Renegade's Magic (The Soldier Son Trilogy #3)

The courier gave me an insouciant grin, as unimpressed as most couriers seemed to be with their missions. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I’ve a packet for you, one to be delivered directly into your hands.” With a bow, he offered me a large fat envelope made of calfskin. It had been laced shut, and the tied laces were secured with a large blob of hard red wax. I looked at the sigil pressed into it. A spond tree. It had been so long since I had looked upon my family crest that I felt a strange rush of emotion. Whatever was within this packet, it came from my father. The world rocked around me.

“Sir? Sir?” I looked up, vaguely surprised to see the courier was still standing there. I felt as if a week had passed. “Sir, I was told that there might be a reply.”

“Not…not immediately,” I told him weakly.

He nodded, satisfied. “That’s as well. My beast and I could use a day or two of rest and food. When you want to find us, he’ll know where we are, and waiting solely upon your commission.” He tipped his head toward the letter-writer and grinned again. He turned his back on me and sauntered away to where his horse waited. At a glance from me, the letter-writer retreated and I was left alone with my packet.

The label had been addressed in what looked like my uncle’s hand. I instantly feared the worst; my father had died, and this was my notification. It took some little time before I had the courage to break the hard wax and unlace the cords. The calfskin unfolded, revealing a stack of papers. On the top was a thick ivory sheet of my father’s stationery. In a shaky hand, he had written in overly large letters, “Son. Please come home.” The signature at the bottom of the message was unintelligible. I lifted the page and stared at it for a long time before I could set it aside.

Beneath it, again on my father’s stationery, was a letter dated less than ten days ago. “My dear nephew Nevare,” the letter began in my uncle Sefert’s firm, clear strokes.

Please forgive me that it has taken me so long to communicate with you. I have delayed the sending of this letter until I was certain, both of the situation here and of your own circumstances.

Before Yaril departed for Old Thares, she confided much to me. I have also been the reluctant and unwilling receiver of a great deal of information from your journal, via my prying wife’s tattling tongue. I must apologize to you again for her breach of what I regarded as a sacred confidence. And I fear I must also rebuke you, for not taking me into your confidence long ago. As strange as your experience has been and as harsh as your father’s treatment of you was, did it never occur to you to present the matter to me, especially since it seems so tangled with my own daughter’s life? But we will save that discussion for another time, for a late evening with good tobacco and old brandy, when all of us will find it much easier to forgive the others’ transgressions.

I have been very concerned with my brother’s health and state of mind. You must know that your father’s health is failing him. As his elder brother, I find it painful to see the younger sibling that I expected to outlive me in such a state of decline. I have had three doctors in to see him, but they have offered me little hope. My own treatments of him with Bitter Springs water showed some promise, until his most recent stroke three days ago. My lad, I fear that he will never be the man he was and that soon he will no longer be capable of running his own affairs. Your Sergeant Duril has proven to be very capable as an overseer, but you cannot leave the family fortunes in the hands of a hired man and your young sister for too long. So, it is time you ended your wild adventure and came home. Not only your family duty demands this of you, but also the laws of your king.

By now, I am sure you will have heard of the recent rulings on the uniformity of succession by birth order, a clarification by the priests of the good god’s scriptures about the foresight of the good god. I am also sure you must realize your new position. You are expected, of course, to serve as your father’s soldier son during his lifetime, but you are also expected to stand ready to assume your duties as his heir son upon his death or whenever he becomes incapable of managing his own affairs. I fear that that hour may soon be upon you. As the closest male offspring in our family’s line of descent, you in time will also inherit my title and estates. But not for some time yet, your fond uncle is selfish enough to hope. I will also tell you plainly that when that time comes, I hope you will find it in your heart to provide well for your aunt. As difficult a woman as she has sometimes been, she is still the mother of my children and I would wish her respected as such.

In that regard, both Epiny and Yaril have informed me that there is a woman in your life. When I dared to ask if she was of good family and capable of being a loyal wife to you, I received a sermon from Epiny, several pages long, about the right of a man or woman to choose a lifelong mate without regard to such silly things as parental approval. I suppose I must be content that your choice has met with your cousin’s discerning approval. According to Epiny, you have chosen well indeed and I will look forward to meeting this illustrious person who apparently can meet any need of yours that Epiny can foresee you ever having.