Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [110]
“I don’t know,” Arcolin said. “There’s always a chance of healing.”
“If the gods choose,” Stammel said. “The Captain of Tir—I saw him in Cortes Vonja.” Arcolin waited. “He said Tir must be pleased with me, but he said, too, that I should face the reality: I was blind, and would always be blind.”
“Tir doesn’t heal eyes?” Arcolin asked.
“No, sir. Or, the Captain said, maybe if a Blademaster—closest thing Tirians have to paladins—but not the same, really.” Stammel turned on his side. “Captain, if I don’t—if I’m not ever going to see again—I can’t really be your senior sergeant. You need someone who can see what the troops are doing, in a battle. See if the merchant’s giving good weight, spot trouble in the street.”
“Like scare off forty or fifty enemies by standing there shooting them one by one without looking at them?”
“That—was different. I don’t know what that was.”
“You, Stammel. That was you and your years of experience. Think if our troops could use crossbows at night—shoot accurately at sounds.”
“It’s still not the same.” Stammel sat up and faced Arcolin directly. With the angle of light, Arcolin could see the cloudiness deep in his eyes, not the same as the film old men got. “And the Captain said I should tell you I want to quit, but—but I don’t want to. But I should. For the Company.”
“It’s not your Company,” Arcolin said. “It’s mine now.” Even as he said it, he knew that was wrong. It was Stammel’s Company—not his to command, but his in the same way it was Arcolin’s, by right of all those years. He couldn’t unsay it, so he went on. “And I think you are good for it, blind or not. There are things you can’t do—well, there are things I can’t do, and one of them is hit a target with a crossbow with both eyes open, let alone blind. I can’t stop you from quitting—you’ve long since earned the right to retire, and a pension with it—but I don’t want you to retire. I think the Captain of Tir was wrong. You’ve had a hard time; you will have a hard time, but you are and always will be a soldier and of value here. Besides, there are other sources of healing. A Girdish paladin—”
“You’re Girdish, Captain.”
“Yes—so?”
“So maybe it’s different with Girdish, but I—I don’t think I should change allegiance, just for the hope of seeing again.” Despite the words, longing colored his voice.
“I can’t think of a better reason, if you wanted to,” Arcolin said. “There’s nothing dishonorable about wanting your sight back.” Stammel said nothing more that evening.
The rest of the trip went smoothly enough—always less rain at this time of year—and they reached Valdaire with several days to spare before the Autumn Evener.
As they rode up to the gates, one of the guards said, “There he is! Sir, a message for you.”
“For me?” Arcolin scowled.
“Yes, sir. Duke Verrakai asked if you would care to stay at Verrakai House. Said there’s a message from the king.”
Which king? Possibly Kieri, he thought. He had not heard from Kieri since writing to him about Stammel’s blindness.
“Where is it?” Arcolin asked. The guard gave directions and waved them on.
The streets seemed normally busy, the people in them not as tense as they had been before. When they came to Verrakai House, Arcolin realized he had seen it before but never noticed it, though it faced the palace walls, across a wide street. Plain, unremarkable, and always—now he thought of it—shuttered tightly. Now the upper-floor shutters stood open, though the day was cool. Blue-striped curtains hung at either side. As the horses came to a stop, the door opened. A man in Verrakai livery looked up at them.
“Yes?”
“Captain Arcolin to see Dorrin—the Duke,” Arcolin said.
The man smiled. “She was hoping you’d be here yesterday, sir. Just let me get someone to take the horses—” He turned and yelled something into the house. Arcolin dismounted and held the reins of Stammel’s horse while he, too, dismounted. Soon they heard footsteps coming, hard heels