Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,73

only make that worse, never weaken it.

Archimbault definitely showed the consequences of life in a time of stress, having regained few of the pounds he had lost during a grim winter spent hiding in the Altai. His wife had been eating well, though, and actually seemed younger than the Perfect remembered.

Archimbault swept Brother Candle into a great embrace. “We feared you had gone on, Master. No one knew what had become of you.”

“I went into isolation. To find my way back to Perfection. But the world wouldn’t let me be.”

“Come. Come. You’ll stay with us, of course.”

The wife said, “And you’re just in time to eat.”

By the time they reached the Archimbault home the whole neighborhood knew that Brother Candle had returned. Scores came out to see. It would be hard to slip away again.

He observed, “The house seems bigger and quieter.” Madam Archimbault scurried about, winkling out bread, cheese, wine, olives, and pickles of a dozen sorts.

Archimbault said, “It’s awfully quiet with the children gone. Empty, too.”

Brother Candle held his tongue, afraid he might open a wound. Every family in Khaurene had lost someone the past couple years, either to crusaders, or to disease and hunger after the fighting stopped.

Madam Archimbault expanded: “Archimbault doesn’t like to talk about it. He doesn’t like to admit error.”

Her husband muttered but did not argue. Equality of the sexes was one of the great heresies of the Seekers After Light.

“Soames turned up. After we started looking for a new husband for Kedle.” Kedle being their daughter. “The story he told is a barrel of dung. He wouldn’t say where he’d been or what he’d done. The men from his company say he ran away before the fighting started. Some think he surrendered without a fight and might be a spy for the Society, now. He has no explanation for why he didn’t join us in the mountains. He knew Kedle was near her time.” Madam Archimbault had a huge anger against her son-in-law, rigidly controlled. “He’s already got her with child again.”

Archimbault made a noise like a hissing pot. His anger was larger than his wife’s. He would say nothing because he did not want to look bad to the Perfect. These were the sorts of cares a Seeker was supposed to put aside.

Madam Archimbault confessed, “I blame myself. It’s all my fault. I urged the boy on Kedle. She wasn’t really interested. I bullied Archimbault into approaching his family.”

Brother Candle had been surprised by the match, back when. Though then it had been a coup for the Archimbaults because Soames’s family was so prominent.

The woman said, “Soames has all the family property, now. Which must be the real reason he came back. Only his grandfather was still living when he did. Soames had become the only heir.”

Archimbault grumbled, “That family suffered so much misfortune in so short a time. People said it was because of Soames’s bad behavior. And Soames is the one who benefited.”

Madam said, “He insisted that Kedle and baby Raulet go live with him.” Angrily. As an afterthought, she admitted, “Kedle doesn’t mind.”

“It lets her put on airs. Master, the child has strayed from the Path. She may never find her way back. We need your help. Desperately.”

“The times try the faith of the best of us.” The Perfect tried recalling Kedle’s age. Still under eighteen, he thought. Of an age to sway in every philosophical breeze.

Visitors began to arrive. Domestic talk ended. Brother Candle was always a favorite with the local Seekers.

Khaurenese stayed up late, seldom sitting down to the last meal till the tenth or eleventh hour. They rose with the sun but took an extended nap during the heat of the afternoon. Spirited talk continued till well after the Perfect fell victim to exhaustion.

A different breed of visitor appeared next morning. Early, but not wickedly so. His appearance demonstrated the speed with which news spread in the tight environs of the city.

A groggy Brother Candle found himself face-to-face with Bicot Hodier, Duke Tormond’s chief herald. The old man was too sleepy to manage his manners perfectly. “Hodier? That’s you? I thought you died in the fight with the Captain-General. You were with Sir Eardale Dunn.”

“No doubt there were people who hoped that was true. As ever, I continue to disappoint. The Duke wants you to come up to Metrelieux. Please don’t frustrate him.”

“No.” Though Tormond was another reason he had wanted to pass Khaurene by. “I can’t.”

“It would be disrespectful of you to visit these friends