In Which Halford Is Called by Name

February 25, 1167

Lord Severin was by no means a short man, but there were few men alive who needn't have looked up to meet Halford's eyes. Being big and tall had its benefits--he had a long stride, and rarely did anyone make the foolish mistake of picking a fight with him--but this was one time where it seemed like almost a handicap. When you were tall, people assumed that you had power, that you knew the answers, that you possessed the ability to make everything right.

And knowing this made unfortunate tasks all the more difficult. Great things were expected of tall people; men of Halford's stature were meant to fix things--not to tell others that some tragedies were beyond repair.

"Halford," Lord Severin greeted him as he prodded the fire, only turning his head for the briefest of moments. He did not use the honorific of 'Goodman Diarn', for which Halford was grateful; he supposed it was somewhat better to hear bad news from someone one felt comfortable calling by name.

Perhaps the same was true of telling such things, but Halford doubted he would have been any less tense if he could have called the man by some childhood nickname. "My lord. I just came from Adonis's house. Arydath is still there."

Lifting his head, Lord Severin put down the poker and stared forward. "I would assume that Honora had the baby, then, but you don't seem like a man with such happy tidings. Is the child all right?"

"Fine, physically," Halford breathed, the image of that poor little brown-eyed infant screaming itself to sleep in Arydath's arms still fresh in his mind. "They were going to name the baby for your wife had it been a girl, but it's a boy, so they named him for you."

The other man nodded. "I shall thank them when I go to see the boy. How is Honora?"

Halford's upper lip drew inward as he took a sharp breath. "Well... she lost a lot of blood. Arydath needed an extra hand after the baby came, so I went in and I just couldn't believe it. I never would've guessed anyone had so much blood in them."

"Is she all right?" asked Lord Severin, but something in his tone suggested that he already knew the answer.

Halford sighed. "Arydath did everything she could, but... Honora's heart just kept racing. Adonis had to run to get Laveria, and even between the two of them, neither had ever seen anyone bleed out so quickly. There was nothing they could do for her. I'm so sorry, my lord; I know she and your wife were very close, and..."

There was no 'and'. There was just the silence that occurred as the news became reality.

Slowly, Lord Severin turned away from the hearth, his expression inscrutable. "Have you ever had one of those days where you just knew from the moment you woke that something terrible was about to occur?"

Halford shook his head; when one was married to a woman whose intuition bordered on the supernatural, one left such matters to her. Lord Severin's dark eyes flickered toward the ceiling, then met Halford's own. "My youngest daughter, Vera, she sometimes complains of seeing this... color. She doesn't have a name for it, and she can't really describe it--how can you describe a color, really? Anyway, it scares her; she woke me and Alina this morning by running into our room, screaming that the color was everywhere." He shifted, his shoulder rising as if he were trying to crack the joint. "The thing is... every time she sees this color, somebody dies, someone whose death affects the family. I don't know if Vera knows it, and I'm afraid to tell her, but I couldn't help but notice after a few instances. The stronger the color is, the nearer geographically the death occurs."

"So it was strong today, then?" Halford guessed.

Lord Severin closed his eyes. "Strongest she's ever seen, she claims. And then, a couple of hours ago, it just... stopped."

"Honora died a couple of hours ago."

"She did."

Halford watched as the other man began to pace about somewhat, strolling to the edge of the fireplace and back to the other before glancing at it again. "Sometimes I wonder if knowing half the fact is really any better than knowing nothing at all. All day I knew something would happen, but I was powerless to prevent it because I didn't know exactly what it would be."

"There was nothing you could have done," Halford tried to assure him. "There was nothing anyone could have done."

"I know--and yet, that makes it no easier." Lord Severin allowed himself to exhale, then bit his lip. "I shall tell my wife what you told me; Honora was her best friend and close confidante for years before we came here, you know. Go back to Adonis and your wife, and I'll be there soon after, with Alina if she so chooses. Tell Adonis and the children I'm sorry."

"I shall."

Agitated, Lord Severin tugged at his sleeve, his frown deepening. "The death of a good woman. A little girl seeing otherworldly apparitions. You know how some people wonder whether or not there actually is a God?"

Halford nodded. Lord Severin's eyes wondered warily about the room. "It seems to me that if the Bible is at all trustworthy, then the existence of the devil would prove the existence of God; therefore, I believe today has proven the existence of both."

NEXT CHAPTER: