Lord Soth (27 page)

“No, far from it,” said Soth. “When I got there he failed to greet me, then kept me waiting for hours. And then, once we finally met, he asked me to help him plan strategies for mock-battles between detachments of knights.”

Korinne was silent, chewing her bottom lip to help keep her good news from spilling prematurely from her mouth.

“That’s a task for pages and squires,” said Soth. “Well, at least one thing is for certain. I’ll be thinking twice before I answer the call of your cousin again.”

He turned around to see Korinne lying on the bed, smiling gleefully.

“What?” asked Soth. “What is it?” He looked himself over to see if there was anything amiss with his clothing.

“Do you recall that you didn’t want me to speak of children until I was sure I was with child?”

Soth thought about it. “Yes.”

“Well, I am now sure.”

Soth’s mouth opened slightly and stayed that way for a long while. Then he swallowed and asked, “You are absolutely sure?”

Korinne couldn’t blame him for asking. She had raised his hopes on the subject far too many times. In answer she simply nodded, then smiled.

“Paladine be praised!” Soth shouted, crawling onto the bed next to Korinne. He took her in his arms and hugged her.

Korinne felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“My wife is with child,” he whispered. “This is wonderful news.” Then he kissed her.

As her lips touched his, Korinne began to cry. And despite the joy of the moment, she couldn’t help but taste the bitterness in the tears as they rolled down her face.

“A celebration!” said Lord Soth later that day. “In the grand hall. Everyone in the keep shall attend.”

“What’s the occasion, milord?” asked the keep’s cook, an elderly yet still quite stout man named Pitte who had been preparing meals for three generations of Soths. He had been called into the grand hall along with several of
the keep’s other key stewards.

“I”—he paused and began again—“I am going to be a father.”

The assembled men and women inhaled a collective gasp.

A broad grin broke across Soth’s face as he finally had the long-awaited pleasure of telling someone—anyone—of his good fortune.

Lady Korinne stood by his side, holding his hand tightly and grinning from ear to ear.

A little distance away on Korinne’s right stood Mirrel, who was also smiling broadly.

“Wonderful news, milord.”

“A grand reason to celebrate.”

“I’ll prepare a grand feast, milord,” said Pitte, obviously happy to soon be serving a fourth generation Soth. “It’s a little early for the harvests to come in, but I can whip up a grand banquet with stews and soups, pastries and pies.”

Soth nodded. “I’m sure it will be a fine meal, Pitte. You’ve never served us anything but.”

Pitte smiled, revealing the few remaining teeth in his head. “Thank you, milord. When would you like this feast to occur?”

“As soon as possible, of course.”

“Is two days soon enough?”

“Yes, wonderful,” said Soth.

“Then excuse me, milord. I have many things to prepare.” The stout old man bowed his head and turned, then scurried off to the kitchen.

“Now,” said Soth. “As for the rest of you …”

Pitte had been good to his word and despite the short notice, he and his staff had done an exemplary job preparing the feast. In addition to the many varieties of meats and cheeses available, Pitte had also prepared many different
colored dishes using vegetable dyes such as parsley for green, saffron for yellow and sandalwood for red. It was a small detail, but one that made the celebration all the more festive.

But best of all, was the celebratory cake that Pitte had baked in the shape of a cradle, frosted with white sugar and gilded with decorative roses.

Soth was grateful to the old man and couldn’t help but think that even before his child was born, it was already being treated as something special by those within the keep. Whether it was a boy or a girl, its childhood would be filled with countless happy days.

The feast lasted for hours, the wine and ale flowing like water into the glasses of the gathered knights. One sign that they had drunk far more than was proper was their terrible renditions of songs praising the virtue of Vinas Solamnus. The songs droned on, one word sliding into the next until mercifully the sound would end with a raucous round of applause. Soth was grateful when Caradoc was persuaded to stand before the high table and offer the parents-to-be a token gift on behalf of the knights.

“My lord,” said Caradoc, nodding first to Lord Soth, and then to his fellow knights. “I know it is perhaps too early for gifts for the unborn child, but the joy I and my fellow knights felt upon hearing the good news was far too great to let pass without even a token gesture.”

He nodded at a pair of pages at the entrance to the hall.

“So, as a symbol of our heartfelt happiness over the news that a young Soth will soon be roaming the keep, the knights and I would like you to have these gifts”—he gestured to the items being carted in by the pages—“so that your offspring will grow up to be as great a knight as its father has already become.”

The pages put down the gifts. Inside two crates were finely crafted wooden swords, shields and intricately tooled leather armor, all sized to fit the hands and body of
a growing child through each of its stages of development.

Soth was speechless. Many of these items were family heirlooms, passed on from generation to generation. They would be just as at home on a mantle as in the hands of a child.

Soth rose from his seat, bowed concession to Caradoc and then to the rest of the knights. “I thank you, all. And a toast to the Knights of Solamnia, the greatest collection of
uncles
a child could ever wish for.”

The knights erupted in a loud cheer, then the room was silent as everyone drank to the toast.

Soth leaned down, turned to Korinne and said, “I must thank them all individually.”

“After such a gesture,” Korinne said, shaking her head, “it’s the least you can do.”

Soth left the high table and immediately made his way to Caradoc.

“Korinne and I were touched by your gesture, Caradoc,” Lord Soth said as he slapped a hand onto the shoulder of his seneschal.

“We’ve had them collected for months, milord,” Caradoc answered. “We were simply waiting for the right time to present them.”

“And waiting …”

“And waiting …” said a few of the other knights.

“Well, nevertheless, your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated.”

Caradoc waved his hand in a gesture that suggested that Soth should think nothing of it. Then the knight took a sip of wine.

Soth pulled away from the table of knights and was heading for an adjoining table when he ran into Isolde. She had been wandering the hall playing her harp for those attending the banquet. But from the look on her face, Soth knew she had something on her mind other than making good music.

“I wish to speak to you,” she said.

Soth realized he was in an awkward position. To the rest of the people within the keep, Isolde was a special guest. And, because of her elven heritage, to some others she was a great curiosity. Either way, she hardly mingled without being noticed. If Soth spoke to her now, dozens of eyes would be watching.

“Very well,” said Soth, stepping to one side of the hall where he could lean casually against a wall while the elf-maid talked to him.

“First of all, let me congratulate you and Lady Korinne on the good news.”

Soth smiled politely. “Thank you.”

Isolde glanced around the room, careful to make it look as if this was nothing but a simple meeting of two friends. “I wanted to tell you that since Korinne is with child and your problems seem to be over, perhaps it might be better if I returned to Silvanesti.” She strummed her harp, tuning several of the strings after each pass of her hand.

Soth knew she was right. There was no place for her in the keep, especially now. But as he looked into her eyes and saw the overwhelming beauty of her face, he knew he wasn’t ready to let her go, or perhaps he wasn’t able. Whatever the reason, she had to remain close to him.

“No!” said Soth in something of a harsh whisper even though the noise within the hall was more than enough to drown out any part of their conversation. “You must stay.…” His voice trailed off, then suddenly gained strength. “Please.”

Isolde shook her head. “What am I to do here? Istvan is wasting his own valuable time trying to find things for me to do.”

“You can stay,” Soth said, searching his mind for any reason at all for her to remain. “Perhaps you might be able to help Korinne with the child when it comes.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much. Lady Korinne wouldn’t want me anywhere near her child.”

“She has no reason to dislike you.”

“Perhaps not, but let us just say I have a feeling that I am not one of her favorite inhabitants of the keep.”

Soth looked aside and accepted the congratulations of a woman who passed by; then he turned back to Isolde.

“I
want
you,” he said, “to stay.” He paused, considering his words. “As Korinne becomes heavy with child, I will be needing you more than ever.” He looked at her for the longest time, letting his steel blue eyes pierce right through to her heart.

“All right,” she said at last, her voice edged with a sort of doomed reluctance. “I will stay.”

Soth’s head arched back and he smiled as if Isolde had just said something tremendously funny. “Wonderful!” he said, shaking her hand. He raised the volume of his voice so those close-by could hear him. “Yes, indeed. I am a very happy man.”

Korinne had watched as Soth moved through the hall, greeting people and gladly shaking hands. He seemed happier than she’d ever seen him before, and she was satisfied that she had made him that way.

But then Soth had turned away from Caradoc and found himself face-to-face with the elf-maid Isolde.

The sight had suddenly made Korinne feel sick to her stomach.

She had watched motionless and silent as her husband and the elf-maid talked to one another on the other side of the hall. There was nothing out of the ordinary in their mannerisms, nothing that might suggest they were anything more than friends. Of course, there
was
a bond between them. He had saved her life, after all.

Korinne had felt a little better when she saw the elf-maid idly tuning her harp and her husband intently greeting passersby in the middle of their little chat. When they were done, Soth had laughed politely at some joke the elf
had made and they had parted as simply as any two friends would part.

There had been nothing to it.

Then why, even now as Soth happily moved about the room to chat with others, did this feeling of sickness continue to gnaw at her belly?

Chapter 18