“That would be good,” Curatio said. “As I suspect we’ll need them before the end.”
“The end of what?” Cyrus said with dry amusement. “The end of you or the end of the world?”
Curatio’s smile was there but it was thin. “I’m beginning to think that they may just be one and the same.”
Chapter 90
Vara
The Council Chambers were quiet, again, the hearth crackling through the silence. Vara sat at her seat at the table, along with Vaste, who wore a black robe this day, Ryin, Erith, Thad-who was present in his capacity as castellan-and Alaric at the head of the table. Grimness was all that was present; even Vaste seemed to be starved of his usual aura of mischief. He leaned back in his chair, staring out the window behind Alaric. There was a smell of defeat in the air, bitter, and it choked Vara, filled her throat with bile and anger.
“Shall we go through it again?” Ryin asked.
“Has something dramatically changed?” Vaste replied, still staring out the window, emotionless.
“We’ve been besieged at our very walls eight times in the last thirty days,” Ryin said.
“Being neither deaf nor stupid, I not only counted when each of those attempts were made,” Vaste said, “but I also heard it moments ago when Thad mentioned that number.” The troll’s arms were folded across his chest. “I remain unimpressed as they have yet to breach the gates and we have four weeks worth of rotting dark elven carcasses piling up outside our walls. The smell of those is the most fearsome of our worries thus far.”
“When will it end?” Ryin asked, and this time no one answered. After he waited a spell, the druid turned around the table. “Can we finally discuss it?”
“If by ‘it,’ you mean the delightful fashions that will be on display in Reikonos when spring rolls around, then yes, and the sooner we start discussing those lovely and cheery frocks, the better,” Vaste answered. “If you mean what I suspect you mean, then no.”
“I have no appetite for discussion of frocks-” Vara began.
“Big surprise, there,” Vaste said.
She looked daggers at him. “But perhaps there is some merit to considering what the druid is suggesting.”
Ryin gave her a wary eye. “I love that you call me ‘the druid’ instead of using my actual name. I do have one, by the way.”
Vara let out a small exhalation. “Very well. Perhaps we should consider what the odious pile of troll dung is suggesting.”
“My defecation is not so preposterous as he,” Vaste said, “and it smells sweeter, too, like freshly baked cinnamon bread.”
“Is it really that difficult,” Ryin said, with barely constrained desperation, “to consider evacuating Sanctuary for neutral territory-”
Alaric’s hand slammed into the table and the whole thing jumped slightly, causing everyone sitting at it to jump in fright-all save for Thad, who merely continued to watch the whole proceeding without blanching. “We will not abandon Sanctuary.”
Vaste looked at the Ghost, his eyebrows raised. “And I thought I was reacting poorly to this entire line of discussion.”
“You are,” Ryin said, wide-eyed, his entire focus on Alaric, “but I believe our esteemed Guildmaster just aced you quite easily.”
“Our walls have held against everything that the dark elves have thrown at us,” Alaric said, his face dark, “and we have yet to lose more than a few unfortunate souls in these assaults. I see no reason to consider discussing alarmist measures.”
“Alarmist?” Ryin asked. “We’re surrounded by the foremost army in the world. They’re battering on our door with increasing frequency, aiming to take our keep and burn it to the ground. I’m not ready to retreat either, but it might be useful to have a contingency plan in place should we need to evacuate-”
“There will be no evacuation,” Alaric said menacingly, and Vara heard a darker edge to his voice than she had ever known before. “We remain secure with our portal closed, and we will continue to turn back any advances. Let them stay out there, rallied around us. That will keep them from mustering any sort of a counterstroke against Reikonos or the elves, and give the others time to perhaps find their courage and begin to take the war to the Sovereign.”
Vara heard him and felt a tingle of despair. She looked to Erith and saw the healer match her own expression.
“And when the century rolls past,” Ryin said calmly, “and some of us are dead of old age or from battle-”
“Or from eating conjured bread and water every day for our entire lives,” Vaste interrupted. “And never meeting that special woman who appreciates you for the brilliant, witty, especially handsome green man that you are?” He flicked a look around the table. “That last one is probably just for me.”
“How long, Alaric?” Ryin asked. “Sooner or later, the members will grow sick of being trapped here, without true food to eat, or a life to live. Will we ever discuss it? I would even settle for being promised a discussion ‘in the fullness of time’ at this point. It would be better than thinking we will never-”
“We will not,” Alaric said, “yield. Not Sanctuary.” There was an unmistakable hardness to the Guildmaster’s voice.
“We are all officers here, Alaric,” Ryin said quietly. “It should be put to a vote.”
“Vote, if you must,” Alaric replied, “but I am the Master of Sanctuary. If you wish to flee, you may. Take any who want to go with you. But we will not evacuate entirely; I will not halt our defense. I will not surrender to the dark elves. Not when this place is all that stands … it is the last bastion that holds against them marshaling their forces and striking the head from the Human Confederation from Reikonos. I will remain here, manning the wall, destroying the Sovereign’s every soldier until I can do so no longer.” The Ghost’s eyes blazed with fire, and Vara could hear the forged steel in his tone. “We will not discuss evacuation because it is not a guild matter, it is a matter of individual choice. If someone chooses to leave, that is their business and they may conduct it. But until such time as the wall breaks and the dark elven hordes pour in upon us, there will be no discussion of abandoning our home-my home-to these chaos-bringers so that they may have their way with it and be on about destroying the next unfortunate target on their army’s list.”
There was a long and ringing silence, into which no one spoke before Alaric did again. “You are all you dismissed.” Without another word, he puffed into a light cloud of smoke and dissolved, more abruptly than Vara had seen him do so before.
There was a slow movement toward the door; Vara stood, not wanting to be the first nor the last. She found herself next to Thad-
His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and he looked at her in near-shock. “Yes?”
“Sorry,” she said. “You had mentioned before that you were of the … Swift Swords when you were in the Society of Arms.”
“Indeed I was,” he said with a nod.
“I see,” Vara said. “And was Cyrus … uhm … a Swift Sword with you as well?”
Thad frowned; she cursed herself for asking as his earnest face crumpled, forehead lined and eyes slightly squinted. “No, ma’am.”
