If I Were a Herald

Chapter 36

Laws

A/N (12/22/05): Seems this song comes from something Guildmaster Vatean said to Skif in Take a Thief. Or maybe the scene in Take a Thief comes from the song. Anyroad, it's strikingly similar. Oh, and I adore Skif.

A/N (12/23/05): My computer decided to mutiny on me. It wouldn't turn off—but it wouldn't act like it was on, either. To get the damn thing to shut off, I had to take out the battery—which meant first finding the battery, and then figuring out how to open the case which contained it. But on a happier note, I spent the time when my computer was playing dead reading my newest acquisition in the romance book department, Blow Me Down by Katie MacAlister. (I wonder if she knows that "blow me down" in pirate lingo should mean "kill me," since "blow the man down" means "to kill.") Anyroad, it's hilarious. The guy on the front cover looks like a cartoonized Captain Jack Sparrow. It's written from the first person point of view—and she pulls it off quite nicely. Better than I do. It's hilarious. If you like my story—and I have no reason to doubt that anyone who's gotten this far does like it—you'll love Blow Me Down. The most vivid memory of it I have at this point is when her tongue decided to go on a sleepover in his mouth… oh, and the mouth-to-breast resuscitation was priceless.

A/N (12/24/05): I think the author did know the meaning of "blow me down." At least, she used it in proper context later… although who knows. Using it in context isn't the same as knowing what it means. But it's a far sight better than saying it because it sounds cool and piratey. Oh, and did I mention that the book rocked? Now, after I get some sleep, I swear I'll work on that holiday chapter.

Dark Angel Lytha: I'm glad to hear you had a fun birthday. I think this review was of record shortness for you. ;-)

Jay: Finally. And call me, would you? If you ever get around to reading this… And the kids are acting like the kids they never got to be. Kind of like the Pretender. You ever watch that show? If not, Pez and fake dog poo probably don't mean anything to you. Yeah, I noticed all the "J" names, too. I just like the letter "J." And you didn't see me skiing in a tank top. I have got to get those pictures.

Nawyn: Yes, Jacoby does get put on trial (eventually)… but remember, I'm a sucker for a happy ending. So there is hope yet.

"The pirates will be tried in Vertin," Vandir announced. He and I were ensconced in the spare cabin of the Hindsight, discussing the fate of the prisoners. Every once in a while I caught him staring at me, as if he didn't know what to make of me. After my declaration of love, I had half expected to be locked in the brig with the pirates.

:He trusts you to do what's right: Lyrna explained. :You're a Herald, after all. And for a Herald, duty must come before love.:

Ha. As if. My view on right and wrong differed significantly from Vandir's. "Let die the woman you love…or suffer the little children." But Spiderman had found the answer to that one, hadn't he. He'd saved them all. To hell with being a Herald. I've done my duty. There are now plenty of others to take up the slack.

I recalled Jacoby's last words to me. "I'm holdin' ye to that promise." Somehow I had to free them. Now was the moment of truth. It was on the tip of my tongue to deny that they were pirates at all. I could concoct a story that would convince Vandir of Jacoby's innocence, weave a web of lies to acquit every last sailor in his crew.

But in the end, I just couldn't do it. My decision had nothing to do with Lyrna. During my struggle she remained silent, sensing this was a dilemma I had to face alone.

I couldn't lie to Vandir. My word was all I had left.

Still, I left my options open. If lying was the only way to free Jacoby, he was worth more than my honor. "They're good men, Vandir. All of them. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"You still wouldn't understand."

"Are you saying they're not pirates?"

"Maybe I am." Maybe, on the rare occasion that pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course. "At least let Jimmy go. He's just a kid."

"A kid aboard a pirate ship. He killed one of my men."

I tried not to wince. Great move, Jimmy. "What are you going to do with the ship?"

"Bring it with us. I had hoped you would stay aboard that one. Half the prisoners will be on board—there are enough cells still intact for that. The men are moving the pirates as we speak. Split them up, so that if they cause trouble, there'll still be someone able to quell it."

And he trusted me on a shipful of pirates. This Herald business definitely had its benefits. Incorruptible indeed. "Fine. I'll keep an eye on them."

"You promise to bring them to Vertin for trial?"

Maybe he wasn't as clueless as I thought. "I promise." Wasn't much I could do, anyway, as long as the pirates were split up. Freeing half of them so they could take over both ships would cause the deaths of good men. I didn't want that on my conscience. So I'd bring them to Vertin. But they wouldn't necessarily ever get to their trial.

Round, like a circle in a spiral; like a wheel within a wheel; never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel; like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon; like a carousel that's turning, running rings around the moon; like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face; and the world is like an apple, whirling silently in space—like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own, down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shown; like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream; or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream; like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face; and the world is like an apple, whirling silently in space—like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.

Keys that jingle in your pocket; words that jangle in your head. Why did summer go so quickly; was it something that you said? Lovers walk along the shoreline, leave their footprints in the sand. Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand? Pictures hanging in a hallway, on the fragment of a song. Half-remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong? When you knew that it was over, you were suddenly aware that the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair.

A circle in a spiral; a wheel within a wheel; never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel, as the images unwind like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.

That was about what my head felt like two days later.

Jacoby was not on board the Bloodred Falcon when it was placed under my charge. If he had been, I might have done things differently, promise or no promise. Sometimes love was worth more than honor.

The first night, Jacoby and I got into a fight. Not a real fight, of course—we were on different ships—but a dream-fight. He wanted me to free the men on the Falcon, and I flat-out refused. He yelled that I was nothing but a liar, I'd promised him my help. And he blocked me from his dreams, don't ask me how. I missed him in the dark, lonely hours after midnight—the hours when I couldn't sleep, but stayed awake, reflecting on my multitude of sins. They'd only accumulated since my ill-fated stint with the bandits and its infamous ending at the hands of that bastard Sun-Priest. Now, added to petty thievery and lying, I'd fallen in love with a pirate and practically adopted his red-handed son. Jimmy was a good boy—but guilty of killing a guardsman. Why, oh why had Jacoby been so stupid? Why couldn't he have listened to me?

Because you're a Herald, dumbass. You're the enemy. No way he's going to trust you. Not until you get him out of this mess. And get him out I would, even if it cost me my life. That was forfeit anyway; ever since the fight with Mortimer I'd been living on borrowed time. That I was alive at all was a miracle—and due entirely to Jacoby's timely intervention.

What with everything that had happened, my head was still spinning. Jacoby—I loved him. Like crazy. Like love was supposed to be, but I'd never really believed would happen to me. I'd figured the best I could hope for was to find someone who would provide companionship, comfort—and hopefully some amount of passion—with whom I could spend the rest of my days. Love had been my dream, the one I acknowledged would never come true. As long as I had "forever after," I'd be content.

But here it was—a dream come true. Literally. But, like all dreams, there was a price. A catch. Like the three wishes on the monkey's paw.

I might love Jacoby, but he would never, could never love me back. Could I settle for anything less? Well, hell. I'd been prepared to settle for less before. As long as he followed a couple ground rules—as long as he continued to be a decent human being who cared about those around him—I'd be a fool to throw that away just because the world wasn't exactly to my liking.

The problem lay in convincing him to spend the rest of his life with me.

The other problem lay in making sure he'd have a "rest of his life."

What I planned to do went against just about every law I'd ever known.

The law of the street-wise is grab all you can, for there's nothing that's true, nothing lasts. If that were so, love wouldn't last either. My love for Jacoby would fade, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Like hell. I'm gonna love him forever and ever, forever and ever, amen.

The law of the dodger is learn all the dirt; the most pious of priests have their pasts. I already knew all the dirt on Jacoby. He was a pirate; that was enough to get him hanged. What I really needed was to learn all the good things about him. His gentle heart. His heroic streak. His clever retorts. The little things I loved.

The law of the drifter is cheat the fool first, or the one who'll be cheated is you. Pirates were notorious cheats, weren't they. But then, we'd never made any bargain—except over my share of the loot, which it looked like I wasn't going to get anyway—so there was nothing for him to cheat.

But the law of the Herald is give all you can, for someday you may need a gift, too. Like I could expect anything from these pirates in return. But—if I gave all I could, now, then someday, when I needed a gift from a stranger, I'd deserve it. And—I was a Herald. Not a street urchin, not a dodger, not a drifter. A Herald.

The law of the liar is there is no truth, it is all shades of meaning and greed. Well, I was a liar. But I knew truth when I saw it. And the truth was that I loved Jacoby.

The law of the hopeless is never believe, for all faith is a hollowed-out reed. But I already had an answer to that, didn't I? When all seems hopeless, and nothing's going right; when hope's faintest light is gone, and day is worse than night; I'll still hold my head up high, and see this journey through, 'cause I'm coming, oh I'm coming home to you.

The law of the empty is there's nothing more, life is nothing but shadow and air. That was the same as being hopeless, wasn't it. Nothing more. There's got to be something more.

But the law of the Herald is seek out and find, and the law of the Herald is care. And I did care. Far too much. More than was good for me. Ah, what the hell. I never was overly concerned with my health. Eat a bit of salt when I feel faint, try not to overindulge in my cups. Exercise whenever I feel like it. Yep, sounds like me.

The law of the hunted is guard your own back, for the enemy strikes from behind. And the law of the greedy is trust no one else; hide and hoard anything you may find. That sounded like me, too. Totally paranoid, and a right dragon when it came to hoarding things. But it was about time to give that up.

The law of the hater is crush and destroy, and the law of the bigot is kill. What room was there for hate when my heart was filled with love? No, I'd never really been one to hate. I could hold a grudge like no one you've ever seen, but I was too—too mathematical for hate. Too logical. There was just no point to such an emotion. Anger, yes—hate, no. As for killing—I'd done my share of that already. I would gladly kill that Sun-Priest who'd tortured me. I didn't hate him, though. I was mad as hell—even after a year—and I definitely wanted him dead. But I should probably leave that to Jacoby. Once I got him free.

But the law of the Herald is faith, hope, and trust; and the strength of the Herald is will. I was just going to have to trust Jacoby to come around. And if I set my mind to it, I could do anything—even get all the pirates free with a minimum of bloodshed.

And I asked myself which is the law I must take, fitting truth as a hand fits a glove. And I chose, and I never looked back from that day, for the law of the Herald is love. And that was the real kicker. The law of the Herald was to love one and all, and to act upon that love.

By the time we anchored the ships and escorted the prisoners to gaol, I knew what I had to do.

And there it is! Muahahahaha! Evil author with evil cliffie. Sort of. And by the way, did I mention that this chapter sucked? So go ahead and give me your criticism—but try to pepper it with suggestions for improvement. Because, in case you didn't notice, I'm kinda stuck in that regard.