The Line of Illeniel

  She grabbed my head between her hands and looked at me, tears still in her eyes, and then she kissed me. I’ll be the first to admit that was pretty much what I had been hoping for when we first undressed for the bath, but this was too strange. I pulled back, “Damnit, will you talk to me? Why are you so upset?”

  “Shut up,” she replied and kissed me again. Her hands weren’t idle either. I struggled with her for a few minutes, but as they say, ‘When a woman is willing all any man can do is go along’. I try to live by that motto.

  She made love to me with a desperate ferocity that was almost frightening, but I’m nothing if not brave. That’s what I tell myself all the time. She wasn’t satisfied quickly either and an hour later she had thoroughly exhausted me. I hoped she was tired too. If not I was in trouble.

  “Are you ready to talk yet?” I asked.

  She started crying again. I have that effect on women. It was particularly unsettling considering I figured I had done a damn fine job of making her every dream come true. Finally she slowed and choked out a few words, “We have to leave Mort. We can’t stay here.”

  “What? I’ll be exiled or banished or worse if we run from the king’s summons!”

  “It doesn’t matter; you can’t be the Count di’Cameron. You just can’t, we have to run. Anything is better than... than...,” she started weeping again.

  “I can’t and won’t leave my people. They need me, they need us. We have responsibilities Penny. What brought all this on?” The thing that really worried me was that I knew she wasn’t irrational. Whatever had started this she probably had a good reason.

  “I had another vision,” she said and stopped there.

  I waited a full minute before I decided she wasn’t just being slow to talk, “A vision of what?”

  “We have to leave Mort, there’s no future for us if we keep following this path,” her eyes were beseeching me. I had never seen her look so desperate.

  “What did you see?” She didn’t reply so I repeated myself. She had that stubborn look. “I’m not doing anything unless you tell me,” I declared.

  That got her. She argued for a minute more before she finally gave up and shouted at me, “I saw your death! Are you happy?! Will you listen to me now?”

  I was stunned but I stayed calm. “When?” I asked.

  “Less than a year I think, sometime in the spring. That’s why we have to leave, we can’t go back to Washbrook,” she was insistent.

  “So it happens at home? How?” The question scared me witless and I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

  “I won’t tell you that, it’s too hard. There was a war, you died during the battle. I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” She had stopped crying and gave me a hard stare.

  “A lot of things can happen during battle, you can’t be sure that things will turn out that way. Who were we fighting?” As far as I knew Lothion had no enemies, within or without, other than some crazed cultists.

  “I don’t know who, but I know what will happen. Mort... I know! There’s no avoiding this, I could feel it,” she said.

  “The future is never fixed.”

  “Nothing I have ever seen has failed to come to pass,” she replied.

  “What about the priest poisoning people?” I knew for a fact she had changed that.

  “I knew when I saw it that I could prevent it, and I did. Yet everything I saw before and after it still happened. There was no changing what I saw today.” There was a cold certainty in her voice that chilled me.

  “Let me think for a bit.” I walked out onto the veranda. I forgot to mention it before, but the view of the gardens was stunning. She started to follow me but I waved her away. It isn’t every day a fellow hears he has only months to live.

  I spent close to a half hour out there, watching the trees and listening to the wind. The world seemed a lot more vibrant than it had just a short while ago, so much more worth living for. I wish I could say what moved me to my decision, but it wasn’t a thing of words. I simply knew. To alter my course would be to deny myself, to become someone I didn’t want to be. I went back inside. Penny was already repacking our things.

  “Stop that, we’re not leaving.”

  The look on her face was heartbreaking. I would have given almost anything to take it away from her, but not this. “You can’t be serious?” she said.

  “I am. I can’t abandon them. The duke needs my testimony. The people of Washbrook need our protection. Our parents need us. If I walk away I won’t be the man you love, I’ll be a mockery of him, a sham. I would rather face the future with my head up, even if it means losing... everything.” I was close to weeping myself, but my resolve kept my eyes clear.

  Penny stood up and marched up to me, anger written all over her, “What about me? Huh! What about your parents? We can bring them with us! What will I do after you’re dead? Did you think about that!? Did you!?” She was shaking like a tree in a storm. “Do you think memories of your noble intentions will keep me warm at night? Think they will make your parents happy?”

  “I won’t change my mind on this.” It hurt to see her like this.

  “You selfish bastard!” she swung at me, but I caught her wrist. I would have let her slap me, it might have made me feel better, but I worried she might hurt her hand on my shield. She struggled with me for a moment before jerking her hand away. “I’m not staying. If you’re going to do this you can do it alone. I won’t watch you kill yourself,” her voice was quiet now.

  I opened my mouth to reply, I need you. I can’t do this without you, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t force her into this. I didn’t have the right. She stepped backward as I stood there, with my mouth half open. She was shaking her head, as if to deny what she saw in my eyes. Finally she turned and walked to the door, and a moment later she was gone. She didn’t even slam it.

  I sat down on the bed. I couldn’t imagine a day gone more terribly wrong.

  Chapter 6

  I sat in the room for almost an hour. I wanted to go after her, but given what she had said I couldn’t. If I really was going to die in half a year it wouldn’t be fair to force her to watch. Maybe if she got away now she could find someone else, forget… anything to keep it from hurting her so much. Of course I was an idiot to think that, if the situation had been reversed there’s no way in hell I could have gotten over it in just a few months, if ever.

  One thought lightened my mood. If I knew the approximate time and circumstances of my death, then I could be pretty damn sure that I wouldn’t die before then. Seen in that light it meant I was damn near disaster-proof for the next six months. There’s a certain freedom that comes with knowing you can’t die, at least not yet. I tried to focus on that. A knock at the door interrupted my train of thought.

  Rising I answered it promptly, to find a servant escorting James, the Duke of Lancaster. He entered as soon as I opened the door. As closed it behind him I could tell he was agitated. In fact, looking at the aura around him he fairly pulsed with rage. I hadn’t seen James that angry since the battle in Lancaster Castle.

  He paced the room without speaking, so I left him alone and poured myself a cup of wine. I may not have mentioned it before, but the suite had a very nice wine selection laid out in the central room. “Would you like some?” I asked him.

  “Screw the cup, bring me the bottle,” he replied abruptly.

  James was not known for drinking to excess, but I damn sure wasn’t going to question him. I handed him the bottle and he turned it up, taking a long draught before sitting down on the couch. I relaxed a bit; now that he was sitting he didn’t seem quite so explosive. “You look like your day has gone about as well as mine,” I ventured.

  “I wouldn’t know about that. Did your son just piss all over you and tell you to go to hell?” his tone implied I didn’t have the faintest idea how bad his day had been.

  “Marc said that?” I was shocked. Throughout our entire lives he had lived only to please his father,
not that he always succeeded.

  “No, he didn’t say any of that. He has joined the priests of the Evening Star and disavowed his inheritance, no warning, no word, no reason,” he finished and took another long swig from the bottle.

  “He wants to be a priest? What the hell?” I couldn’t imagine it. The last few years his only interests had been women and wine. I still wasn’t sure if I trusted the goddess of the Evening Star anyway. Father Tonnsdale had set a bad precedent for me by poisoning my parents and almost poisoning everyone at Lancaster as well. I tossed my glass back and looked for another bottle. I didn’t think I could pry the first one away from James.

  “He wasn’t at the house when I arrived yesterday. He sent me a note saying he would call on me today. Arrogant pup!” He drank some more. At the rate he was going I wondered how long he would last.

  “And today?” I sat down on the couch next to him. I had my own bottle now.

  “Today he showed up at the door wearing a white robe, told me he had been ‘called’ by the goddess. He gave me this,” he pulled out a crumpled sheet of parchment. I took it from him and scanned the lines. It spelled out in clear words that Marcus of Lancaster was giving up his inheritance and all claim to the duchy of Lancaster.

  “And you just let him?” I regretted saying that immediately after the words left my lips. The wine had overridden my normal good sense.

  “Hell no! I raged at him! I was so damn angry I wanted to throttle him right there! But he was unmoved. Calm as a ship in the eye of a storm. That made me angrier than anything I think. He just listened to me, then left.” James seemed calmer now, and a little tipsy. “Mordecai, tell me something… and be honest.”

  “Certainly your grace.”

  “None of that ‘your grace’ shit! I’m asking you as one man to another, as a father to his son’s best friend,” his face was flushed. “Was I a good father? Did I drive my son to this? He always seemed happy, what did I do wrong?”

  I was completely at a loss. James had always been a towering figure in my life, the picture of confidence and command; to see him so vulnerable shook me to the core. “Marc loves you James. He always did, but he also feared you, as any son fears and respects his father. I think he felt a lot of pressure to live up to your expectations, but I don’t think it was too great a burden. He never gave me any cause to think he wanted to escape like this.”

  “Then why would he do this?” He had his hands over his face, possibly to hide his tears, but I would never say so.

  “James, I don’t think this is any reflection on you. Rather it sounds to me as though something has happened with him. He wouldn’t do this on a whim, and I’m sure he didn’t do it just to hurt you.” I leaned over to pat him on the back. Normally I would never have dared be so familiar, but right now James seemed to need a friend more than a vassal.

  “Thank you Mordecai,” he uncovered his face and leaned back, throwing his arms over the back of the couch. “You remind me a lot of your father, though I didn’t know him that well.”

  I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I kept my silence and poured myself another glass. The wine was getting to me as well by now. Idly I wondered what would happen if we were summoned before the king while inebriated.

  “Where’s that feisty girl of yours?”

  “She left me,” I replied.

  “Well damn! That deserves a drink,” he raised his bottle so I followed his example. Wiping his lips he went on, “Why aren’t you out chasing her down? I wouldn’t think you’d let her go that easy.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It always seems that way. Don’t let your brain get in the way of your heart boy. The brain always fucks these things up. Trust me on this. Not that I’ve ever been able to follow my own advice. Ha!” He took another swallow. Another knock at the door ended our conversation.

  I managed a straight line to the door. I answered as I opened it, “Hello?” It was another of the king’s messengers.

  “His majesty sends word for your lordship and his grace, the Duke of Lancaster to attend him in his quarters,” said the messenger. He waited patiently, as if he intended to escort us there.

  “James,” I said, looking back. The good duke was reclining with his eyes closed, “James!” I yelled.

  He looked up, “What?”

  “The king wants us.”

  “When?” he asked calmly.

  “Now apparently,” I replied.

  “Well damn. I should have expected this. Let’s go see how much better the day can get eh!?” He rose and knocked the wine bottle off the table in front of him. Luckily it was empty. I started to give him a hand but he waved me off. “Don’t worry lad, I can handle it.”

  We followed the servant down the hall. Neither of us was that steady on our feet but we weren’t too far gone either. I gave us fifty-fifty odds of getting out of the king’s chambers without causing a major incident. I’ve always been optimistic.

  We arrived at the king’s private reception room a few minutes later. A nod from our escort and the doorman let us in without a word. He didn’t follow us in. The room beyond the door was opulent, well-furnished without being ostentatious. It reflected the tastes of a man so powerful he did not need to flaunt his wealth. King Edward the First sat reading a dispatch in a comfortable chair across from the entrance to the room.

  I had no idea what sort of etiquette was expected of me here, so I followed James’ example. We crossed the room partway and then bowed. Later I would learn that in more formal settings we were expected to go down on one knee, but here a simple bow was permissible, for nobility anyway. “You called for us your majesty?” I couldn’t detect any slurring in James’ voice. I hoped I did as well at covering it.

  The king looked at us. He was an older man, in his sixties at least, balding and grey. He looked fit, for despite his age he seemed energetic and trim. Sharp grey eyes looked at us over his papers, “James, you old dog! Come have a seat, this isn’t a formal occasion.” He motioned to a couple of chairs not far from his own.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” James took a seat. I moved to sit in the chair next to him.

  “Young man, did I give you leave to sit in my presence!” Edward’s tone was sharp and it sent a chill up my spine.

  “Er… my apologies your majesty!” I jumped up as if the seat had caught fire. I wasn’t sure if I should bow again or just stand. I looked at James for help.

  King Edward burst out laughing. It was a good laugh and whatever had tickled him so nearly caused him to fall from his chair. “That never gets old!” he exclaimed. My confusion only got worse. “Come, come, young Illeniel, please sit! I was just having a laugh at your expense. You’ll forgive an old man for his small amusements won’t you?” The fog cleared and I realized I had played the fool. I flushed with embarrassment and sat down.

  “Thank you, your majesty.” I didn’t trust myself to say more. The joke hardly seemed funny to me, especially given that I had no choice but to react as I had. I kept my observation to myself.

  “It’s been a while since we had a chance to talk James,” Edward had already forgotten me.

  “Yes your majesty, I haven’t been to Albamarl in a while,” he answered.

  “Just Edward please, I’ve told you before that you can call me familiar in private,” the king told him.

  “I remember, but I like to have the reminder before I fall prey to one of your jokes Edward.” James gave him a huge grin and they both fell to laughing again. I’m sure they both thought they were terribly funny.

  “So what drives you to drink so early in the day my friend?” Edward asked.

  “My damn son has decided to join the priesthood of the Evening Star.”

  “Ah! I should have remembered that. You just heard the news I gather?” Edward’s face implied there was a story to be told.

  “That’s all I’ve heard so far. Why, did something happen to him?”

  “Your boy has become a saint apparently.
He healed a man last week after he had been stabbed. Since then people have been dragging their sick to the temple of Millicenth in droves. The priests say that he has been chosen by the Lady of the Evening Star herself.”

  “That’s nonsense! Marcus is no more pious than a stag in rut! He came to the city to find a wife and I’ve since heard he’s done nothing more than dip his wick in every available lady in the city! My only consolation is that he hasn’t taken to whoring. Why would the goddess choose him?” Needless to say I was flabbergasted to hear James speak so in front of the king.

  “The gods choose who they will. Who are we to second guess them? This does present a particular advantage for you tomorrow though.” Edward didn’t seem overly concerned with the duke’s colorful use of language.

  “How so?”

  “I’m hearing Tremont’s case regarding his son’s death. Marcus will certainly be called to testify. Few would gainsay the word of one chosen by Millicenth.” The king smiled.

  James still wasn’t pleased, “I don’t need something like that to clear the Lancaster name, hundreds of people saw what happened. Old Tremont should have just let things be, nothing but more bad blood will come of it.”

  “He has lost both his sons, he may not be thinking clearly anymore. You were friends once, were you not?” That was news to me. Their conversation was proving to be very educational.

  “Yes, when we were younger. He’s a good man. He just couldn’t stand the fact that Ginny chose me over him, a silly reason to be angry really.” By Ginny he was referring to his wife, Genevieve Lancaster. Although she was hardly an old woman the thought of Genevieve as a young lady with two noblemen fighting over her was a startling revelation for me.

  Edward chuckled, “It only seems a silly reason to the victor. His current wife is mad as a hatter and now he’s lost both sons. Don’t underestimate how circumstances may have changed your old friend. He’s bitter and nursing a grudge.” The king looked at me, “Young Illeniel, I have business with you.”