Aedan sat silently for a moment, staring into his half-empty goblet.
“I don’t think that Vaesil was ever anybody’s friend,” he said at last.
“Believe it or not, there was a time when he was quite handsome and engaging. Oh, he was acerbic then, but not to this extent. Back then, he seemed very daring, spir ited and charming in a dangerous sort of way. I wanted very much to be like him.”
“I find that difficult to imagine,” said Sylvanna.
“He is the most detestable person I have ever met.”
“He has become bitter and pathetic,” Aedan replied. “As a Fatalist, he had believed in nothing greater than himself. And when he lost his belief in himself, he was left with belief in nothing. I do not think you could detest him half as much as he detests himself.”
“This girl you mentioned, Caitlin. Did you love her?”
“Oh, for a while, I thought perhaps I did,” Aedan replied. “But it was really nothing more than an infatuation. Besides, she had eyes only for Vaesil. I was never one popular with the ladies. I lacked Vaesil’s quick wit and good looks, and I would grow tongue-tied in the presence of a girl I found attractive. Aside from that, I was Lord Tieran’s son, and that set me apart. It was one thing, I suppose, for a girl to entertain the notion of a liaison with a noble, perhaps on the off chance that it might lead to marriage or at least a bastard that the noble might feel duty-bound to support, but the son of the emperor’s high chamberlain occupied too lofty a status. I always sensed they were uncomfortable in my presence, watchful of their remarks-except for Vaesil, of course, who was always recklessness personified.”
“Why did you come here then?” Sylvanna asked.
“For some relief from duties and responsibilities that I found oppressive at the time,” he replied.
“Michael used to try my patience in those days. You recall what he was like eight years ago, when you first came here. He has matured a great deal since that time. As have we all, no doubt. But back then, I felt the need for some companionship of people my own age, people who were not associated with the court. I suppose it made me feel somewhat daring to come here and spend my time in company with philosophers, bards, artists, laborers, criminals. For a time, it made me feel as if I were one of them.” He shook his head. “Strange. I killed three men tonight and feel no remorse for it. They preyed upon the innocent and would have killed me if they could.
And yet, I feel pity for Vaesil, for he preys only on himself. What a peculiar creature I’ve become.”
Sylvanna reached out and touched his hand, reassuringly. “I have always found humans peculiar,” she said, “but you less so than most.”
Her touch lingered.
Aedan smiled. “I will accept that as a compliment.”
“It was intended as one.”
Aedan waved to the serving girl and ordered a bottle of wine.
“I’m in a mood to get good and drunk tonight,” he said. “When we finish this, just bring another.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Sylvanna said.
“What happened on this last campaign was not your fault.”
“I wonder,” he replied. “I have always thought that traveling through the Shadow World was far too great a risk. I know Michael better than any other man. He listens to me. Perhaps if I’d tried harder, I could have talked him out of it.”
“I doubt it,” said Sylvanna. “Once Michael makes his mind up, nothing dissuades him from his course.”
“I wonder if he’s getting drunk tonight,” said Aedan.
Sylvanna squeezed his hand across the table.
“Does an immortal fear death?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “Just because we have a longer life span does not mean we have less fear of death. We can be killed like anybody else, you know.
Everyone fears death.”
Aedan shook his head. “No, not everyone. I do not think Michael does.
I have never known him to be afraid of anything. He seems to have no capacity for fear. That is why he has always been so reckless.
And that is a large part of the reason he inspires his troops. In that respect, there is something lacking in him that most normal people have.
I have always marveled at it and wished I could have his courage.
But this time, something’s changed.”
“In what way?” she asked, still holding his hand.
There was an expression of infinite sadness on his face, and it touched her deeply.
“I realized something this time that I never realized before,” he said, pausing to drain his goblet and refill it. He held out the bottle to her interrogatively, and she nodded for him to refill hers as well.
“Courage is not fearlessness,” he continued, as he poured.
“Fearlessness is just a lack of fear. Courage is overcoming fear.
Without fear, there can be no courage. It struck me back there in the Spiderfell, when those horrid creatures tried to trap us with their webs.” He shuddered at the memory that was still so fresh. “It made my skin crawl. I have always hated spiders. That first time in the Shadow World, when you flicked that albino spider off me and told me how they get into your hair and lay their eggs …
I had nightmares about that for weeks. I would wake up in a cold sweat, and it was as if I could literally feel them crawling on my head. I’d have to go over to the washbasin and scrub myself till I thought all my hair was going to fall out. And that
