Bonus Scene #3: Roric’s Arrest
(Roric POV) (From Chapter 47)
The afternoon was hot, but this order of wood was due in the village tomorrow morning, so Roric kept working through the heat. He had taken his shirt off, and was looking forward to bathing in cool water from the well when the job was done. The sound of clattering wheels and hoofbeats on the dirt road that ran past the farm came to him as his axe was half-raised for another stroke. Odd; no one ever came out here with a wagon and a large party to visit them. He looked to see, of all people, his mentor, colleague, and friend from the University, Delric Baldrin, accompanied by half a dozen mounted Dominion guards and a carriage, just inside the opening in the fence around the yard.
Dread clutched at his stomach. He had known it was probably inevitable that they would find him, but had also hoped against hope the day would never come. And really, Baldrin? He didn’t want to believe Baldrin had anything to do with this, but there he was.
He lowered his axe and rested the head on the ground. Leaning on the long handle, he stared at Baldrin and the guards. If they had business with him, they could be the ones to initiate it.
“That’s him,” Baldrin said quietly to the carriage driver. “I’ll talk to him. You stay here.”
The driver nodded, and Baldrin walked stiffly over towards Roric, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “Rossony.”
How in the world did you greet an old friend, almost a father to you, who had betrayed you? “Baldrin,” he said curtly.
After an awkward silence during which Baldrin looked from Roric to the house, around the yard, and back again, the elderly professor said, “You’ve changed, but you look well.” He glanced back at the house again. “I see Miss Tabrano is here with you.”
Roric also looked to see Perarre standing in the doorway of the house, holding Amiele cradled in her arms. “Mrs. Rossony,” he corrected Baldrin stiffly in defense of Perarre’s honor.
“Yes, of course. You married her, then. Good. And I’m glad to see that your union has borne fruit.” Baldrin lowered his voice and leaned in a bit. “I thought you would like to know, the boy found me. I’ve sent him to live with one of my daughters and her family.”
Remembering the boy he had found in the house of the merchant who had abused him, Roric allowed himself one small breath of relief. “Good.”
“They’ve been having him privately tutored, but they think he will be able to begin attending school soon.”
It was very good news, as good an outcome as he could have hoped for the boy, but the more Baldrin delayed getting to the reason for his coming here, the less patience Roric had for polite conversation. “How did you find us?”
Baldrin’s shoulders slumped, and he avoided looking Roric in the eye. “I’ve been sent by the Magisterial Council to bring you a message. I’m not sure how they knew you were here.”
There was more that Baldrin wasn’t telling him; Roric knew it as sure as he knew Baldrin was standing right in front of him. But before he could press for more details, Perarre, who had come over to stand beside him, said, “I thought you were his friend.” Defiance and fear warred together in her voice, and she clutched their daughter more tightly against her chest.
“I am his friend,” Baldrin answered gently. “Rossony, I’ve been sent by the Magisterial Council to inform you that if you will return peacefully to Vorunne City and tell the Council everything you know about what happened to the magica and what, if anything, can be done to put it back in working order, you will receive a pardon for any crimes of which you may be accused.”
Roric glanced at the Guards waiting by the carriage. He didn’t believe a word of what Baldrin was saying about pardons and being allowed to return peacefully. Not that he thought Baldrin was intentionally lying to him; his mentor was probably just repeating what he’d been told to say by a government he still trusted. “I’m not being arrested, then.” It was half question, half challenge.
“Rossony,” Baldrin said earnestly, “I think of you as one of my own dearly-loved sons. You know that. Do you think I would be here if I thought there was any chance that I would be taking you to imprisonment or death? You are being given an extraordinary opportunity. Given the nature and number of the charges against you, it’s extremely fortunate that they’re willing to extend this offer to you.”
Still unwilling to concede, Roric said nothing.
“You are wanted on charges of treason and murder, Rossony. This is your one chance to save your life!” Baldrin dropped his voice. “The Magisterial Council are desperate to know what happened to the magica. The Mages in the Dominion are unhappy about the disappearance of the magica and their livelihood, the mundane citizens are angry that the Mages continue to receive their legal privileges even though they are no longer able to work magic, and the Magisterium has been absolutely silent on the matter. A revolt unlike anything that has ever before threatened the Dominion is brewing, and your words, Rossony, may be the only thing that can stop it.”
An offer of a pardon that he knew better than to believe. Unrest turning to revolt, possibly civil war and bloodshed. The threat of death or imprisonment versus the opportunity to bring about real change. As Roric’s mind ran through all the different factors and possibilities, one course of action alone became clear to him. “All right, I’ll go.”
“Roric!” Perarre said sharply.
How to explain to her without revealing things he didn’t want to say in front of Baldrin? How to persuade her to accept what she found unacceptable? “If I go now, I have a promise from the Magisterial Council that I’ll be pardoned.” A promise likely worth the paper it was written on – which it wasn’t. “If they break that promise, there will be consequences they didn’t intend and that they won’t like. On the other hand, if I refuse their terms, I’ll be arrested with no chance for a pardon.”
“You’re out of your mind if you trust them!”
He agreed, even if he saw this as the best and only decision he could make. Intending for Baldrin and the guards lingering some distance away to hear what he said next, he raised his voice slightly. “It’s not so much that I trust them. Remember, I’ve taken the precaution of arranging for information damaging to the Dominion authorities to be revealed should anything happen to me.”
“Blackmail?” Baldrin gasped.
“Truth,” Roric replied. “I have a family to protect and provide for. I can’t afford to just give myself up.” He hoisted the large axe he’d been leaning on and rested the handle on his shoulder, reminding the men who had come to take him that truth wasn’t his only weapon and that they were still on the grounds of his home, where he was in charge. “There’s an inn in the village where you and they –” he jerked his head in the direction of the Guards “– can stay tonight. I’m afraid we don’t have room.”
“All right, just a moment.” Baldrin walked over to the Guards, consulted with them, then returned, looking even more uncomfortable than he had through the rest of their conversation. “Their instructions are that once we locate you, they aren’t to let you out of their sight, and to take you under their protection without delay.”
“Protection?” Perarre said, skepticism dripping from her voice. “It sounds to me like they’re arresting him.”
This was hard enough without Perarre getting upset; Roric wished she didn’t have to be involved at all. “Whatever they call it, my dear, I suppose we had better get ready to go. Unless you would rather stay here?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted.
“I’m afraid that the Council also wish Mrs. Rossony to return to Vorunne City,” Baldrin said apologetically, “though to the best of my knowledge there are no charges against her.”
Roric glared at him; the elderly Professor better be telling the truth about that. “Very well. It won’t take us long to get ready. We don’t have much.”
He carried the axe to a tool bench near the chopping block and set it down. Then he took out the tie that held his hair back and washed himself thoroughly with water from a bucket next to the tool bench. He had no intention of facing what lay ahead looking dirty and unkempt and undignified. When he was done, he tied his hair back again and put on the shirt that had been sitting, neatly folded, on the bench next to the water bucket.
When he was finished cleaning up, he walked with Perarre back to their house. They gathered what few possessions they had that they could take with, mostly things for the baby, into two traveling packs. When they came back outside, he put the axe and bucket from the workbench into a shed and stacked the wood he had cut next to the house. He didn’t know if they would ever come back here – no, he knew deep inside that they were leaving their quiet little home forever, though he wasn’t ready to admit it yet – but whoever did live here next would be able to use the tools and the wood. Then he went to the stable and opened the stalls. The horses had served him and Perarre well, had been faithful and hard-working companions, and he couldn’t leave them shut up in their stalls to starve.
“Poor things,” Perarre murmured as she walked with him to the carriage.
“They’ll find good homes here,” he said as he helped her into the carriage. Then he paused for a moment, resting a hand on the large, leafy tree in the yard. Looking towards the cottage as though taking one last look at his home, he used the magic that flowed through him and through the tree to send the message that would set certain events into motion, that he hoped would be of aid – if not to him, then to Perarre and their daughter and to the people of the Dominion.
He climbed into the carriage and sat on the rear seat beside Perarre, Baldrin on the facing seat. Perarre gave him a questioning look, and he nodded briefly. The message had been sent.
The driver flicked the reins, and the carriage and the mounted Guards who accompanied it turned away from the old farmhouse, their first home together, the place where their daughter was born, the home where they had been happy together and, for a time, safe.
(Roric POV) (From Chapter 47)
The afternoon was hot, but this order of wood was due in the village tomorrow morning, so Roric kept working through the heat. He had taken his shirt off, and was looking forward to bathing in cool water from the well when the job was done. The sound of clattering wheels and hoofbeats on the dirt road that ran past the farm came to him as his axe was half-raised for another stroke. Odd; no one ever came out here with a wagon and a large party to visit them. He looked to see, of all people, his mentor, colleague, and friend from the University, Delric Baldrin, accompanied by half a dozen mounted Dominion guards and a carriage, just inside the opening in the fence around the yard.
Dread clutched at his stomach. He had known it was probably inevitable that they would find him, but had also hoped against hope the day would never come. And really, Baldrin? He didn’t want to believe Baldrin had anything to do with this, but there he was.
He lowered his axe and rested the head on the ground. Leaning on the long handle, he stared at Baldrin and the guards. If they had business with him, they could be the ones to initiate it.
“That’s him,” Baldrin said quietly to the carriage driver. “I’ll talk to him. You stay here.”
The driver nodded, and Baldrin walked stiffly over towards Roric, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “Rossony.”
How in the world did you greet an old friend, almost a father to you, who had betrayed you? “Baldrin,” he said curtly.
After an awkward silence during which Baldrin looked from Roric to the house, around the yard, and back again, the elderly professor said, “You’ve changed, but you look well.” He glanced back at the house again. “I see Miss Tabrano is here with you.”
Roric also looked to see Perarre standing in the doorway of the house, holding Amiele cradled in her arms. “Mrs. Rossony,” he corrected Baldrin stiffly in defense of Perarre’s honor.
“Yes, of course. You married her, then. Good. And I’m glad to see that your union has borne fruit.” Baldrin lowered his voice and leaned in a bit. “I thought you would like to know, the boy found me. I’ve sent him to live with one of my daughters and her family.”
Remembering the boy he had found in the house of the merchant who had abused him, Roric allowed himself one small breath of relief. “Good.”
“They’ve been having him privately tutored, but they think he will be able to begin attending school soon.”
It was very good news, as good an outcome as he could have hoped for the boy, but the more Baldrin delayed getting to the reason for his coming here, the less patience Roric had for polite conversation. “How did you find us?”
Baldrin’s shoulders slumped, and he avoided looking Roric in the eye. “I’ve been sent by the Magisterial Council to bring you a message. I’m not sure how they knew you were here.”
There was more that Baldrin wasn’t telling him; Roric knew it as sure as he knew Baldrin was standing right in front of him. But before he could press for more details, Perarre, who had come over to stand beside him, said, “I thought you were his friend.” Defiance and fear warred together in her voice, and she clutched their daughter more tightly against her chest.
“I am his friend,” Baldrin answered gently. “Rossony, I’ve been sent by the Magisterial Council to inform you that if you will return peacefully to Vorunne City and tell the Council everything you know about what happened to the magica and what, if anything, can be done to put it back in working order, you will receive a pardon for any crimes of which you may be accused.”
Roric glanced at the Guards waiting by the carriage. He didn’t believe a word of what Baldrin was saying about pardons and being allowed to return peacefully. Not that he thought Baldrin was intentionally lying to him; his mentor was probably just repeating what he’d been told to say by a government he still trusted. “I’m not being arrested, then.” It was half question, half challenge.
“Rossony,” Baldrin said earnestly, “I think of you as one of my own dearly-loved sons. You know that. Do you think I would be here if I thought there was any chance that I would be taking you to imprisonment or death? You are being given an extraordinary opportunity. Given the nature and number of the charges against you, it’s extremely fortunate that they’re willing to extend this offer to you.”
Still unwilling to concede, Roric said nothing.
“You are wanted on charges of treason and murder, Rossony. This is your one chance to save your life!” Baldrin dropped his voice. “The Magisterial Council are desperate to know what happened to the magica. The Mages in the Dominion are unhappy about the disappearance of the magica and their livelihood, the mundane citizens are angry that the Mages continue to receive their legal privileges even though they are no longer able to work magic, and the Magisterium has been absolutely silent on the matter. A revolt unlike anything that has ever before threatened the Dominion is brewing, and your words, Rossony, may be the only thing that can stop it.”
An offer of a pardon that he knew better than to believe. Unrest turning to revolt, possibly civil war and bloodshed. The threat of death or imprisonment versus the opportunity to bring about real change. As Roric’s mind ran through all the different factors and possibilities, one course of action alone became clear to him. “All right, I’ll go.”
“Roric!” Perarre said sharply.
How to explain to her without revealing things he didn’t want to say in front of Baldrin? How to persuade her to accept what she found unacceptable? “If I go now, I have a promise from the Magisterial Council that I’ll be pardoned.” A promise likely worth the paper it was written on – which it wasn’t. “If they break that promise, there will be consequences they didn’t intend and that they won’t like. On the other hand, if I refuse their terms, I’ll be arrested with no chance for a pardon.”
“You’re out of your mind if you trust them!”
He agreed, even if he saw this as the best and only decision he could make. Intending for Baldrin and the guards lingering some distance away to hear what he said next, he raised his voice slightly. “It’s not so much that I trust them. Remember, I’ve taken the precaution of arranging for information damaging to the Dominion authorities to be revealed should anything happen to me.”
“Blackmail?” Baldrin gasped.
“Truth,” Roric replied. “I have a family to protect and provide for. I can’t afford to just give myself up.” He hoisted the large axe he’d been leaning on and rested the handle on his shoulder, reminding the men who had come to take him that truth wasn’t his only weapon and that they were still on the grounds of his home, where he was in charge. “There’s an inn in the village where you and they –” he jerked his head in the direction of the Guards “– can stay tonight. I’m afraid we don’t have room.”
“All right, just a moment.” Baldrin walked over to the Guards, consulted with them, then returned, looking even more uncomfortable than he had through the rest of their conversation. “Their instructions are that once we locate you, they aren’t to let you out of their sight, and to take you under their protection without delay.”
“Protection?” Perarre said, skepticism dripping from her voice. “It sounds to me like they’re arresting him.”
This was hard enough without Perarre getting upset; Roric wished she didn’t have to be involved at all. “Whatever they call it, my dear, I suppose we had better get ready to go. Unless you would rather stay here?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted.
“I’m afraid that the Council also wish Mrs. Rossony to return to Vorunne City,” Baldrin said apologetically, “though to the best of my knowledge there are no charges against her.”
Roric glared at him; the elderly Professor better be telling the truth about that. “Very well. It won’t take us long to get ready. We don’t have much.”
He carried the axe to a tool bench near the chopping block and set it down. Then he took out the tie that held his hair back and washed himself thoroughly with water from a bucket next to the tool bench. He had no intention of facing what lay ahead looking dirty and unkempt and undignified. When he was done, he tied his hair back again and put on the shirt that had been sitting, neatly folded, on the bench next to the water bucket.
When he was finished cleaning up, he walked with Perarre back to their house. They gathered what few possessions they had that they could take with, mostly things for the baby, into two traveling packs. When they came back outside, he put the axe and bucket from the workbench into a shed and stacked the wood he had cut next to the house. He didn’t know if they would ever come back here – no, he knew deep inside that they were leaving their quiet little home forever, though he wasn’t ready to admit it yet – but whoever did live here next would be able to use the tools and the wood. Then he went to the stable and opened the stalls. The horses had served him and Perarre well, had been faithful and hard-working companions, and he couldn’t leave them shut up in their stalls to starve.
“Poor things,” Perarre murmured as she walked with him to the carriage.
“They’ll find good homes here,” he said as he helped her into the carriage. Then he paused for a moment, resting a hand on the large, leafy tree in the yard. Looking towards the cottage as though taking one last look at his home, he used the magic that flowed through him and through the tree to send the message that would set certain events into motion, that he hoped would be of aid – if not to him, then to Perarre and their daughter and to the people of the Dominion.
He climbed into the carriage and sat on the rear seat beside Perarre, Baldrin on the facing seat. Perarre gave him a questioning look, and he nodded briefly. The message had been sent.
The driver flicked the reins, and the carriage and the mounted Guards who accompanied it turned away from the old farmhouse, their first home together, the place where their daughter was born, the home where they had been happy together and, for a time, safe.
