the capital left him foundering.

"I need time to think," Tamlin said, rubbing his temples. "This is… unbelievable."

Cale stepped to Tamlin's side, prepared to steady him by his presence if not his arm. "Where are you camped, Abelar?"

Abelar regarded Cale coolly. "Not far from here." He turned to his men. "Regg, have the men assist the Selgauntans in gathering their dead. Then we ride for the camp."

The Selgauntans, aided by the Saerbians, set about collecting their fallen. Afterward, the entire force rode south for the Saerbian camp. Tamlin, Cale, and Abelar trailed the main body.

"You spoke of civil war, yet you ride far east of your home to rescue us?" Cale said to Abelar.

Abelar looked at Tamlin as he answered. "I needed to ensure the safety and loyalty of the leader of my only sure ally. I have done the former. I hope I have done the latter?"

Tamlin nodded absently. Abelar glanced at Cale, then back to Tamlin.

"You keep unusual company, Lord Uskevren," he said.

Tamlin took his point. "Mister Cale is a trusted advisor and… priest."

"Oh?" Abelar said, eyebrows raised. "Whom do you serve, Erevis Cale?"

"Yes, whom do you serve, Mister Cale?" Tamlin asked.

Cale came within a blade's width of punching Tamlin in the face. Had Tamlin not been Thamalon's son, had Cale not figured Magadon's fate to be tied up in Sembia's, he would have left Tamlin to his own counsel then and there.

He looked Tamlin in the eyes, then Abelar. He took the mask from his pocket and held it up for both of them to see. "I serve Mask the Shadowlord. I have for over two years." Tamlin looked shocked. Abelar frowned. Cale glared first at Tamlin then at Abelar. "I can read your face, Corrinthal. Say what you would."

Tamlin, perhaps thinking better of his verbal ambush, said, "Mister Cale has proven his worth to my father and to me countless times, Abelar. His loyalty is beyond question, irrespective of the god he serves."

Abelar held Cale's gaze throughout Tamlin's defense. Cale credited him for not faltering. If nothing else, he recognized Abelar as a man he could respect.

Abelar said, "I judge men by their deeds, Cale. Not their gods and not their blood." He looked at Cale's skin as if he could see Cale was not a mere man. "But Lathander has empowered me to look in men's souls, and there is darkness in you. It is apparent to anyone who can see."

Cale knew the words to be true but was too angry to acknowledge them aloud. "There is a darkness in every man, Corrinthal," he answered. "And I, too, judge men by their deeds. That holy symbol you wear carries no weight with me."

They stared at each other a moment longer. Finally Abelar nodded. "Well enough," he said.

"Well enough," Cale answered.

When they arrived at the Saerbian camp, Tamlin, Cale, and Abelar took counsel in private around the fire, amidst the Saerbian tents. The house guards and Saerbians assigned men to a watch and the rest prepared for sleep.

Tamlin looked from Cale to Abelar. The firelight highlighted the circles under his eyes.

"If we fight…" he eyed Abelar, "… and I say 'if,' because even if I agree with your course, I do not have plenary authority to send Selgaunt to war. The Old Chauncel must ratify any such decision."

Abelar said "They will fight. An army will arrive at your walls. They will fight or die."

Tamlin sighed, continued. "Who else can we count on as an ally?"

Abelar leaned back and shook his head. "No one. The nobles have either sided with Ordulin or are trying to stay neutral until the storm blows over."

Cale found Abelar's choice of words ominous. Abelar continued. "Even the nobles in and around Saerb have lost their nerve. My father could rally them, but he is in the Hole of Yhaunn-and I am not him." He looked at Tamlin steadily. "I have two hundred and eleven men in this company. Another two hundred, perhaps three, would rally to me back in Saerb. That, combined with your forces, is all that stands against Mirabeta."

Tamlin shook his head. "You have four hundred men? Five hundred at best? Mirabeta will have thousands. I can muster perhaps two thousand men, not many more, assuming all the Old Chauncel agree that war is the only course."

"It is the only course," Abelar affirmed, and Cale found himself in agreement.

"How do we know that?" Tamlin asked, still grasping. "Perhaps Daerlun has the right of it. We stand by peacefully and let events unfold."

Before Abelar could reply, Cale said, "My lord, you read the proclamation. Mirabeta has declared Selgaunt and Saerb enemies of Sembia. If Abelar speaks truth, most of the nobility appear prepared to back her play."

"I always speak truth," Abelar said to Cale.

"We will see," Cale countered.

Abelar said to Tamlin, "Mirabeta Selkirk does not want war. She needs it. It is the pretense for her to seize and hold power. I have looked in her eyes, Hulorn, seen into her soul. Nothing else matters to her. And her plotting is furthered by her niece, Elyril Hraven, and that one serves a dark patron. There is more afoot here than a mere grab for power by Mirabeta Selkirk."

Cale agreed but kept his thoughts to himself. It all leads back to Magadon, the Shadowlord had told him. But you will not like where it leads.

Abelar continued. "If we stand idle, we will hang as traitors. There will be no peace before there is war. Mirabeta cannot allow it."

Abelar's words weighed on all three men. They sat in silence for a time.

"What of Cormyr, or the elves of Cormanthyr?" Cale asked.

"No doubt both would be pleased to see Sembians fighting Sembians," Abelar said. "Perhaps one or the other would enter the war at some point, but not until the murk clears."

"I will send out envoys nevertheless," said Tamlin. "We need allies from somewhere."

"Aye," Abelar said. "That we do, unless Sembia is to fall under the rule of Mirabeta and whatever dark god she serves." He brightened. "In the meanwhile, we have one another, and Lathander."

And Mask, Cale thought, but did not say.

The next morning, a mounted force out of Selgaunt rode into the Saerbian camp and informed them that they were in danger of attack. Cale almost laughed.

6 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms

The next day, Abelar, Cale, Tamlin, and the combined force of Selgauntans and Saerbians rode quickly for Selgaunt. The sun stole Cale's shadowhand. Cale did not bother to hide it and Abelar noticed.

Cale looked him in the face and said, "I am a shade, Corrinthal."

He offered no further explanation. Abelar stared at him for a time, then said, "Lathander and Mask, light and shadow. War sometimes makes odd allies."

Cale looked at Abelar. "That it does. Let's find a few more and send Mirabeta to the gallows in our stead."

"Indeed," Abelar said grimly. "And her niece."

The journey to Selgaunt was somber but uneventful. Cale stayed near Tamlin but they spoke little.

"Mister Cale," Tamlin said to him as they neared the High Bridge. "I wish another were Hulorn."

Cale understood the feeling and appreciated that Tamlin had confided it to him. He'd had similar thoughts after becoming a Chosen of Mask.

"Responsibility is heavy, my lord. You will bear it."

"You must," Abelar said. "Or Sembia will fall to darkness."

Tamlin made a dismissive gesture. "You are seeing events through the lens of your religion, Abelar. This is not a battle between good and evil. This is politics. Nothing more and nothing less."

"You are mistaken," Abelar said with a soft smile, but left it at that.