mercenary raced through the portal and found a set of steps leading up. They were narrow and spiraled tightly, but he never hesitated. He took them two at a time, using the wall for support. His arms and legs were weary, but he refused to stop. Rodolpho was up there.
Farther up, Vambran was forced to stop skipping over steps, but he fought through the burning pain in his thighs and kept going, up and up, his breath ragged. He knew he was climbing to the top of the tower, the highest feature of all of Reth. That made the task more daunting. To spur himself on, Vambran reminded himself of all the people who had died because of Rodolpho's terrible creation. He reminded himself of Elenthia, not knowing what had become of her, and the responsibility he felt for her.
After what seemed like an ascent into the heavens themselves, Vambran reached another door. He threw it open and found himself on the top of the tower of the Palace of the Seven, an open platform surrounded by waist- high battlements. Rodolpho was there, staring down at the city below. As Vambran stood in the doorway, gasping, the man spun around to face him. The look on his face was one of dismay and horror.
'What did you do?' Rodolpho demanded, pointing down past the edge of the wall. 'My plague! You're destroying my plague!'
Vambran would have chuckled if he hadn't been so weary. 'So it goes,' he said, taking a step, closing the distance. 'What will Wianar do about you now?' he asked.
'No!' Rodolpho shouted, darting to try to escape from Vambran. 'I'll put a stop to it! I'll destroy that scepter!'
As he tried to evade Vambran, the lieutenant struck. He swung his sword and just caught the fleeing man across the shoulder. The strike wasn't deadly, but in his attempt to avoid it, Rodolpho stumbled sideways and lost his balance. Tripping, he fell to the stones, very near the edge of the tower. He struggled to regain his feet as Vambran stepped near.
'It's over,' he said. 'You're finished.'
Rodolpho glared at Vambran. The look in his eyes told the mercenary that he knew Vambran was right, but he wasn't yet willing to give up. Vambran planted his sword against the man's chest. 'Did you hear me?' he asked softly. 'I said, you're done.'
'Perhaps,' Rodolpho said, squaring his shoulders. 'But I won't go with you. So can you kill me? Can you do willingly what you thought you did unwittingly twelve years ago?'
Vambran paused, staring at the man. He remembered all those times when he had grieved, feeling the weight of it, saddened by what he had imagined Rodolpho's friends and family had felt. He remembered how he suffered for what he'd done. Despite the change in circumstances, despite the knowledge that Rodolpho Wianar was responsible for the deaths of so many people down below, the little boy inside Vambran who had suffered so much guilt could not deliver the killing blow.
'You see?' Rodolpho said. 'I told you you couldn't finish the job.'
'Do it,' Junce said from behind Vambran. 'Do it, or you'll live with your weakness forever.'
Vambran never took his eyes from Rodolpho, but he directed his question to the assassin. 'What would you know about it? All you do is kill.'
There was a long pause. Then Junce said, 'I know about it because I watched my father kill my mother when he grew tired of her, and I have never lifted a hand to do anything about it.' Vambran glanced at the man, then, only for a moment. But he saw Junce's face, and he knew the man was speaking the truth. 'Do it,' Junce whispered. 'Or become like me.' And with that, he muttered a magical phrase and vanished from the tower.
Vambran returned his gaze to Rodolpho. 'Does he speak the truth? About his father?'
'Yes,' Rodolpho replied. 'Eles Wianar has a habit of doing away with the mistresses he grows tired of. But he took a liking to Darvin there, or Junce, as you know him. I never understood why.'
Vambran's eyes widened. 'Wianar! Eles Wianar is his father?'
Rodolpho nodded. 'Yes, but don't let that story get you down. Killing me won't change who you are. There's no nobility in it, and as I'm sure you've figured out by now, revenge is never satisfying.' Then he cocked his head as if considering something. 'Funny, isn't it?' he said. 'The Shining Lord of Arrabar had such a heavy hand in the shaping of both your lives. He took someone away from both of you, someone you cared for deeply, but you each turned out quite different. Makes me wonder if he considered that at the time. But then Eles was always a bastard like that. I mean, look what he did to me,' he added, then he shoved himself forward, pushing away from the wall, driving Vambran's blade into his chest.
CHAPTER 17
In the chapel of House Matrell, Vambran stared at the two sarcophagi before him. He thought about Rodolpho Wianar's final words as he watched the memorial ceremony. Each of us shapes those around us, he realized. Either by our absence or our presence, we affect those we are close to. He glanced over at Xaphira, sitting next to Ladara, who was crying softly. And when that changes, when people in our lives are gone, or when they return unexpectedly, we feel unbalanced, unsure. We don't know how it will make a difference, but we know it will. He glanced over at Quindy and Obiron, sitting next to their mother. It always has an effect.
The mercenary felt Emriana squeeze his hand. He looked at her sitting next to him and saw her smiling at him, though a few tears were running down her face. His heart was heavy, and he felt his eyes grow moist, too. It's hard, saying goodbye to someone. Not just because they are gone, but because they made a difference in your life.
I love you, Hetta, Kovrim, he thought, sending his thoughts to the sarcophagi. Rest well.
After the ceremony, members of the family and their guests drifted to different parts of the house. Vambran decided to wander out to the yard, to spend more time thinking, but Emriana followed him.
'I think she knew it was time to go,' the girl said, sounding very different than Vambran remembered. All grown up. 'She was too long out of her body to go back, and she didn't want to stay in that ring forever. But I think she knew that it was all right, that she was leaving the family in good hands.'
'I know,' Vambran said, strolling down to the pond.
'I'm sorry you had to see Kovrim the way you did,' she told him, taking his hand again. 'I can't imagine what that must have been like.'
I pray to Waukeen you never do, Vambran thought. 'I'm going to miss them.'
'Me, too.'
They stood at the bank of the water, and Vambran watched the reflection of the high white clouds drifting overhead. It was going to be a hot day, the lieutenant realized. Spring was turning into summer. The height of trade season. And of campaigning.
'Are you going back?' Emriana asked suddenly. 'To the Crescents, I mean.'
Vambran looked at his sister. 'How did you know that I was thinking about resigning? I hadn't said anything to anyone in the family yet.'
'I can tell,' she said. 'It's in your eyes.'
Just like I can tell that someone hurt you, Vambran thought. Badly. He shrugged. 'I love it, but there's a part of me that feels like I should stay here now, help run the businesses. Dregaul is gone, so there's no reason to stay away, and I feel like you, Xaphira, and Marga need me.'
'Don't be a meazel-face,' Emriana said. 'We can run things just fine. And it's in your blood. You have to do it.'
Vambran chuckled. 'Maybe, but shouldn't I start being a little more responsible?'
'I can't think of anything more responsible than maintaining our relationships with business partners abroad,' the girl said. 'On this last campaign alone, you managed to arrange good alliances with the Emerald Crescent, the Senator of Trade in Reth, and the sea elves. I call that a good tenday's work.'
Vambran had to laugh at that. It was true. House Matrell was in the process of negotiating a fair and sensitive deal with the druids to lumber part of the Nunwood without stripping the forest bare. Part of the negotiations required regular face-to-face meetings. Shinthala had insisted on that. The family already had strong trade in place with the sea elves, but things had improved on that front, as well. Serille had seen to that. And Elenthia's father, so thankful that Vambran and Arbeenok had done so much to save the city-not to mention
