The Dark Warden (Book 6) by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online Page B

calculations are correct,” said Caius.
    “Which means I should know better,” said Calliande. “I should not gossip. Forget that I said anything.”
    “Of course,” said Caius. “Are you jealous?”
    Calliande stared at him.
    He stared back without blinking.
    “No,” said Calliande. “Yes. Perhaps. I don’t know.” She sighed and bounced her forehead off her knees. “I sound like a simpering fool.” 
    “You sound,” said Caius, “like a woman who has known a great deal of loss and pain, and is uncertain about the path ahead.”
    “If you will pardon the flippancy,” said Calliande, “what do you know of such matters? Are not friars sworn to vows of chastity?”
    “So we are,” said Caius. “But…I was not always a friar. Not always. Nor was my name always Brother Caius. I had a life before I came to Andomhaim and then to the church. Quite a long one, by both the standards of dwarves and humans.” He smiled. “I am not as young as I look. Which I suppose makes me ancient indeed.” 
    “A life before the church,” said Calliande. “One with pain?”
    “No life is without pain,” said Caius. “But instead of trying to cleverly deflect attention to my past, which is both boring and not presently relevant, we should talk about your present, which is likely much more important.” 
    Calliande laughed a little. “I should know better than to get into a debate of wits with a preacher. Perhaps I did know that in my past life.” 
    “So, then,” said Caius. “What troubles you about Morigna and Ridmark?”
    “I have no right to be troubled about them,” said Calliande. 
    “It is wrong for a man to lie with a woman who is not his wife,” said Caius.
    “This is true,” said Calliande. “Yet I cannot blame him for it. Nor her. Because…” She hesitated, trying to put her thoughts in order.
    “Because,” said Caius, “you wish that it was you?”
    “Yes,” said Calliande. “What a fool I am, Brother Caius. The Frostborn are returning, and I have a duty to stop them however I can. Yet I think upon this instead of more important matters.” 
    “Perhaps,” said Caius, “but it is still important. We go into battle, and a warrior must have something to fight for. You wish to save the world from the Frostborn, but what is the world made of but people? And who do you fight for, if not the people closest to you?”
    “Morigna is closer to Ridmark than I am,” said Calliande. “At least now.” 
    “Does that anger you?” said Caius. 
    “It should,” said Calliande, “but it does not. I told you I cannot blame him. It…almost happened between us, on the day the wyvern attacked. It shouldn’t have, though. I should have known better.”
    “Why not?” said Caius. “The Gray Knight is a valiant man, and you, my lady Magistria, if you will forgive the observation, are a most lovely woman. At least by the standards of humans.”
    “I don’t know myself,” said Calliande. “Not truly.”
    “That does not change who you are,” said Caius. “Mortal man or woman is defined by action, not by deed. Your deeds have been brave and loyal.”
    “Mortal man is defined by memory, too,” said Calliande. “I do not remember myself. I do not remember if I had a husband sleeping in some other ruin of the Order of the Vigilant. What if I do? How could betray him with Ridmark? And how could I betray Ridmark like that?”
    “Plainly you could not,” said Caius, “not in good conscience.”
    “No,” said Calliande. “And memory defines mortals in more ways than one.”
    “What do you mean?” 
    “I do not know for certain,” said Calliande, “but I suspect you were once a high dwarven noble of the Three Kingdoms. Something happened to you. Something that made you listen to a missionary, leave the dwarven kingdoms, accept baptism and the Dominus Christus, and join the church as a mendicant friar. Am I wrong?”
    “You are not entirely accurate,” said Caius, “but, no, you are