Read Online The Consuls of the Vicariate by Brian Kittrell - Free Book Online

already.”
    “They have?”
    “You seem disappointed. I would’ve thought you’d be pleased they got to it.”
    “Yes, but—”
    Marac smiled. “You wanted to see the girl off, did you?”
    “No. Well… yes. To wish them a safe journey.”
    “It’s more than that. I can see it.”
    Laedron took a seat next to him. “I… um…”
    “Say no more. I already know how you feel.”
    “How did you know?”
    Marac leaned back in his chair, having finally laid the sword on the table. “I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. I’ve never seen you behave that way around other girls.”
    “Is it that obvious?”
    “To me, sure. I doubt she realizes it, though.”
    Laedron folded his arms across his chest. “I feel horrible for her. She’s just lost her father, and now she’s wrapped up in our schemes.”
    “By her own will.”
    “What?”
    “She’s old enough to know what she’s doing, Lae.”
    “Is she? Perhaps, but I can’t help but thinking she helps us because she has no other choice.”
    “She mentioned her uncle, didn’t she?” Marac asked. “She could’ve gone to live with him.”
    “From what I understand, he’s unbearable to be around.”
    “It’s still a choice. She chooses to be here with us—with you.”
    “Maybe you’re right.”
    Marac smiled. “Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”
    “Unless I am,” Laedron said, letting out a laugh.
    “Oh, you got me there. I’m right until the ol’ archmage starts arguing me up and down the Midlands. Can’t be denied.”
    Laedron poured a bowl of stew from the fireplace pot and returned to the table. “Once I get a bit of this in my belly, I’ll be ready if you are.”
    “Go ahead, I’ve already had some. One thing I won’t miss is the food in this place.”
    “Won’t argue with you there.” Laedron poked a chunk of overcooked meat with his spoon. “This stuff’s fit for a dog.”
    “Not even a dog, but you’d better eat up anyway. You need your strength.”
    Maybe this will help it go down , he thought, snatching a piece of bread from the plate.
    After eating, Laedron brushed his shirt free of crumbs, then took the scroll sitting on the end of the table. “Jurgen’s note to get us in the militia.”
    “Good.” Marac sheathed his sword and wrapped his cloak about his back. “At least we’ll get to walk around a bit. Where is this place, anyway?”
    “Near what they call the Ancient Quarter. We passed it on the way to the sea.”
    “Then, lead the way.”
    Laedron followed the same path Jurgen had taken him on earlier. On the trip to the seaside, he had kept his head down most of the way, but he decided to take in the sights and sounds of the city. The buildings were closer together in that end of the city than anywhere he’d seen in Morcaine, but many rose as high as three stories. In his homeland, the houses and businesses were made of carved stone and wood, but the Heraldan homes and shops were built of timbers, brick, and plaster. Maybe they lack quarries . Or perhaps the expense would be too great .
    Every window and doorway had some religious decoration of some kind, and the symbols made Laedron feel even more foreign. He wondered if the people glancing at him as he passed could see that he wasn’t Heraldan. Don’t give yourself away . They can’t know. There’s no way for them to know.
    The houses and shops had well-trimmed grass occupying the open space of each lot, a feature he found strange, yet somewhat pleasant. People in Sorbia, from his recollection, cared little about how their lawns and shrubs appeared. The grass had been allowed to grow long around the passage, and the people apparently cut back bushes only when they threatened to block a door or a window. The only flowers to be found on a Sorbian’s tract were wild and grew at random. The Heraldan houses sometimes had a number of planters or even beds of fertile earth set aside for flowers. That’s likely the reason the air has a