The Trials of Lance Eliot (17 page)

“El is good,” said Regis reverently.

“He is,” sniffed Miles.

Regis looked at me and frowned. “What are you smirking about? Surely you believe in El.”

The last time I had given my opinion on El, Aidan had nearly beaten me to jelly. I chose my words with care. “I think El is a beneficial religious construct,” I said with a noncommittal smile.

“A beneficial construct?”

“Look here, I'm not part of your world. I'm from Terra. We have no El in Terra.”

“You must,” said Regis. “If El is the Maker of Gea, then he's certainly the Maker of Terra.”

“I think Regis is right,” said Miles.

“What about you?” I asked, turning to Tsurugi. “What do you think?”

“There is no World-maker. It's just a story.”

Tsurugi's face had no expression, but there was something in his voice that made me think of a taut cord about to snap.

The silence was shattered by a small voice.

“There is a World-maker,” said Miles.

Tsurugi snapped.

“Tell me this,” he said. “What kind of World-maker would let the Nomen destroy Agnis? Why didn't he do something? Innocent people were cut to pieces and eaten. Innocent people went up in smoke. How can you believe in El if he let them die?”

The memory of that night was too much for Miles. He began to cry. As much as I agreed with Tsurugi, my sympathies were with Miles. He was clinging to a final shred of comfort, a forlorn hope that there was meaning in a meaningless world, and it seemed cruel of Tsurugi to tear it away.

Regis stood and cast aside his blanket, as a gunslinger might throw away his hat before a duel.

“How can you say that?” he said. “Miles just lost his family. How can you be so heartless?”

Tsurugi stood, fists clenched, eyes blazing. I was sure he was going to hit Regis. Then he shuddered and looked as though he were about to cry. It lasted only a moment. The mask slipped over his face and he sat down.

“I trust El,” said Miles. “I trust him. That's all.”

“I'm sorry,” said Tsurugi. He looked like a stuffed fish, but a penitent stuffed fish. He rose again and pushed in his chair. “I'm going to bed.”

We followed him to our beds, aware that we had caught a glimpse beyond the mask of the man called Tsurugi, and too sleepy to care.

11

LANCE ELIOT LEARNS THE FOLLY OF TEARS

I SHUFFLED INTO THE kitchen wrapped in a blanket the following morning and found my companions at the table.

“What took you so long?” asked Regis. “Adele woke you at least twenty minutes ago. Breakfast is almost ready. We were about to send someone to drag you out of bed.”

“I woulda dragged him out of bed,” declared Conrad, bouncing on his chair. “I woulda grabbed his feet and dragged him round the room till he waked up.”

“That's enough, Conrad,” said Adele, busy at the stove. “Please sit down, Lance. Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

I soon tore into a plate of fried trout and scrambled eggs. The table held bread, butter, milk and some sort of jam I didn't recognize. It had a tart flavor, somewhere between a green apple and a sour cherry. Regis informed me it was made of valeberries.

Tsurugi kept silent during the meal, not making even a pretense of friendliness. Miles was also quiet, except for his hacking coughs. I was worried about him. The fevered look had come back into his eyes, and he hardly ate anything. By contrast, Regis and Conrad were prodigious eaters and cheerful conversationalists, eating enough for three men and talking enough for six. They were kindred spirits.

As Adele poured us cups of tea, Regis said, “Pardon me for asking, madam, but did you hear that noise last night?”

“What noise?”

“I heard a crash from upstairs.”

Our hostess set down the teapot. “It was nothing,” she said. “Conrad got up for water and knocked over a hat stand. I'm sorry if the noise woke you.”

Conrad put up a storm of protest when his mother told him to get ready for school. “I wanna stay and talk with Regis,” he said. Only when his mother threatened to spank him with a large wooden spoon did he grumblingly climb out of his chair.

Before he could leave the room, a massive man blocked the doorway. I instantly became conscious of an overpowering smell of whiskey. Like Conrad, the man in the doorway had thick brown hair. Unlike Conrad, he had thick stubble and a purpled nose. His eyes were rimmed with red and the corners of his mouth sagged downward. It was not a sight to improve one's appetite.

“Who the [unprintable] are these people?” he demanded, glaring at Adele.

“They are my guests,” she said, not looking at him. “They stumbled in during the blizzard last night, and I didn't have the heart to turn them out into the cold.”

“If you take in every [unprintable] with a pity-story you're going to ruin me, woman.”

“You may have preferred to have let them die, my husband, but I took in these men and I'm going to look after them till they're ready to leave.”

“I'm going to work,” slurred the man. “They'd better be gone when I'm back.”

He lurched out of the kitchen, and a moment later the front door slammed. Conrad emerged with a blank face from beneath the table, picked up his satchel and slipped out of the room. He seemed to have forgotten his objections to school.

Adele shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I apologize for my husband. He went to the pub last night—to meet some friends, he said—and was caught there when the blizzard swept in. He had a few drinks—to keep himself warm, he said—and came back around two o'clock, when the blizzard had passed on. He knocked over the hat stand, not Conrad. I'm sorry you had to see him. He's a good man when sober, but drink makes a monster of him.”

“We understand,” said Regis. “Please don't worry about it.”

“Your kindness outweighs his, er, lack of kindness,” I added.

“I'm going upstairs,” she said. “When you're done with breakfast, leave your dishes by the water barrel. I'll wash up later.”

With that she left the room.

We finished our meal and repaired to the parlor to discuss our plans.

“The sooner we get out of this house, the better,” I said. “I don't want to cause any more trouble.”

“I agree,” said Regis.

“Tsurugi and I will take a room at the inn and leave for Riku tomorrow. Do you want to come with us, Regis? Faurum is less than a week away from Riku.”

“Won't Faurum be under siege by the Nomen?”

“It might be. If it is, you can stay in Riku until the siege is over, and then go home with Tsurugi.”

“Home,” said Regis. “There's something I haven't thought about in a long, long time.”

I turned to Miles.

“You're planning on staying here with your sister?”

He coughed. I took it as an affirmation.

“Then we'll take you there today and make sure you're comfortably settled in,” said Regis. “Won't we, Tsurugi?”

Tsurugi nodded.

Having settled our plans, we packed our bags, straightened up the parlor and waited to bid Adele goodbye. Tsurugi slipped into the kitchen and left some money on the table to pay for our food and lodging.

“It's time for us to be going,” said Regis as Adele entered the parlor. “Please tell Conrad I said goodbye. Thank you so much for your kindness, madam. You saved four lives last night.”

“Thank you for our food, our baths and our beds,” I said.

“You are—” Miles was interrupted by a fit of coughing. “—so very kind,” he finished.

“Thanks,” said Tsurugi.

Adele smiled, and for a moment the care passed from her face. “You're welcome,” she said. “El is with you, travelers. Go in peace.”

We left the house and walked to the river. Pavements ran along either bank, flanked with sturdy stone railings. A bridge arched over the river near the center of town. As we paused at the bridge for Miles to remember the way to his sister's house, I watched slabs of ice rush downstream on the current. The river was strong and dark and deadly cold. The railings were not ornamental. Anyone who tumbled into the Arteria River would not come out alive.

Miles led us to a house by the river. “This is it,” he said with fevered surprise, as though he could hardly believe it was still there. We knocked, and the door was opened by a woman in an apron. She took a single look at Miles and then pulled him inside, calling for her husband to put on the kettle. We were left standing outside.

“Should we go in?” I whispered.

Regis entered. We followed him and stood in the parlor, waiting. At length a man came into the room and examined us with bewilderment.

“What is it that has happened to Miles?” he asked. “Who are you all?”

I explained.

He fell into a chair. “I can't believe it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I can't believe it. You and Miles were prisoners of the Nomen? Katarina and the children are dead?”

“I'm afraid so,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

I had to tell our story over again when the man's wife joined us. She actually fainted when I described the sacrifice to Ilt, reviving only when her husband trickled a spoonful of blackroot down her throat. When I finished our sad tale, she ran out of the room to comfort Miles.

The man told us his name was Vito. He had a black mustache, which he twirled fretfully as he spoke.

“Friends, I thank you for saving my brother-in-law and bringing him here. We will take care of him, have no concern. I can't…it's too hard to believe that the Nomen would do such a thing.”

“I've the nightmares to prove it,” said Regis.

The woman came in. “He's asleep,” she said, sitting on a sofa. “Dear, hadn't you better leave for work? You'll be late.”

“The shop can do without me for today,” he said. “Ana, darling, this is a heavy charge. What can we do for him?”

“We'll have to tell the children when they get home from school. Oh, how can we explain this to them? ‘Children, your aunt and cousins were murdered by savages, so you must be very kind to your uncle.' How can they understand such things?”

“I'm sure they will understand, Ana. Children are wiser than you think.”

“Pardon me,” said Regis. “I think we should go. We can't thank you enough for looking after Miles. He's our friend. I'm glad El has put him in your hands.”

“Are you leaving Ventus?” asked Ana.

“Tomorrow,” I said.

“Come back to visit before you go,” said Vito. “He will want to say goodbye.”

“Of course,” I assured him. “See you then.”

We walked to the river and leaned against the railing, gazing across the water at the houses on the other side.

“They'll take good care of him,” said Regis. “I'm sure of it. But what about us?”

“We need hunds and supplies,” I said.

“I'll get them,” said Tsurugi. “Meet me at the inn at six.”

He strode away.

“Does he have enough money?” I wondered.

“He's Tsurugi,” said Regis, shrugging. “I'm beginning to think he can do anything. Now what will we do until six o'clock?”

I extracted my valores from my pack.

“That's a lot of metal, old boy,” he said, eyes wide. “Where did you get all that?”

“Tamu gave it to me. Now what can we do with it?”

We needed clothes. Most of our garments had been left behind when we laid them out to dry by the river. After visiting the marketplace and replenishing our wardrobes, we decided to go for a stroll around town.

According to Regis, Ventus was famous for its hot springs. Some enterprising businessman had built a resort around them, charging visitors ten valores for a day of bathing. We decided a visit to the hot springs would be good for us.