Free The Last Whisper of the Gods by James Berardinelli

behind a perplexed Sorial.
    * * *
    The next day, he arrived at his parents’ farm several hours after sunrise. It was late enough to prevent an unwelcome encounter with his father, who would devote the day’s every daylight hour tending to the fields. Since his mother’s visit to the inn following the attack, he had seen her more regularly. The loneliness he sensed in her that day had stirred his compassion, so he had made it a point to spend more time with her - something he knew she wanted. Sorial no longer found it a chore to come to the farm, which he did once every two or three weeks. For the most part, he was able to avoid Lamanar, making the trips less burdensome.
    “Good morning, Mother,” said Sorial, entering the front room of the two chamber cottage shared by Kara and her husband. It was a spartan hovel, with little in the way of décor. The wall opposite the door housed a fireplace and there were two rough-hewn wooden chairs set facing each other near it. The floor was packed dirt. The second room, a bedchamber, contained only a straw mattress. At one point, Sorial had lived here, but his only memories were of the fields. The dwelling was foreign to him; nothing in it stirred even the faintest recollection.
    Kara’s face lit up as her son came in, and she rose to hug him. A recent growth spurt had allowed him to match her height. When he was full-grown, she knew the top of her head would come only to his shoulders.
    “This is for you,” he said shyly, handing her the bracelet Alicia’s bargaining had won for him.
    Surprise, quickly chased by joy then a bittersweet sadness transfixed her features. As she took the present with trembling fingers, tears pooled in her eyes. Sorial nibbled on his lower lip, unable to decide whether she liked it.
    She turned it over in her hands but didn’t put it on. With her head bent, her long dark hair fell around her face, obscuring her features so Sorial couldn’t read her reaction.
    “Is it okay?” he ventured after a long moment’s silence. “A girl in the marketplace helped me choose it. I thought it looked pretty.”
    Kara slipped the bracelet on her left arm then looked up at her son. “It’s wonderful.” Her voice was unsteady. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “Oh, Sorial, you don’t know how much this means…”
    They sat facing each other in the cottage’s lone chairs, their knees inches apart. Since it was Summer, there was no fire. In fact, the room was suffocatingly hot. Sorial wondered whether they might be more comfortable outside.
    As was often the case, their conversation started with neutral topics like the weather, the king’s decision to name a successor, and whether the fields were likely to produce enough grain to see Kara and Lamanar comfortably through Winter. Eventually, however, Sorial steered the discussion toward a subject that had been gnawing at him for some time, but which he hadn’t felt comfortable talking about until now.
    “Mother, I hope this question won’t make you mad. I see how Father frowns at me every time we pass on the trail when I visit you. I know there’s something about me he don’t like and I can only think one thing. Is Lamanar my father?” It seemed a reasonable explanation for the negativity displayed by the man he named “Father.” After confiding the suspicion to Rexall, the other boy had agreed it was possible. For her part, Annie had tried to pacify him but, when pressed, she had admitted there was nothing of Lamanar in his appearance. There were likely only two people who knew the truth, and Sorial wasn’t going to approach one of them. That left his mother.
    Kara sighed and, even in the dimness of the cottage, Sorial could see her face lose some of its color. This was a topic she had been avoiding. “I knew one day you’d ask that, but I prayed the gods to delay it. I’m not sure they answer prayers any more. But you’re too old to be lied to - maybe not yet a