The Last Whisper of the Gods by James Berardinelli Page B

indifference. Alicia also exuded a calm aura. Her eyes were closed, her head was tilted back, and her lips were slightly parted. She appeared to be enjoying the storm’s rage and wasn’t the least frightened by it. Sorial wished he could say the same for himself. At least the horse and pony shared his terror.
    The hail stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, but it took the thunder and lightning longer to subside, and still more time for the black clouds to peel back and the midday sunshine to return. As Vagrum had predicted, there was no rain, but the ground was littered with melting ice, almost as if it was the middle of winter. When the hail succumbed to the heat, it would provide, however briefly, desperately needed moisture for a parched earth. Sorial could almost feel the ground’s relief.
    “That was fun.” Alicia was smiling. Her unbound hair, tousled by the wind, made her look untamed - a far more wild girl than the one who had arrived at the stable earlier in the day.
    “We have different ideas of fun,” muttered Sorial, heading over to the stalls to check on the animals.
    “Don’t tell me it didn’t excite you?” demanded Alicia, affronted by his lack of enthusiasm.
    “I could go the rest of my life without being ‘excited’ like that again.”
    Vagrum, who had momentarily stepped outside, announced, “Judging by the smoke, there are fires, but not as many as I feared. We’re lucky most of the lightning remained in the heavens rather than crashing to the ground. There was enough power in that storm to reduce Vantok to a pile of charred embers.”
    “A storm like that needs rain,” said Alicia. “Lots and lots of rain. Rain pouring down. That would have made it better than anything else.”
    Sorial gazed at her strangely. “Did you hit your head when I wasn’t looking?” He was having trouble understanding how she could be rhapsodizing about something that could have killed them. Even Vagrum appeared nonplused by her reaction.
    “Watch your tongue, stableboy!” she snapped, her imperious tone returning. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect someone who lives in a place like this to have respect for the majesty of the gods when it’s on display like this.”
    “Alicia, that’s enough,” said a baritone from the entrance to the stable. The duke had returned. “This boy didn’t ask to be born into poverty and raised here. We’re all where we are by the grace of the gods, and you would do well to remember that. At their whim, your positions could have been reversed, with you toiling away in the inn’s kitchens and him in our house. I thought I taught you better than to look down on those whose circumstances are less fortunate than your own.”
    Alicia’s fair skin reddened noticeably at the rebuke. She lowered her head and murmured, “Sorry, Father.”
    “Apologize to the boy, not me.”
    “Sorry, stableboy.” As she raised her eyes to look into his, Sorial noted that their flash was anything but apologetic.
    Turning to Vagrum, the duke said, “We were done a little while ago but decided to wait out the storm in the inn. Any problems out here?”
    “None, sir. I’d say there was something unnatural about the storm, though.”
    “You’re not alone in that opinion.” He tossed Sorial a small pouch of brass studs. “Thank you for helping keep my daughter safe during the foul weather.” Glancing at the tunic Sorial placed on the hay bale, he added, “And for providing her whatever meager comforts this place has to offer.”
    Sorial mumbled his thanks then, without another word, retrieved the Duke’s steed and Alicia’s pony from the stalls. In the wake of the storm, the animals were skittish, but their owners were able to calm them with soothing words. Soon, the three were gone and Sorial was alone in the strangely silent stable. Outside, activity was picking up again but many were afraid to emerge into the sunlight from wherever they had holed up. The crust of hailstones