A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (8 page)

Slar wanted to protest. He wanted this feast to continue into the night, with more wine and women to join them later. However, the burning in his stomach soured the idea of more food, and his pride prevented him asking Sharrog to stay.

Slar called to his son’s back as he stalked toward the stairwell. “You will have a place of honor in the host.”

Sharrog turned at the door. “Perhaps. Only I will fight with the ancient warcries of the Boar Clan on my lips.” His blood red eyes met Slar’s. “And I will die calling out the name of my mother and father.” He marched away down the steps.

Radgred tore into a chunk of mammoth loin and licked the grease from his skewer. “He will see reason.”

Slar shook his head. “I fear he already does.”

Fear not to incorporate the pagan traditions of the people when teaching them of the Balance. It is through our harnessing of their ingrained symbology and calendar that we can more easily spread the Temple’s influence to those of all previous faiths.

— Letters of Banelaw the Paladin to the High Elder Caladrion (122 A.R.)

T
he central dome of the Temple of Balance in Dadric did not spread wide enough to contain all of the townspeople. The situation required dozens of citizens to gather outside the circle of supporting pillars, huddled upon the grassy knoll on which the temple sat. Tallen Westar smelled the burning incense, but he heard only murmurs from the priest. If he stood on tiptoe, he could see the already bald young man swinging the censer. Behind Brother Benard, an older man in pristine black and white robes incanted prayers to the Balance, for good sun and plentiful rains to bless the fields this season.

I’ve heard it enough times to recite the bloody prayer myself.
Tallen sighed.
At least Father Vernin is quiet and kind. We’ve had worse before.

While Tallen listened to the priest drone on, most of his attention focused on the azure robed priestess of Water. Her exotic features enchanted him, with her almond eyes and chocolate colored skin. She hailed from the Southern Realm, near the border with Hadon, where Water worship remained quite common. Sister Jelena stopped by the Sleeping Gryphon once every summer to bless the grotto and pool that welled up behind it. She told Tallen once that it was ancient and holy. Alone of all holidays, the priests of Balance allowed the sister to join them in the temple for the Sowing Festival. Superstitious old farmers, whose purses the priests would dip into from time to time, considered it bad luck to ignore the Water Aspect at the Sowing Festival.

If Sister Jelena only knew what the priests said about her after a few drinks in the Gryphon.
With a shake of his head, Tallen turned his gaze to the crowd gathered around him. He noticed Jennette standing near the outer edge of the temple with her father, who still wore the flour-dusted apron of his trade.

Maybe I can have a drink with her later. I haven’t seen her since last I bought the bread myself. That’s been near a week.

A nudge in his ribs jarred him.

“Come on, dummy. It’s over.” Dawne giggled. “Let’s go get a drink on the Mootlawn.”

His sister pulled him by the hand through the meandering crowd. The wealthy folk headed for parties at their estates or in private gardens. Most of the working people targeted the honeymead stand set up on the common grounds near the center of town. Some left for the fields. No serious farmer would waste a clear day this time of year if seed rested unsown.
Most will leave the fields early and be at the Gryphon by evening. Then they’ll be late to work tomorrow…

For the afternoon, however, the inn remained closed, and Tallen felt free to join his sister for a few mugs on the Mootlawn.

“Alright,” he laughed, relenting and following her lead. “But only a couple. Glynn will need me later.” He eyed his little sister. She had never really known their father. “You would be helpful too.”

“Why, I would be honored to sing in your inn tonight, Master Westar.” Dawne laughed and gave a quick curtsey. She rose and tugged his hand harder, her long, golden locks waving with her excitement. “But only after I have warmed up my instrument with a good libation first.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” Tallen shook his head. He could not deny that her mood was infectious. “Perhaps I will join you for a song.”

Dawne cackled. “In that case, we had better get several libations in you.”

Tallen licked the creamy foam of the sweet mead from his lip. The traditional cow horns kept the frothy head to a perfect height. Before long, Tallen had emptied his twice. Dawne still sipped from her first.

She nodded at his empty horn. “I thought I was the thirsty one.”

“I was certain I would see Jennette here today,” Tallen said after a scan of the crowd. He recognized a few of the girls there, but the one he sought was nowhere to be found. “I saw her at the temple.”

Dawne stood on tiptoes and cast her eyes about. “Don’t see her either.” She sat again and sipped her mead. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be seen.”

Tallen shook his head. “Last week when I stopped by the bakery she told me she would find me here.”

Dawne shrugged. “Then she will be here.”

They both refilled their horns before strolling out toward the center of the Mootlawn, where a huge stack of logs and branches climbed to three times Tallen’s considerable height.

He turned to Dawne. “I need to be back at the inn right after they set the bonfire. Glynn and Linsay will both be working, and I think Linsay’s sister starts tonight.” He gulped from his horn. The scent of pork roasted with herbs and garlic floated across the crowd. “Come on. Let’s get a chop. This mead makes me hungry.”

Dawne pushed him toward the stand. “You’re buying.”

The pork snapped between Tallen’s teeth, yielding a hot, salty juice that slid over his tongue. They sat together, eating and drinking until the sun began to fade from the sky. Most of the townsfolk, including many of the farmers who worked throughout the day, assembled for the lighting of the bonfire. Deep in the recesses of twilight, he finally saw her. Jennette moved along the edge of the crowd, darting back toward the warehouses at the south end of the Mootlawn.

Tallen leaned toward his sister, eyes following Jennette as she slipped away. “I’m heading back to the inn a little early.”

Dawne’s eyes popped open in surprise. “You’re not staying for the fire?”

Tallen tilted his head toward the warehouses. “Jennette.”

Dawne nodded with a knowing smile and a tip of her drinking horn.

As he passed through the gathering crowd, his eyes caught another glimpse of Jennette’s long braid bouncing ahead, a pink and spring green ribbon tied around it. Everyone bunched together to watch the fire kindle, and Tallen lost sight of her.

He spied her again as he reached the back of the throng, entering an alleyway between two warehouses. Something odd tickled him at the back of his awareness.
I feel like a dog with his hackles up.
He shook it off and ducked after her, following the many twists and turns in the warren of warehouses. The scent of new cut cedar floated from one or two, but most of the old buildings sat empty.

Tallen squinted down every side alley.
She probably wants to make me jump by hiding around the one corner I won’t look.

He darted down a street that led back to the Sleeping Gryphon, sitting on a hill to the east of town.

A young man’s voice rang out from the alleyway ahead. “I want us to be married this summer, earlier if possible.” Tallen thought he recognized it, but exactly who it was escaped him.

The voice grew more earnest. “My father can get the Baron to perform the ceremony himself when he returns from Gavanor. I want to have you as my wife. You agreed!”

Tallen ran through faces of local young men, rich ones from his words. He could not place it immediately.

“But I must—“

It took but one word for Tallen to recognize the girl’s voice. Three slipped out before he could step around the corner.

“Jennette!”

The young woman stood there, fingers rising to her mouth in shock. Ardric Haesby had his hands on her shoulders, surprise not quite as stark on his features.

“Are you going to marry him?” Tallen could not keep the anger from his quivering voice. His stomach twisted. The mead made his words harsh, but he did not care. “Have the two of you already bedded?”

Jennette gaped. Ardric gathered his fists. Tallen felt himself doing the same.

“You need to watch your mouth,” Ardric growled.

Jennette stepped in front of him. “Let me handle this.” Her brow knitted in an expression of pain as she turned to Tallen. “I’m sorry, Tallen, I really am. This started as my father’s idea. I only saw Ardric to please Father…at first.”

Tallen’s heart sank. His hands opened and closed. Swirling patterns of color danced in his mind, colors so real he could almost touch them. They slipped away as the anger clouded all else from his brain.

“I see.” Tallen’s lip curled in rage. “It’s the watch captain’s son over the son of a dead innkeeper then – a profitable choice.” He glared icy daggers at Ardric and frosted his tone. “If you want her…then you can
have
her. I’m done.” He turned away and stalked, then ran, all the way the Gryphon where it sat nearly half a mile from the city’s eastern gate. Only when he passed through the entrance into the inn’s courtyard did he slow. The world spun around him when he stopped and bent over to draw in deep, painful breaths. His hands shook. His legs threatened to collapse. He leaned against the center well and threw his fists in the air. “Damn her to the Flames!”

“Damn who?”

Tallen started, his heart leaping into his throat. He had not noticed Glynn crossing from the stable to the inn when he entered.

“Sorry, brother.” Glynn laughed. “Didn’t mean to orc-jump you.” He laughed even harder.

“Never mind.” Tallen sneered. “It’s Jennette. She wants to marry Ardric Haesby. I caught them between the warehouses.”

His older brother scowled, the laughter dropping from his lips. “Seriously? Last time I saw the two of you together, your lips were so tight I thought I would need a bucket of cold water to tear you apart!”

Tallen folded his arms and glowered even harder at his brother.

Glynn’s face turned sheepish. “Alright, so she’s a tramp.” He clapped Tallen on the shoulder. “Damn her to the Flames, as you say.” He pulled him toward the door. “Come on in. I’ll buy you a shot of that delicious pear bourbon you make.”

Shaking his head, Tallen let his brother guide him inside the Sleeping Gryphon. Linsay and two other serving girls scampered about preparing the inn for the coming crowd. His brother led him to the bar, where he poured two jiggers of the inn’s finest reserve batch.

Glynn lifted one glass. “Women…” His eyes flashed to Linsay, who seemed not to notice.

Tallen snorted. “Yeah.” Both of them took the shot in one gulp. It burned a little going down, and the fruit hopped up into his nostrils. Tallen’s stomach warmed while it soaked through.

“Help me behind the bar tonight.” Glynn set down his glass. “We won’t be selling much in the way of food.”

Tallen nodded. Thoughts of Jennette were already growing numb. He poured another pair of shots. “To family,” he said, raising his glass again. “It’s really all you’ve got.”

Glynn hoisted his drink. “Family.”

The bourbon warmed Tallen’s chest, deadening further his turbulent emotions. His legs and hands steadied.

The crowd they greeted after the bonfire threatened to burst through the rafters, gathering on the wide floor and both upper balconies. Eventually Tallen set up a keg outside for Linsay to serve those who waited in line. The reedy sound of dancing music rang out over the prairie.

Tallen focused his mind on his work, pushing all thoughts of Jennette into the background. Virtually every drop of the pear bourbon sold out at a silver penny a glass. Often he got a second penny for his trouble. The brothers kept the drinks flowing until almost midnight, when the crowd at last began to thin.

After a short silence from the band, Tallen heard his sister begin to play her harp and sing
Late to the Night
as her opening tune. A round of cheers greeted it from the locals. Couples danced in the bare spaces left by the exit of already tired patrons. Soon, two local boys joined Dawne with a drum and flute.

“Do you know those musicians?” Glynn carried a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“They’re not bad fellows.” Tallen shook his head as he wiped a spot on the bar. “Besides, Dawne would stick her fist in their eye if they did anything wrong.”

“Just that it sounds like they have practiced together.” His brother filled another horn. “That usually happens in private.”

Tallen laughed. “It was here, while you were gone on your honeymoon this winter.”

“Just keep your eyes open is all I’m saying.” Glynn dipped an uncertain nod. “She’s your little sister too.”

Tallen frowned and reached for a bottle of rye whiskey. “Of course. You need not remind me.”

Glynn stopped pouring and met Tallen’s gaze. “Sorry. I know you watch out for her.”

Dawne and her cohorts played for well over an hour before leaving the stage to well-deserved applause. She disappeared out the back with her friends. Tallen doubted they were up to little more than sharing a flagon and a pipe.

The century-old grandfather clock chimed two in the morning. Tallen looked at Glynn, his face weary.

The elder brother nodded in agreement, and rang the ancient ship’s bell sitting behind the counter. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” He waved away a dozen patrons still holding coin.

Careful not to be too rough, Jik, the stable boy, ushered the crowd out with some urgency. Most of the patrons still carried their horns from the celebration, now filled with Westar family ale. They took the horns with them, toasting to the Gryphon all the way out. Linsay gathered up the house mugs at the door. She allowed the patrons one swallow to finish their drink before they left. The greater part succeeded.