The Dread Lords Rising by J. David Phillips
Chapter Ten
Maerillus Tells A Lie
Maerillus walked the halls of his family manor in a pensive mood. He was going to have to lie to his parents. Tension was thick, as it was. Jort had been murdered—or so it seemed. Now there was a visitor from the crown. While Joachim was a nobleman and sat among the House of Peers, Pirim Province was well away from the kingdom’s capital of Pallodine. And that was to nearly everyone’s liking. Murders were a rarity here. The last one occurred over twenty years ago. In Kalavere, people disappeared all the time, but not here. Yet now this thing with Jort seemed to have shattered everyone’s nerves.
Still, pride blossomed within his chest. If it hadn’t been for what he had overheard, more people would be dead, a shipment of the estate’s goods stolen and sold on the markets of Kalavere, and Ravel would not only be a great deal richer, but emboldened to do worse things for having gotten away with this. Still, something nagged at him. Liars don’t deserve to feel this way, the indignant side of him whispered. That is for the likes of Ravel and Bode. Maerillus tried to push that voice back down into the hidden part of his conscience. No matter how much he reminded himself that he had a responsibility to check Niam’s story out before alerting Joachim’s guard to what might only be a false alarm—especially when a false alarm might pull the watchmen away when the people of Pirim Village needed them to feel secure—he still felt like less of a Sartor for resorting to something that fell solidly within Niam’s set of proclivities.
After these thoughts had passed, Maerillus sighed. More than the lie bothered him. Truth be told, the real source of his shame arose from the way his parents treated him. Maerillus had been raised to the family businesses. And yet far less had been required of him than of his brothers and sister. For Maerillus, the solution seemed obvious: work harder than anyone else. When time came to weigh the bales and tally the crop yields, Maerillus always made sure he was the first one ready to work and the last one to finish. When wine casks had to be inventoried, Maerillus did it before either of his brothers could get to it.
Still, he was left outside of the ring of responsibility. His father kept him at his studies. And as far as leisure time with his friends was concerned, his parents lavished him with free time, practically pushing him out the door to spend time with Davin and Niam. This chaffed against his sense of pride. More, it made him wonder whether or not he had done something to shake their faith in him. For this reason, Maerillus was very careful with who he associated with. He tried his best to associate with the children of the successful families in the valleys. Honestly, they were a bunch of snots—the entire lot of them. And he was only ever able to be himself whenever he was with Davin and Niam.
As Maerillus approached his father’s office, his parents’ voices carried down the hall. He heard his name and slowed. Equal parts dread and curiosity overcame him and he looked around to see if anyone else was in earshot.
Except for the echoing voices of his parents in the office beyond, no one else was around. Maerillus moved forward to where he could hear them clearly. His mother’s voice was pitched with concern. “I just don’t like it, not one bit Gaius. He’s not ready. I don’t want him going out with the boys. I can’t believe—”
His father’s deep baritone cut her off. “Andromeda, I know. I know.”
“Then keep him around here. Have him help with the work here,” she said. “Here, Gaius—where we can keep an eye on him. On ALL of them. Lord knows Niam needs supervision, too.”
Even from where he stood in the hallway there was no mistaking his father’s sigh. “We both know our youngest son is not cut out for this. The family business is not his lot. And as to young Maldies, his parents have been through—”
“—I know what they’ve been though and I weep for them even now. I see what has happened to that poor boy. They have been terribly negligent….”
But something stopped her before she finished the thought. Had his farther given her a look?
A long silence held passed between them. Maerillus felt his heart sinking. At last, Gaius went on. His voice was soft and tender.
“I’ve often felt we’ve done our boy a grave disservice by sheltering him as much as we have. He’s got to—”
“—He’s not ready?” she flashed at him.
“When is he ever going to be ready?” He asked, resigned.
Andromeda was silent again, but Maerillus knew she was working up another argument. “But Kine is here, and there’s not telling what his investigation will—”
“Jort had his reasons for doing what he did.”
“But it could lead others back to Maerillus, and this could blow up in all of our faces!” She nearly screamed. “Are you prepared for that? Is our son?”
“He’s not cut out for this,” his father said with just as much passion. “You’ve seen him with the children of the other families.”
“Yes,” Andromeda said. “Oil and water. Which is why I wanted us to move somewhere less . . . provincial.”
“You knew why we had to stay here. You knew why we couldn’t move. And you agreed.”
“Yes. Yes. And yes.” Andromeda said bitterly.
“None of us asked for this. None of us wanted to deal with a son like this,” Gaius said.
From the office, Andromeda blew her nose.
Maerillus’s heart raced. He wanted to leave, but Davin and Niam would be waiting for him in the morning, and he had to give his parents the cover story they had worked out. The fact that he was playing off of their lack of confidence in him made him sicker by the moment. It was now or never.
Backing up, Maerillus gave himself enough room to concentrate on being heard. If he did that, he knew they would hear him coming and he could give everyone a chance to pretend everything was normal. But the pretense ate at him. He wasn’t normal. Not at all. And now he had proof that his parents thought he was not fit to run the estate. That much was painfully clear.
Maerillus strode purposefully toward the office door, whistling to himself as if his mind were lost in idle thought. When he stopped at the doorway and knocked, his father was sitting at his desk pretending as if he were about to pick up a sheaf of papers. His mother’s back was to the door, and she was scratching her eyes in a thinly veiled attempt to wipe away tears.
“Ah, Maerillus!” His father said with a false note of joviality, “Back from your visit with your friends?”
Andromeda walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a look he was not entirely comfortable with. It was the look a mother might have if two of her children were hanging form a cliff and only one could be saved. But quickly it was gone and she did her best to give him anything but a fragile smile. She failed. Maerillus pretended to be busy. Instead he gave her the customary Sartor peck on the cheek.
“Have you had a nice day, son?”
“Quite. That’s what I wanted to see you about.”
“Oh?” His dad arched an eyebrow.
Maerillus pitched his voice with excitement. “The guys and I want to camp out tomorrow evening. The speckle-backs are running in the river and we would like to take a couple of days to fish.”
“—absolutely not.” His mother said emphatically.
Maerillus felt his face begin to flush.
But Gaius raised his hand and cut her off. A look passed between them. Andromeda bit her lip and looked away. Gaius gave Maerillus a searching glance, but Maerillus made sure his face remained impassive.
“That’s okay, we’ll just—” He began.
Gaius looked at Andromeda. “With everything going on around here I think it might not be a bad idea if the boys got out and stretched their legs for a bit. I used to live for speckle-backs when I was younger.”
“Oh . . . only out past the Hapwell’s property on Joachim’s preserve,” he said nonchalantly. “You know, the usual.”
Andromeda still looked unhappy, but the private preserve was where Lord Joachim did his own personal hunting. The best game could be found there. And just beyond the preserve lay the province’s garrison.
Gaius looked at his wife and she reluctantly nodded her head.
“There and nowhere else.”
“Of course, Mom,” he said and bent and kissed her cheek.
“If you don’t cook them all, be sure to bring some back for us,” his farther said.
“Of course, father,” he said and turned and took his leave.