Chapter 75

Morane stood on the deck of the ship despite the driving rain. The shipping village where he had been born had grown.

In fact, Morane surmised that the entire country of Listonia had prospered in his absence.

He had seen the northernmost trading center only once before in his lifetime but he recalled it to be much smaller than it appeared to be when he’d seen it only a few days earlier.

The rains had begun not long after the ship left the northern port and showed little signs of abating. But Morane couldn’t bear to stay below any longer – not when he knew Salima, if she still lived, was only a short distance away.

The priest felt the rain that had been driving against his face start to slacken and he looked over and saw the tall form of Merritt standing nearby.

“It won’t be long now until you’re home,” the soldier assured him.

Morane nodded. He had seen the pennants flying on several ships as the dockmaster led them to port. The flags had seemed somehow familiar to him but he couldn’t remember exactly how he knew them.

Morane had been surprised to learn that his thoughts were no longer in his native tongue – but rather in Trade Common first (and in Az second). He could still speak List but his brain processed information in his newer languages.

“I don’t think it’s my home,” Morane replied.

Merritt turned, further shielding Morane from the rain and wind.

“The sailors are certain that this is the middle port of Listonia,” he said. “Are you saying this is not the correct place?”

Morane offered a wan smile.

“In the fact that this is where I was born and wed, yes, this is the place I spoke of,” he said. “But I fear it is no longer my home.”

The old soldier nodded sagely.

“I’ve seen that with me and my people,” he admitted. “Troyvet still holds a place in my heart but I fear it is no longer home to me.”

“Exactly,” Morane said.

“I have left nothing behind in Troyvet,” Merritt stated. “You are different. You have something here!”

“Do I?” Morane asked rhetorically. “What if Salima has married again? What if she has died? Worse: What if she lives and despises me for having left her? Do you know that I have no idea how old I am? I was barely a man when I left. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. The world has changed greatly in just the last year. How much has it changed in the time since I left?”

Merritt reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder.

“That is why we’re here, Morane,” he said simply. “We’re here to see where you stand now. I can tell you that you cannot move forward while you’re constantly looking behind you. If your wife has left you behind then you have friends here that still stand by your side. You have friends behind you in Azkoval that will always stand by your side. Morane, King Joseph will never forsake you. If you find life here to be exactly as you’ve dreamed it would be and choose to stay, he will be happy for you. If you find life here nothing like you hoped, you will be welcomed by him with open arms. If your lovely bride returns with you, he will take her to his bosom as he has taken me – and you – and thousands of others to his bosom.

“This is about you knowing for certain what options are in front of you. You know that your home in Azkoval will always be there. I know that if I return to Troyvet for 40 years, I will still be welcomed back in Tyrell if I want to come back.”

“I know this,” Morane agreed.

“My friend, in all my years, all my travels, I have never met a man more devoted to his deity than you are to yours,” Merritt said. “I have told you that religion is far different in my land. But I will tell you this: Trust your god today as you trusted him in your darkest of times. He will show you the path. I do not worship as you do but I have faith that no god would turn away a faithful man. And you, Morane, High Bishop of Serrat, are the most faithful man I’ve ever known.”

“Faith has limitations,” Morane admitted. “To think otherwise is the height of stupidity. There are times it cannot overcome reality.”

“And there are times it can,” Merritt noted. “I have learned to lean on my friends during those times when faith is not enough. You have Alexander and Amelia here to provide solace if things here are not as you hoped.”

The priest put his hand on the large man’s forearm.

“And you,” Morane said, smiling slightly. “Yes, we will see how this plays. If Salima is still alive – and still lives here – then we’ll decide if we stay here or return to Azkoval. If she had moved on with her life – or lost it – then I will mourn for a period and go forward with my new family.”

Merritt nodded slightly.

“It’s all you can do,” he said. “No one can usurp your happiness. You are solely responsible for how you react. That is a lesson that many cannot learn. It is easy to blame a god or another person for your unhappiness. I did that for a time after my wives passed from this world into the next. I raged against the unfairness of life. I was angry at everyone and everything. I was alone for the first time in my life and I despised it. The problem was that my disposition forced others away.”

“A self-fulfilling prophesy,” Morane pointed out.

Merritt nodded his agreement.

“I am a fairly dangerous person when I am aggrieved,” the man said in what Morane considered to be a massive understatement. “And I was sorely aggrieved. I believe I went almost a season without another soul speaking me – lest I throttle them. One morning, I saw a child sitting in the dust crying over a broken bauble. In past years, I would console the little girl. I would try to repair the item or even replace it. I did neither. I almost kicked the poor thing because her cries bothered me. I stopped just short of committing an offense that nobody could excuse. I doubt I would have been executed but I would have been expelled from the tribe. That was my lowest point.

“Instead, I sat down beside the little girl and cried along with her. I released all my grief over my wives and my unborn child. All my anger came out with the tears and the little girl crawled up on my lap to console me. She patted my cheek as I’m sure others had done to her in the past. Then she started to make funny faces. Again, I’m sure that was surefire way to cheer her up. It worked for me, too. I went from crying over things lost to laughing along with the future of my tribe. Once her mother had collected her, I sat there and considered how I wanted to live. Did I want to be the recluse who would harm a child or did I want to return to the man I had been? It wasn’t a difficult question to answer but the answer took time. I still mourn my companions and I still miss a child I never knew but I learned how to move on with my life. I have avoided companionship in the past few years but I have begun to wonder if it might not be time to take a chance again.”

“It worked for Amelia and Alexander,” Morane noted, hoping to lift the gloomy mood.

“It did,” his companion agreed with a grin. “They understood that they have lives to live. That is what I was trying to tell you. My life is not completed. Neither is yours. Regardless of what you find – good, bad or indifferent – you have value left in you. Please don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” Morane said. “And thank you for reminding me of that fact.”

“It’s what friends do,” Merritt replied.

For Genrico, arriving at the Creighton capital was not as simple as docking at a port. He had to arrive in a different country and then undertake an overland route through a land that he and King Joseph had once conquered. He would spend far less time aboard a ship but his travels would be no shorter than those of Liala’s group or Morane’s group.

The Deseret monarch was pleased to host a high-ranking dignitary from Azkoval – particularly when that dignitary was one of the men most responsible for the monarch having a throne.

Genrico was not a diplomat in any sense of the word. But he understood that it would be a very bad idea to shun the Deseret leader’s overture to dine at the palace.

The three-month journey had been reasonably pleasant. He had Victoria with him and the pair had learned all manner of ways to occupy their time.

But he also had Annika von Schuman with him. He had begun to regret his offer to bring the woman with him from the moment the ship had sailed.

The only saving grace was having Carolina and Constance along. All either had to do was to reach for the dagger at her belt and the recalcitrant child would fall into line.

The Deseret king didn’t care who Genrico brought along with him. The man was excited by the prospect of hosting Genrico and his lovely bride.

The Az envoy was also happy to see Genrico – if for no other reason than to get the opportunity to speak to someone who looked like him.

The citizens of Deseret looked and acted much like the Duchess Liala’s people. They were dark skinned and lithe. They had reached a level of equality that even Azkoval had yet to meet. Deseret was far warmer than the man’s homeland and he was enjoying the posting. But he was also growing tired of speaking Trade Common at all times.

The feast in Deseret lasted three days. And while Genrico was anxious to get to Creight to visit with Osid – and rid himself of Annika – he couldn’t deny his traveling party the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves.

The men of Deseret were quite taken by the females in the group. The fair coloring – and large bosoms – of the newcomers was a spectacle unto itself and large groups of people would line the streets for a glimpse of the one of the most powerful men in the entire world.

Victoria did her best to befriend Annika von Schuman. She brought along a pair of buckskin trousers and a vest so the woman wouldn’t stand out. She had tried to talk to her many times.

Annika wanted nothing to do with Victoria.

In fact, her original goal was to steal Genrico away.

Carolina and Constance put a quick stop to that stupidity but Annika was troublesome for the entire trip.

The second night of the fete, Victoria finally reached her limit.

The newlywed had done her utmost to present the image of a dutiful young wife in a new situation. She had sat silently when the Deseret king had offered a young woman to warm her husband’s bed then offered a child barely 14 years old to be Genrico’s second wife.

In Deseret, like in Troyvet, multi-person marriages were commonplace.

Genrico had explained that Azkoval still had many places that believed in “one man, one woman” but the country was gradually changing. He expressed his regret that it would likely be many years before the concept of plural marriages became acceptable.

The Deseret monarch, despite having been restored to the throne only seven years earlier, already had four wives. He asked Genrico if he would mind if he asked Carolina to become to fifth. He offered the sum of 400 gold coins to Azkoval for the young maiden.

“I have no objections,” Genrico told the man. “But I would suggest you have several armed men nearby to protect you when you make the offer. You might get by with a dozen – unless Constance in nearby. Then I would wager you’ll need 30. Even that might not be enough.”

“She is a chambermaid!” Annika erupted. “She cleans the privy for a living and you’re willing to take her to your bed.”

Carolina and Constance were capable women. Each was a deadly as pit viper and each had a temper that had sent the sailors scrambling for cover.

But it was Victoria – perhaps more capable than either of Rucar’s spies – who slapped the young Denayian woman from her chair.

Victoria was on her before Annika hit the floor, throttling the woman with a series of strikes to the head and face. Victoria didn’t use her fist. She had long ago learned than the hand had many delicate bones that broke easily. Instead, she swung her arm and used the point of her elbow to drive home the message.

“You will learn to speak with respect to your betters or I will kill you myself,” Victoria hissed.

Genrico didn’t flinch. He was content to allow his wife to handle the situation as she saw fit.

Victoria hit Annika with four solid shots, each drawing blood from the near the fallen woman’s hairline.

“I believe I would be willing to part with that one without compensation,” Genrico noted in a blithe voice.

“I think not,” the Deseret king responded. “Although, I must say, your wife is certain a woman with spirit.”

Genrico hazarded a glance at Victoria. His wife was looking sheepish as Carolina and Constance removed the bloodied Annika from the room.

“I have loved her from the moment I first spoke to her,” Genrico admitted. “That spirit ... her drive ... that is what drew me to her. That is our goal in Azkoval. Victoria and her sisters – in fact and in spirit – are what we want every woman in Azkoval to aspire to be. She is a perfect lady but she does not back down. That is why I suspect that we will have difficult with plural marriages. We want fighters. We do not want a docile woman who will accept being second or third or sixth. The women there do not want docile men who will stand in line for a chance at their favor. For me, Victoria is the perfect woman. She stands up for herself. She stands up for people weaker than she is. She stands up for people as strong as she is. Make no mistake, Your Majesty, there is no one stronger than my wife.

“But she treats all she meets with respect and courtesy – until the time comes for the respect and courtesy to end. Then she is a tigress – as you’ve just witnessed.”

“A formidable woman,” the monarch declared. “You chose well.”

“I was chosen,” Genrico rebutted as he reached over to take Victoria’s hand.

“Yes, that is the way it seems to work,” the monarch replied as he reached over to his first wife to mirror Genrico’s movement.

“We hear rumors here,” the woman said. “Is this why your king is unwed? Is he waiting for one of the young courtesans to thwart the other.”

Genrico did his best to formulate a reply but came away empty.

“It is far different than that,” Victoria cut in. She had wiped Annika’s blood from her elbow but some still dotted the dress she had adorned for the party. “Joseph is...”

She sighed.

“He is a man with too many choices,” she finally admitted. “Our king went much of his life with little to love – except from afar. Now he loves so many. He is simply unwilling to elevate one above the other – and, to be frank, none of them want the responsibility that comes with being queen. They are all wonderful, vibrant women. And I say that not only because my sister, my half-sister and my adopted sister are among them. My husband is a wise man but he understands little of love. When plural marriage arrives in Azkoval, it will be because King Joseph has finally decided to marry them all. There will be no hierarchy. One will never be above the others. It’s not his way and they all have different strengths and weaknesses. Yes, one will be queen. But the others will be no less his wife because of what title they might hold.”