Vambran used the opportunity to move, yanking his blade up only when he had stepped out of the apprentice's reach. He was breathing hard and the wounds on his leg throbbed, but he could do nothing but ignore them-the fingerless adversary was coming at him again. He stabbed at it, but it anticipated the attack and shifted out of the way. It lunged toward the lieutenant's unprotected side, its teeth bared, and Vambran had to retreat from the bite, causing him to bump against Junce.
"Watch it," the assassin growled as he shifted his weight, knocking a clawed hand to the side. "You're messing me up."
"Happy to help," Vambran retorted, but he discovered-almost to his chagrin-that he could move well with his counterpart, feel the assassin's motions and react accordingly. They began fighting as a team, back to back, keeping the undead things at bay. As they worked, they gradually moved toward the center of the room. Vambran could sense that Junce was guiding them both there, and he had to choose between going with the assassin's intentions or breaking off the teamwork and dueling his undead foes on his own. He chose to stick with Junce.
He's an excellent fighter, Vambran grudgingly admitted, working to keep up with the other man's blazing quickness and sure footwork. Just makes killing him later more satisfying, the mercenary told himself.
The pair continued to battle, working their foes, watching both flanks. Vambran was growing tired and they still faced five of the seven undead, though all were missing limbs and stumbling with noticeable limps. Can't do this much longer, the lieutenant thought. And they don't seem to get tired. But he refused to give up. The people of Reth were counting on him, whether they understood that or not. Behind him, Junce battled just as fiercely, moving in unison with Vambran. Each man guarded the other as they fought, flicking a sword strike out from time to time to deflect a blow meant for the other. They moved well together, battling the undead beasts.
At long last, only two of the creatures remained standing, and Vambran saw his chance. He feinted a cut toward the one battling him, and when it reacted, he kicked out hard, shoving the undead brute away from himself. Before it had a chance to recover, Vambran took off, running for the door that Rodolpho had used to escape.
"Hey!" Junce called out from behind the lieutenant, but Vambran ignored the man. Flinging open the door, the mercenary raced through the portal and found a set of steps leading up. They were narrow and spiraled tightly, but he never hesitated. He took them two at a time, using the wall for support. His arms and legs were weary, but he refused to stop. Rodolpho was up there.
Farther up, Vambran was forced to stop skipping over steps, but he fought through the burning pain in his thighs and kept going, up and up, his breath ragged. He knew he was climbing to the top of the tower, the highest feature of all of Reth. That made the task more daunting. To spur himself on, Vambran reminded himself of all the people who had died because of Rodolpho's terrible creation. He reminded himself of Elenthia, not knowing what had become of her, and the responsibility he felt for her.
After what seemed like an ascent into the heavens themselves, Vambran reached another door. He threw it open and found himself on the top of the tower of the Palace of the Seven, an open platform surrounded by waist-high battlements. Rodolpho was there, staring down at the city below. As Vambran stood in the doorway, gasping, the man spun around to face him. The look on his face was one of dismay and horror.
"What did you do?" Rodolpho demanded, pointing down past the edge of the wall. "My plague! You're destroying my plague!"
Vambran would have chuckled if he hadn't been so weary. "So it goes," he said, taking a step, closing the distance. "What will Wianar do about you now?" he asked.
"No!" Rodolpho shouted, darting to try to escape from Vambran. "I'll put a stop to it! I'll destroy that scepter!"
As he tried to evade Vambran, the lieutenant struck. He swung his sword and just caught the fleeing man across the shoulder. The strike wasn't deadly, but in his attempt to avoid it, Rodolpho stumbled sideways and lost his balance. Tripping, he fell to the stones, very near the edge of the tower. He struggled to regain his feet as Vambran stepped near.
"It's over," he said. "You're finished."
Rodolpho glared at Vambran. The look in his eyes told the mercenary that he knew Vambran was right, but he wasn't yet willing to give up. Vambran planted his sword against the man's chest. "Did you hear me?" he asked softly. "I said, you're done."
"Perhaps," Rodolpho said, squaring his shoulders. "But I won't go with you. So can you kill me? Can you do willingly what you thought you did unwittingly twelve years ago?"
Vambran paused, staring at the man. He remembered all those times when he had grieved, feeling the weight of it, saddened by what he had imagined Rodolpho's friends and family had felt. He remembered how he suffered for what he'd done. Despite the change in circumstances, despite the knowledge that Rodolpho Wianar was responsible for the deaths of so many people down below, the little boy inside Vambran who had suffered so much guilt could not deliver the killing blow.
"You see?" Rodolpho said. "I told you you couldn't finish the job."
"Do it," Junce said from behind Vambran. "Do it, or you'll live with your weakness forever."
Vambran never took his eyes from Rodolpho, but he directed his question to the assassin. "What would you know about it? All you do is kill."
There was a long pause. Then Junce said, "I know about it because I watched my father kill my mother when he grew tired of her, and I have never lifted a hand to do anything about it." Vambran glanced at the man, then, only for a moment. But he saw Junce's face, and he knew the man was speaking the truth. "Do it," Junce whispered. "Or become like me." And with that, he muttered a magical phrase and vanished from the tower.
Vambran returned his gaze to Rodolpho. "Does he speak the truth? About his father?"
"Yes," Rodolpho replied. "Eles Wianar has a habit of doing away with the mistresses he grows tired of. But he took a liking to Darvin there, or Junce, as you know him. I never understood why."
Vambran's eyes widened. "Wianar! Eles Wianar is his father?"
Rodolpho nodded. "Yes, but don't let that story get you down. Killing me won't change who you are. There's no nobility in it, and as I'm sure you've figured out by now, revenge is never satisfying." Then he cocked his head as if considering something. "Funny, isn't it?" he said. "The Shining Lord of Arrabar had such a heavy hand in the shaping of both your lives. He took someone away from both of you, someone you cared for deeply, but you each turned out quite different. Makes me wonder if he considered that at the time. But then Eles was always a bastard like that. I mean, look what he did to me," he added, then he shoved himself forward, pushing away from the wall, driving Vambran's blade into his chest.
CHAPTER 17
In the chapel of House Matrell, Vambran stared at the two sarcophagi before him. He thought about Rodolpho Wianar's final words as he watched the memorial ceremony. Each of us shapes those around us, he realized. Either by our absence or our presence, we affect those we are close to. He glanced over at Xaphira, sitting next to Ladara, who was crying softly. And when that changes, when people in our lives are gone, or when they return unexpectedly, we feel unbalanced, unsure. We don't know how it will make a difference, but we know it will. He glanced over at Quindy and Obiron, sitting next to their mother. It always has an effect.