Lord Soth (22 page)

The Edict of Thought Control was unworkable.

The realization left the mage with only one option. He decided he would take it.

He turned his back on the mother and child, and began walking west.

When he reached the outskirts of the city, he turned south, headed for Silvanesti.

To start a new life.

Chapter 13

“No matter how many times I’ve seen it,” said Caradoc. “Each time
I lay my eyes upon it after some time away, I’m always in awe of its beauty.”

“Indeed,” said Soth. “It is a beautiful sight.”

Ahead on the eastern horizon, the deep red outline of Dargaard Keep stood out like a single perfect rose. After ten days at the Knights’ Meeting in Palanthas (Soth attended six of those days) and an uneventful journey home, the knights were all eager to return to the keep and relate what they’d learned to their fellow knights.

But for Soth, there were other reasons which made him look forward to his return. For one there was his wife. Dear, sweet Korinne. After such a long time away, perhaps she had some news for him. Even though Soth had vowed not to speak of such matters until she truly was with child, he couldn’t stop himself from considering the possibility.

To have a son …

Or perhaps even a daughter. He would teach her to fight, make her strong, the first female Knight of Solamnia.

He shook his head, realizing his dreams were getting the better of him.

And then there was Isolde. She would be fully healed by now, her stunning beauty completely restored. There was no real reason for him to contact her—she was merely just another person in the keep now, one of many—but nevertheless, he wanted desperately to see her, to speak to her, perhaps even to … touch her.

“The elf-maid you brought back to the keep,” Caradoc said idly.

Mention of the maid startled Soth, bringing him back to the plains. Even though he was sure Caradoc’s speaking of Isolde had been a coincidence, the uncanniness of it made Soth shiver. “You mean Isolde?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Is-olde,” Caradoc had some trouble pronouncing the name, “is certainly a beautiful woman, elf or otherwise.”

“Yes,” said Soth, his voice noncommittal. “That she is.”

“Might make a man a fine lover.”

Soth turned to look at Caradoc. His seneschal was staring blankly out over the horizon, obviously speaking of Isolde with a sort of wistfulness that he might speak about a well-made sword or a fine bottle of wine.

Soth turned his gaze forward and tried to match Caradoc’s pensive sort of look with a similar expression of his own. “That she would,” he said, trying to say the words musingly.

When the knights entered the keep they were greeted by dozens of people, most of whom were family and friends. Soth dismounted and was quickly greeted by Lady Korinne who had come to see him dressed in some of her finest red and purple robes.

Despite his mind being clouded with other thoughts, Soth had missed Korinne deeply, and when they came together he took her up in his arms and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

“Did you miss me?” Korinne asked.

“Of course.”

“And I you.”

Soth smiled. “Then perhaps we should get away from here.”

“I thought you might never ask.”

Soth gave the reins of his mount to a squire and walked arm-in-arm with Lady Korinne into the tower leading to their chambers. When they arrived, Korinne opened the door and Soth picked her up and carried her inside, closing the door behind him with a backward kick of his foot.

He carried her over to the bed and laid her down upon it. As Soth began to undress, he noticed something different about Korinne’s smile. It was as if she were trying to contain herself, holding back some great secret that was mere seconds from bursting from her lips.

“What?” asked Soth. “What is it?”

“I’m glad to see you,” answered Korinne. “Is that so wrong?” Already her smile was starting to wane.

“Well, from the look on your face I thought you might have something to tell me.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re with child, of course.”

“Oh.”

There was a long silence between them.

“Well, are you?” asked Soth.

Another extended period of silence.

Korinne let out a sigh. “No.”

Soth let out a long sigh of his own. He was disappointed, especially because he knew it had been entirely his own fault. He had told her not to mention word of a child until she knew for certain and now he had been the one to ask the question, destroying what should have been a
wonderful moment between them.

Korinne rolled onto her side on the bed and began to weep softly.

Soth didn’t know what to do. He had slain ogres, defeated whole armies, and performed a hundred other heroic deeds, but here and now he found himself wishing he were somewhere else, somewhere far away.

He was also angered by her inability to bear him a child, but instinctively knew that harsh words had no place in the room at this particular moment.

Korinne’s weeping had grown into open sobs.

After another moment’s hesitation, Soth crawled onto the bed and placed a comforting hand on Korinne’s shoulder. It did nothing to staunch her cries, but it still felt as if it were the right thing to do. He placed an arm around her and held her close.

That night after supper, Soth excused himself from the table on the pretense of wanting to stretch his legs and reacquaint himself with the keep.

After leaving the dining hall, he made a series of twists and turns that brought him to the maids’ quarters where Isolde was now staying. He checked in the larger chambers but found the room to be empty except for eight neatly prepared beds, each with its own trundle. He checked a few of the adjoining rooms and finally heard soft music coming from one of the rooms down the hall. He tracked the sound until he found Isolde in the music room playing a harp.

Soth looked up and down the hallway, then stepped into the room, leaving the door behind him slightly ajar so as to not to make any noise that would disrupt Isolde’s sweet, sweet music.

He sat down on a stool to her right and listened.

Almost at once he recognized the tune as “The Silver
Moon’s Passing,” an elven song of mourning. As he listened he could almost hear the emotions in the notes, could almost picture the swaying grasslands of the plains, the love of a young man, and the loss felt by his young bride upon his death.

She finished playing the song without realizing that Soth was in the room. When the last note faded Soth began clapping.

Isolde turned, startled to find him there.

“That was beautiful,” he said.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“Would it have mattered?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“You play very well.”

She almost blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, milord. Istvan said I could keep his harp as long as I liked.”

“From the way he plays the instrument, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were glad to be rid of it.”

Isolde laughed, giving Soth reason to smile. Her face was so bright, so alive.

There was a lengthy pause between them. Finally Isolde said, “But you didn’t come here to hear me play the harp now did you?”

“No.”

She looked at him curiously. “Why did you come here?”

Soth thought about it, and realized he didn’t have a good answer to the question. Why did I come here? he wondered. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” A pause. “And perhaps I need someone to talk to.”

“Talk? About what?”

Again Soth hesitated. “Family matters.”

“I would think your wife would be the best one with which to discuss such things.”

“Perhaps, but what if
she
is the topic to be discussed?”

“I see,” said Isolde, her eyes darting somewhat nervously. “But shouldn’t you speak of such things to one who is closer to you? A family member, perhaps even Istvan?”

“No, I couldn’t. This is something that is best discussed with someone from outside of Dargaard Keep. Someone … like yourself.” This was true. If he let it be known to others close to him that Korinne was unable to conceive, news of it would sweep through the keep in a matter of days, and across Solamnia in mere weeks. For some reason, he instinctively knew that Isolde would speak to no one about the matter, that his secrets would be her secrets.

“All right, then,” she said warmly. “Talk to me.”

Soth began explaining how, despite all their efforts, he and Korinne had been unable to produce a child. Then he began talking of the pain and disappointment he felt each time she told him of their failure, not just for himself but for her as well. He told her too, how it was beginning to affect their relationship.

Isolde listened in silence, providing him with little response other than a slight nod of her head, or an arch of her brow.

The more he spoke, the more Soth realized that perhaps he
had
come here looking for someone to talk to. He was indeed feeling better, his frustration over the matter somewhat lessened by the mere act of telling someone else about the problem.

And it was a problem.

He was Loren Soth, Knight of the Rose, Master of Dargaard Keep and Lord of Knightlund. He should be the father of many, many distinguished Knights of Solamnia. The Soth family name was a great one with a hallowed history and a grand future, but if he failed to produce even a single heir, the Soth name would die along with him. For a Knight of Solamnia, it was a problem greater than any that could be created by an opponent on a battlefield. And in fact, many times Soth had wished this problem could be dealt with by the sword. But alas, it could not. This was a problem that could be remedied only by the good graces of Paladine, or the benevolence of Mishakal.