Voices Scene 6
by Richard Perkins
Howard sat listlessly on the veranda, watching the stars wheel overhead. The evening rush of noise from the city had subsided to a quiet murmur. The slow pulse of the city beat on his senses from the east, while the rolling breakers of the sea ground at them from the west. The whispering of the ocean had always brought him peace before. But they had betrayed him. Tonight the quiet voice that he had always trusted sounded sinister and demanding. But only he could hear it.
Most of the servants had retired to their quarters hours ago. Howard had finally managed to chase the butler away in the last hour, but not before liberating a full bottle of 265 Riverton. It was not as good as the 258 Thayer, but Howard was more interested in quantity than in quality. He tilted the bottle back, surprised by how light it was. Even quantity seemed to have failed him tonight. Most of the bottle was gone and he still hadn’t managed to get a good drunk started.
His mother had locked herself in the warehouse office as soon as the dock workers knocked off for the night. Howard wasn’t sure what she was doing. He heard file drawers opening and closing, papers being shuffled, and furious scribbling noises. Occasionally he heard the splintering crash of failing wooden joints, or the unmistakable crunch of shattering glass. There were a few muffled curses, which surprised Howard even more. His father had always said Elise had a temper in their youth and could curse like a sailor. But Howard had never seen this side of his mother, and it scared him.
He swallowed the last mouthful of blood red wine without tasting it. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, not caring if the expensive fabric stained. Somehow nothing seemed real anymore. He kept expecting to wake up from this nightmare, tangled in sweat soaked sheets. He could see it, the glittering reality of his former life peaking out through cracks in the dark varnish of today’s events. At any moment the scales would fall away and things would go back to the way they were meant to be: his future secure, his family prosperous, his light undimmed. He waited for that moment, had been waiting for it since he stumbled away from the test center that afternoon.
But the moment never came. And the soft warm glow of this morning’s life was beginning to darken. Maybe that life had been the dream. Maybe now he was waking. What a horrifying thought. Howard slung the empty bottle across the veranda. It crashed against the mage wrought stone work and shattered, leaving a dark stain as the pieces slid to the ground.
A dog barked in the distance. And then everything was silent again. Unreal. Howard picked his head up sharply. The silence was different than before wasn’t it? Cocking his head to one side, he listened. The estate had fallen silent. The sleepy noises from the city continued, as did the incessant murmur of the sea. But his mother’s rampage in the office had ended. There were no curses, no crashes, no scribbling sounds. But there were voices, quiet, urgent, and furtive. His father must have returned.
“Well, I’m not getting any drunker here.” Howard levered himself out of his chair. He walked resolutely toward the docks. Sparklights cast a pale glow through the windows of the second story office. The outside staircase however was dark. As Howard reached the top of the stairs he found a splash of lamp oil on the railing beneath the shattered remains of the crystal bowl mounted above the door. Evidently the lamp had been one of the first victim’s of his mother’s ire. Fumbling in the dark, Howard pushed the door inward. It swung silently on its hinges, opening a yawning mouth of blackness a few shades darker than the surrounding night. Howard saw the faint glimmer of sparklight coming from inside, around the corner. Stepping carefully to avoid the shattered lamp and the spilled oil, he stepped into the darkness toward the sound of his parents’ voices. Something made him hesitate before stepping out into the light.
“…told you Elise, he won’t budge.”
“Perhaps you weren’t persuasive enough Thomas. Maybe I should have gone instead.”
“It wouldn’t have done any good. He refuses to contest the decision.”
“Did you go to the guild council then? We do still have some friends at the Academy.”
“We can’t do that. The panel representative made that abundantly clear.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“Nothing directly. But he implied enough. Think about it. An unregistered mage practicing in secret for who knows how many seasonturns, on our barge?”
“What? But that’s ridiculous Thomas. Howard hasn’t been practicing magery! We’d know if he had.”
“Would we? And even if we believe it, how can we prove it? Do you think for a moment the local guild would waive a few ‘turns of back mage tariffs just because he’s our son? Or just because we didn’t know?”
“No. They wouldn’t.”
“And they wouldn’t stop there. They’d disbar us from the guild Elise.”
“Even if they don’t, the suggestion alone would ruin us. We’d lose all of our regular buyers.”
“And with that new clipper…”
“We can’t take the risk. Oh Howard. How could you?”
Around the corner in the shadows, Howard leaned against the wall, shaking silently. His mouth tasted like ashes. He swallowed the painful knot in his throat. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes, but he would not let that dam break, not here.
“We have one chance Elise. The test results will be held in confidence for a few days at least. If we send the boy away before he can tell anyone, we might get out of here before the vultures start to circle.”
“The boy? He’s your son!”
“Is he? He didn’t pick up Doormaker affinity from my side of the family, I’ll tell you that much!”
Howard heard a reverberating smack and flinched.
“Oh that’s rich. Showing your true colors now are you?”
“Let’s just say you bring out the best in me Tom.”
Howard heard his father spit, something he had never seen before. “Either way, he’s ruined us good and proper, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah. He has.”
“It’s him or us now, Elle. Time to cut and run. Sell it all. And if it makes you feel any better, Howard doesn’t ever have to know.”
“The clipper is registered in his name, remember?”
“Some buyers are less picky about that than others. I know a guy.”
“You know a guy?”
“He’s not big into paperwork, that’s all.”
“A smuggler! Are you mad?
“Can you suggest a better way to sell everything this fast? Going through channels will take months and raise questions we can’t afford to answer right now.”
His mother paused before responding. “We’ll only get a third, maybe half market value from smugglers.”
“Or less. We’ll have to start all over somewhere else.”
Howard heard his mother give a frustrated sigh. “Well, it’s not as though he’s given us any other options.”
“Not the way I see it.”
“All right, I’ll think of something to keep Howard in the house for the next couple of days while you set up the deal.”
“Remember. Once he’s on the barge he’s the Doormakers’ problem. I’ll take care of…”
Unable to listen any more, Howard crept cautiously back down the darkened stairway. He had thought the loss of his future was the worst thing that could happen to him. He had been wrong. Really wishing that he had managed to get good and drunk earlier, he stumbled back to his chambers. Numb with confusion, he collapsed into his bed without bothering to undress.
