James Lowder - Realms of Infamy

I sent for Raven and thanked him sincerely.

"How could I not help you," he replied. "I am oathbound to do the bidding of Atera and her family. Even without an oath, I could do nothing to cause that child harm." He smeared a sweet-smelling ointment on my wounds and promised to return later to see how I was.

After that, we talked often. I found him to be powerful and willing to teach his skill. I'd always had a fascination for magic and the might it imparted, so I went to my father-in-law and asked to have Raven put in my employ.

"I intend to send him to Espar with you when you go," he responded. "He's been Atera's physician and friend for so long that I wouldn't want her to leave my house without him."

I smiled. Though I still held out the promise of Espar to him as to Atera, I had no intention of keeping it. Power, wealth, and now, vengeance, were foremost on my mind.

My spies soon learned the names of the men who had attacked me. My assassins were quick and deadly. As for the jealous merchants who had paid to have me assaulted, Raven devised a fitting poison, one that caused oozing sores that healed slowly, leaving deep and painful blood-red pock-marks. They died by their own hands soon after.

Ah, the intrigues of Saerloon! Such a magnificent city, so magnificently suited to my tastes.

But some months later, fate determined that I would have to go home. My father died. My brother soon followed.

With Raven and hired guards to protect my fortune, I reluctantly brought my bride to Espar.

I found the land much changed. True, the fields were as green as always, the forests as dark and thick. But beneath the plodding rhythm of Espar's sleepy life, I sensed evil, hiding just out of sight, an evil as deadly as any in Saerloon.

The local nobles were curious about my life in Sembia and anxious to meet Atera. In the first days after we came home, we were invited to a homecoming feast held by my neighbor, Lord Romul. Romul had been an old friend of my father's. I had grown up with his children and spent many happy hours roaming his lands. Nonetheless, I felt an instinctive wariness.

There were plotters everywhere, I reminded myself. With a beautiful wife and vast wealth, I was a prime target.

As I entered Romul's house, I heard the whispers of the other guests. I thought at first that they were commenting on the beauty of my bride. Later, I realized that they whispered about me. I had been scarred and my arm maimed, but I sensed that their muttering meant more than that. I stood aside from the others, saying little while I watched protectively over Atera; she moved among them like a kitten, full of trust and happiness.

In the month that followed, I kept up my guard at the local festivals and remained tight-lipped about my business. As I expected, once everyone realized they would learn nothing of value from me, Atera and I were silently ostracized. Only Lord Romul and his wife, Laudrel, invited us back to their estate.

At our second meeting, I bluntly asked Romul why he felt such concern for me.

"Concern!" Romul laughed. "I recall your childhood well, Sharven. You were always one of my favorites. I am pleased to count you as a friend."

"Good," I responded. "Atera has been so lonely here."

"May I speak bluntly?" Romul asked.

I nodded.

"You changed much in Saerloon. I am not speaking of your wounds, either, for a man's face means nothing. Your bride is lovely and everyone speaks well of her. But if you wish to gain acceptance, you must be less suspicious of your neighbors. You've been gone some time. People are wondering what you are hiding to make you so nervous."

"I hide nothing!" I retorted.

"You gave me leave to speak," he reminded me gently. "This is a peaceful land, Sharven. These are simple people. Remember that."

He wanted me to think so. Indeed, for a time I tried to take his advice. I understood his motives soon enough.

We exchanged breeding cattle to strengthen our herds. His appeared healthy, but as soon as they mixed with mine, my herd fell ill with a strange disease. Mine died. His were less ill, and recovered. I sent an angry note to Lord Romul.

He came immediately and rode my fields with me. I kept up with difficulty, using my good arm to guide my horse. Eventually he pointed out clumps of speargrass on the edges of the fence lines.

"Have your fieldhands move your herds more often so they stay clear of that weed," he said. "It slowly poisons an animal if too much is eaten."

"Your cattle didn't die," I reminded him.

"Speargrass is a mild poison. My ranges are clear of it, so the poison wouldn't have built up in them. Still, I can't be certain the grass was the cause, so I'm willing to bear some of the loss. Come pick another dozen cows from my herd."

And have the fever kill the rest! I railed inwardly. To him I stiffly replied, "I'd rather settle in coin."

"You'd be wiser to rebuild your stock," he began, then, seeing the resolution in my expression, became resigned. "Perhaps you weren't meant for the country life," he said wearily and agreed to all my terms.

While Romul and I had been riding, Atera had visited with Lady Laudrel. When we joined them, I saw that Atera's face was flushed, her eyes bright. "I don't think I've ever laughed this hard," she said to me as we went in to dine.

Throughout the meal, Romul entertained Atera with tales of the hills and forests around Espar. I'd never seen her listen so intently to my stories, or laugh as pleasantly at my jests. It seemed that Romul did his best to charm her.

I mentioned this to Raven the following night. "Old men long for youth," he said. "However, I have never heard Atera speak of Lord Romul as anything more than friend-or of you as anything less than well-loved husband."

"What Romul feels may be equally important."

Raven did not reply. He was right to be silent. This was a matter between me and my wife.

I confronted her in the morning. She appeared genuinely distressed by my suspicions. "Lord Romul and his wife are the only people we ever see," she retorted. 'They've been kind to me. I think highly of him, but nothing more."

"Are you certain that's the only way you think of him?"

Atera did something quite unexpected. She slapped me and stormed from the room. I heard her call for a servant. Some time later, I saw her ride off alone, galloping north through the fields on the bay mare she had brought from Saerloon. North-the direction to Lord Romul's lands.

The money from Lord Romul arrived just after highsun, along with a note inviting Atera and me for yet another visit. Seething at the gall of a man who would seduce my wife under my very nose, I returned to my library and laid the note on the table.

Atera did not return until evening. She did not explain or apologize for her absence. That night, when I went to her chamber door, I found it locked.

"If that's the way you wish it, stay in there!" I bellowed through the door. I ordered the servants to bar it so she could not leave. After overseeing the work, I went to my library. There I fell asleep trying to make sense out of some old and incomplete instructions for turning copper into gold.

A strange rustling woke me, as if the pages of the books on the shelves around me had somehow come alive. Even the closed book on which my head rested vibrated at my touch. Fearful of what I might find, I opened it.

Bookworms! A dozen of them feasted on the pages of the text, their tiny bodies the same parchment shade as their meal. I shook them to the floor. Their color hastily changed to that of the flagstones, and they scattered as I stomped on them. When I'd killed as many as I could find, I moved to the shelves where hundreds were devouring my other texts. I shook them free of each text, stomping them as soon as they hit the floor. Soon the flags were slimy with crushed bodies. Yet the hungry horde continued its destruction.