A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
how it is," Alain shrugged.
"But it's not fair," he protested. "How can you just take this?"
"I'm a guard. I work for the law. I've got to work within the law."
"The law is corrupt," he replied bitterly.
"Mostly it works. It really does."
Donnan's ice-blue eyes met Alain's darker blue eyes. "And would you be defendin' the law if Reese had killed me that night?" he hissed.
The older man reacted as though he had been slapped. His face went red and he stood up from the table in a hurry. "That's a low blow, little brother."
"Be honest," he snapped. "We both know what would have happened. Nothin'. Not one godsdamn thing. Even with Blake as a witness. And if you believed Blake over the word of the guard, then you would've beaten Reese to a bloody pulp and you'd be in jail. And I'd be dead. You lose, I lose, and the worst Reese would get is kicked out of the guard. And that'd be the end of it."
He swallowed hard. "It's the best we've got," he replied weakly.
"It doesn't have to be. There are ways to make things better, and make things better soon."
"No. You do it legit. You do it right. Or you don't do it. You got that?" he demanded angrily.
Donnan stood up and slammed his fist against the table. "Dammit, it's not that simple!"
"Yes it is," Alain growled. "You can't fight wrong by doin' wrong. You only make things worse by addin' to the wrong. You fight wrong by doin' right. That's just how it is."
"Well, it's not workin', is it?"
Both brothers were now shouting.
"Dammit, our parents taught us better!"
"You don't understand..." Donnan protested, stung.
"Yes I do. I damn well do. Those damn priests have almost got you talked into doin' somethin' wrong, and you want me to you let you do it. I'm not goin' to."
"You can't stop me."
"No, I can't. I know that. But you know what's right, and I'm not goin' to let you forget it. I'm warnin' you now, if I catch you doin' somethin' illegal, I'm goin' to bring you in."
"You what?" he snapped.
"I'm a guard. I've got to obey the laws. The laws don't care that you're my brother. But gods help you, Donnan, 'cause the misery you'll get in lock-up is nothin' compared to what you're goin' to get when you get out."
"You're not Father," he hissed.
"No, but it's my job to keep you out of trouble."
"I don't need you to take care of me."
"No? Sounds to me like you're about to get yourself in a heap of trouble. I'm makin' sure you know just how much you're riskin'."
Angrily and wordlessly, Donnan turned and marched toward the door.
"You stay away from them damn priests," Alain called. "They're up to no good, and I don't want you gettin' caught up that. Don't let them talk into doin' wrong. You aren't one of them."
He shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "Gods, Alain, you have no idea," he thought, his anger suddenly turned to sorrow. "Now I know I can't tell him what happened. He'd never accept it."
Without really thinking about where he was going, he found himself in front of Dwyer's study door. He debated with himself about his course of action for a few moments, then made up his mind. "If I'm damned, I might as well go all out," he thought, and knocked.
"Come in," called the priest. "I was hoping you'd be by today."
"We need to talk," he replied.
"Sit down."
"My brother doesn't like this."
"What? Working for us?"
He nodded. "He says that right can't come from wrong."
Dwyer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your brother has a somewhat naive view of life, but that's to be expected. What's right? What's wrong? Rebellion against a government is wrong according to the laws of the government, but history records the rebellion against mage rule as the right thing to have done."
"That's an interestin' example," he remarked, frowning. "Especially considering what I've decided to do," he added mentally.
"The world is not so easily divided up into Light and Dark, good and evil, right and wrong. Good can come from evil. Right can come from wrong. Sometimes even Light can come from Darkness. I think you understand this. I don't think your brother does."
"Yeah, I guess I do. Which is why I'm here."
The priest waited patiently.
"I've been thinkin', and I think nothin's goin' to change without somethin' forcin' things to change. Well, nothin' will change quickly. But I've got no time to wait around."
"So what exactly are you saying?"
"I want things to change. I don't know how to make 'em change, but I bet you do. I bet you've even started, and that's what those messages I've been carryin' are about."
"You would not lose money on those bets," Dwyer replied.
"Are you goin' to try overthrowin' the governments and unitin' the city-states?"
"We do not have the resources for something quite that bold."
"Then how come I've been carryin' messages to the Iron Guild? I'm guessin' you've got me helpin' them smuggle weapons around."
A flicker of surprise crossed the older man's face.
"Yeah, I've been keepin' track of these things," he said, a bit smug. "But I don't know exactly why you want them to smuggle weapons."
"Right now our plan was to smuggle more weapons into Renfrew and basically start arming a private group of soldiers for your use."
"That's awful nice of you. I don't believe it for a second."
"Some other deals were going on, but that's basically what we're trying to do. Consolidate some mercenary power in Renfrew," the priest replied.
"And they could do work for you if I decided I didn't need them?"
"Waste not, want not."
"Figures."
"What, exactly, do you want, my Lord?"
"I want you to help me change things. In a big way. Do you think you could really unite the city-states?"
Dwyer leaned backwards in his chair and placed his fingertips together. "We could not do it, but we can help you find the people who can. Is that what you really want? To rule?"
"Oh, I don't want to rule all that. I'd be no good at it. I want to pick who does, of course."
"Of course."
"I just want things changed so that bad guys get punished. I can wait years and years and try change things the legit way, which probably won't work," he said, sounding bitter, "or I can help get it done the quick and dirty way."
"How far are you willing to go?"
"There are some people I don't want to get hurt. Other than that, I don't know right now."
"That's alright, for now. Your services as a messenger are actually most valuable. How is your progress with Arcana?"
"It's goin' alright, I guess. Not easy to pick up a new language."
"No, it isn't. Keep up the work with that. When you feel ready to go to Mulago and get a tutor or at least some books, let me know. I suggest you start your study of magic with mind magic and enchantments."
"What, controllin' people's minds?" he asked, appalled.
Dwyer nodded. "Not everyone can be bought or blackmailed. Some have to be forced."
"I don't like it."
"The alternatives are less pleasant."
"Killin' people?" He swallowed hard.
"Not necessarily. Just putting them out of the game for a while. Illness, or broken limbs."
"You people are ruthless."
"Politics is ruthless. So is conquest. You know that is what you're talking about?"
He swallowed again, his mouth feeling dry. "Yeah, I know. But this'll make things better. In the end."
"Well, if that's the end you want, you're going to have to get used to the idea that some of the means won't be pleasant or comfortable."
"Don't worry about me," he said shortly.
Dwyer looked over him with his sharp blue eyes. "We'll be starting a little sl
ow, to get all the pieces into place. But a trained mind mage would make some things much easier."
"I'll think about it."
He nodded graciously. "Very well."
"I want to know what the plans are. I don't like you keepin' things from me. I want to be involved in plannin'."
"As you will, my Lord," he replied. "If you have time, we may start now."
"Now?" he repeated. "If I say 'yes,' there's no turning back," he thought.
"Well, if you're not ready, then perhaps in a few days?"
"Now will be fine," he replied, feeling the weight of the words sink in.
"Very well, my Lord," Dwyer said.
They talked for many hours.
A month passed in Tallis Marrom. The leaves turned red, brown, and gold, then fell to cover the forest floor. Mornings started with a layer of frost. The late autumn rains turned into light snow in about two weeks. Although the Council never remarked on Eliora's sudden focus on fighting, Jomei told her that they seemed pleased. Since she set her mind to the task, she was improving rapidly. Aidan introduced her to different sparring partners, and she even though he wasn't inclined to teach her to use any weapon besides a sword, she fought against those that used staves, axes, and just plain daggers. This had an unexpected social side-effect. She noticed that the young men had come to regard her as "one of the boys." Her gender and foreignness hardly seemed to register to them anymore. It was not exactly the sort of acceptance she had been looking for, but she saw no reason to upset the new social order.
The exception to this was Davin. He had never treated her the same as the others. He hadn't yet apologized for his harsh words to her, and he seemed not exactly distant, but waiting. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, and had little time to ponder the matter anyway, busy as she was. Still, she did see him at dinner occasionally, and ran into him often at the unused watchtower.
"But it's not fair," he protested. "How can you just take this?"
"I'm a guard. I work for the law. I've got to work within the law."
"The law is corrupt," he replied bitterly.
"Mostly it works. It really does."
Donnan's ice-blue eyes met Alain's darker blue eyes. "And would you be defendin' the law if Reese had killed me that night?" he hissed.
The older man reacted as though he had been slapped. His face went red and he stood up from the table in a hurry. "That's a low blow, little brother."
"Be honest," he snapped. "We both know what would have happened. Nothin'. Not one godsdamn thing. Even with Blake as a witness. And if you believed Blake over the word of the guard, then you would've beaten Reese to a bloody pulp and you'd be in jail. And I'd be dead. You lose, I lose, and the worst Reese would get is kicked out of the guard. And that'd be the end of it."
He swallowed hard. "It's the best we've got," he replied weakly.
"It doesn't have to be. There are ways to make things better, and make things better soon."
"No. You do it legit. You do it right. Or you don't do it. You got that?" he demanded angrily.
Donnan stood up and slammed his fist against the table. "Dammit, it's not that simple!"
"Yes it is," Alain growled. "You can't fight wrong by doin' wrong. You only make things worse by addin' to the wrong. You fight wrong by doin' right. That's just how it is."
"Well, it's not workin', is it?"
Both brothers were now shouting.
"Dammit, our parents taught us better!"
"You don't understand..." Donnan protested, stung.
"Yes I do. I damn well do. Those damn priests have almost got you talked into doin' somethin' wrong, and you want me to you let you do it. I'm not goin' to."
"You can't stop me."
"No, I can't. I know that. But you know what's right, and I'm not goin' to let you forget it. I'm warnin' you now, if I catch you doin' somethin' illegal, I'm goin' to bring you in."
"You what?" he snapped.
"I'm a guard. I've got to obey the laws. The laws don't care that you're my brother. But gods help you, Donnan, 'cause the misery you'll get in lock-up is nothin' compared to what you're goin' to get when you get out."
"You're not Father," he hissed.
"No, but it's my job to keep you out of trouble."
"I don't need you to take care of me."
"No? Sounds to me like you're about to get yourself in a heap of trouble. I'm makin' sure you know just how much you're riskin'."
Angrily and wordlessly, Donnan turned and marched toward the door.
"You stay away from them damn priests," Alain called. "They're up to no good, and I don't want you gettin' caught up that. Don't let them talk into doin' wrong. You aren't one of them."
He shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "Gods, Alain, you have no idea," he thought, his anger suddenly turned to sorrow. "Now I know I can't tell him what happened. He'd never accept it."
Without really thinking about where he was going, he found himself in front of Dwyer's study door. He debated with himself about his course of action for a few moments, then made up his mind. "If I'm damned, I might as well go all out," he thought, and knocked.
"Come in," called the priest. "I was hoping you'd be by today."
"We need to talk," he replied.
"Sit down."
"My brother doesn't like this."
"What? Working for us?"
He nodded. "He says that right can't come from wrong."
Dwyer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your brother has a somewhat naive view of life, but that's to be expected. What's right? What's wrong? Rebellion against a government is wrong according to the laws of the government, but history records the rebellion against mage rule as the right thing to have done."
"That's an interestin' example," he remarked, frowning. "Especially considering what I've decided to do," he added mentally.
"The world is not so easily divided up into Light and Dark, good and evil, right and wrong. Good can come from evil. Right can come from wrong. Sometimes even Light can come from Darkness. I think you understand this. I don't think your brother does."
"Yeah, I guess I do. Which is why I'm here."
The priest waited patiently.
"I've been thinkin', and I think nothin's goin' to change without somethin' forcin' things to change. Well, nothin' will change quickly. But I've got no time to wait around."
"So what exactly are you saying?"
"I want things to change. I don't know how to make 'em change, but I bet you do. I bet you've even started, and that's what those messages I've been carryin' are about."
"You would not lose money on those bets," Dwyer replied.
"Are you goin' to try overthrowin' the governments and unitin' the city-states?"
"We do not have the resources for something quite that bold."
"Then how come I've been carryin' messages to the Iron Guild? I'm guessin' you've got me helpin' them smuggle weapons around."
A flicker of surprise crossed the older man's face.
"Yeah, I've been keepin' track of these things," he said, a bit smug. "But I don't know exactly why you want them to smuggle weapons."
"Right now our plan was to smuggle more weapons into Renfrew and basically start arming a private group of soldiers for your use."
"That's awful nice of you. I don't believe it for a second."
"Some other deals were going on, but that's basically what we're trying to do. Consolidate some mercenary power in Renfrew," the priest replied.
"And they could do work for you if I decided I didn't need them?"
"Waste not, want not."
"Figures."
"What, exactly, do you want, my Lord?"
"I want you to help me change things. In a big way. Do you think you could really unite the city-states?"
Dwyer leaned backwards in his chair and placed his fingertips together. "We could not do it, but we can help you find the people who can. Is that what you really want? To rule?"
"Oh, I don't want to rule all that. I'd be no good at it. I want to pick who does, of course."
"Of course."
"I just want things changed so that bad guys get punished. I can wait years and years and try change things the legit way, which probably won't work," he said, sounding bitter, "or I can help get it done the quick and dirty way."
"How far are you willing to go?"
"There are some people I don't want to get hurt. Other than that, I don't know right now."
"That's alright, for now. Your services as a messenger are actually most valuable. How is your progress with Arcana?"
"It's goin' alright, I guess. Not easy to pick up a new language."
"No, it isn't. Keep up the work with that. When you feel ready to go to Mulago and get a tutor or at least some books, let me know. I suggest you start your study of magic with mind magic and enchantments."
"What, controllin' people's minds?" he asked, appalled.
Dwyer nodded. "Not everyone can be bought or blackmailed. Some have to be forced."
"I don't like it."
"The alternatives are less pleasant."
"Killin' people?" He swallowed hard.
"Not necessarily. Just putting them out of the game for a while. Illness, or broken limbs."
"You people are ruthless."
"Politics is ruthless. So is conquest. You know that is what you're talking about?"
He swallowed again, his mouth feeling dry. "Yeah, I know. But this'll make things better. In the end."
"Well, if that's the end you want, you're going to have to get used to the idea that some of the means won't be pleasant or comfortable."
"Don't worry about me," he said shortly.
Dwyer looked over him with his sharp blue eyes. "We'll be starting a little sl
"I'll think about it."
He nodded graciously. "Very well."
"I want to know what the plans are. I don't like you keepin' things from me. I want to be involved in plannin'."
"As you will, my Lord," he replied. "If you have time, we may start now."
"Now?" he repeated. "If I say 'yes,' there's no turning back," he thought.
"Well, if you're not ready, then perhaps in a few days?"
"Now will be fine," he replied, feeling the weight of the words sink in.
"Very well, my Lord," Dwyer said.
They talked for many hours.
A month passed in Tallis Marrom. The leaves turned red, brown, and gold, then fell to cover the forest floor. Mornings started with a layer of frost. The late autumn rains turned into light snow in about two weeks. Although the Council never remarked on Eliora's sudden focus on fighting, Jomei told her that they seemed pleased. Since she set her mind to the task, she was improving rapidly. Aidan introduced her to different sparring partners, and she even though he wasn't inclined to teach her to use any weapon besides a sword, she fought against those that used staves, axes, and just plain daggers. This had an unexpected social side-effect. She noticed that the young men had come to regard her as "one of the boys." Her gender and foreignness hardly seemed to register to them anymore. It was not exactly the sort of acceptance she had been looking for, but she saw no reason to upset the new social order.
The exception to this was Davin. He had never treated her the same as the others. He hadn't yet apologized for his harsh words to her, and he seemed not exactly distant, but waiting. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, and had little time to ponder the matter anyway, busy as she was. Still, she did see him at dinner occasionally, and ran into him often at the unused watchtower.