"Foolish or not, the fear is real," Dregaul responded. "And it's powerful. Marking yourself is only inviting scorn and suspicion, both upon you personally and upon the House. It's a foolish risk that isn't necessary. But that never stopped you from taking foolish risks before, so I don't know why I would expect any different from you now."
"Don't worry," Vambran said through clenched teeth, "I will certainly not 'disgrace' the family further and raise your ire by continuing to wear the third mark. I certainly wouldn't want the whole city of Arrabar to cringe in fear, thinking I was bringing the plague to one and all."
He threw his hands up helplessly, as if to say he didn't know what else to offer to placate his uncle.
"Fine," Dregaul replied. "And as for this other matter with the guards, leave it alone. Don't drag the Matrell name any farther into it. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Vambran said, rising up out of his chair abruptly. He stared hard at Dregaul, a dangerous gleam in his eye that Emriana had never seen before. "I understand exactly what's most important to you. I always have."
The girl realized she had gasped at her brother's reaction, and she wasn't the only one. Her mother was patting her chest in anxiety, obviously feeling the threat of a fainting spell coming on. Even Grandmother Hetta seemed taken aback, and very little got her excited. At the far end of the table, Evester frowned, but he didn't react much beyond that. Emriana was finding it harder and harder to read him.
For his part, Uncle Dregaul stopped pacing and stared right back at his nephew, his hands resting on the back of one of the tall, dark chairs. Emriana could see that his knuckles were white with strain, and she realized he was barely holding his own anger in check.
"You've made it perfectly clear what you think of me," Vambran went on, his voice dangerously soft. "I tried to give something back to the family, to you, as best I could. And when that didn't work, I tried to keep my distance, for both our sakes. But it's never enough to change anything, and I guess it never will be. So I'm through trying. I'm not going to ignore what I think is a murder ostensibly disguised as the city watch 'doing its job'"-Vambran's tone grew sarcastic-"just because it might temporarily put the Matrell family name in an unfavorable light. If you can't abide it, then I'll make sure none of my actions trouble you ever again."
Emriana's eyes widened in amazement. She couldn't believe what her brother was suggesting.
The girl realized her mouth was hanging open, and she snapped it shut again, looking at Dregaul. The man's face turned red as he sputtered, unable to speak. Emriana turned to the rest of the family to see their reactions. At the same time, she was beginning to wish she could be somewhere else right then.
"Vambran!'' Emriana's mother said, looking aghast at her son. "You should not speak to your uncle that way."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Vambran replied, "but he's left me no choice. I can't continue to live under his baleful stare any longer. I'll make my own way in the world, on my own terms, if it means living in peace and without his scorn and scathing remarks."
The lieutenant opened his mouth to say something else, but Dregaul slammed his fist on the table.
"You insolent, selfish whelp! I will not be spoken to in that manner. If it weren't for me, and for… you'd be… "
He stopped, seemingly unwilling to finish his line of thought.
Emriana's heart was pounding. She had never seen either her uncle or her brother behave that way, and she hated watching it. She wanted to sneak out of the room and get far enough away that she wouldn't be able to hear any more. She eyed the open, arched doorway that led away from the dining hall and into the wing of the house where everyone's bedrooms were, wondering if she could slip through it unnoticed.
"That's enough," came the quiet but commanding voice of Grandmother Hetta, seated off to one side. Everyone in the room grew quiet and turned respectfully toward her. The woman's face seemed tired and full of sorrow as she looked from Vambran to Dregaul and back again. "I'm too old to watch you two fight like this."
Dregaul nodded and said, "Of course, Mother. You speak with the wisdom of many years. I only intended to-"
"Dregaul, my son," Hetta interrupted, bringing up one wrinkled finger and wagging it at him in a gentle but stern way, "don't patronize me. You've never hidden your dislike of Vambran, and it disappoints me. I know you're feelings about-'' Hetta paused, took a breath, and continued in a different direction. "I think it's time you let it go."
Emriana noticed her Uncle Dregaul's shoulders tense up, but the man said nothing.
What is she talking about? the girl wondered.
"And Vambran," the matriarch said, "I will hear no more talk of you leaving this family."
Vambran turned his gaze toward his grandmother and nodded, regret washing over his face.
The woman's voice softened, and she continued sorrowfully, "I've lost a husband and three children, and I will not sit by and watch what remains of my family tear itself apart like this.
"Now" Hetta said, her tone businesslike as she reached out her hand for Emriana's mother to help her to her feet. Ladara was there instantly, taking hold of her mother-in-law and providing support as the older woman rose up out of the chair. "It's late, and we're all tired and angry. I don't want to hear any more about this tonight. I want you two"-and she looked at Vambran and Dregaul, who still stood facing one another across the table-"to agree to put this aside for tonight and speak of it after a good night's sleep, perhaps tomorrow after breakfast. Your feud has gone on long enough. Resolve it."
She stood there, waiting.
Emriana turned, as did everyone else, to see how the two would react. Dregaul's jaw worked, clenching and unclenching, as though the man were struggling with complying with his mother's instructions.
Vambran, though, merely nodded.
"I'm sorry," Emriana's brother said, looking at his uncle. "I always have been."
Emriana blinked, confused by his words.
Sorry for what? she thought
Dregaul eyed his nephew for a heartbeat, then shrugged and said, "I know. We'll talk about it in the morning."
He turned and left the room, heading for his own chambers, leaving everyone to stare at his back as he departed.
Emriana watched her uncle go, feeling a great sorrow emanating from him. It made her throat thicken in sympathy. As the rest of the family began to file out, Emriana turned to Vambran, wanting to ask him what he had meant about always having been sorry, but he was nowhere to be found. Frowning, the girl padded off to her room, dismayed that his homecoming had turned into such a disaster.
Breakfast turned out to be little better than the night before, though at least Vambran and his uncle had remained civil during the discussion. Still, the older man refused to recognize the evidence the lieutenant presented concerning the events of the previous evening. About the only thing they had agreed on was that Emriana should be kept out of it when it came time to discuss those events with the captain down at watch headquarters. Vambran had seen everything Emriana had, and from a better vantage point, and dragging her into it would only complicate things, especially given that she never could remember where she thought she had seen the woman prior to her death.
So it was that Vambran found himself headed toward the district headquarters alone, a little before seven bells. He had chosen to walk, seeing no need to take a carriage on such a fine morning. He preferred the stroll, anyway, enjoying the quiet avenues of the merchant district and the salty air, which was still cool enough at that time of the day not to soak him through in sweat after only ten steps.