Chapter 434: Tada
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Alex Roth exploded.
Or at least, his mind did.
Thoughts and emotions clashed within, leaving him paralysed, yet filled with an overwhelming desire to burrow into the earth and disappear. Through all of the panic sweeping him up, one thought kept recurring, screaming through every cell in his being:
‘She knows. She knows, she knows, she knows, she knows!’ his mind shrieked. ‘She knows! She knows! She—calm down!’ He snapped at himself. ‘Pull yourself together you bloody fool. By the Traveller, you do deserve that title. She doesn’t know for sure. She asked if you were the Fool, she didn’t say: 'I know you’re the Fool so confess all your sins to me or I’ll kill you in the woods.’
His mind whirled faster; the world around him slowed to a crawl.
Vaguely, he became aware that every moment of silence that dragged on without a denial, compounded, looking more and more damning. But he was trying to think fast, and a few extra seconds processing and not blurting out some idiocy was worth it.
‘You can lie your way out of this,’ he thought. ‘She doesn’t have any solid proof and she won’t get any unless she drags a priest over to Greymoor, and Baelin will never let that happen. You could lie. You could tell her it’s all a coincidence. You could say you were afraid of becoming the Fool, but it didn’t happen.’
His mind worked through scenarios.
‘You didn’t plan for folk to find out this early. You wanted to be more powerful. Less expendable, more important: too strong for anyone to simply drag out of Generasi and throw into either type of dungeon. But someone did find out…but, you can always lie. If she knows you went through the Cave of the Traveller? Simple enough. You could say you were worried for your sister and you wanted to make it to the University’s registration on time. You left Alric ahead of everyone else to make it to the boats before they got overwhelmed by everyone else on the bloody island.’
His mind worked through the story. ‘You were attacked by the Silence-spider, were saved by Cedric, and didn’t want to take a chance in the countryside because it was full of monsters. So, you tried your luck in the Cave. It all worked out, and there we are. No Fool. No Mark. You show her your body, she doesn’t know about the illusion. It would be a bit embarrassing stripping down to your smallclothes right here in front of her, but that’ll put the question to bed. You’ll both be embarrassed and then go back inside where it’s warm and safe. And—By the Traveller, how many seconds have passed?’
Only one or two, he realised.
His mind was racing as though he’d finished off a dozen potions of haste and they’d compounded, propelling his thoughts to the speed of lightning. Fear was a hell of a motivator at times. And an accelerant.
‘Right, that’ll be that. We go home and forget about this. Down the road…when I’m ready, I can reveal all and apologise for lying. I’m sure she’ll understand…’ He paused. ‘But…is that really what I want? Is that really what I want?’
There would be no going back on whatever he did here and now.
If he lied, he’d have security for now, but lose trust in the future. Perhaps forever. And he might deserve that too; Drestra could have easily given him up, gone to the priests, or accused him in front of everyone.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she’d come to him and brought him here, somewhere private…not in consideration for herself, he realised, but in consideration for him. What would happen if he repaid that consideration with lies? What would happen if he met her declaration of trust with deceit.
…in a time when they both knew that the church and perhaps Uldar himself was lying to the people of Thameland?
He was at a crossroads and he had a choice to make.
Telling the truth meant taking a big risk, a risk that could cost him his freedom.
If she took his admission that he was the Fool and flew off to tell every priest from here to Wrexiff, a lot of things would get complicated. Very complicated. He was one of the only two members of the expedition that could control living dungeon cores, he’d gained a reputation in the city itself, and he’d shown his power and worth as a combatant.
But he wasn’t irreplaceable. Not yet. If his secret was revealed to the wrong people and they demanded the Generasians hand him over, then, as even Baelin had said, there’d be limits as to what he could do to help. There was every chance the city would hand him over to keep their access to dungeon core essence, since it was too valuable for them to just walk away from.
So if they surrendered him to the Thameish authorities…his life in Generasi, the future that he wanted, would be finished.
His inherent caution was screaming to avoid even the slightest whisper of that risk.
But then what would have been the point of laying down seeds of trust between him and Drestra? And in the end, it all came back to her.
He could ask himself a million questions. Come up with a million plans.
But only one question mattered: did he trust Drestra of Crymlyn Swamp, the Sage of Uldar?
And he knew the answer.
Seconds passed in silence.
Maybe two.
Maybe three.
To Drestra, each was an eternity. What would he say? Would he deny it? Would he say yes? Her eyes flicked to his golem; was Claygon truly acting on his own will, or had that been a lie?
Either way, she was prepared to defend herself, if need be.
‘Are you the Fool?’ she wondered. ‘Just answer, and end this agony already—’
He moved.
His hands were rising.
Was this an attack?
Would he try his potions on her, or some other trick?
Her eyes moved back to Claygon.
Would the attack come from there?
Should she strike first?
His hands continued to rise until they hovered just below his chest; the pose was something between a shrug and an apologetic gesture. Then he waved his hands a little, like he were a street performer who’d just finished a backflip.
“Tadaaaaaa!” He said, his expression turned sheepish.
Then he fell silent.
And she was silent.
And the world was silent.
Cold wind blew a haze of snow between them.
“Excuse me…what?” Drestra demanded.
“I uh…I mean, uh…” Alex cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. I am the Fool.”
The Sage stared at him for a long time after that, her mind trying to make sense of it all. And it did fit, if she really thought about it.
His strange fighting style: he never attacked anything directly, he only hindered enemies or destroyed them through indirect means. He didn’t poison Ravener-spawn, he put them to sleep. He wouldn’t throw a fireball into a group of cultists, but he would order Claygon to burn them to ash.
And then there was their first conversation…how he seemed to know—and know, oh so well—her position of being forced into service by Uldar.
Some of the priests…some of the nobles and knights… she’d snorted near the campfire. They called it the ‘Cycle of victory and horror. The pride of the Kingdom of Thameland’, as if there’s something to be proud of in any of that.
Yeah, they used to teach us some of the same things at the church school when I was young, Alex had said, his voice calm and understanding. Like her mother’s voice whenever she’d gone to confide in her. I think I’ve heard that expression before. Most people want the Ravener defeated forever, though, right?
Do they truly? I wonder about that, Drestra had said, and she remembered the bitterness of those words as though she’d just said them. There are things we could be doing. Hard decisions we could make, or even different paths to look at, but everyone just wants to do the same thing that Thameland’s always done: throw us at monsters like we’re nothing more than clubs to bludgeon them with. Like we’re no more than blunt weapons for them to use. What about us? We have this duty but…
She’d paused, gathering her thoughts, and then Alex had spoken, his voice going as hard as stone: But Uldar never asked, he’d supplied.
The way he’d said it, it wasn’t like someone who was merely offering a sympathetic ear. It was like he’d known exactly how she felt. And with his admission, she realised it was because he was in the same position she was. One that was even worse, actually.
“This whole time…” she murmured. “You were one of us. Hart thought you were probably dead, Cedric talked about protecting you, and Merzhin wanted you to be dragged back to your ‘duty’. No one could find you and you were right here the whole time.”
She gasped. “The priests are banned from Greymoor!”
Alex’s expression grew more sheepish. “Now, to be fair, that was only partly for my sake. Chancellor Baelin—if you haven’t realised it—is no fan of gods or priests. Which is a bit serendipitous for me, when you think about it: he banned priests from setting foot on campus. Without that little rule, I probably would’ve been back by your side nearly a year ago. And very most likely dead.”
He gave a nervous chuckle. “But, yes. The point is that I left Thameland, and when I came back, I didn’t exactly run to your side. I would apologise for that, but we’ve been honest with each other so far, so, I’ll keep that up: I’m not sorry I left.”
Alex rose to his full height in front of her. “I’m not going to lie, if I’d been brought to your side back when I was first marked, I would probably have been dead in under five minutes, unless you all protected me, of course.” He gave her a knowing look. “But you were already bitter about this whole thing: I’m guessing that babysitting a useless noncombatant in a warzone would’ve done nothing to make this easier on you or the others.”
He raised a hand, pointing south. “So, I left, built power, learned what I could and came back to try and help put this whole cycle to bed forever. It’s the best play I could make with the cards I got dealt. But, maybe you won’t see it that way.”
The Fool spread his hands, like a criminal surrendering to the city guard. “But I’d get it if you didn’t see it that way. If I were in your shoes, I’d be a little angry.”
He was right.
She was angry.
All those months of crawling around through the wilderness, constantly fearing an attack by monsters. All those nights fearing the dark, listening to Hart’s snoring, Merzhin’s preaching, Cedric’s waffling attempts at leadership and those priests’ Hero worship had been maddening.
All the worry that her secrets might come to light…and how others might react…all the loneliness..
Meanwhile, Alex was down south in a place that sounded like absolute paradise. While she was fighting a war she wanted no part of, he was learning magic, eating fine food, enjoying good company and taking care of his family.
Sharp teeth ground in her mouth.
She was mad.
She was madder than every devil and demon in all the planes.
But…she knew where that anger was coming from.
It wasn’t from blame: after all, were she in his shoes, she would have done the same thing. It wasn’t disgust or judgement: if she thought him a coward that had run from his holy calling, she would have been no better than the people she’d railed against by that campfire months ago.
No, it was envy.
She would have killed to be where he was: away from battle, dealing with her own desires, building power, hoarding magic and wealth, and getting ready to take care of her family.
But he was not the one that kept her here.
He was not the one who would put her family and lands at risk were she just to fly across the oceans and vanish.
She could envy him, sure, but she couldn’t blame him.
But one thing was sure.
No more cloak and dagger in the dark.
“So…you know, what’ll you do now?” Alex asked.
“I’m going to listen,” Drestra said. “I’m not taking you to any priests. I want you to talk. Tell me everything. Tell me about how you were marked, your journey away, what you’ve learned and your journey back. And I have some things to tell you too. We need to talk. Really talk.”
“Right,” Alex let out a sigh of relief. “And what about Cedric and Hart?”
“We can talk about that too,” she said. “But first, let me in. Tell me everything.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
And he started talking.
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Alex Roth exploded.
Or at least, his mind did.
Thoughts and emotions clashed within, leaving him paralysed, yet filled with an overwhelming desire to burrow into the earth and disappear. Through all of the panic sweeping him up, one thought kept recurring, screaming through every cell in his being:
‘She knows. She knows, she knows, she knows, she knows!’ his mind shrieked. ‘She knows! She knows! She—calm down!’ He snapped at himself. ‘Pull yourself together you bloody fool. By the Traveller, you do deserve that title. She doesn’t know for sure. She asked if you were the Fool, she didn’t say: 'I know you’re the Fool so confess all your sins to me or I’ll kill you in the woods.’
His mind whirled faster; the world around him slowed to a crawl.
Vaguely, he became aware that every moment of silence that dragged on without a denial, compounded, looking more and more damning. But he was trying to think fast, and a few extra seconds processing and not blurting out some idiocy was worth it.
‘You can lie your way out of this,’ he thought. ‘She doesn’t have any solid proof and she won’t get any unless she drags a priest over to Greymoor, and Baelin will never let that happen. You could lie. You could tell her it’s all a coincidence. You could say you were afraid of becoming the Fool, but it didn’t happen.’
His mind worked through scenarios.
‘You didn’t plan for folk to find out this early. You wanted to be more powerful. Less expendable, more important: too strong for anyone to simply drag out of Generasi and throw into either type of dungeon. But someone did find out…but, you can always lie. If she knows you went through the Cave of the Traveller? Simple enough. You could say you were worried for your sister and you wanted to make it to the University’s registration on time. You left Alric ahead of everyone else to make it to the boats before they got overwhelmed by everyone else on the bloody island.’
His mind worked through the story. ‘You were attacked by the Silence-spider, were saved by Cedric, and didn’t want to take a chance in the countryside because it was full of monsters. So, you tried your luck in the Cave. It all worked out, and there we are. No Fool. No Mark. You show her your body, she doesn’t know about the illusion. It would be a bit embarrassing stripping down to your smallclothes right here in front of her, but that’ll put the question to bed. You’ll both be embarrassed and then go back inside where it’s warm and safe. And—By the Traveller, how many seconds have passed?’
Only one or two, he realised.
His mind was racing as though he’d finished off a dozen potions of haste and they’d compounded, propelling his thoughts to the speed of lightning. Fear was a hell of a motivator at times. And an accelerant.
‘Right, that’ll be that. We go home and forget about this. Down the road…when I’m ready, I can reveal all and apologise for lying. I’m sure she’ll understand…’ He paused. ‘But…is that really what I want? Is that really what I want?’
There would be no going back on whatever he did here and now.
If he lied, he’d have security for now, but lose trust in the future. Perhaps forever. And he might deserve that too; Drestra could have easily given him up, gone to the priests, or accused him in front of everyone.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she’d come to him and brought him here, somewhere private…not in consideration for herself, he realised, but in consideration for him. What would happen if he repaid that consideration with lies? What would happen if he met her declaration of trust with deceit.
…in a time when they both knew that the church and perhaps Uldar himself was lying to the people of Thameland?
He was at a crossroads and he had a choice to make.
Telling the truth meant taking a big risk, a risk that could cost him his freedom.
If she took his admission that he was the Fool and flew off to tell every priest from here to Wrexiff, a lot of things would get complicated. Very complicated. He was one of the only two members of the expedition that could control living dungeon cores, he’d gained a reputation in the city itself, and he’d shown his power and worth as a combatant.
But he wasn’t irreplaceable. Not yet. If his secret was revealed to the wrong people and they demanded the Generasians hand him over, then, as even Baelin had said, there’d be limits as to what he could do to help. There was every chance the city would hand him over to keep their access to dungeon core essence, since it was too valuable for them to just walk away from.
So if they surrendered him to the Thameish authorities…his life in Generasi, the future that he wanted, would be finished.
His inherent caution was screaming to avoid even the slightest whisper of that risk.
But then what would have been the point of laying down seeds of trust between him and Drestra? And in the end, it all came back to her.
He could ask himself a million questions. Come up with a million plans.
But only one question mattered: did he trust Drestra of Crymlyn Swamp, the Sage of Uldar?
And he knew the answer.
Seconds passed in silence.
Maybe two.
Maybe three.
To Drestra, each was an eternity. What would he say? Would he deny it? Would he say yes? Her eyes flicked to his golem; was Claygon truly acting on his own will, or had that been a lie?
Either way, she was prepared to defend herself, if need be.
‘Are you the Fool?’ she wondered. ‘Just answer, and end this agony already—’
He moved.
His hands were rising.
Was this an attack?
Would he try his potions on her, or some other trick?
Her eyes moved back to Claygon.
Would the attack come from there?
Should she strike first?
His hands continued to rise until they hovered just below his chest; the pose was something between a shrug and an apologetic gesture. Then he waved his hands a little, like he were a street performer who’d just finished a backflip.
“Tadaaaaaa!” He said, his expression turned sheepish.
Then he fell silent.
And she was silent.
And the world was silent.
Cold wind blew a haze of snow between them.
“Excuse me…what?” Drestra demanded.
“I uh…I mean, uh…” Alex cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. I am the Fool.”
The Sage stared at him for a long time after that, her mind trying to make sense of it all. And it did fit, if she really thought about it.
His strange fighting style: he never attacked anything directly, he only hindered enemies or destroyed them through indirect means. He didn’t poison Ravener-spawn, he put them to sleep. He wouldn’t throw a fireball into a group of cultists, but he would order Claygon to burn them to ash.
And then there was their first conversation…how he seemed to know—and know, oh so well—her position of being forced into service by Uldar.
Some of the priests…some of the nobles and knights… she’d snorted near the campfire. They called it the ‘Cycle of victory and horror. The pride of the Kingdom of Thameland’, as if there’s something to be proud of in any of that.
Yeah, they used to teach us some of the same things at the church school when I was young, Alex had said, his voice calm and understanding. Like her mother’s voice whenever she’d gone to confide in her. I think I’ve heard that expression before. Most people want the Ravener defeated forever, though, right?
Do they truly? I wonder about that, Drestra had said, and she remembered the bitterness of those words as though she’d just said them. There are things we could be doing. Hard decisions we could make, or even different paths to look at, but everyone just wants to do the same thing that Thameland’s always done: throw us at monsters like we’re nothing more than clubs to bludgeon them with. Like we’re no more than blunt weapons for them to use. What about us? We have this duty but…
She’d paused, gathering her thoughts, and then Alex had spoken, his voice going as hard as stone: But Uldar never asked, he’d supplied.
The way he’d said it, it wasn’t like someone who was merely offering a sympathetic ear. It was like he’d known exactly how she felt. And with his admission, she realised it was because he was in the same position she was. One that was even worse, actually.
“This whole time…” she murmured. “You were one of us. Hart thought you were probably dead, Cedric talked about protecting you, and Merzhin wanted you to be dragged back to your ‘duty’. No one could find you and you were right here the whole time.”
She gasped. “The priests are banned from Greymoor!”
Alex’s expression grew more sheepish. “Now, to be fair, that was only partly for my sake. Chancellor Baelin—if you haven’t realised it—is no fan of gods or priests. Which is a bit serendipitous for me, when you think about it: he banned priests from setting foot on campus. Without that little rule, I probably would’ve been back by your side nearly a year ago. And very most likely dead.”
He gave a nervous chuckle. “But, yes. The point is that I left Thameland, and when I came back, I didn’t exactly run to your side. I would apologise for that, but we’ve been honest with each other so far, so, I’ll keep that up: I’m not sorry I left.”
Alex rose to his full height in front of her. “I’m not going to lie, if I’d been brought to your side back when I was first marked, I would probably have been dead in under five minutes, unless you all protected me, of course.” He gave her a knowing look. “But you were already bitter about this whole thing: I’m guessing that babysitting a useless noncombatant in a warzone would’ve done nothing to make this easier on you or the others.”
He raised a hand, pointing south. “So, I left, built power, learned what I could and came back to try and help put this whole cycle to bed forever. It’s the best play I could make with the cards I got dealt. But, maybe you won’t see it that way.”
The Fool spread his hands, like a criminal surrendering to the city guard. “But I’d get it if you didn’t see it that way. If I were in your shoes, I’d be a little angry.”
He was right.
She was angry.
All those months of crawling around through the wilderness, constantly fearing an attack by monsters. All those nights fearing the dark, listening to Hart’s snoring, Merzhin’s preaching, Cedric’s waffling attempts at leadership and those priests’ Hero worship had been maddening.
All the worry that her secrets might come to light…and how others might react…all the loneliness..
Meanwhile, Alex was down south in a place that sounded like absolute paradise. While she was fighting a war she wanted no part of, he was learning magic, eating fine food, enjoying good company and taking care of his family.
Sharp teeth ground in her mouth.
She was mad.
She was madder than every devil and demon in all the planes.
But…she knew where that anger was coming from.
It wasn’t from blame: after all, were she in his shoes, she would have done the same thing. It wasn’t disgust or judgement: if she thought him a coward that had run from his holy calling, she would have been no better than the people she’d railed against by that campfire months ago.
No, it was envy.
She would have killed to be where he was: away from battle, dealing with her own desires, building power, hoarding magic and wealth, and getting ready to take care of her family.
But he was not the one that kept her here.
He was not the one who would put her family and lands at risk were she just to fly across the oceans and vanish.
She could envy him, sure, but she couldn’t blame him.
But one thing was sure.
No more cloak and dagger in the dark.
“So…you know, what’ll you do now?” Alex asked.
“I’m going to listen,” Drestra said. “I’m not taking you to any priests. I want you to talk. Tell me everything. Tell me about how you were marked, your journey away, what you’ve learned and your journey back. And I have some things to tell you too. We need to talk. Really talk.”
“Right,” Alex let out a sigh of relief. “And what about Cedric and Hart?”
“We can talk about that too,” she said. “But first, let me in. Tell me everything.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
And he started talking.
Alex Roth exploded.Or at least, his mind did.Thoughts and emotions clashed within, leaving him paralysed, yet filled with an overwhelming desire to burrow into the earth and disappear. Through all of the panic sweeping him up, one thought kept recurring, screaming through every cell in his being:She knows. She knows, she knows, she knows, she knows!' his mind shrieked. She knows! She knows! Shecalm down!' He snapped at himself. Pull yourself together you bloody fool. By the Traveller, you do deserve that title. She doesn't know for sure. She asked if you were the Fool, she didn't say: 'I know you're the Fool so confess all your sins to me or I'll kill you in the woods.'His mind whirled faster; the world around him slowed to a crawl.Vaguely, he became aware that every moment of silence that dragged on without a denial, compounded, looking more and more damning. But he was trying to think fast, and a few extra seconds processing and not blurting out some idiocy was worth it.You can lie your way out of this,' he thought. She doesn't have any solid proof and she won't get any unless she drags a priest over to Greymoor, and Baelin will never let that happen. You could lie. You could tell her it's all a coincidence. You could say you were afraid of becoming the Fool, but it didn't happen.'His mind worked through scenarios.You didn't plan for folk to find out this early. You wanted to be more powerful. Less expendable, more important: too strong for anyone to simply drag out of Generasi and throw into either type of dungeon. But someone did find outbut, you can always lie. If she knows you went through the Cave of the Traveller? Simple enough. You could say you were worried for your sister and you wanted to make it to the University's registration on time. You left Alric ahead of everyone else to make it to the boats before they got overwhelmed by everyone else on the bloody island.'His mind worked through the story. You were attacked by the Silence-spider, were saved by Cedric, and didn't want to take a chance in the countryside because it was full of monsters. So, you tried your luck in the Cave. It all worked out, and there we are. No Fool. No Mark. You show her your body, she doesn't know about the illusion. It would be a bit embarrassing stripping down to your smallclothes right here in front of her, but that'll put the question to bed. You'll both be embarrassed and then go back inside where it's warm and safe. AndBy the Traveller, how many seconds have passed?'Only one or two, he realised.His mind was racing as though he'd finished off a dozen potions of haste and they'd compounded, propelling his thoughts to the speed of lightning. Fear was a hell of a motivator at times. And an accelerant.Right, that'll be that. We go home and forget about this. Down the roadwhen I'm ready, I can reveal all and apologise for lying. I'm sure she'll understand' He paused. Butis that really what I want? Is that really what I want?'There would be no going back on whatever he did here and now.If he lied, he'd have security for now, but lose trust in the future. Perhaps forever. And he might deserve that too; Drestra could have easily given him up, gone to the priests, or accused him in front of everyone.But she didn't.Instead, she'd come to him and brought him here, somewhere privatenot in consideration for herself, he realised, but in consideration for him. What would happen if he repaid that consideration with lies? What would happen if he met her declaration of trust with deceit.in a time when they both knew that the church and perhaps Uldar himself was lying to the people of Thameland?He was at a crossroads and he had a choice to make.Telling the truth meant taking a big risk, a risk that could cost him his freedom.If she took his admission that he was the Fool and flew off to tell every priest from here to Wrexiff, a lot of things would get complicated. Very complicated. He was one of the only two members of the expedition that could control living dungeon cores, he'd gained a reputation in the city itself, and he'd shown his power and worth as a combatant.But he wasn't irreplaceable. Not yet. If his secret was revealed to the wrong people and they demanded the Generasians hand him over, then, as even Baelin had said, there'd be limits as to what he could do to help. There was every chance the city would hand him over to keep their access to dungeon core essence, since it was too valuable for them to just walk away from.So if they surrendered him to the Thameish authoritieshis life in Generasi, the future that he wanted, would be finished.His inherent caution was screaming to avoid even the slightest whisper of that risk.But then what would have been the point of laying down seeds of trust between him and Drestra? And in the end, it all came back to her.He could ask himself a million questions. Come up with a million plans.But only one question mattered: did he trust Drestra of Crymlyn Swamp, the Sage of Uldar?And he knew the answer.Seconds passed in silence.Maybe two.Maybe three.To Drestra, each was an eternity. What would he say? Would he deny it? Would he say yes? Her eyes flicked to his golem; was Claygon truly acting on his own will, or had that been a lie?Either way, she was prepared to defend herself, if need be.Are you the Fool?' she wondered. Just answer, and end this agony already'He moved.His hands were rising.Was this an attack?Would he try his potions on her, or some other trick?Her eyes moved back to Claygon.Would the attack come from there?Should she strike first?His hands continued to rise until they hovered just below his chest; the pose was something between a shrug and an apologetic gesture. Then he waved his hands a little, like he were a street performer who'd just finished a backflip.Tadaaaaaa! He said, his expression turned sheepish.Then he fell silent.And she was silent.And the world was silent.Cold wind blew a haze of snow between them.Excuse mewhat? Drestra demanded.I uhI mean, uh Alex cleared his throat. I mean, yeah. I am the Fool.The Sage stared at him for a long time after that, her mind trying to make sense of it all. And it did fit, if she really thought about it.His strange fighting style: he never attacked anything directly, he only hindered enemies or destroyed them through indirect means. He didn't poison Ravener-spawn, he put them to sleep. He wouldn't throw a fireball into a group of cultists, but he would order Claygon to burn them to ash.And then there was their first conversationhow he seemed to knowand know, oh so wellher position of being forced into service by Uldar.Some of the priestssome of the nobles and knights she'd snorted near the campfire. They called it the Cycle of victory and horror. The pride of the Kingdom of Thameland', as if there's something to be proud of in any of that.Yeah, they used to teach us some of the same things at the church school when I was young, Alex had said, his voice calm and understanding. Like her mother's voice whenever she'd gone to confide in her. I think I've heard that expression before. Most people want the Ravener defeated forever, though, right?Do they truly? I wonder about that, Drestra had said, and she remembered the bitterness of those words as though she'd just said them. There are things we could be doing. Hard decisions we could make, or even different paths to look at, but everyone just wants to do the same thing that Thameland's always done: throw us at monsters like we're nothing more than clubs to bludgeon them with. Like we're no more than blunt weapons for them to use. What about us? We have this duty butShe'd paused, gathering her thoughts, and then Alex had spoken, his voice going as hard as stone: But Uldar never asked, he'd supplied.The way he'd said it, it wasn't like someone who was merely offering a sympathetic ear. It was like he'd known exactly how she felt. And with his admission, she realised it was because he was in the same position she was. One that was even worse, actually.This whole time she murmured. You were one of us. Hart thought you were probably dead, Cedric talked about protecting you, and Merzhin wanted you to be dragged back to your duty'. No one could find you and you were right here the whole time.She gasped. The priests are banned from Greymoor!Alex's expression grew more sheepish. Now, to be fair, that was only partly for my sake. Chancellor Baelinif you haven't realised itis no fan of gods or priests. Which is a bit serendipitous for me, when you think about it: he banned priests from setting foot on campus. Without that little rule, I probably would've been back by your side nearly a year ago. And very most likely dead.He gave a nervous chuckle. But, yes. The point is that I left Thameland, and when I came back, I didn't exactly run to your side. I would apologise for that, but we've been honest with each other so far, so, I'll keep that up: I'm not sorry I left.Alex rose to his full height in front of her. I'm not going to lie, if I'd been brought to your side back when I was first marked, I would probably have been dead in under five minutes, unless you all protected me, of course. He gave her a knowing look. But you were already bitter about this whole thing: I'm guessing that babysitting a useless noncombatant in a warzone would've done nothing to make this easier on you or the others.He raised a hand, pointing south. So, I left, built power, learned what I could and came back to try and help put this whole cycle to bed forever. It's the best play I could make with the cards I got dealt. But, maybe you won't see it that way.The Fool spread his hands, like a criminal surrendering to the city guard. But I'd get it if you didn't see it that way. If I were in your shoes, I'd be a little angry.He was right.She was angry.All those months of crawling around through the wilderness, constantly fearing an attack by monsters. All those nights fearing the dark, listening to Hart's snoring, Merzhin's preaching, Cedric's waffling attempts at leadership and those priests' Hero worship had been maddening.All the worry that her secrets might come to lightand how others might reactall the loneliness..Meanwhile, Alex was down south in a place that sounded like absolute paradise. While she was fighting a war she wanted no part of, he was learning magic, eating fine food, enjoying good company and taking care of his family.Sharp teeth ground in her mouth.She was mad.She was madder than every devil and demon in all the planes.Butshe knew where that anger was coming from.It wasn't from blame: after all, were she in his shoes, she would have done the same thing. It wasn't disgust or judgement: if she thought him a coward that had run from his holy calling, she would have been no better than the people she'd railed against by that campfire months ago.No, it was envy.She would have killed to be where he was: away from battle, dealing with her own desires, building power, hoarding magic and wealth, and getting ready to take care of her family.But he was not the one that kept her here.He was not the one who would put her family and lands at risk were she just to fly across the oceans and vanish.She could envy him, sure, but she couldn't blame him.But one thing was sure.No more cloak and dagger in the dark.Soyou know, what'll you do now? Alex asked.I'm going to listen, Drestra said. I'm not taking you to any priests. I want you to talk. Tell me everything. Tell me about how you were marked, your journey away, what you've learned and your journey back. And I have some things to tell you too. We need to talk. Really talk.Right, Alex let out a sigh of relief. And what about Cedric and Hart?We can talk about that too, she said. But first, let me in. Tell me everything.Okay. I can do that.And he started talking.
