Reckoning (The Empyrean Chronicle) (3 page)

Elias tried to put Macallister from his mind and focus on
the fine victuals, spirits, music, and games that awaited him at the fair, but
his relief proved fleeting, for he realized that at the town green he may very
well encounter Macallister yet again, and worse, Cormik. The viscount’s son—and
Elias’s nemesis—was certain to make an appearance, if not at the duel, than
strutting amidst the citizens of Knoll Creek, who grudgingly bent knee to the
Macallisters since their ascension to the higher echelons of the gentry.

Duel

Elias heard the fair before he saw it. The din of boisterous
townsfolk, farmers, and vendors carried in the verdant valley that nestled the
town of Knoll Creek. Elias urged the horses on from his seat in the driver’s
box, which he shared with Asa, not wanting to miss out on any of the festivities.

Elias paused at the gate after he paid the porter and
absorbed the sights, sounds, and smells of the fair.

The soft, warm glow from post mounted lanterns cast the
grounds in a cozy, ethereal light, which left him with the sensation of a
pleasant dream. The air hummed as the voices of villagers absorbed in gossip,
bartering, and merry making merged into a lulling chorus. A lazy breeze wafted
the savor of roasting pork, grilling beef steaks, and simmering chili.

A band in the center of the grounds pounded out the twangy,
toe-tapping melodies that had become synonymous with the south of Galacia. A
flash of red caught Elias’s eye as a dancer whirled before the gazebo that
housed the band.

His eyes lingered on the dancer for a beat. She moved with a
fluid grace, the equal of which he had only seen in his father when he fenced. Auburn
hair fanned out in a fiery corona as she glided and spun, laughing all the
while. Elias wondered who she was, for he had not seen her before.

It took Elias a moment before he realized someone had been speaking
to him. He turned in his seat to find Danica’s head poking from out the
carriage window, eyes rolling, one corner of her mouth tucked up into a half smile.
“When you’re done gawking like a kid in a candy shop,” she said, “maybe we can
actually go in.”

“Yeah,” said Lar, whose head suddenly popped out of the
window beside Danica, “and don’t think you’re backing out of our annual chili
eating contest just because you had the runs for a week last year!”

Elias sighed deeply and shook his head, affecting
exasperation, but the preposterous sight of their two faces crowded in the
carriage window made him smile despite himself. “With you two bards in tow,” he
said, “a guy hardly knows what to do with himself!”

“I suggest you laugh,” Danica said, her trademark half smile
replaced with an eye-crinkling grin. Then, without waiting for Elias to park
and tie the carriage, she opened the door and hopped out in a single motion. Dragging
Lar by the arm she strode into the fair grounds, leaving a bemused Elias in her
wake.

Elias shared a look with Asa who merely shrugged. Then, they
both burst out laughing. Elias took her hand. She gazed up at him, her eyes
glittering in the lantern light. Moved by her demure manner, he kissed her.

Danica and Lar headed toward the gazebo where the band
played, for it was there that the greatest number of people congregated on the
open green to visit and greet each other. Elias, however, after seeing to the
carriage, pulled Asa in another direction, deciding that he would buy her a
candied apple and a couple mugs of ale for himself and Lar.

After braving the vendor lines, the betrothed snaked through
the crowded green to find Lar and Danica. Elias spotted the two sitting at a
cedar plank table, surrounded by half a score of avid listeners as Danica gestured
animatedly, presumably regaling her audience with tales of her adventures at
the Academy.

As Elias made his way toward them, a man stumbled into him,
which sent his ale sloshing. Elias recovered without spilling much of the heady
brew, but the same could not be said for the other fellow, who emptied the
entire contents of his glass onto Elias.

The bleary-eyed man immediately produced a handkerchief and
began dabbing it at Elias’s shirt. “I beg your pardon, sh-ir,” the man slurred.

“Worry not, friend,” Elias said. “It was an honest accident.”
Elias looked down at the tipsy stranger fumbling with his shirt. The man’s
dress and coloring marked him as an outsider. He had the olive skin of a Kveshian
or Erastean and almond-shaped eyes that glimmered like black oil. He wore a
cerulean silk shirt and a black cape with matching leather gloves, and like
everything else about the man they gleamed, but it struck Elias as odd that he wore
them given the heat. The distiller supposed some would go to any lengths to
appear fashionable.

“That’s quite fine, thank-you,” said Elias, embarrassed by
the stranger’s attention.

“Oh, your pardon, sir,” the man said, pulling his
handkerchief back sharply, “I have been overly familiar.”

“No, no. Think nothing of it.” The two men regarded each
other, each at a loss, and an awkward silence fell between them, which was
abruptly interrupted by Asa who couldn’t resist giggling. Her good humor proved
infectious, and the two men laughed as well.

The man cleared his throat. “Again, my apologies. I must
confess that I have enjoyed excessively the delicious libations this town has
to offer—what is it you call this ambrosial liquor?”

Elias sniffed at his shirt, eliciting another guffaw from
the outsider. “Smells like knoll, named after this very county, where this kind
of whiskey was first distilled. It first gained a reputation in surrounding
counties as
that Knoll Creek whiskey
, but eventually folk just started
calling it knoll.”

“Well, I daresay,” said the man, “you are well versed on the
history of this knoll. You must be an aficionado yourself, eh?”

“Actually, my father and I are distillers. We make the Duana
knoll.”

“By the queens tit—oh, sorry milady—that’s the very same I
am—er, was—drinking right now! And I daresay, without reservation, that it is
the best I have sampled. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Slade Kezia,
merchant extraordinaire, recently come from exotic Kvesh, and now bound for
Peidra to sell my wares!” Slade clapped Elias vigorously on the shoulder,
beaming with excitement.

Elias introduced himself and Asa as his recently betrothed,
which made Slade’s smile, if possible, broaden further yet.

“Listen, Elias,” Slade said in a conspiratorial whisper as
he leaned in, “I think that your Knoll would be quite the hit in Peidra. What
do you think about selling to me, say, four barrels, two of the normal stuff
and two of the top-shelf, if you have any.”

Elias’s mind reeled. At 740 bottles per barrel, that was
almost three thousand bottles, which meant a lot of coin for the distillery. He
focused on keeping his expression neutral, so as not to give away his elation. “Yes,”
he said, “we do have a special reserve that is aged for twelve years.”

“Excellent! Tell me, Elias, where in town is your
distillery?”

“We aren’t located in the town proper, but out on the
prairie, past the Lurkwood.” Elias gave Slade directions, careful to mention
the names of roads as well as landmarks. The tipsy merchant listened, but his
crinkled brow indicated that he was quite baffled. After Elias finished
detailing the route, Slade shrugged sheepishly. Elias, at a loss, looked to Asa
for help.

“Well,” said Asa, stretching the word out as she thought,
“considering the size of your order, I think the least we can do is dust off
the supply wagon and deliver the barrels to you.” She looked up at Elias and
arched a delicate eyebrow.

“Yes,” Elias said. “Yes, of course. Slade, where are you
staying?”

Slade smiled in relief. “I have made my camp behind an abandoned
house up in the hills—a big old white thing, rather square looking, with columns
in the front and a wrap-around porch. It looks like no one has lived there for
quite some time.”

“That sounds like the Mayfair manor,” said Asa. “Old man
Mayfair’s been dead for a decade, and his son has moved to Ralston, but never
had the heart to sell the place. But why stay all the way up there? Our modest
town may not be as bustling as what you’re used to, but we have our share of
reputable Inns.”

“And no doubt they are quite hospitable, Miss,” Slade said, “but
I have invested a significant portion of my bankroll in my recent venture to Kvesh,
and what with having recently lost a guard to a better offer from a brothel in
Sanders, I am reticent to leave my cargo out in the open. I’m sure that Knoll
Creek is quite safe, but one cannot be too careful these days.”

“Indeed,” said Elias, “and it is just as well. Old Mayfair
is actually closer to us than town. Your camp at noon, then?”

“Perfect,” Slade said and offered Elias his hand. “I’m sure
that we will both profit quite well from this venture, and with luck this will
be the beginning of a continuing business relationship.”

Elias and Asa thanked Slade and bid him farewell. As they
walked away Elias all but glowed with his good fortune. He took a long pull
from his mug of ale and winked at Asa who grinned and nuzzled closer to him.

The gregarious Danica had attracted an even larger crowd. She
related an anecdote about an elderly man who had come to the Academy seeking a
remedy for a personal problem. “It turns out,” Danica said, “that his plums
were sore because he was quite constipated, having subsisted on a diet of
cheese and mutton for the last fifty years!” She had her audience, many of whom
were pliant from liberal indulgence of whiskey and ale, in stitches.

Elias sat down for the show, twining his fingers absent
mindedly in Asa’s flaxen curls. His mind wandered as he finished his mug, a
lazy smile lighting his face. It had been a good day, despite Macallister’s
intrusion. He had managed an impromptu sale—with hardly any effort on his part—that
would give the Duana coffers a boost for months to come. Mostly, however, he
found his spirits lifted by Danica’s unexpected visit.

Elias had missed his sister fiercely since she had gone away
to the Academy. The two had been inseparable as children, lacking many alternative
playmates as far removed from town as they were out on the prairie, and their
relationship only became closer when their mother died. He was twelve when the
strange fever claimed the vibrant Edora Duana and Danica ten. Even now, more
than a decade later, Elias did not like being without his sister for long.

Elias did not remember many of the details of his Mother’s
death. He recalled her white nightgown and chestnut tresses spilling over her
pale face, the bright burn of her jade eyes as she held him, whispering in his
ear, comforting him, when it had been he who was trying to comfort her. As he
grew, though, time betrayed him. In the months and seasons following her death
he could summon her face in his mind’s-eye as easily as drawing breath, but as
the years passed they erased the details of her countenance. Now, when he
summoned her image, it was like seeing her from the corner of his eye, and when
he turned she was gone.

His father did not talk about his mother much, or her sudden
and withering illness. He would sometimes say that she had been an
extraordinary woman, and a cryptic look would creep over his features. Of her
past he would only say that they had met in Peidra, before he began his last
mission for the crown.

Asa nudged Elias, breaking the spell of his reverie. She
nodded her head, pointing over his shoulder with her chin. He turned, following
her gaze, and exhaled a nigh inaudible groan. Cormik Macallister approached,
sauntering toward them with a long, slow gait, his eyes fixed on Elias.

Cormik was a striking man in his mid twenties, blue-eyed and
graceful and slender as the rapier buckled to his waist. He wore black suede
boots, black cotton pants, a black moleskin belt, and a white shirt with laces
at the throat and the over-sized sleeves that were the fashion in Peidra. His
cloak was his crowning glory and offered a splash of color—scarlet velvet, silk
lined and glossy, the reflection of lantern light danced across its surface.

Danica had no intention of interrupting her story to acknowledge
Cormik and favored him only with a cursory glance and a slight narrowing of her
eyes. Cormik’s lips curled upward in a cold parody of a smile as he turned his
attention to Elias. He placed a hand casually on his rapier.

“Well met, Elias. My father tells me you are entering the
fencing competition.”

“No, Cormik. I’m afraid you were misinformed.”

“That’s a shame. Considering your father’s reputation with a
blade, I figured you would be the only one to offer a decent challenge.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No matter. With this,” Cormik said as he drew his rapier,
“I’d have an edge over even the great Padraic Duana himself. Forged of Kveshian
steel it is one of a kind, the work of a master.”

“You can’t use an edged blade in the fencing contest,” said
an incredulous Asa.

“Of course not,” said Cormik, with an exaggerated roll of
his eyes. “I have a thin leather fencing sheaf which fits over the blade,
rendering it as harmless as a practice foil. It is designed so that one can
train with a blade of quality. I have already cleared it with the referee, your
father as it were.”

“Yes,” Asa said, clenching her jaw, “I am aware.”

“I asked the good mayor,” Cormik said coyly, “if as a prize
he would reward the victor with a kiss from comely Asa, but sadly he declined.”

Elias felt Asa stiffen at his side, but, remembering his
father’s admonishment, he refused to rise to Cormik’s bait. “Well, Cormik, I
wish you the best of luck.” He turned away, hoping that Cormik would leave them
in peace.

“That’s mighty neighborly of you. Speaking of which, my old
man told me that your father’s giving some thought to selling us the
distillery. Likely it’s best for all. Your pa can retire and with your share of
the coin in addition with the no doubt substantial dowry you will receive from
marrying Asa you would be able to buy yourself a nice house, or small farm of
your own.”

Cormik knew as well as his father, that the Duanas would
never sell, and while his attempt to get a rise out of Elias was transparent,
it irked him nonetheless. “Dowries are an outdated tradition, and I will have
no part in it,” Elias said as mildly as he could, choosing to skirt the larger
issue. He felt silence drop over the crowd as Danica abruptly stopped her
story.