CHAPTER 13

“Are you sure about this, master?”

“Sure as anything. And don’t call me that - I’m not your master, just an old man.”

Jeran sighed and stamped the document with his left hand. “Very well. It’s done.”

Yannick closed his eyes. He was tired, so very tired. Each day seemed to be harder than the last. Every morning he awoke, dreading the level of effort required to simply get out of bed. There was no escaping it: life was no longer enjoyable.

It had been ten months since they’d left the Tower at Suthsea. His decline had been rapid, as if his body knew there was nothing more it could do for this world. Was it the spell casting at the Tower that had hastened his demise? He would never know for sure, but it was likely. He was infinitely grateful to have kept his faculties entirely intact, bar an appalling forgetfulness.

“I didn’t want to leave you out, Jeran. But tell me, had I included you… would it go to you?”

“It would go to the Order.”

“That’s what I thought. Hmmm. You’re always welcome here,” he said, gesturing to the house. “Even after I am gone. You must tell them that I said that.”

“You stipulated such a clause, master.”

“Did I? Very good.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t want it to go to the Order. I don’t want a gilding going to them. I’m not sorry, either.”

“I think I understand that,” said Jeran. “I don’t think I would want them to have anything - even if I had all the gildings in Wulfric Hall.”

“You’re a changed man.”

The priest laughed and then grew sombre. “Perhaps. Sometimes it feels like I am not just changed but rather a different man altogether. I remember things from before and it’s like it happened to a different person. I find it hard to even fathom the choices I made, the way I lived my life.”

“That’s called living, my dear priest. You hadn’t done much of it before.”

“Do you have dreams? About your time in the Towers, I mean.”

Yannick nodded. “I sleep very little now. Since Suthsea, it’s every night. I’m back in the Tower, any of them. Sometimes Ricard is there.” He smiled softly. “Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes, others. Not all bad. It was fun at times. Madness is the price of magic and I have had a very good deal.”

“I dream of Suthsea,” said Jeran. He rubbed the covered stump of his right wrist. “I see that room, the first one. I see my hand. Only it’s not mine anymore. It belongs to the High Revivalist. I hear him laugh. Sometimes it chokes me. Often it goes for the others.” He ran his hand across his face, as if rubbing away the dust of dreams.

“How often?” asked Yannick. He opened his hazy eyes.

“Most nights.” The priest put on a smile.

“I am so sorry, Jeran. I wish… I wish I had done that Tower differently. It was my fault, but it is you who must live with the burden.”

Jeran shook his head. “Don’t be. Antonic has trials for us all. Had it not happened, I would not be living the life I am now. It is a small price to pay.”

“I remember Audie asking you if you believed that then. Do you believe that now?”

“My faith is stronger than ever, master. I feel the Father with every step I take, I see Antonic in every face I meet. Even yours.”

“What about the Order?”

“The Order is nothing, Yannick. Nothing. I find it hard to say that, even now. The Order is not the Father, it is not Antonic. It is just people, imperfect people, trying to make some structure out of it all.”

“Even Esk?”

“The Lord Archbishop is privy to no more about this world than anyone else. Her path is different. Perhaps, in some strange way, the Father guides her hand. Without her, this beautiful farm might have been a battlefield.”

Yannick grunted admission. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not forthcoming with my gratitude.”

“I understand,” said Jeran.

Neither said anything for a while.

“I do not have long,” Yannick said. “I am glad to not be alone. It’s good to be with friends.”

“Thank you. I will see you are kept comfortable.”

“You know the spot?” Yannick asked.

“It’s in the document. And you showed me yesterday,” said Jeran.

“Ah. Did I? Good, good. Ricard is there, you know. I miss him. It’s been so long. Once the love of your life dies, you die too. Your body might go on, but your heart stops. It’s already in the ground there, just waiting for me to catch up.”

“Tell me about him,” said Jeran. “Tell me all about your husband.”

***

“Is that Jeran?” said Audie.

Virgil squinted. At the end of the road stood a figure in dirty robes. He was waving to them. She was about to dismiss the thought, when the figure waved with his left hand.

The figure kept his right hand close to his body.

“Hello!” cried the familiar voice.

Virgil bristled. She hadn’t seen him since her hearing.

“Father,” cursed Audie. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

They pulled their horses up alongside him. He smiled up at them - both of them.

“What a welcome sight the two of you are.”

“What happened to you?” asked Audie. “You look like a vagrant.”

Jeran chuckled softly. He ran his remaining hand over the inch-long hair growing wildly around his bald head. He wore a set of simple travelling robes now, rather than the ornate kind befitting a high priest.

“It’s been a funny little while,” he said. “One forgets about haircuts when one is on the road for so long.”

“Where’s the mage?” asked Audie.

The priest’s expression darkened. “Come,” he said. “Walk the horses.” With that, he turned on his heel and started down the simple lane.

Virgil folded her arms and cast a look to Audie. She shrugged and dismounted, leading her horse along with her.

Virgil sat for a moment longer. She hadn’t come all this way to take orders from a clergyman - and especially not this one. She sighed and shook her head. Audie would be annoyed if she stayed.

The farm was beautiful in the afternoon sunlight. The lane curved left to a large, blue stone farmhouse. It passed a paddock of sheep wandering idly in the heat. To the right, and downhill, was an orchard of quince trees. Virgil could hear the sound of a rushing stream. After the long journey, she wanted nothing more than to sit and bathe her feet in the cool water. The priest had not been part of her planned visit to Yannick, and it made her want to skip out on the whole thing.

“I passed through Dahlberg,” the priest was saying. “Yannick said that’s where you’re from.”

“Yep,” said Audie.

“Lovely place, just delightful.” Jeran turned back to Virgil. “And you, my dear. I didn’t expect you to be here, but I’m rather glad.” He smiled. “It’s nice to have the party back together, don’t you think?”

Virgil said nothing, the fury rising in her. What right did this man have to act friendly with her? Scenes from the hearing came back to her. Inappropriate carnal relationships, he’d said. Not fit to wear the armour. He’d said it all with a calm dismissiveness, as if they hadn’t been through an undocumented Tower together.

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Patrus omnis supera. Father above all else.

“He was so keen to see you - both of you, that is,” said Jeran as he led them into the cool of the farmhouse.

“Was?” asked Audie.

The priest stopped in the hallway.

“When?” asked Virgil.

“Early this morning.”

“Where is he?” said Audie, her voice cracking.

The priest gestured to a door and Audie walked in, Virgil behind her.

It was a comfortable sitting room - a marvellous, carved fireplace stood against one wall. Two armchairs sat by it, a large sheepskin thrown over the cold flagstones.

“Oh, Father,” cursed Audie. She turned around and grabbed hold of Virgil. “I didn’t--- oh, fuck.” She began to cry. Virgil stroked her hair, her vision settling on the frail body sat in one of the armchairs.

“It’s okay,” whispered Virgil. “It was his time.”

“I know,” said Audie. “But that doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it.”

Virgil said nothing and instead held the woman she loved in her arms. She kissed her head and took in the scent of her and was immensely grateful to be no longer alone in this life. She looked at Yannick. There was no pain, no fear in his expression. He looked at rest.

“We should bury him,” Virgil said.

Virgil took a final shovelful of the damp, loamy soil. It was deep enough now. It was hard work in the heat and sweat poured freely from her. She wiped her brow and pulled herself out of the hole. Audie sat beneath a quince tree, looking miserable.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Audie shook her head. “Is anyone, ever?”

Then she took Virgil’s hand and they walked up to the house together, weaving through the orchard.

Virgil carried the body down. A white bed sheet served as a shroud. The priest and Audie walked in silence behind her. She couldn’t help but notice how light he was: this man who had once been such a forceful presence in her world.

She placed him down on the ground before stepping into the deep grave. It was cooler here, and she wanted to shiver. With some help from Audie, she picked up the shrouded body and set him gently in the grave. She kept her hand beneath his head for a moment longer, before leaving him to the pillow of earth.

“This is where he buried his husband?” asked Audie, pointing to the spot adjacent to the fresh grave. It was dotted with wild bluebells.

“Yes. Master Yannick was very specific about it,” said Jeran.

“In the will?” asked Audie.

Jeran nodded. “It would be best for us to review it later. You in particular, Audie.”

“Me?” asked Audie. “Why me?”

“He left it all to you. This place, his assets, his archives.”

Audie stared, open-mouthed.

“Shall I begin?” he asked. He looked to Virgil, who was climbing out of the grave. She nodded.

The priest cleared his throat.

“Yannick was many things. A brilliant mage. A devoted patriot. A keen and inquiring mind. Without him, I think it safe to say that all of us here would have been upon very different paths. Thank you, my friend.”

He stopped for a moment, and Virgil realised he was blinking away tears. Audie grabbed her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.

“We are all many things to many people in our life. Relationships are the web of Antonic’s love for all mankind. They define us, they challenge us, they provide us with succour. To some we are saved, to others we are saviours. I did not know Yannick for a long time, but I felt that I knew him well in his final days - as all of us here today did. Know that he valued and loved us all.

“Perhaps the most important relationship of his life was that of his marriage. For forty-one years, he was a devoted husband to Ricard. In Antonic’s vale may their spirits find that eternal embrace together, as their bodies do here.”

The priest took another deep breath.

“Here,” said Jeran, raising his arms to the setting sun above. His voice was louder now, but still wavering with emotion.

“Here is deposited what was mortal of Yannick Tecwyn Oswestry. What was temporal, we commend to you, o holy Father.”

“What was temporal, we commend to you, o holy Father,” said Audie and Virgil in unison.

The priest bowed his head and held it in silence. Audie and Virgil joined him.

Virgil remembered the man who had dragged a Dusken Knight he barely knew through the tunnel of dakora moss. That man with his certainty not to simply live, but to live true.

The sunlight cast long shadows as they filled in the grave. After they were done, the three of them sat under the old quince tree. Audie lit a fire. They passed around a large bottle of perry they had found in the cellar.

“Left everything to me, did he?” Audie said.

“Yes,” said the priest. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. Why me?”

Jeran laughed gently. “I asked him the same thing.”

“No offense taken. What did he say?”

“Well, first you must remember that he had no children of his own. In a way, I think he was searching, in his own way, to find someone,” Jeran said.

“I’m a surrogate daughter to him?” asked Audie. “Nice.”

“He felt immense guilt over what happened in the Tower. What had happened to all of us.” Jeran rubbed the wrapped stump of his right wrist absent-mindedly. “The Tower changed us all, didn’t it?”

Virgil said nothing.

“I lost my hand. Virgil lost her commission. I remember you coming out of that boat, Audie. You were changed too.”

Lost her commission? thought Virgil. That’s an interesting way to put it.

Audie stared into the fire. “What happened in that cell… it felt like months. That sphinx warped time. Months spent in the pitch black, with nothing. No noise. No other senses.” She looked up and smiled. “But I’m recovered now, more or less. I hardly think about it.”

Virgil knew those scars ran deeper than Audie would admit, but she held her tongue. She was better, true, but she still woke screaming from time to time. She still couldn’t sleep in the dark: there had to be a candle lit or a fire burning in the grate. Virgil would hold her until she stopped thrashing, whispering to her until the small woman fell back into an exhausted sleep.

“He wanted to give you your independence. He remembered how we plucked you from the City gaol. He was worried that you would head back to a life of petty crime. As he put it, that way leads to the rope.”

“I suppose I’ll never have to steal anything again. I’m rich now,” said Audie. “Sorry about stealing from you. I never did apologise for that.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m rather glad you did - I was a pompous fool then, and I needed taking down a few pegs.”

Virgil cleared her throat. Even after the last year, she still struggled to speak in front of others.

“Why did you speak against me at my hearing?” she asked.

Jeran looked stunned.

“Because of you, I was cast out of the Knights.” Her rage was boiling over now. It felt good to finally confront this bastard. “All I had ever known, gone in a single day. I was lucky to avoid imprisonment.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry beyond what words can say. It must have been awful.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry for ruining my life?” shouted Virgil.

“Love, calm down--” Audie started.

“No, I will not calm down! This cunt cost me everything in my life, and I’m not going to forget it!”

Virgil could feel her anger in the air. It crackled like lightning. Her hands balled into fists.

The priest looked at her with a sorrowful expression that she wanted to wipe off.

“Say something!” Virgil said.

“It was Yannick’s idea,” he said. “I didn’t care about what I had seen in the dakora tunnel. I didn’t even care about the two of you in the inn, that first night after the Tower.”

Virgil felt the colour rise in her face, and she was glad it was dark.

“I didn’t want to report any of it,” he continued. “But Yannick insisted. He told me that if I didn’t, he would report it directly to the Archbishop himself.”

She was lost for words. “Why?”

“He knew you would never leave the Knights. So he gave you a push.”

“Father,” cursed Virgil. “That manipulating bastard.”

Audie laughed. “Was he wrong though? You’re here now.” She leaned over and kissed her, hard.

“If it is any consolation, I left Wulfric Hall afterwards. I lost faith in the Order. I was disgusted in how the Order treated you. I was ashamed of my own part, too.”

“So does that mean you’re not really a priest anymore?” asked Audie. “Was that funeral not official?”

“I suppose so,” said Jeran. “I haven’t bothered to find out if I’m still ordained. Who needs the Order to bury their dead?”

Audie cheered. “Damn the law!”

Virgil laughed, despite everything.

“No more weddings or anything like that?” asked Audie.

“No. But you don’t need the Order for that anyway. Having a priest marry you is a rather new invention. If the Father is all seeing, then why do you need a priest? Not so long ago, a marriage was as simple as two people saying so. The Father is witness enough, I should think. Surprisingly, it’s still legal to do so.”

“It’s a bit of shame though,” said Audie. “Because I was going to ask you to do something for me.”

“Oh?” Jeran said. “And what was that?”

“Well hold on, I need to ask her first,” Audie said. She wriggled out of Virgil’s grip and stood. “Stand up.”

Virgil stood. She was drunker than she’d thought.

Wobbling, Audie got down on one knee. She looked up at Virgil. “Will you marry me?”