Raven’sShadow-BookOne:BloodSong

ByAnthonyRyan

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Ryan

Copyright2011AnthonyRyan

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Raven’sShadow

BookOne:BloodSong

PartIRaven’sshadowsweeps across my

heart,Freezes the torrent of

mytears.Seordah poem, author

unknown.

Verniers’AccountHe had many names.

Although yet to reach histhirtiethyearhistoryhadseenfit to garner him with titlesaplenty: Sword of the Realmtothemadkingwhosenthimtoplagueus,theYoungHawkto themenwho followedhimthrough the trials of war,Darkblade tohisCumbraelinenemies and, as I was to

learnmuch later,Beral ShakUr to the enigmatic tribes ofthe Great Northern Forest -theShadowoftheRaven.

But my people knewhim by but one name and itwasthisthatsanginmyheadcontinually the morning theybrought him to the docks:Hope Killer. Soon you willdie and I will see it. HopeKiller.

Although certainly

taller than most men, I wassurprised to find that,contrary to the tales I hadheard, he was no giant, andwhilst his features werestrong they could hardly becalled handsome. His framewas muscular but notpossessed of the massivethewsdescribedsovividlybythe story tellers. The onlyaspect of his appearance tomatch his legend were his

eyes: black as jet andpiercing as a hawk’s. Theysaid his eyes could strip aman’s soul bare, that nosecret could be hidden if hemet your gaze. I had neverbelieved it but seeing himnow I could see why otherswould.

The prisoner wasaccompanied by a fullcompany of the ImperialGuard,ridingincloseescort,

lances ready, hard eyesscanning thewatchingcrowdfor trouble. The crowd,however, were silent. Theystopped tostareathimasherode through, but therewereno shouts, no insults ormissiles hurled. I recalledthattheyknewthisman,forabrief time he had ruled theircity and commanded aforeignarmywithinitswalls,andyetIsawnohateintheir

faces, no desire forvengeance. Mostly theyseemed curious.Whywas hehere? Why was he alive atall?

The company reined inon the wharf, the prisonerdismounting to be led to thewaitingvessel.Iputmynotesaway and rose from myresting place atop a spicebarrel, nodding at thecaptain. “Honour to you,

sir.”The captain, a veteran

Guards officer with a palescar running along his jawlineandtheebonyskinofthesouthern Empire, returnedthe nod with practisedformality.“LordVerniers.”

“I trust you had anuntroubledjourney?”

The captain shrugged.“A few threats here andthere. Had to crack a few

heads in Jesseria, the localswanted to hang the HopeKiller’s carcass from theirtemplespire.”

I bridled at thedisloyalty. The Emperor’sEdict had been read in alltowns through which theprisoner would travel, itsmeaning plain: no harm willcome to the Hope Killer.“The Emperor will hear ofit,”Isaid.

“Asyouwish,butitwasasmallmatter.”Heturnedtotheprisoner.“LordVerniers,I present the ImperialprisonerVaelinAlSorna.”

Inoddedformallytothetall man, the name a steadyrefrain in my head. HopeKiller, HopeKiller…“Honourtoyou,sir,”Iforcedthegreetingout.

Hisblackeyesmetminefor a second, piercing,

enquiring. For a moment Iwondered if the moreoutlandish stories were true,iftherewasmagicinthegazeofthissavage.Couldhetrulystrip the truth from a man’ssoul? Since the war, storieshad abounded of the HopeKiller’s mysterious powers.He could talk to animals,command the Nameless andshapetheweathertohiswill.His steel was tempered with

the blood of fallen enemiesand would never break inbattle. And worst of all, heand his people worshippedthedead,communingwiththeshades of their forebears toconjure forth all manner offoulness. I gave littlecredence to such folly,reasoning that if theNorthmen’s magics were sopowerful how had theycontrived to suffer such a

crushingdefeatatourhands?“My lord.” Vaelin Al

Sorna’s voicewasharshandthickly accented, his Alpiranhad been learned in adungeon and his tones wereno doubt coarsened by yearsofshoutingabovetheclashofweapons and screams of thefallen to win victory in ahundredbattles,oneofwhichhadcostmemyclosestfriend,andthefutureofthisEmpire.

I turned to the captain.“Why is he shackled? TheEmperor ordered he betreatedwithrespect.”

“The people didn’t likeseeing him ridingunfettered,” the Captainexplained. “The prisonersuggested we shackle him toavoid trouble.”Hemoved toAl Sorna and unlocked therestraints. The big manmassaged his wrists with

scarredhands.“My lord!” a shout

from the crowd. I turned tosee a portly man in a whiterobe hurrying towards us,face wet with unaccustomedexertion. “A moment,please!”

The captain’s handinchedclosertohissabrebutAl Sorna was unconcerned,smiling as the portly manapproached. “Governor

Aruan.”The portly man halted,

wiping sweat from his facewith a lace scarf. In his lefthand he carried a longbundle wrapped in cloth. Henodded at the captain andmyself but addressed himselfto the prisoner. “My Lord. Inever thought to see youagain.Areyouwell?”

“I am, Governor. Andyou?”

The portly man spreadhis right hand, lace scarfdangling from his thumb ,jewelled rings on everyfinger. “Governor no longer.Merelyapoormerchantthesedays. Trade is not what itwas,butwemakeourway.”

“Lord Verniers,”Vaelin Al Sorna gestured atme. “This is Holus NesterAruan, former Governor oftheCityofLinesh.”

“HonouredSir.”Aruangreetedmewithashortbow.

“Honoured Sir,” Ireplied formally. So this wasthemanfromwhomtheHopeKiller had seized the city.Aruan’s failure to take hisown life in dishonour hadbeen widely remarked uponin the aftermath of the warbut the Emperor (Godspreserve him in his wisdomand mercy) had granted

clemency in light of theextraordinary circumstancesof the Hope Killer’soccupation. Clemency,however,hadnotextendedtoa continuance of hisGovernorship.

Aruan turned back toVaelin.“Itpleasesmetofindyou well. I wrote to theEmperorbeggingmercy.”

“Iknow,yourletterwasreadatmytrial.”

I knew from the trialrecords that Aruan’s letter,writtenatnosmallrisktohislife, had formed part of theevidencedescribingcuriouslyuncharacteristic acts ofgenerosity and mercy by theHope Killer during the war.The Emperor had listenedpatiently to it all beforeruling that the prisoner wasontrialforhiscrimes,nothisvirtues.

“Your daughter iswell?” the prisoner askedAruan.

“Very, she weds thissummer. A feckless son of ashipbuilder, but what can apoor father do? Thanks toyou, at least she is alive tobreakmyheart.”

“I am glad. About thewedding, not your brokenheart. I can offer no giftexceptmybestwishes.”

“Actually my lord, Icomewithagiftofmyown.”

Aruan lifted the longcloth-covered bundle in bothhands, presenting it to theHope Killer with a strangelygraveexpression.“Ihearyouwill have need of this againsoon.”

There was a definitehesitation in the Northman’sdemeanourbeforehereachedout to take the bundle,

undoing the ties with hisscarred hands. The clothcameawaytorevealaswordof unfamiliar design, thescabbard-clad blade was ayard or so in the length andstraight unlike the curvedsabres favoured by Alpiransoldiery.Asingletinearchedaround the hilt to form aguard and the onlyornamentation to theweaponwas a plain steel pommel.

The hilt and the scabbardbore many small nicks andscratches that spoke of yearsof hard use. This was noceremonial weapon and Irealisedwithasickeningrushthat it was his sword. Thesword he had carried to ourshores. The sword thatmadehimtheHopeKiller.

“You kept that?” IsputteredatAruan,appalled.

The portly man’s

expression grew cold as heturned to me. “My honourdemandednoless,mylord.”

“My thanks,” Al Sornasaid, before any furtheroutrage could spill from mylips.HeheftedtheswordandI saw the Guard Captainstiffen as he drew the bladean inch or so from thescabbard, testing the edgewithhisthumb.“Stillsharp.”

“It’s been well cared

for. Oiled and sharpenedregularly.Ialsohaveanothersmalltoken.”Aruanextendedhis hand. In his palm sat asingle ruby, a well cut stoneof medium weight, no doubtoneof themore valuedgemsin the family collection. Iknew the story behindAruan’s gratitude, but hisevidentregardforthissavageandthesickeningpresenceofthe sword still irked me

greatly.Al Sorna seemed at a

loss, shaking his head.“Governor,Icannot…”

I moved closer,speakingsoftly.“Hedoesyoua greater honour than youdeserve, Northman. Refusingwillinsulthimanddishonouryou.”

He flicked his blackeyes over me briefly beforesmiling at Aruan, “I cannot

refuse such generosity.” Hetook the gem. “I’ll keep italways.”

“I hope not,” Aruanresponded with a laugh. “Amanonlykeepsajewelwhenhehasnoneedtosellit.”

“You there!” A voicefrom the vessel moored ashortdistancealongthequay,a sizeableMeldenean galley,the number of oars and thewidthofthehullshowingitto

beafreighterratherthanoneof their fabled war ships. Astockymanwithanextensiveblackbeardwaswavingfromthe bow, marked as thecaptain by the red scarf onhis head. “Bring the HopeKiller aboard you Alpirandogs!” he shouted withcustomaryMeldeneancivility.“Any more dithering andwe’llmissthetide.”

“Our passage to the

islands awaits,” I told theprisoner, gathering mypossessions. “We’d bestavoidtheireofourcaptain.”

“So it’s true then,”Aruan said. “You go to theIslandstofightforthelady?”I found myself disliking thetone in his voice, it soundeduncomfortablylikeawe.

“It’s true.” He claspedhandsbrieflywithAruanandnodded at the captain of his

guard before turning to me.“MyLord.Shallwe?”

“Youmaybeoneofthe

first in line to lick yourEmperor’s feet, scribbler,”the ship’s captain stabbed afingerintomychest,“butthisship is my kingdom. Youberth here or you can spendthevoyageropedtothemainmast.”

Hehadshownustoour

quarters, a curtained offsectionofholdneartheprowoftheship.Theholdstankofbrine, bilge water and theintermingled odour of thecargo, a sickly, cloyingmelange of fruit, dried fishand the myriad spices forwhich the Empire wasfamous. Itwasall I coulddotokeepfromgagging.

“I am Lord VerniersAlishe Someren, Imperial

Chronicler, First of theLearned and honouredservant of the Emperor,” Iresponded, the handkerchiefover my mouth muffling mywords somewhat. “I amemissary to the Ship Lordsand official escort to theImperial prisoner. You willtreatmewith respect, pirate,or I’ll have twentyGuardsmenaboard ina triceto flog you in front of your

crew.”The captain leaned

closer, incredibly his breathsmelt worse than the hold.“Then I’ll have twenty-onebodies to feed to the orcaswhen we leave the harbour,scribbler.”

Al Sorna prodded oneof the bedrolls on the deckwith his foot and glancedaround briefly. “This’ll do.We’llneedfoodandwater.”

I bristled. “Youseriously suggestwe sleep inthis rat-hole? It’sdisgusting.”

“You should try adungeon.Plentyof rats theretoo.” He turned to thecaptain.“Thewaterbarrel isontheforedeck?”

The captain ran astubby finger through themass of his beard,contemplating the tall man,

nodoubtwonderingifhewasbeingmockedandcalculatingif he could kill him if hehadto.Theyhaveasayingonthenorthern Alpiran coast: turnyour back on a cobra butnever a Meldenean. “Soyou’retheonewho’sgoingtocrossswordswiththeShield?They’re offering twenty toone against you in Ildera.Think I should risk a copperon you? The Shield is the

keenest blade in the Islands,can slice a fly in halfwith asabre.”

“Suchrenowndoeshimcredit.” Vaelin Al Sornasmiled.“Thewaterbarrel?”

“It’s there. You canhave one gourd a day each,no more. My crew won’t goshortforthelikesofyoutwo.You can get food from thegalley, if you don’t mindeatingwithscumlikeus.”

“No doubt I’ve eatenwith worse. If you need anextramanattheoarsIamatyourdisposal.”

“Rowed before haveyou?”

“Once.”The captain grunted,

“We’ll manage.” He turnedto go, muttering over hisshoulder,“Wesailwithinthehour,stayoutofthewayuntilwecleartheharbour.”

“Island savage!” Ifumed unpacking mybelongings, laying out myquillsandink.Icheckedtherewere no rats lurking undermy bedroll before sittingdown to compose a letter totheEmperor.Iintendedtolethim know the full extent ofthis insult. “He’ll find noberth in an Alpiran harbouragain,markyou.”

Vaelin Al Sorna sat

down, resting his backagainst the hull. “You speakmy language?” he asked,slipping into the Northerntongue.

“I study languages,” Ireplied in kind. “I can speakthe seven major tongues ofthe Empire fluently andcommunicateinfivemore.”

“Impressive. Do youknow the Seordahlanguage?”

I looked up from myparchment.“Seordah?”

“TheSeordahSilof thegreat northern forest. You’veheardofthem?”

“My knowledge ofnorthern savages is far fromcomprehensive. As yet I seelittlereasontocompleteit.”

“Foralearnedmanyouseem happy with yourignorance.”

“I feel I speak for my

entire nation when I say Iwishwe had all remained inignoranceofyou.”

He tilted his head,studying me. “That’s hate inyourvoice.”

I ignoredhim,myquillmoving rapidly over theparchment, setting out theformal opening for Imperialcorrespondence.

“You knew him didn’tyou?” Vaelin Al Sorna went

on.My quill stopped. I

refusedtomeethiseye.“YouknewtheHope.”Iputmyquillasideand

rose. Suddenly the stench oftheholdand theproximityofthis savagewereunbearable.“Yes, I knew him,” I grated.“Iknewhimtobethebestofus. I knew he would be thegreatest Emperor this landhas ever seen. But that’s not

the reason for my hate,Northman.IhateyoubecauseIknewtheHopeasmyfriend,andyoukilledhim.”

I stalked away,climbingthestepstothemaindeck, wishing for the firsttimeinmylifethatIcouldbeawarrior,thatmyarmswerethick with muscle and myheart hard as stone, that Icouldwieldaswordandtakebloody vengeance. But such

things were beyond me. Mybodywastrimbutnotstrong,my wits quick but notruthless.Iwasnowarrior.Sotherewouldbenovengeanceforme.All Icoulddo formyfriend was witness the deathof his killer and write theformalendtohisstoryforthepleasure of my Emperor andthe eternal truth of ourarchive.

Istayedonthedeckforhours, leaning on the rail,watching the green tingedwaters of the north Alpirancoastdeepen into theblueofthe inner Erinean sea as theship’s bosun beat the drumfor the oarsmen and ourjourneybegan.Onceclearofthecoast thecaptainorderedthe main sail unfurled andour speed increased, thesharp prow of the vessel

cutting through the gentleswell, the figurehead, atraditional Meldeneancarving of the wingedserpent, one of theirinnumerable sea gods,dipping its many toothedheadamidstahazeofspume.The oarsmen rowed for twohoursbeforethebosuncalledarestand theyshippedoars,trooping off to their meal.The day watch stayed on

deck,runningtheriggingandundertaking thenever endingchores of ship life. A fewfavoured me with acustomary glare or two, butnoneattemptedtoconverse,amercy for which I wasgrateful.

We were severalleagues from the harbourwhen they came into view,blackfinsknifingthroughtheswell, heraldedbya cheerful

shout from the crow’s nest.“Orcas!”

I couldn’t tell howmany therewere, theymovedtoo fast and too fluidlythrough thesea,occasionallybreaking thesurface tospouta cloud of steam beforediving below. It was onlywhen they camecloser that Ifully realised their size, overtwentyfeetfromnosetotail.Ihad seen dolphins before in

the southern seas, silveryplayful creatures that couldbetaughtsimpletricks.Thesewere different, their size andthe dark flickering shadowstheytracedthroughthewaterseemed ominous to me,threatening shades ofnature’s indifferent cruelty.My shipmates clearly feltdifferently, yelling greetingsfromtheriggingas ifhailingold friends. Even the

captain’s habitual scowlseemed to have softenedsomewhat.

Oneof theorcasbrokethe surface in a spectaculardisplay of foam, twisting inmid-air before crashing intothe sea with a boom thatshook the ship. TheMeldeneans roared theirappreciation. Oh Seliesen, Ithought.Thepoemyouwouldhavewrittentohonoursucha

sight.“They think of them as

sacred.” I turned to find theHopeKillerhadjoinedmeatthe rail. “They say when aMeldenean dies at sea theorcas will carry his spirit totheendlessoceanbeyond theedgeoftheworld.”

“Superstition,” Isniffed.

“Yourpeoplehavetheirgodsdotheynot?”

“My people do, I donot. Gods are a myth, acomforting story forchildren.”

“Such words wouldmake you welcome in myhomeland.”

“We are not in yourhomeland, Northman. NorwouldIeverwishtobe.”

Anotherorcarosefromthe sea, rising fully ten feetinto the air before plunging

backdown.“It’sstrange,”AlSorna mused. “When ourshipscameacrossthisseatheorcasignoredthemandmadeonly for the Meldeneans.Perhaps they share the samebelief.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Orperhaps they appreciate afree meal.” I nodded at theprow where the captain wasthrowingsalmonintothesea,the orcas swooping on them

fasterthanIcouldfollow.“Why are you here,

Lord Verniers?” Al Sornaasked.“WhydidtheEmperorsendyou?You’renogaoler.”

“The Emperorgraciously consented to myrequest to witness yourupcoming duel. And toaccompany the Lady Emerenhomeofcourse.”

“You came to see medie.”

“I came to write anaccount of this event for theImperial Archive. I am theImperial Chronicler afterall.”

“So they told me.Gerish, my gaoler, was agreatadmirerofyourhistoryof the war with my people,considered it the finest workinAlpiranliterature.Heknewa lot for a man who spendshis life in a dungeon. He

would sit outside my cell forhours reading out page afterpage, especially the battles,helikedthose.”

“Accurate research isthe key to the historian’sart.”

“Thenit’sapityyougotitsowrong.”

Once again I foundmyself wishing for awarrior’s strength.“Wrong?”

“Very.”“I see. Perhaps if you

workyoursavage’sbrainyoucould tell me which sectionsweresoverywrong.”

“Oh, you got the smallthings right, mostly. Exceptyou said my command wastheLegionoftheWolf.Infactit was the Thirty-FifthRegiment of Foot, knownamongst theRealmGuardastheWolfrunners.”

“I’llbesuretorushoutarevisededitiononmyreturntothecapital,”Isaiddryly.

He closed his eyes,remembering. “‘King Janus’invasionofthenortherncoastwas but the first step inpursuance of his greaterambition, the annexation oftheentireEmpire.’”

It was a verbatimrecitation.Iwasimpressedbyhismemory,butwasdammed

if I’d say so. “A simplestatement of fact. You camehere to steal the empire.Januswasamadmantothinksuch a scheme couldsucceed.”

Al Sorna shook hishead. “We came for thenortherncoastalports.Januswanted the trade routesthrough the Erinean. And hewasnomadman.Hewasoldanddesperate,butnotmad.”

I was surprised at thesympathyevidentinhisvoice;Januswas thegreatbetrayerafter all, it was part of theHope Killer’s legend. “Andhow do you know the man’smindsowell?”

“Hetoldme.”“Toldyou?” I laughed.

“Iwroteathousandlettersofenquiry to every ambassadorand Realm official I couldthink of. The few who

bothered to reply all agreedon one thing: Janus neverconfidedhisplans toanyone,notevenhisfamily.”

“And yet you claim hewanted to conquer yourwholeempire.”

“A reasonablededuction based on theavailableevidence.”

“Reasonable, maybe,but wrong. Janus had aking’s heart, hard and cold

when he needed it to be.Buthewasn’tgreedyandhewasno dreamer. He knew theRealmcouldnevermusterthemen and treasure needed toconquer your empire. Wecamefortheports.Hesaiditwas the only way we couldsecureourfuture.”

“Whywould he confidesuchintelligencetoyou?”

“We had… anarrangement. He told me

many thingshewould tellnoother.Someofhiscommandsrequired an explanationbeforeIwouldobeythem.Butsometimes I think he justneeded to talk to someone.Evenkingsgetlonely.”

Ifeltacurioussenseofseduction; the Northmanknew I hungered for theinformationhecouldgiveme.My respect for him grew, asdidmydislike.Hewas using

me,hewantedmetowritethestoryhehadtotell.QuitewhyI had no idea. I knew it wassomething to do with Janusandtheduelhewouldfightinthe islands. Perhaps heneeded to unburden himselfbeforehisend,leavealegacyoftruthsohewouldbeknownto history as more than justthe Hope Killer. A finalattempt to redeem both hisspirit and that of his dead

king.I let the silence string

out, watching the orcas untilthey had eaten their fill offree fish and departed to theeast. Finally, as the sunbegan to dip towards thehorizon and the shadowsgrew long, I said, “So, tellme.”

Chapter1The mist sat thick on

the ground the morningVaelin’s father took him tothehouseof theSixthOrder.He rode in front, his handsgrasping the saddle’spommel, enjoying the treat.His father rarely took himriding.

“Where do we go, mylord?” he had asked as his

fatherledhimtothestable.The tall man said

nothing but there was thebriefest pause before hehoistedthesaddleontooneofhis chargers. Accustomed tohisfather’sfailuretorespondto most questions, Vaelinthoughtnothingofit.

They rode away fromthe house, the charger’s ironshoes clattering on thecobbles. After a while they

passed through the easterngatewherethebodieshungincages from the gibbet andstained the air with the sickstench of decay. He hadlearned not to ask what theyhad done to earn suchpunishment,itwasoneofthefew questions his father hadalways been willing toanswerandthestorieshetoldwould leave Vaelin sweatingand tearful in the night,

whimpering at every noisebeyond the window,wondering if the thieves orrebels or Dark afflictedDenierswerecomingforhim.

The cobbles soon gaveway to the turf beyond thewalls, his father spurring thecharger to a canter then agallop, Vaelin laughing withexcitement. He felt amomentary shame at hisenjoyment. His mother had

passed just two monthspreviously and his father’ssorrowwasablackcloudthatsatoverthewholehousehold,making servants fearful andcallers rare. But Vaelin wasbut ten years old and had achild’s view of death: hemissed his mother but herpassing was a mystery, theultimate secret of the adultworld and although he criedhe didn’t know why, and he

still stole pastries from thecook and played with hiswoodenswordsintheyard.

They galloped forseveral minutes before hisfather reined in, although toVaelinitwasalltoobrief,hewanted to gallop forever.They had stopped before alarge iron gate. The railingswere tall, taller than threemen set end to end, eachtopped with a wicked spike.

Attheapexofthegate’sarchstoodafiguremadeofiron,awarrior, sword held in frontof his chest, pointingdownwards, the face awithered skull. The walls oneithersidewerealmostastallasthegate.Totheleftabrassbell hung from a woodencrossbeam.

Vaelin’s fatherdismounted then lifted himfromthesaddle.

“Whatisthisplace,mylord?” he asked. His voicefelt as loud as a shoutalthough he spoke in awhisper. The silence and themist made him uneasy, hedidn’t like the gate and thefigure which sat atop it. Heknewwithachild’scertaintythat the blank eye socketswere a lie, a trick. It waswatchingthem,waiting.

His father didn’t reply,

walking over to the bell hetookhisdagger fromhisbeltand struck it with thepommel. The noise seemedlikeanoutrageinthesilence.Vaelinputhishandsoverhisearsuntilitdiedaway.Whenhe looked up his father wasstandingoverhim.

“Vaelin,”hesaid inhiscoarse, warrior’s voice. “Doyou remember the motto Itaught you? Our family

creed.”“Yesmylord.”“Tellme.”“‘Loyalty is our

strength.’”“Yes. Loyalty is our

strength. Remember it.Remember that you are myson and that I want you tostay here. In this place youwill learn many things, youwill become a brother of theSixth Order. But you will

always be my son, and youwillhonourmywishes.”

There was a scrape ofgravel beyond the gate andVaelin started, seeing a tall,cloaked figure standingbehind the railings. He hadbeen waiting for them. Hisface was hidden by the mistbut Vaelin squirmed in theknowledge of being studied,appraised. He looked up athis father seeing a large,

strong featured man with agreying beard and deep linesin his face and forehead.Therewas something new inhis expression, somethingVaelinhadneverseenbeforeand couldn’t name. In lateryears he would see it in thefaces of a thousandmen andknowitasanoldfriend:fear.It struckhimthathis father’seyes were unusually dark,much darker than his

mother’s. This was how hewould remember himthroughouthis life.Toothershewas theBattle Lord, FirstSwordoftheRealm,theheroof Beltrian, King’s saviourand father of a famous son.To Vaelin he would alwaysbe a fearful man abandoninghis son at the gate to theHouseoftheSixthOrder.

He felt his father’slarge hand pressing against

hisback.“GonowVaelin.Gotohim.Hewillnothurtyou.”

Liar! Vaelin thoughtfiercely, his feet dragging onthe soil as he was pushedtoward thegate.The cloakedfigure’s face became cleareras they neared, long andnarrow with thin lips withpale blue eyes. Vaelin foundhimselfstaringintothem.Thelong faced man stared back,ignoringhisfather.

“What is your name,boy?” The voice was soft, asighinthemist.

Why his voice didn’ttremble Vaelin never knew.“Vaelin, my lord. Vaelin AlSorna.”

The thin lips formed asmile.“Iamnotalord,boy.Iam Gainyl Arlyn, Aspect oftheSixthOrder.”

Vaelin recalled hismother’s many lessons in

etiquette. “My apologies,Aspect.”

There was a snortbehind him.Vaelin turned toseehisfatherridingaway,thechargerquicklyswallowedbythe mist, hooves drummingon the soft earth, fading tosilence.

“Hewillnotbecomingback, Vaelin,” said the longfaced man, the Aspect, hissmile gone. “You knowwhy

hebroughtyouhere?”“To learn many things

andbeabrotherof theSixthOrder.”

“Yes. But no one mayenter except by their ownchoice,betheymanorboy.”

Asuddendesiretorun,to escape into the mist. Hewould run away. He wouldfindabandofoutlawstotakehim in, he would live in theforest, have many grand

adventures and pretendhimself an orphan… Loyaltyisourstrength.

The Aspect’s gaze wasimpassivebutVaelinknewhecould read every thought inhisboy’shead.Hewonderedlaterhowmanyboys,draggedor tricked there bytreacherous fathers, did runaway, and if so, if they everregrettedit.

Loyaltyisourstrength.

“I wish to come in,please,” he told the Aspect.There were tears in his eyesbutheblinkedthemaway.“Iwishtolearnmanythings.”

TheAspectreachedoutto unlock the gate. Vaelinnoticed his hands boremanyscars. He beckoned Vaelininside as the gate swungopen. “Come, little Hawk.Youareourbrothernow.”

Vaelin quickly realisedthat the house of the SixthOrderwas not truly a house,it was a fortress. Granitewalls rose like cliffs abovehimas theAspect ledhim tothe main gate. Dark figurespatrolled the battlements,strongbows inhand,glancingdownathimwithblank,mistshrouded eyes. The entrancewas an arched doorway,portcullis raised to allow

thementry,thetwospearmenonguard,bothseniorstudentsof seventeen, bowed inprofound respect as theAspect passed through. Hebarely acknowledged them,leading Vaelin through thecourtyard where otherstudentssweptstrawfromthecobbles and the ring ofhammer onmetal came fromtheblacksmith’sshop.Vaelinhad seen castles before, his

father and mother had takenhim to the King’s palaceonce, trussed into his bestclothes and wriggling inboredomastheAspectoftheFirst Order droned on aboutthe greatness of the King’sheart. But the King’s Palacewas a brightly lit maze ofstatues and tapestries andclean polished marble andsoldierswithbreastplatesyoucould see your face in. This

King’spalacedidn’tsmellofdung and smoke and have ahundredshadoweddoorways,all no doubt harbouring darksecretsaboyshouldn’tknow.

“Tell me what youknow of this Order, Vaelin,”theAspectinstructed,leadinghim on towards the mainkeep.

Vaelin recited from hismother’s lessons: “The SixthOrder wields the sword of

justice and smites theenemies of the Faith and theRealm.”

“Very good.” TheAspect sounded surprised.“You are well taught. Butwhat is it thatwedo that theotherOrdersdonot?”

Vaelin struggled for anansweruntil theypassed intothe keep and saw two boys,both about twelve, fightingwith wooden swords, ash

cracking together in a rapidexchangeof thrust,parryandslash.Theboysfoughtwithinacircleofwhitechalk,everytime their struggle broughtthemclose to theedgeof thecircletheinstructor,askeletalshaven headed man, wouldlash themwith a cane. Theybarely flinched from theblows,intentontheircontest.One boy over extended alungeand tookablow to the

head. He reeled back, bloodstreaming from the wound,falling heavily across thecircle to draw another blowfromtheinstructor’scane.

“You fight,” Vaelintold the Aspect, the violenceand the blood making hishearthammerinhischest.

“Yes.” The Aspecthalted and looked down athim. “We fight.We kill.Westorm castle walls braving

arrows and fire. We standagainst the charge of horseand lance. We cut our waythroughthehedgeofpikeandspeartoclaimthestandardofour enemy. The Sixth Orderfights, but what does it fightfor?”

“FortheRealm.”The Aspect crouched

down until their faces werelevel. “Yes, the Realm, butwhat is more than the

Realm?”“TheFaith?”“You sound uncertain,

little Hawk. Perhaps you arenot as well taught as Ibelieved.”

Behind him theinstructor dragged the fallenboy to his feet amidst ashower of abuse. “Clumsy,slack-witted, shit-eating oaf!Get back in there. Fall againand I’llmake sureyounever

getup.”“‘The Faith is the sum

ofourhistoryandourspirit,’”Vaelin recited. “‘When wepass into the Beyond ouressence joins with the soulsof the Departed to lend ustheir guidance in this life. Inreturn we give them honourandfaith.’”

The Aspect raised aneyebrow. “You know thecatechismwell.”

“Yes sir. My mothertutoredmeoften.”

The Aspect’s faceclouded. “Your mother…”He stopped, his expressionswitching back to the sameemotionless mask. “Yourmother should not bementioned again. Nor yourfather, or any other memberof your family.You have nofamily now save the Order.YoubelongtotheOrder.You

understand?”Theboywiththecuton

hisheadhadfallenagainandwas being beaten by themaster, the cane rising andfalling in regular evenstrokes, the master’s skull-like face betraying scantemotion.Vaelinhad seen thesame expression on hisfather’sfacewhenhetookthestraptooneofhishounds.

You belong to the

Order. To his surprise hisheart had slowed, andhe feltno quaver in his voice whenhe answered the Aspect, “Iunderstand.”

Themaster’snamewas

Sollis. He had lean,weathered features and theeyesofagoat:grey,coldandstaring. He took one look atVaelin and asked, “Do youknowwhatcarrionis?”

“Nosir.”Master Sollis stepped

closer, looming over him.Vaelin’sheart still refused tobeatanyfaster.Theimageofthe skull-faced masterswinging his cane at the boyon the floor of the keep hadreplaced his fear with asimmeringanger.

“It’s dead meat boy,”Master Sollis told him. “It’sthefleshleftonthebattlefield

to be eaten by crows andgnawed by rats. That’s whatawaitsyou,boy.Deadflesh.”

Vaelin said nothing.Sollis’s goat eyes tried tobore into him but he knewtheysawno fear.Themastermadehimangry,notafraid.

There were ten otherboys allocated to the sameroom, an attic in the NorthTower.Theywereallhisageor close to it, some sniffling

in loneliness andabandonment, others smilingcontinually with the noveltyof parental separation. Sollismade them line up, lashinghis cane at a beefy boywhowastooslow.“Movesmartly,dunghead.”

He eyed themindividually, stepping closerto insult a few. “Name?” heaskedatall,blondhairedboy.

“Nortah Al Sendahl,

sir.”“It’s master not sir,

shit-wit.”Hemoveddowntheline.“Name?”

“Barkus Jeshua,master,”thebeefyboyhehadcanedreplied.

“I see they still breedcarthorsesinNilsael.”

And soonuntil hehadinsulted them all. Finally hesteppedback tomakeashortspeech: “No doubt your

families sent you here fortheirownreasons,”Sollistoldthem. “They wanted you tobeheroes,theywantedyoutohonour their name, theywanted to boast about youbetween swilling ale orwhoring about town, ormaybetheyjustwantedtoberid of a squalling brat.Well,forget them. If they wantedyou, you wouldn’t be here.You’reoursnow,youbelong

to the Order. You will learnto fight, you will kill theenemiesoftheRealmandtheFaith until the day you die.Nothingelsematters.Nothingelse concerns you.You haveno family, you have nodreams, you have noambitionsbeyondtheOrder.”

Hemade them take theroughcottonsacksfromtheirbeds and run down thetower’s numerous steps and

across the courtyard to thestablewhere they filled themwith straw amidst a flurry ofcanestrokes.VaelinwassurethecanefellonhisbackmorethantheothersandsuspectedSollisofforcinghimtowardsthe older, damper patches ofstraw. When the sacks werefullhewhippedthembackupto the tower where theyplaced them on the woodenframeswhichwould serveas

their beds. Then it wasanother run down to thevaults beneath the keep. Hemade them line up, breathsteaming in the chill air,gasps echoing loudly. Thevaults seemed vast, brickarchways disappearing intothe darkness on every side.Vaelin’s fear began torekindle ashe stared into theshadows, bottomless andpregnantwithmenace.

“Eyes forward!”Sollis’scaneleftaweltonhisarm and he choked down apainfilledsob.

“New crop, MasterSollis?” a cheerful voiceenquired. A very large manhad appeared from thedarkness, oil lamp flickeringinhishamsizedfist.HewasthefirstmanVaelinhadseenwho seemed broader than hewas long. His girth was

confinedwithinavoluminouscloak,darkblueliketheothermasters,butwithasingleredrose embroidered on thebreast. Master Sollis’s cloakwasbareofanydecoration.

“Another sweeping ofshit,MasterGrealin,”he toldthe large man with an air ofresignation.

Grealin’s fleshy faceformed a brief smile. “Howfortunate they are to have

yourguidance.”There was a moment’s

silenceandVaelinsensedthetensionbetweenthetwomen,finding it noteworthy thatSollisspokefirst.“Theyneedgear.”

“Of course.” Grealinmovedclosertoinspectthem,he seemed strangely light offoot for such an enormousman, appearing to glideacross the flagstones. “Little

warriors must be armed forthe battles to come.”He stillsmiledbutVaelinnoticedhiseyes showed no mirth as hescanned them.Onceagainhethought of his father, of theway he looked when theyvisited the horse traders’ fairand one of the breeders triedto interest him in a charger.Hisfatherwouldwalkaroundthe animal, telling Vaelinhow to spot the signs of a

goodwarhorse,thethicknessof muscle that indicatedwhetheritwouldbestronginthemeleebut tooslowinthecharge, how the best mountsneeded some spirit left afterbreaking.“Theeyes,Vaelin,”he told him. “Look for ahorse with a spark of fire initseyes.”

Was that what MasterGrealinwaslookingfornow,fire in their eyes? Something

togaugewhowouldlast,howthey would do in the chargeorthemelee.

Grealin paused next toa slightly built boy namedCaenis who had enduredsomeofSollis’sworstinsults.Grealin looked down at himintently, the boy shiftinguncomfortably under thescrutiny.“What’syourname,littlewarrior?”Grealin askedhim.

Caenis had to swallowbefore he could answer.“CaenisAlNysa,master.”

“Al Nysa.” Grealinlooked thoughtful. “A noblefamily of some wealth, ifmemory serves. Lands in thesouth, allied by marriage tothe House of Hurnish. Youarealongwayfromhome.”

“Yesmaster.”“Well, fret not. You

havenewhomeintheOrder.”

He patted Caenis on theshoulder three times,makingtheboyflinchalittle.Sollis’scane had no doubt left himfearing even the gentlesttouch. Grealin moved alongthe line, asking variousquestions of the boys,offering reassurances, all thewhile Master Sollis beat hiscane against his booted calf,thetack,tack,tackofstickonleather echoing through the

vaults.“I think I know your

name already, little warrior.”Grealin’s bulk towered overVaelin. “Al Sorna. YourfatherandIfoughttogetherinthe Meldenean war. A greatman.Youhavehislook.”

Vaelinsawthetrapanddidn’t hesitate. “I have nofamily, Master. Only theOrder.”

“Ah,but theOrder isa

family,littlewarrior.”Grealingave a short chuckle as hemoved away. “And MasterSollisandIareyouruncles.”This made him laugh evenmore. Vaelin glanced atSollis,nowglaringatGrealinwithundisguisedhatred.

“Follow me, gallantlittle men!” Grealin called,his lamp raised above hisheadashemoveddeeperintothevaults.“Don’twanderoff,

the rats don’t like visitors,and someof themare biggerthan you.” He chuckledagain. Beside Vaelin, Caenisletoutashortwhimper,wideeyes staring into thefathomlessblackness.

“Ignore him,” Vaelinwhispered. “There’re no ratsdown here. The place is tooclean, there’s nothing forthemtoeat.”Hewasn’tatallsureitwastruebutitsounded

vaguelyencouraging.“Shut your mouth,

Sorna!”Sollis’scanesnappedthe air above his head. “Getmoving.”

They followed MasterGrealin’s lampinto theblackemptiness of the vaults,footsteps and the fat man’slaughter mingling to form asurreal echo punctuated bythe occasional snap ofSollis’s cane. Caenis’s eyes

darted about constantly, nodoubtsearchingforgiantrats.It seemedanagebefore theycame to a solid oak door setinto the rough brickwork.Grealinbadethemwaitasheunclasped his keys from hisbeltandunlockedthedoor.

“Now little men,” hesaid, swinging the door openwide.“Letusarmyouforthebattlestocome.”

The room beyond the

door seemed cavernous,endless racks of swords,spears, bows, lances and ahundred other weaponsglittered in the torchlightandbarrel after barrel lined thewalls alongwithuncountablesacksofflourandgrain.“Mylittle domain,” Grealin toldthem.“IamtheMasteroftheVaults and the keeper of thearmoury.There isnot abeanor an arrowhead in this store

thatIhavenotcounted,twice.If you need anything it isprovided by me. And youanswer tome if you lose it.”Vaelin noted that his smilehaddisappeared.

They lined up outsidethe store room as Grealinfetched their bundles, tengrey muslin sacks bulgingwith various items. “Theseare the Order’s gifts, littlemen,” Grealin told them

brightly, moving along theline todeposita sackateachboy’s feet. “Eachofyouwillfind the following in yourbundle:onewoodenswordofthe Asraelin pattern, onehunting knife twelve inchesin length, one pair of boots,twopairsof trews, twoshirtsof cotton, one cloak, oneclasp, one purse, empty ofcourse, and one of these…”Master Grealin held

somethinguptothelantern,itshone in the glow, twistinggently on its chain. It was amedallion, a circle of silverinset with a figure Vaelinrecognised as the skull-headed warrior that sat atopthe gate outside the OrderHouse. “This is the sigil ofour Order,” Master Grealinwent on. “It representsSaltroth Al Jenrial, firstAspect of theOrder.Wear it

always, when you sleep,when youwash, always. I’msure Master Sollis has manypunishmentsinmindforboyswhoforgettokeepiton.”

Sollis kept quiet, thecane still tapping his bootsaiditall.

“My other gift is but afewwordsofadvice,”MasterGrealin continued. “Life inthe Order is harsh and oftenshort. Many of you will be

expelled before your finaltest, perhaps all of you, andthose who win the right tostay with us will spend yourlives patrolling distantfrontiers, fighting endlesswarsagainstsavages,outlawsor heretics duringwhich youwillmostlikelydieifyouareluckyorbemaimedifyouarenot.Thosefewleftaliveafterfifteen years service will begiventheirowncommandsor

returnheretoteachthosewhowill replace you. This is thelife to which your familieshave given you. It may notseem so, but it is an honour,cherish it, listen to yourmasters, learn what we canteach you and always holdtrue to the Faith. RememberthesewordsandyouwilllivelongintheOrder.”Hesmiledagain, spreading his plumphands. “That is all I can tell

you,littlewarriors.Runalongnow,nodoubtI’llseeyouallsoon when you lose yourprecious gifts.” He chuckledagain, disappearing into thestore room, the echo of hislaughter following them asSollis’s cane hounded themfromthevaults.

The post was six feet

tallandpaintedredatitstop,blue in themiddle and green

atthebase.Therewereabouttwentyofthem,dottedaroundthe practice field, silentwitnesses to their torment.Sollis made them stand infront of a post and strike atthecolourswiththeirwoodenswordsashecalledthemout.

“Green! Red! Green!Blue! Red! Blue! Red!Green!Green…”

Vaelin’s arm began toache after the first few

minutesbuthekeptswingingthewoodenswordashardashe could. Barkus hadmomentarilydroppedhisarmafter a few swings earning asalvoofcanestrokes,robbinghimofhishabitualsmileandleavinghisforeheadbloody.

“Red! Red! Blue!Green!Red!Blue!Blue…”

Vaelin found that theblowwouldjarhisarmunlesshe angled the sword at the

last instant, letting the bladeslash across the post ratherthan thump into it. Solliscame to stand behind him,making his back itch inexpectation of the cane. ButSollis just watched for amoment and grunted beforemoving off to punish Nortahforstrikingattheblueinsteadof the red. “Open your ears,you foppish clown!” Nortahtooktheblowonhisneckand

blinked away tears as hecontinuedtofightthepost.

He kept them at it forhours, his cane a sharpcounterpoint to the solidthwack of their swordsagainst the posts. After awhile he made them switchhands. “A brother of theOrder fights with bothhands,”hetoldthem.“Losinga limb is no excuse forcowardice.”

After anotherinterminablehourormorehetold them to stop, makingthem line up as he swappedhiscaneforawoodensword.Like theirs it was of theAsraelin pattern: a straightbladewith a hand and a halflong hilt and pommel and athin metal tine curvingaround the hilt to protect thefingersofthewielder.Vaelinknewaboutswords,hisfather

hadmany hanging above thefireplace in the dining hall,tempting his boy’s handsalthough he never daredtouch them. Of course theywere larger than thesewooden toys, the blades ayard or more in length andwornwithuse,keptsharpbutshowing the irregular edgewhichcamefromthesmith’sstonegrindingawaythemanynicks and dents a sword

would accumulate on thebattlefield. There was oneswordwhichalwaysdrewhiseye more than the others,hung high on the wall wellout of his reach, its bladepointed down straight at hisnose. Itwasa simpleenoughblade, Asraelin like most ofthe others, and lacking thefinelywrought craftsmanshipof some, but unlike them itsblade was unrepaired, it was

highly polished but everynick, scratch and dent hadbeen left to disfigure thesteel.Vaelindarenot askhisfatherabout it soapproachedhis mother but with onlymarginally less trepidation;heknewshehatedhisfather’sswords. He found her in hedrawingroom,readingassheoften did. Itwas in the earlydays of her illness and herfacehadtakenonagauntness

which Vaelin couldn’t helpbutstareat.Shesmiledashecrept in, patted the seat nexttoher.Shelikedtoshowhimher books, he would look atthe pictures as she told himstoriesabouttheFaithandtheKingdom. He sat listeningpatiently to the taleofKerlisthe Faithless, cursed to theever-death for denying theguidance of the Departed,until shepaused longenough

forhimtoask:“Mother,whydoes father not repair hissword?”

She stopped in midpage,notlookingathim.Thesilence stretched out and hewonderedifshewasgoingtoadopt his father’s practice ofsimply ignoringhim.Hewasabout to apologise and askpermissiontoleavewhenshesaid, “It was the sword yourfather was given when he

joined the King’s army. Hefoughtwithitformanyyearsduringthebirthof theRealmand when the war was donethe Kingmade him a Swordof the Realm, which is whyyou are called Vaelin AlSorna and not just plainVaelin Sorna. The marks onitsbladeareahistoryofhowyour father came to be whoheis.Andsoheleavesitthatway.”

“Wake up, Sorna!”Sollis’s bark brought himback to the present with astart. “You can be first, rat-face,” he told Caenis,gesturingfortheslightboytostand a few feet in front ofhim. “I will attack, youdefend. We will be at thisuntil one of you parries ablow.”

It seemed that heblurred then,moving too fast

tofollow,hisswordextendedina lunge thatcaughtCaenissquarely on the chest beforehe could raise his sword,sendinghimsprawling.

“Pathetic,Nysa,”Sollistold him curtly. “You next,what’syourname,Dentos.”

Dentos was a sharpfaced boywith lank hair andgangling limbs. He spokewith a thick west-Renfaelinbrogue which Sollis found

less than endearing. “Youfight as well as you speak,”he commented after the ashblade of his sword hadcrackedagainstDentos’sribs,leaving him winded on theground. “Jeshua, you’renext.”

Barkus managed tododge the first lightninglungebuthisripostefailedtoconnect with the master’sswordandhewentdowntoa

blowthatswepthislegsfromunderhim.

Thenexttwoboyswentdown in quick succession asdidNortah,althoughhecameclose to side-stepping thethrust, which did nothing toimpress Sollis. “Have to dobetterthanthat.”HeturnedtoVaelin. “Let’s get it overwith,Sorna.”

Vaelintookhispositionin front of Sollis andwaited.

Sollis’s gaze met his, a coldstare that commanded hisattention, thepaleeyes fixinghim…Vaelindidn’tthink,hesimply acted, stepping to theside and bringing his swordup, the blade deflectingSollis’s lunge with a sharpcrack.

Vaelin stepped back,swordreadyforanotherblow.Trying to ignore the frozensilence of the others,

concentrating on MasterSollis’snext likelyavenueofattack, an attack no doubtfuelled with the fury ofhumiliation. But no attackcame. Master Sollis simplypackeduphiswoodenswordand told them to gather theirthings and follow him to thedining hall. Vaelin watchedhim carefully as theywalkedacross the practice groundand into the courtyard,

searching for a suddentension that could signalanotherswipeofthecane,butSollis’s dour demeanourremained unchanged. Vaelinfound it hard to believe hewouldswallowtheinsultandvowed not to be takenunawareswhentheinevitablepunishmentcame.

Mealtimeprovedtobe

something of a surprise. The

hall was crowded with boysand the tumult of voicesengaging in the habitualridicule and gossip of youth.The tables were arrangedaccording to age, theyoungestboysnearthedoors,where they would enjoy thestrongestdraft,andtheoldestat the far end next to themasters’ table.There seemedto be about thirty mastersaltogether, hard eyed,mostly

silent men, many scarred, afewshowinglividburns.Oneman, sittingat theendof thetablequietlyeatingaplateofbreadandcheese,appearedtohave had his entire scalpseared away. Only MasterGrealin seemed cheerful,laughingheartily,adrumstickgrippedinhismeatyfist.Theother masters either ignoredhim or nodded politely atwhatever witticism he had

chosentoshare.Master Sollis led them

tothetableclosesttothedoorand told them to sit down.There were other groups ofboys about their own agealready at table. They hadarrived a few weeks earlierand been in training longerunder other masters. Vaelinnotedthesneeringsuperioritysome exhibited, the nudgesand smirks, finding that he

didn’tlikeitatall.“Youmay talk freely,”

Sollis told them. “Eat thefood, don’t throw it. Youhave an hour.” He leaneddown, speaking softly toVaelin. “If you fight, don’tbreak any bones.” With thathe left to join the otherMasters.

Thetablewascrammedwith plates of roastedchicken, pies, fruit, bread,

cheese,evencakes.Thefeastwasasharpcontrastwith thestark austerity Vaelin hadseensofar.Onlyoncebeforehadhe seen somuch food inone place, at the King’spalace, and then he hadhardly been allowed to eatanything. They sat in silenceforamoment,partlyinaweatthe amount of food on thetable, but mostly out ofsimple awkwardness; they

werestrangersafterall.“Howdidyoudoit?”Vaelin looked up to

find Barkus, the heftyNilsaelinboy,addressinghimover the mound of pastriesbetweenthem.“What?”

“Howdidyouparrytheblow?”

The other boys werelooking at him intently,Nortah dabbing a napkin atthe bloody lip Sollis had

givenhim.Hecouldn’ttelliftheywerejealousorresentful.“His eyes,” he said, reachingforthewaterjugandpouringa measure into the plain tingobletnexttohisplate.

“Whatabouthiseyes?”Dentos asked, he had takenbread roll was crammingpiecesintohismouth,crumbsfountaining from his mouthas he spoke. “Ye tellin’ us itwastheDark?”

Nortah laughed, so didBarkus, but the rest of theboys seemed chilled by thesuggestion, except Caeniswho was concentrating on amodest portion of chickenand potatoes, apparentlyindifferent to theconversation.

Vaelin shifted in hisseat, disliking the attention.“Hefixesyouwithhiseyes,”heexplained.“Hestares,you

stareback,you’re fixed, thenhe attacks while you’re stillwondering what he’splanning. Don’t look at hiseyes, look at his feet and hissword.”

Barkustookabitefroman apple and grunted. “He’sright you know. I thought hewastryingtohypnotiseme.”

“What’s hypnotise?”askedDentos.

“It’s looks like magic

but really it’s just a trick,”Barkus replied. “At lastyear’s Summertide fair therewas a man who could makepeoplethinktheywereapig.He’d get them to root in theground and oink and roll inshit.”

“How?”“I don’t know, some

kind of trick. He’d wave abauble in front of their eyesandtalkquietlytothemfora

while, then they’d dowhateverhesaid.”

“Do you think MasterSollis can do such things?”asked Jennis, the boy Sollissaidlookedlikeadonkey.

“Faith, who knows?I’ve heard themasters of theOrders know many Darkthings,especiallyintheSixthOrder.” Barkus held up adrumstick appreciativelybefore takinga largebite. “It

seems that they knowcookery as well. They makeussleeponstrawandbeatusevery hour of the day, buttheywanttofeeduswell.”

“Yeh,” Dentos agreed.“LikemyuncleSim’sdog.”

There was a puzzledsilence. “Your uncle Sim’sdog?”Nortahenquired.

Dentos nodded,chewingbusilyonamouthfulof pie. “Growler. Best

fightin’hound in thewesterncounties. Ten victories ‘forehe ‘ad ‘is throat tornout lastwinter.Uncle Sim loved thatdog,‘adfourkidsof‘isown,to three diff’rent womenmind, but he loved that dogbetter’n any of ‘em, feedGrowler ‘fore the kids hewould. Best of stuff too,mind.Givethekidsgruelandthe dog beef steak.” Hechuckled wryly. “Rotten old

bastard.”Nortah was

unenlightened. “What does itmatter what some Renfaelinpeasantfeedshisdog?”

“So it would fightbetter,” Vaelin said. “Goodfood builds strong muscles.That’swhywarhorsesarefedbestcornandoatsandnotsetto grazing pasture.” Henodded at the food on thetable. “The better they feed

us,thebetterwe’llfight.”Hemet Nortah’s eyes. “And Idon’t think you should callhim a peasant. We’re allpeasantshere.”

Nortah stared backcoldly.“Youhavenorighttolead, Al Sorna. You may betheBattleLord’sson…”

“I’m no-one’s son andneitherareyou.”Vaelin tookabreadroll,hisstomachwasgrowling.“Notanymore.”

They lapsed intosilence, concentrating on themeal. After a while a fightbrokeout at oneof theothertables, plates and foodscattering amidst a flurry offists and kicks. Some boysjoined in right away, othersstood by shoutingencouragement, most simplystayed at their tables, somenot even glancing up. Thefightragedforafewminutes

beforeoneofthemasters,thelarge man with the searedscalp, came over to break itup, swinging a hefty stickwith grim efficiency. Theboys who had been in thethick of the fight werechecked for serious injury,blood mopped from nosesandlips,andsentbacktothetable.Onehadbeenknockedunconscious and two boyswere ordered to carry him to

theinfirmary.Beforelongthedin of conversation returnedto the hall as if nothing hadhappened.

“I wonder how manybattles we’ll be in,” Barkussaid.

“Lotsand lots,”Dentosresponded. “You ‘eard whatthefatMastersaid.”

“They say war in theRealmisathingofthepast,”said Caenis. It was the first

time he had spoken and heseemed wary of offering anopinion. “Maybe therewon’tbeanybattlesforustofight.”

“There’s alwaysanother war,” Vaelin said. Itwas something he had heardhis mother say, actually sheshouteditathisfatherduringoneoftheirarguments.Itwasbeforethelasttimehisfatherwent away, before she gotsick. The King’s Messenger

had arrived in the morningwith a sealed letter. Afterreading it his fatherbegan topackhisweaponsandorderedthe groom to saddle his bestcharger.Vaelin’smother hadcried and they went into herdrawingroomtoargueoutofVaelin’s sight. He couldn’thear his father’s words, hespoke softly, soothingly. Hismotherwouldhavenoneofit.“Do not come to my bed

when you return!” she spat.“Your stench of bloodsickensme.”

His father saidsomething else, stillmaintaining the samesoothingtone.

“Yousaidthatlasttime.Andthetimebeforethat,”hismother replied. “And you’llsay it again. There’s alwaysanotherwar.”

Afterawhileshebegan

to cry again and there wassilenceinthehousebeforehisfatheremerged,pattedVaelinbriefly on the head andwentout to mount his waitinghorse. After his return fourlong months later Vaelinnoted his parents slept inseparaterooms.

After the meal it wastime for observance. Theplateswereclearedawayandthey sat in silence as the

Aspect recited the articles ofthe Faith in a clear, ringingvoice that filled the hall.DespitehisdarkmoodVaelinfound the Aspect’s wordsoddly uplifting, making himthink of his mother and thestrength of her belief whichhad never waveredthroughout her long illness.He wondered briefly if hewouldhavebeen senthere ifshe was still alive and knew

with absolute certainty shewouldneverhaveallowedit.

When the Aspect hadfinishedhis recitationhe toldthem to take a moment forprivate contemplation andoffer thanks for theirblessings to the Departed.Vaelin sent his love to hismother and asked herguidance for the trials tocome,fightingtearsashedidso.

The first rule of the

Order seemed to be that theyoungest boys got the worstchores. Accordingly, afterobservance Sollis troopedthem to the stables wherethey spent several foul hoursmucking out the stalls. Theythenhadtocartthedungoverto the manure mounds inMasterSmentil’sgardens.Hewas a very tall man who

seemed incapable of speech,directing them with franticgesturesofhisearthdarkenedhands and strange gutturalgrunts, the varying pitch ofwhich would indicate if theywere doing something rightor not. His communicationwith Sollis was different,consisting of intricate handgestures that the masterseemed to understandinstantly. The gardens were

large, covering at least twoacres of the land outside thewalls, comprising longorderly rows of cabbages,turnips and other vegetables.He also kept a small orchardsurroundedbyastonewall.Itbeing late winter he wasbusily engaged in pruningand one of their chores wasgathering up the prunedbranchesforuseaskindling.

It was as they carried

the baskets of kindling backto themain keep that Vaelindared ask a question ofMaster Sollis. “Why can’tMaster Smentil speak,Master?”

He was prepared for acaningbutSollisconfinedhisrebuke to a sharp glance.Theytrudgedoninsilencefora fewmoments before Sollismuttered,“TheLonakcuthistongueout.”

Vaelin shiveredinvoluntarily.Hehadheardofthe Lonak, everyone had. Atleastoneoftheswordsinhisfather’s collection had beencarried through a campaignagainsttheLonak.Theywerewildmenofthemountainstothe far north who loved toraidthefarmsandvillagesofRenfael, raping, stealing andkillingwithgleeful savagery.Some called them wolfmen

becauseitwassaidtheygrewfurandteethandatethefleshoftheirenemies.

“How come he’s stilllivin’, Master?” Dentosenquired. “My uncle Tamfought agin the Lonak an’saidtheyneverletamanliveoncetheygothimcaptured.”

Sollis’s glance atDentoswasmarkedlysharperthan the one he turned onVaelin. “Heescaped.He is a

brave and resourceful manand a credit to the Order.We’vetalkedofthisenough.”He lashed his cane againstNortah’slegs.“Pickyourfeetup,Sendahl.”

After chores it wasmore sword practice. Thistime Sollis would perform aseries of moves they had tocopy. If any of them got itwronghemadethemrunfullpelt around the practice

ground. At first they seemedto make a mistake at everyattempt and they did a lot ofrunning, but eventually theygotitrightmorethantheygotitwrong.

Sollis called an endwhentheskybegantodarkenand they returned to thedining hall for an eveningmeal of bread and milk.There was little talk; theyweretootired.Barkusmadea

few jokes and Dentos told astory about another of hisuncles but there was littleinterest. Following the mealSollis forced them to run upthestairstotheirroom,liningthem up, panting, drained,exhausted.

“Your first day in theOrder is over,”he told them.“It isa ruleof theOrder thatyoucanleaveinthemorningif you wish. It will only get

harder fromnowon so thinkcarefully.”

He left them there,panting in the candle light,thinkingofthemorning.

“Do ye think they’llgive us eggs for breakfast?”Dentoswondered.

Later, as Vaelinsquirmed in his bed of strawhe found he couldn’t sleepdespite his exhaustion.Barkus was snoring but it

wasn’t this that kept himawake. His head was full oftheenormityofthechangeinhis life over the course of asingle day. His father hadgiven him away, pushed himintothisplaceofbeatingsandlessons in death. Itwas clearhisfatherhatedhim,hewasareminder of his dead wifebestkeptoutofsight.Wellhecouldhatetoo,hatewaseasy,hate would fuel him if his

mother’s love could not.Loyalty is our strength. Hesnorted a silent laugh ofderision. Let loyalty be yourstrength, father. My hate foryouwillbemine.

Someonewascrying inthe dark, shedding tears ontheir straw pillow. Was itNortah? Dentos? Caenis?Therewasnowaytotell.Thesobs were a forlorn, deeplylonely counterpoint to the

regular woodsaw rhythm ofBarkus’s snoring. Vaelinwanted to cry too,wanted toshedtearsandwallowinself-pity, but the tears wouldn’tcome.Helayawake,restless,heart thumping so hard withalternatehatredandangerthathewonderedifitwouldburstthrough his ribs. Panicmadeit beat even faster, sweatbeaded his forehead andbathed his chest. It was

terrible,unbearable,hehadtoget out, get away from thisplace…

“Vaelin.”A voice. A word

spokenindarkness.Clearandrealandtrue.Hisracingheartslowedinstantlyashesatup,eyes searching the shadowedroom. There was no fear forheknewthevoice.Thevoiceofhismother.Her shadehadcome to him, come to offer

comfort,cometosavehim.She didn’t come again,

although he strained his earsfor another hour, no furtherwords were spoken. But heknewhehadheardit.Shehadcome.

Hesettledbackintotheneedle discomfort of themattress, tiredness finallyovertakinghim.Thesobshadceased and even Barkus’ssnores seemed softer. He

drifted into a dreamless,untroubledsleep.

Chapter2It was a year into his

time in the Order whenVaelin first killed a man. Ayearofhardlessonsimpartedby hard masters, a year ofpunishing unending routine.They woke at the fifth hourand began with the sword,hours of swinging theirwoodenbladesatthepostsonthepracticeground, trying to

fend off Master Sollis’sattacks and copying theincreasingly complicatedsword scales he taught them.Vaelin continued to be mostadept at parrying Sollis’sblows but the Masterfrequently found a way pasthisguardtosendhimbruisedandfrustratedtothedirt.Thelessonofnotallowingoneselfto be fixed by his eyes hadbeen well learnt but Sollis

knewmanyothertricks.Feldrianwasgivenover

entirely to sword work butIldrian was the day of thebowwhenMasterCheckrin,amuscular, softly spokenNilsaelin, had them loosingarrowsat thebuttswith theirboy sized strong-bows.“Rhythm,boys, it’sall in therhythm,” he told them.“Notch,draw,loose…Notch,draw,loose…”

Vaelinfoundthebowahard skill to master. Theweapon was tough to drawand difficult to aim, leavinghis fingertips raw from thebow-string and his armsachingwith growingmuscle.Hisarrowsoftensankintotheedge of the target or missedaltogether.He came to dreadthedayhewouldfacethetestof thebow,fourarrowssunkinto the bullseye at twenty

paces in the time it took adropped scarf to fall to theground. It seemed animpossiblefeat.

Dentos quickly provedhimself the best archer, hisshafts rarely failing to findthe bull’s eye. “Done thisbefore, eh boy?” MasterCheckrinaskedhim.

“Aye,master.MyuncleDrelt taught me, he used topoachtheFiefLord’sdeertill

theycuthisfingersoff.”To Vaelin’s annoyance

Nortah was second best, hisarrows finding the bull withgrating regularity. Thetension between them hadgrown since the first meal,unleavened by the blondboy’s arrogance. He sneeredat the failings of the otherboys, usually behind theirback,andspokeconstantlyofhisfamilythoughnoneofthe

others did. Nortah spoke ofhisfamily’slands,theirmanyhouses,thedayshehadspenthunting and riding with hisfather who he claimed wasFirstMinister to theKing. Itwashisfatherthattaughthimthe bow, a longbow of yewlike the Cumbraelins used,not the composite horn andash of their strongbows.Nortahthoughtthelongbowasuperior weapon, all things

considered, his father sworeby it.Nortah’s father seemedto be a man of manyopinions.

Oprian was the day ofthe staff, taught them byMaster Haunlin, the burntman Vaelin had first seen inthe dining hall. They sparredwith wooden staffs of aboutfour feet in length, later theywould be replaced with thefivefootpole-axeusedbythe

Order when they fought enmasse. Haunlin was acheerful man, with a quicksmile and a liking for song.Hewouldoftensingorchantas they practised, soldier’ssongsmostly and a few loveballads, sung with a strangeprecision and clarity thatreminded Vaelin of theminstrel he had once seen intheKing’sPalace.

He took to the staff

quickly, liking the way itwhistled when he swung it,the feelof it inhishands.Attimes he even preferred it tothe sword, it was easier tohandle and more solidsomehow. His appreciationforthestaffdeepenedwhenitbecame clear Nortah had noabilitywithitatall.Hisstaffwas often snapped out of hishandsbyanopponent’sblowand he was ever sucking

numbedfingers.Kigrianwasaday they

quickly came to dread, as itmeant service in the stables,hours spent shovelling dung,dodgingironshodhoovesandsharp teeth then cleaning themyriad pieces of tack thathung on the walls. MasterRensialwasrulerofthestableand his liking for the canemade Master Sollis seempositively restrained. “I said

clean it, don’t tickle it lack-wit!” he spat at Caenis, hiscane leaving red wheals onthe boy’s neck as he tried towork polish into a stirrup.Whateverhisharshnesstotheboys Rensial was alltenderness to his horses,speaking to them in softwhispers and lovinglybrushingtheirhides.Vaelin’sdislike of the man wastemperedbytheblanknesshe

saw in his eyes. MasterRensial preferred horses topeople, his hands twitchedconstantly and he oftenstopped in mid tirade,wandering off mumblingunder his breath. The eyessaiditall:MasterRensialwasmad.

Retrianwas a favouritewithmostoftheboys,thedaywhen Master Hutril wouldteach them the ways of the

wild. Theywere led on longtreks through the woods andhills, learning which plantswere safe to eat and whichcould be used as a poison tobe smeared on arrowheads.They were taught to lightfires without flint and traprabbitsandhares.Theywouldlie for hours in theundergrowth,tryingtoremainhiddenasHutrilhunted themdown, usually within a few

minutes. Vaelin was oftensecond last to be found withCaenis remaining hiddenlongest.Ofalltheboys,eventhose who had grown upamongstwoodlandandfields,he proved the most adept inthe outdoors, particularly intracking. Sometimes theywould stay in the forestovernight and it was alwaysCaenis who brought in thefirstmeal.

Master Hutril was oneofthefewmasterswhoneverused the cane but hispunishmentscouldbesevere,once making Nortah andVaelinrunbarearsedthrougha copse of nettles forbickering over how best toplace a snare.He spokewithaquiet confidenceand rarelyusedmorewordsthanhehadto,seemingtopreferthesignlanguagesomeofthemasters

used. It was similar to thatused by tongue-less MasterSmentil when hecommunicated with Sollis,but less complex, designedforusewhenenemiesorpreywere near. Vaelin learntquickly, as did Barkus, butCaenis seemed to absorb itinstantly, his slender fingersforming the intricate shapeswithuncannyaccuracy.

Despite his aptitude

Master Hutril seemed oddlydistant from Caenis, hispraiserestrained,ifexpressedatall.Sometimes,duringoneof the overnight treksVaelinwould catch Hutril staring atCaenisfromacrossthecamp,his expression unreadable inthefirelight.

Heldrian was thehardest of days, hours ofrunning around the practisegroundwithaheavystone in

each hand, freezing swimsacross the river, and hardlessons in unarmed combatunder Master Intris, acompact but lightning fastman with a broken nose andseveral missing teeth. Hetaughtthemthesecretsofthekick and the punch, how totwist the fist at the lastinstant,howtoraisethekneefirst then to extend the leginto a kick, how to block a

blow, trip an opponent orthrow them over yourshoulder. Few boys enjoyedHeldrian, it left them toobruised and exhausted toappreciate the evening meal.OnlyBarkuslikedit,hislargeframe best suited to soakingupthepunishment,heseemedimpervious to pain and nonerelished being partneredwithhimforthesparring.

Eltrian was supposedly

a day of rest and observancebut for the youngest boys itmeant a round of tediousdrudgeryinthelaundryorthekitchen. If they were luckytheywouldbechosentohelpMasterSmentilinthegardenswhich at least provided thechance at a stolen apple ortwo. In the evening therewould be extra observanceand catechism, this being theFaith’s day, and a solid hour

ofsilentcontemplationwheretheywould sit,headsbowed,each lost in their ownthoughts or succumbing tothe overpowering need forsleep, which could bedangerous as anyboy caughtsleeping would earn theharshest beating and a nightwalking the walls with nocloak.

Vaelin’s favourite partof each day was the hour

before lights out. All thedisciplinewouldevaporate inaroundofraucousbanterandhorseplay. Dentos would tellanother story about hisuncles, Barkus would makethem laughwitha jokeoranuncanny imitation of one ofthemasters,Caenis,normallygiven to silence, would tellone of the thousand or moreold stories he knew whilstthey practised their sign

language or sword strokes.He found himself spendingmore time with Caenis thanthe others, the slight boy’sreticence and intelligence afaint echo of hismother. Forhis part Caenis seemedsurprised but gratified by thecompanionship. Vaelinsuspected his life before theOrder had been somewhatlonely as Caenis was clearlysounusedtobeingwithother

boys, although neither ofthem talked of their livesbefore, unlike Nortah whohadneverbeenable to shakethe habit, despite angryresponsesfromtheothersandthe occasional beating fromthe masters. You have nofamily but the Order. VaelinknewthetruthoftheAspect’swords now; they werebecoming family, they hadno-onebuteachother.

Their first test came in

themonthofSunterin,nearlyayear sinceVaelinhadbeenleftatthegate:theTestoftheRun.Theyhadbeentoldlittleaboutwhat it entailed exceptthat each year this test sawmore expulsions than anyother.Theywere troopedoutinto thecourtyardalongwiththeotherboysofsimilarage,about two hundred in all.

They had been told to bringtheir bows, one quiver ofarrows, hunting knife, waterflaskandnothingelse.

TheAspectledthemina brief recitation of theCatechism of Faith beforeinforming them of what toexpect:“TheTestof theRunis where we discover whoamongyouistrulyfittoservetheOrder.You have had theprivilege of a year in service

to the Faith, but in the SixthOrder privileges must beearned. You will be takenupriver by boat and left atdifferent places on the bank.You must be back here bymidnighttomorrow.Anywhodo not arrive in timewill beallowed to keep theirweapons and will be giventhreegoldcrowns.”

He nodded to themasters and left. Vaelin felt

thefearanduncertaintyabouthim but did not share it. Hewouldpassthetest,hehadto,therewasnowhereforhimtogo.

“To the river bank atthe run!” Sollis barked. “Noslacking. Pick your feet up,Sendahl, this isn’t a shittingdancefloor.”

Waitingattheriversidewharf were three barges,large, shallow draft boats

with black painted hulls andredcanvassails.TheywereacommonsightontheCorvienriver estuary, running coalalong the coast from theminesinthesouthtofeedthemyriad chimneys ofVarinshold. Barge men werea distinct group, wearingblack scarves around theirnecksandabandof silver intheir left ear, notoriousdrinkers and brawlers when

not plying their trade. Manyan Asraelin mother wouldwarn a wayward daughter:“Beagoodgirloryou’llwednobetterthanabargeman.”

Sollis exchanged a fewwordswiththemasteroftheirbarge,awirymanwhoglaredsuspiciously at the silentassembly of boys, handinghim a purse of coin andbarkingatthemtogetaboardand muster in the centre of

the deck. “And don’t touchanything,lack-brains!”

“I’veneverbeen to seabefore,” Dentos commentedas they satdownon thehardplanksofthedeck.

“This isn’t the sea,”Nortah informed him. “It’stheriver.”

“MyuncleJimnoswentto sea,” Dentos continued,ignoring Nortah as most ofthemdid.“Nevercameback.

Memamsaidhegoteatenbyawhale.”

“What’s a whale?”asked Mikehl, a plumpRenfaelin boy who hadcontrived to retainhisexcessweight despite months ofhardexercise.

“It’s a big animal thatlives in the sea,” Caenisreplied, he tended to knowtheanswertomostquestions.He gave Dentos a nudge,

“And it doesn’t eat people.Your uncle was probablyeaten by a shark, some ofthemgrowasbigasawhale.”

“How would youknow?”Nortahsneered,asheusually did whenever Caenisoffered an opinion. “Everseenone?”

“Yes.”Nortah flushed and fell

silent, scratching at a loosesplinter on the deckwith his

huntingknife.“When, Caenis?”

Vaelin prompted his friend.“When did you see theshark?”

Caenis smiled a little,something he did rarely. “Ayearorsoago,intheErinean.My… I was taken to seaonce. There are manycreatures that live in the sea,sealsandorcasandmorefishthan you can count. And

sharks, one of themcameuptoourship.Itwasoverthirtyfeet from tip to tail, one ofsailorssaidtheyfeedonorcasand whales, people too ifyou’re unlucky enough to bein the water when they’rearound. There are stories ofthem ramming ships to sinkthemandfeedonthecrew.”

Nortah snorted inderision but the others wereclearlyfascinated.

“Did you see pirates?”Dentos asked eagerly. “Theysay theErinean is thickwith‘em.”

Caenis shook his head.“No pirates. They don’tbother Realm ships since thewar.”

“Which war?” Barkussaid.

“The Meldenean, theone Master Grealin talksabout all the time. TheKing

sent a fleet to burn theMeldenean’s biggest city, allthepirates in theErineanareMeldeneans, so they learnedtoleaveusalone.”

“Wouldn’t it makemore sense to burn theirfleet?” Barkus wondered.“That way their wouldn’t beanypiratesatall.”

“Theycanalwaysbuildmore ships,” Vaelin said.“Burning a city leaves a

memory, passed from parentto child. Makes sure theywon’tforgetus.”

“Could’ve just killedthem all,” Nortah suggestedsullenly. “No pirates, nopiracy.”

Master Sollis’s caneswept down from nowhere,catchinghimonthehandandmakinghimreleasehisknife,stillembeddedinthedeck.“Isaid don’t touch anything,

Sendahl.”Hisgaze swivelledtoCaenis. “Voyagerareyou,Nysa?”

Caenisbowedhishead.“Onlyoncemaster.”

“Really?Wheredidyougoonthisadventure?”

“To the Wensel Isle.My – erm, one of thepassengers had businessthere.”

Sollis grunted, bentdown to priseNortah’s knife

fromthedeckandtossedittohim. “Sheath it, fop. You’llneed a sharp blade beforelong.”

“Were you there,Master?” Vaelin asked him.He was the only one whodared ask Sollis anything,braving the risk of a caning.Sollis could be fierce or hecould be informative. It wasimpossible to tellwhichuntilyou asked the question.

“Where you there when theMeldeneancityburned?”

Sollis's gaze flicked tohim, pale eyes meeting his.Therewasaquestioninthem,an inquisitiveness. For thefirst time Vaelin realisedSollis thought he knewmorethanhedid,thoughthisfatherhad told him stories of hismany battles, that there wasan insult concealed in hisquestions.

“No,” Sollis replied. “Iwas on the northern borderthen.I’msureMasterGrealinwill answer any questionsyouhaveaboutthatwar.”Hemovedawaytothrashanotherboy who’s hand had strayedtooclosetoacoilofrope.

Thebargessailednorth,

following the long arc of theriveranddashinganythoughtVaelin had of simply

followingtheriverbankbacktotheOrderHouse;itwastoofarajourney.Ifhewantedtobe back in time it meant atrek through the forest. Heeyed the dark mass of treeswarily. Although the lessonswithMasterHutril hadmadethem familiar with the forestthethoughtofablindjourneythrough the woods was notpleasant.Heknewhoweasilya boy could be lost in

amongst the trees,wanderingincirclesforhours.

“Head south,” Caenis,whispering next to his ear.“Away from the north star.Headsouthuntilyoumeettheriverbank,thenfollowituntilyoucome to thewharf.Thenyouhavetoswimtheriver.”

Vaelin glanced at himand saw that Caenis wasgazing blithely up at the skyas if he hadn’t spoken.

Looking around at his bored,lounging companions it wasclear they hadn’t heard.Caenis was helping him butnottheothers.

Theybegan todrop theboys off after about threehours sailing, therewas littleceremony to it, Sollis simplychose a boy at random andtoldhimtojumpoverthesideand swim for shore. Dentoswasthefirstfromtheirgroup

togo.“See you back at the

House, Dentos,” Vaelinencouragedhim.

Dentos, silent for once,smiled back weakly beforehitching his strongbow overhis shoulder and vaultingovertherailintotheriver.Heswamtothebankquicklyandpaused to shake off the riverwater then disappeared intothe trees with a brief wave.

Barkuswas next, theatricallybalancingatoptherailbeforeperforming a back flip intotheriver.Afewboysclappedappreciatively. Mikehl wentnext but not without sometrepidation. “I’m not sure Icanswimthatfar,Master,”hestammered staring down atthedarkwatersoftheriver.

“Then try to drownquietly,” Sollis said tippinghim over the rail. Mikehl

made a loud splash andseemed to remainunderwaterfor an age, itwaswith somerelief theysawhimsurfaceashort distance away,sputtering and flailing beforehe regained his composureand began to swim towardsthebank.

Caenis was next,accepting Vaelin’s wish ofgood luck with a nod beforejumping wordlessly over the

rail. Nortah followed himshortly after, controlling hisevidentfearwithsomeeffort,hesaidtoSollis,“Master,ifIdon’t return Iwould likemyfathertoknow…”

“You don’t have afather,Sendahl.Getinthere.”

Nortah bit back anangry retort and hauledhimself onto the rail, divinginafterasecond’shesitation.

“Sorna,yourturn.”

Vaelin wondered if itwas significant that he waslasttogoandwouldthereforehave the longest distance totravel.Hewenttotherail,hisbowstring tight against hischest,pullingthestraponhisquiver taut so it wouldn’tcome adrift in the water. Heputbothhandsontherailandpreparedtovaultover.

“The others are not tobehelped,Sorna,”Sollis told

him.Hehadsaidnothinglikethis to the other boys. “Getyourselfback,letthemworryaboutthemselves.”

Vaelin frowned,“Master?”

“You heard me.Whatever happens, it’s theirfate,notyours.”Hejerkedhishead at the river. “On yourway.”

It was clear he wouldsay nothing more so Vaelin

took a firm grip of the railand swung himself over,falling feet first into thewater, enveloped instantly inthe shocking coldness of it.He fought a moment’s panicas his head went under thenkicked for the surface,breaking into the air hedragged it into his lungs andstruckoutfortheshorewhichsuddenlyseemedalotfurtheraway. By the time he

struggled to his feet on theshingle bank the barges hadpassedhimbyandwerewellupstream.He thoughthe sawMaster Sollis still at the rail,staringafterhim,butcouldn’tbesure.

He unhitched his bowandranthestringthroughhisforefinger and thumb to ringthe water out. MasterCheckrin said a dampbowstringwasasmuchuseas

aleglessdog.Hecheckedhisarrows,makingsurethewaterhadn’t penetrated the waxedleathersealonthequiverandmade sure his knifewas stillat his side. He shook waterfrom his hair as he scannedthe trees, seeing only amassof shadow and foliage. Heknewhewasfacingsouthbutwould soon wander offcoursewhennightcame.IfhewastofollowCaenis’sadvice

hewouldhavetoclimbatreeortwotofindtheNorthStar,not something easilyattemptedinthedark.

Although grateful thatthetesttookplaceinsummerhe was starting to chill fromthe swim. Master Hutril hadtaughtthemthatthebestwaytodryoffwithoutbenefitofafirewastorun,theheatofthebodywould turn thewater tosteam.He set off at a steady

run, trying not to sprint,knowing he would need hisenergy in the hours to come.Hewassoonembracedbythecool dark of the forest andfound himself instinctivelyscanningtheshadows,ahabithe had acquired during themany hours of hunting andhiding.MasterHutril’swordscame back to him: A smartenemy seeks the shadow andstaysquiet.Vaelinsuppressed

ashiverandranon.Heranforasolidhour,

keeping a steady pace andignoring the growing ache inhis legs.The riverwaterwasquickly replaced by sweatand his chill receded. Hechecked his direction withoccasional glances at the sunand tried to fight thesensation of time passingquicker than it should. Thethought of being pushed out

ofthegateswithahandfulofcoinsandnowhere togowasboth terrifying andincomprehensible. He had abriefandequallynightmarishvision of turning up on hisfather’sdoorstep,patheticallyclutching his coins andbegging to be let in. Heforced the image away andkeptrunning.

He took a break aftercovering about five miles,

perching on a log to drinkfrom his flask and catch abreath.Hewonderedhowhiscompanions were fairing,weretheyrunninglikehimorstumbling lost amongst thetrees.Theothersarenottobehelped.Wasitawarning,orathreat? Certainly there weredangers in the forest butnothing to pose a seriousthreat to the boys of theOrder, toughened by months

oftraining.Heponderedforashort

while, finding no answers,before stoppering his flaskand rising, still scanning theshadows…Hefroze.

The wolf sat on itshaunches ten short yardsaway, bright green eyesregarding him with silentcuriosity. Its pelt was greyand silver, and it was verylarge.Vaelin had never been

thisclosetoawolfbefore,hisonly glimpses vague lopingshadows seen through themists of the morning, a raresight so close to the city.Hewas struckby the size of theanimal, the power evident inthe muscle beneath its fur.The wolf tilted its head asVaelin returned his gaze. Hefeltnofear,MasterHutrilhadtold them that stories ofwolves stealing babies and

savaging shepherdboysweremyths, “Wolf’ll leaveyoubeifyouleavehimbe,”hesaid.But still, the wolf was big,anditseyes…

The wolf sat, silent,still, a faint breeze rufflingthesilver-greymassofitsfur,and Vaelin felt somethingnew stir in his boy’s heart.“You’re beautiful,” he toldthewolfinawhisper.

It was gone in an

instant, turning and leapinginto the foliage quicker thanhe could follow. It barelymadeasound.

He felt a rare smile onhis lips and stored thememoryofthewolffirmlyinhis head, knowing he wouldneverforgetit.

The forest was called

the Urlish, a twenty milethick and seventy mile long

band of trees stretching fromthe northern walls ofVarinshold to the foothillsofthe Renfaelin border. Somesaid theKing had a love fortheforest,thatithadcapturedhis soul somehow. It wasforbidden to take a tree fromthe Urlish without a King’sCommand and only thosefamilieswhohadlivedwithinits confines for threegenerations were allowed to

remain. From his meagreknowledge of the Realm’shistoryVaelin knewwar hadcomehereonce,agreatbattlebetween the Renfaelins andAsraelins raging amongst thetrees for a day and a night.The Asraelins won and theLord of Renfael had to bowthekneetoKingJanus,whichwaswhy his heirs were nowcalled Fief-Lords and had togive money and soldiers to

theKingwheneverhewantedthem. It was a story hismother told him when shehad succumbed to hispestering for moreinformation on his father’sexploits. It was here that hehad won the King’s regardand been raised to Sword ofthe Realm. His mother wasvague on the details, sayingsimply that his father was agreat warrior and had been

verybrave.He found himself

sweeping his gaze across theforest floor as he ran, eyessearching for the glitter ofmetal, hoping to find sometoken from the battle, anarrowhead or perhaps adagger or even a sword. Hewondered if Sollis would lethim keep any souvenirs and,thinking it unlikely, began toponder thebesthidingplaces

onofferintheHouse…Snap!He ducked, rolled,

cameuponhisfeet,crouchedbehind the trunk of an oak,the whisper of the arrow’sflight hissing through theferns. The sound of abowstring was anunmistakable warning for aboy like him. He calmed hispounding heart with effortand strained to listen for

furthersignals.Was it a hunter?

Perhapshehadbeenmistakenforadeer.Hediscounted thethought instantly.Hewas nodeerandanyhuntercouldtellthe difference. Someone hadtried to kill him. He realisedhehadunhitchedhisbowandnotched an arrow, all doneinstinctively. He rested hisback against the trunk andwaited,listeningtotheforest,

letting it tell him who wascomingforhim.Naturehasavoice, Hutril’s words. Learntohearitandyou’llneverbelostandnomanwillevertakeyouunawares.

He opened his ears tothe voice of the forest, thesighofthewind,therustleofthe leaves and the creak ofthebranches.Nobirdsong.Itmeantapredatorwasclose.Itcould be one man, could be

more. He waited for the telltalecrackofbranchunderfootor the scrape of bootleatheron soil but nothing came. Ifhis enemy was on the movehe knew how to mask thesound. But he had othersenses and the forest couldtell him many things. Heclosed his eyes and inhaledsoftlythroughhisnose.Don’tsucktheairinlikeapigatatrough, Hutril had cautioned

him once. Give your nosetime to sort the scent. Bepatient.

He let his nose do thework, tasting the mingledperfume of bluebells inbloom, rotting vegetation,animal droppings… andsweat. Man’s sweat. Thewind was coming from hisleft,carryingthescent.Itwasimpossibletotellwhetherthebowman was waiting or

moving.It was the faintest

sound, little more than arustleofcloth,buttoVaelinitwas a shout. He darted frombehind the oak in a crouch,drawingandloosingtheshaftin a single motion, beforescooting back into cover,rewarded with a short gruntofpainedsurprise.

He lingered for thebriefest second.Stayor flee?

The compulsion to run wasstrong, the dark embrace ofthe forest suddenly awelcomerefuge.Butheknewhe couldn’t. The Orderdoesn’trun,Sollishadsaid.

He peered out frombehind his oak, taking asecond before he saw it, thegull-fletched shaft of hisarrow sticking upright fromthe carpet of ferns aboutfifteen yards away. He

notched another arrow andapproached in a low crouch,eyes scanning constantly forotherenemies,earsalivewiththe voice of the forest, nosetwitching.

Themanwasdressedindirty green trews and tunic,hehadanashbowclutchedinhis hand with a crowfeatheredshaftnotchedinthestring, a sword strappedacrosshisback,aknifeinhis

boot and Vaelin’s arrow inhisthroat.Hewasquitedead.Stepping closer Vaelin sawthe growing patch of bloodspreading out from the neckwound,alotofblood.Caughtthe big vein, Vaelin realised.And I thought I was a poorarcher.

He laughed, high andshrill, then convulsed andvomited, collapsing to allfours and retching

uncontrollably.It was a few moments

before the shock and nauseareceded enough for him tothink clearly. This man, thisdead man, had tried to killhim.Why?Hehadneverseenhim before. Was he anoutlaw? Some homelessfootpad thinking he hadfoundaneasyvictiminaloneboy.

He forced himself to

look at the dead man again,notingthequalityofhisbootsand the stitching on hisclothes. He hesitated thenlifted the dead man’s righthand, lying slack on thebowstring.Itwasabowman’shand; rough palms withcallusesonthetipsofthefirsttwo fingers. This man hadmadehislivingwiththebow.Vaelin doubted any outlawwould be so practised, or so

welldressed.A sudden, sickening

thoughtpoppedintohishead:Isitpartofthetest?

For a moment he wasalmost convinced. Whatbetter way to weed out thechaff? Seed the forest withassassins and see whosurvived.Thinkofallthegoldcoins they’d save. Butsomehow he couldn’t bringhimself to believe it. The

Order was brutal but notmurderous.

Thenwhy?He shook his head. It

was a mystery he wouldn’tsolveby stayinghere.Wheretherewas one there could bemore. He would get back tothe Order House and askMaster Sollis for guidance…If he lived that long. He gotshakilytohisfeet,spittingthelast dregs of gorge from his

mouth, taking a final look atthe dead man and debatingwhether to take his sword orhis knife but deciding itwouldbeamistake.Forsomereasonhesuspecteditmaybenecessary todenyknowledgeof the killing which led himto briefly consider retrievingthe arrow from the man’sneckbuthecouldn’t face theprospectofdrawing theshaftfrom the flesh. Instead he

contented himself withsnipping off the fletchingwith his hunting knife, thegull feathers were a clearsignal that themanhad beenkilled by a member of theOrder. He fought a freshbought of nausea at thegrinding sensation of thearrowashegraspeditandthewet,suckingsounditmadeashe sawed at the shaft. Itwasdone quickly but seemed to

takeanage.He pocketed the

fletching and backed awayfrom the corpse, scrapinghisbootsonthesoiltoeraseanytracks, before turning andresuminghisrun.Hislegsfeltleaden and he stumbledseveral timesbeforehisbodyremembered the smooth,loping stride learned throughmonths of training on thepractice ground. The slack,

lifeless features of the deadmanflashedthroughhismindcontinually but he shook theimage away, suppressing itruthlessly.Hetriedtokillme.Iwon’tgrieveforamanwhowould seek tomurder a boy.But he found he couldn’tdeafen himself to the wordshismother had once shoutedat his father: Your stench ofbloodsickensme.

Night seemed to fall inan instant, probably becausehe dreaded it. He foundhimself seeing bowmenlurking in every shadow,more than once he leapt forshelter from assassins whichturned out to be a bushes ortree stumps when he lookedcloser. He had rested onlyonce since killing theassassin, a brief, feverish sipof water behind the broad

trunk of a beech, his eyesdarting about constantly forenemies.Itfeltsafertorun,amoving target was harder tohit. But this vague sense ofsecurity evaporatedwhen thedarkness came, it was likerunninginavoidwhereeverystep brought the threat of apainful fall. He had trippedtwice, sprawling in a tangleof weapons and fear, beforeaccepting thathewouldhave

towalkfromnowon.The bearings he took

fromthenorthstarbyfindingthe odd clearing or haulinghimself up a tree trunk toldhim hewas holding a steadycoursesouthwardbuthowfarhe had come or the distancehe still had to cover hecouldn’ttell.Hepeeredaheadwith increasing desperation,allthetimehopingtoglimpsethe silver sheen of the river

throughthetrees.Itwaswhenhehadstoppedtogetanotherbearingthathesawthefire.Asingle flickering blob oforangeintheblack-bluemassoftheforest.

Keep running. Healmost followed theinstinctive command, turningaway and taking anotherstride toward the south, butstopped. None of the boysfrom theOrderwould lighta

fire during the test, they justdidn’thavetime.Itcouldbeacoincidence, just someof theKing’s Foresters camped outfor the night. But somethingmadehimdoubtit,amurmurof wrongness in the back ofhis mind. It was a strangesensation,almostmusical.

He turned around,unslinging his bow andnotching an arrow, beforebeginningacautiousadvance.

Heknewhewastakingarisk,both in investigating the fireandindulginginadelaywhenhis deadline for getting backtotheHousecouldnotbefaraway.Buthehadtoknow.

The blob grew into afireslowly,flickeringredandgoldintheinfiniteblackness.He stopped, opening himselfto the song of the forestagain, hunting through thenocturnal resonance until he

caught them: voices. Male.Adult.Twomen.Quarrelling.

He crept closer, usingthe hunter’s walk taught byMaster Hutril, lifting foot ahair’s breadth from thegroundandslidingitforwardand to the side before layingit down softly aftertentatively checking the soilforanybranchesortwigsthatcould give him away in aninstant. The voices became

clearer as he closed on thecamp, confirming hissuspicions. Two men,engagedinbitterargument.

“….’asn’t stoppedbleedin’!” a self-pityingwhine, its owner as yetinvisible. “Look, it’s gushinglikeaslithog…”

“Stop fiddling with itthen, shit brain!” anexasperated hiss. Vaelincould see this one, a stocky

manseatedtotherightofthefire,thesightoftheswordonhisbackandthebowproppedclose to his hand provokinganicyshiver.Nocoincidence.He had a sack open on thefloorbetweenhisbootedfeet,studying its contents intentlyin between casting tiredinsultsathiscompanion.

“Little bastard!” theunseen whiner continued,deaftotheadmonishmentsof

his stocky companion.“Playing dead, vicious,sneakylittlebastard.”

“Youwerewarnedtheywere tough,” the stockymansaid. “Should’ve put anotheriron-headinhimtomakesurebeforeyougotsoclose.”

“Got him in square intheneck,didn’t I?Should’vebeenenough.I’veseengrownmen go down like a sack ofspudsfromawoundlikethat.

Not that little shit though.Wish we’d kept himbreathingalittlelonger…”

“You disgustinganimal.” There was littlevenom in the stocky man’swords. He was increasinglypreoccupiedwiththecontentsof the sack, a frowncreasinghisbroadforehead.“Y’know,I’mstillnotsureit’shim.”

Vaelin,fightingtokeephis heart steady, shifted his

gaze to the sack, noting theroundnessof its contentsandthe dark wet stain on thelower half. A sudden,overpowering chill ofrealisation gripped him,fearing hewould faint as theforestswayedaroundhimandhe fought down a gasp ofhorror, the soundundoubtedly an invite for aquickdeath.

“Lemme see,” the

whiner said, moving intoview for the first time. Hewas short, wiry with pointedfeaturesandawispybeardonhis bony chin. His left armwas cradled in his right, abloodied bandage leakingcontinually through hisspidery fingers. “Gotta behim.Has tobe.”Hesoundeddesperate. “You ‘eard whattheotheronesaid.”

Other one? Vaelin

strained to hear more, stillsickened but his heartsteadiedbyagrowinganger.

“He gave me theshivers, he did,” the stockyman responded with ashudder. “Wouldn’t’vetrusted him if he’d told methe sky was blue.” Hesquinted at the sack againthen reached inside,extracting the contents,holding it up by the hair,

dripping, turning it toexamine the slack, distortedfeatures. Vaelin would havevomited again if there wasanything left in his stomach.Mikehl!TheykilledMikehl.

“Could be him,” thestockymanmused. “Death’llchange a face for sure. Justdon’t see much’ve a familyresemblance.”

“Brak would know.Said he’d seen the boy

before.” The whiner movedout of the firelight again.“Where is he anyway?Should’ve been here bynow.”

“Yeh,” the stocky managreedreturninghistrophytothe sack. “Don’t think he’sgonna.”

Whinerwassilentforamoment before muttering,“LittleOrdershits.”

Brak…So he had a

name.Hewonderedbrieflyifanyone would wear amourning locket for Brak, ifhis widow or mother orbrother would offer thanksfor his life and the goodnessand wisdom he had leftbehind. But as Brak was anassassin, a killer waiting inthewoodstomurderchildren,he doubted it.No onewouldweep for Brak… as no onewould weep for these two.

Hisfisttightenedonthebow,bringingituptodrawabeadon the stocky man’s throat.He would kill this one andwound theother, anarrow inthe legor thestomachwoulddo it, then he would makehim talk, then he would killhimtoo.ForMikehl.

Something growled inthe forest, something hidden,somethingdeadly.

Vaelin whirled,

drawing the bow - too late,knocked flat by a hard massofmuscle,hisbowgonefromhishand.Hescrabbledforhisknife, instinctively kickingout as he did so, hittingnothing. There were screamsas he surged to his feet,screams of pain and terror,something wet lashed acrosshisface,stinginghiseyes.Hestaggered, tasting the ironsting of blood, wiping

franticallyathiseyes,blearilyfocusing on the now silentcamp,seeingtwoyelloweyesgleaming in the firelightabove a red stained muzzle.The eyes met his, blinkedonceandthewolfwasgone.

Random thoughtstumbled through hismind. Ittracked me…You’rebeautiful…Followedmehereto kill these men… Beautifulwolf… They killed Mikehl…

Nofamilyresemblance…STOPTHAT!Heforceddisciplineon

the torrent of thought,dragging air into his lungs,calming down enough tomoveclosertothecamp.Thestocky man lay on his back,hands reaching towards athroat that was no longerthere, his face frozen in fear.The whiner had managed torunafewstridesbeforebeing

cut down. His head wastwisted at an sharp angle tohis shoulders. From thestenchstainingtheairaroundhim itwas clear his fear hadmastered him at the end.There was no sign of thewolf, just the whisper ofundergrowth moving in thewind.

Reluctantlyheturnedtothe sack still lying at thestockyman’s feet.Whatdo I

doforMikehl?“Mikehl’s dead,”

Vaelin told Master Sollis,waterdripping fromhis face.It had started to rain a fewmiles back and he wasdrenched as he laboured upthe hill towards the gate,exhaustion and the shock theof the events in the forestcombiningtoleavehimnumband incapable of more than

the most basic words.“Assassinsintheforest.”

Sollis reached out tosteadyhimashe swayed,hislegs suddenly feeling tooweak to keep him upright.“Howmany?”

“Three. That I saw.Dead too.” He handed Sollisthefletchinghehadcut fromhisarrow.

Sollis asked MasterHutril to watch the gate and

led Vaelin inside. Instead oftakinghimtotheboys’roominthenorthtowerheledhimto his own quarters, a smallroom in the south wallbastion. He built up the fireandtoldVaelintostripoffhiswet clothes, giving him ablanket to warm himselfwhilefirebegantolickatthelogsinthehearth.

“Now,” he said,handing Vaelin a mug of

warmedmilk. “Tellmewhathappened. Everything youcanremember.Leavenothingout.”

So he told him of thewolf and the man he hadkilledandthewhinerandthestockyman…andMikehl.

“Whereisit?”“Master?”“Mikehl’s…remains.”“I buried it.” Vaelin

suppressed a violent shudder

and drank more milk, thewarmth burning his insides.“Scrapedthesoilupwithmyknife. Couldn’t think ofanythingelsetodowithit.”

Master Sollis noddedand stared at the fletching inhis hand, his pale eyesunreadable. Vaelin glancedaround the room, finding itless bare than he expected.Severalweaponswere set onthe wall: a pole axe, a long

iron bladed spear, some kindof stone headed club plusseveraldaggersandknivesofdifferent patterns. Severalbooks stood on the shelves,the lack of dust indicatingMaster Sollis hadn’t placedthemtherefordecoration.Onthe far wall there was somekind of tapestry fashionedfromagoatskinstretchedona wooden frame, the hideadornedwithabizarremixof

stick figures and unfamiliarsymbols.

“Lonak war banner,”Sollis said. Vaelin lookedaway, feeling like a spy. Tohis surprise Sollis went on.“Lonak boy children becomepart of a war band from anearly age. Each band has itsown banner and everymember swears a blood oathtodiedefendingit.”

Vaelinrubbedabeadof

water from his nose. “Whatdo the symbols mean,master?”

“They list the band’sbattles, the heads they havetaken, the honours grantedthemby theirHighPriestess.TheLonakhaveapassionforhistory. Children arepunishediftheycannotrecitethesagaoftheirclan.It’ssaidthey have one of the largestlibraries in the world,

althoughnooutsiderhaseverseenit.Theylovetheirstoriesandwill sit for hours aroundthe camp fire listening to theshamans.Theyespeciallylikethe heroic tales, stories ofoutnumbered war bandswinning victory against theodds, brave lone warriorsquesting for lost talismans inthe bowels of the earth…boys killing assassins in theforestwiththeaidofawolf.”

Vaelin looked at himsharply. “It’s no story,master.”

Sollis tossed anotherlog on the fire, scatteringsparks over the hearth. Heprodded the logs with apoker, not looking at Vaelinashespoke.“TheLonakhaveno word for secret. Did youknow that? To themeverythingisimportant,tobewritten down, recorded, told

overandover.TheOrderhasno such belief. We havefought battles that left morethanahundredcorpsesontheground and not a word of ithas ever been set down. TheOrder fights, but often itfights in shadow, withoutgloryor reward.Wehavenobanners.”He tossedVaelin’sfletching into the fire, thedamp feathers hissed in theflame then curled and

withered to nothing. “Mikehlwas taken by a bear, a raresight in the Urlish but somestill prowl the depths of thewoods. You found theremainsandreportedittome.TomorrowMasterHutrilwillretrieve them and we willgiveour fallenbrother to thefireandthankhimforthegiftofhislife.”

Vaelinfeltnoshock,nosurprise.Itwasobviousthere

wasmorehere thanhe couldknow. “Why did you warnme not to help the others,Master?”

Sollis stared into thefire for a while and Vaelinhad decided he wasn’t goingtoanswerwhenhesaid,“Weseverour tieswithourbloodwhenwegiveourselvestotheOrder. We understand this,outsiders do not. Sometimesthe Order is no protection

against the feuds that ragebeyondourwalls.Wecannotalways protect you. Theothers were not likely to behunted.” His fist was whiteon the poker as he proddedthe fire, his cheek musclesbulgedwith suppressed rage.“I was wrong. Mikehl paidthepriceofmymistake.”

My father, Vaelinthought. They sought mydeathtowoundhim.Whoever

theyaretheyknowhimnot.“Master, what of the

wolf?Whywouldawolfseektoaidme?”

Master Sollis put thepoker aside and rubbed hischin thoughtfully. “That’s athingIdon’tunderstand.I’vebeen many places and seenmanythingsbutawolfkillingmen is not one of them, andkilling without feeding.” Heshook his head. “Wolves

don’t do that. There issomething else atwork here.Something that touches theDark.”

Vaelin’s shiversintensified momentarily. TheDark. The servants in hisfather’s house had used thephrase sometimes, usually inhushed tones when theythought no-one else couldhear.Itwassomethingpeoplesaid when things happened

that shouldn’t happen;children being born with theblood-sign discolouring theirfaces, dogs giving birth tocatsandships foundadrift atseawithnocrew.Dark.

“Two of your brothersmadeitbackbeforeyoudid,”Sollis said. “You’d better goandtellthemaboutMikehl.”

This interview wasclearlyover.Solliswouldtellhim nothing else. It was

obvious, and sad. MasterSollis was a man of manystoriesandmuchwisdom,heknew much more than thecorrectgriponaswordortherightangletoslashabladeata man’s eyes, but Vaelinsuspectedlittleof itwaseverheard. He wanted to hearmore of the Lonak and theirwar bands and their HighPriestess, hewanted to knowoftheDark,butSollis’seyes

werefixedonthefire,lostinthought, the way his fatherhadlookedsomanytimes.Sohe got to his feet and said,“Yesmaster.”Hedrainedtherest of his warm milk andgathered the blanket aroundhim, clutching his dampclothes as he moved to thedoor.

“Tell no one, Sorna.”Therewasanoteofcommandis Sollis’s voice, the tone he

used before he swung hiscane. “Confide in no one.This is a secret that couldmeanyourdeath.”

“Yes master,” Vaelinrepeated.Hewentoutintothechilledhallwayandmadehisway to the north tower,huddled and shivering, thecold so intense he wonderedifhewouldcollapsebeforehemade it up the steps but themilkMaster Sollis had given

him left just enough warmthand sustenance to fuel hisjourney.

He found Dentos andBarkus in the roomwhen hestaggered through the door,both slumpedon theirbunks,fatigueevident in their faces.Strangely they seemedenlivenedbyhisarrival,bothrising togreethimwithbackslapsandforcedjokes.

“Can’tfindyourwayin

the dark, eh?” Barkuslaughed. “Would’ve beatenthis one back easily if Ihadn’t been caught by thecurrent.”

“Current?” Vaelinasked, bemused by thewarmthoftheirwelcome.

“Crossed too early,”Barkus explained. “Up nearthe narrows. I thought I wasdone I can tell you. Gotwashed up right opposite the

gate but Dentos was alreadythere.”

Vaelin dumped hisclothes on his bunk andmoved to the fire, bathing inthewarmth. “Youwere first,Dentos?”

“Aye. Was sure itwould be Caenis but we’venotseenhimyet.”

Vaelin was surprisedtoo; Caenis’s woodcraft leftthem all to shame. Still he

lacked Barkus’s strength andDentos’sspeed.

“At least we beat theother companies,” Barkussaid, referring to the boys inother groups. “None of themhave turned up yet. Lazybastards.”

“Yeh,” Dentos agreed.“Passedafewofthemontheway. Lost as a virgin in abrotheltheywere.”

Vaelin frowned.

“What’sabrothel?”The other two

exchanged an amused glanceand Barkus changed thesubject. “We smuggled someapples from the kitchen.”Hepulledbackhisbedcovers toreveal his prizes. “Pies too.We’ll have us a feast whentheothersgethere.”Heliftedan apple to his mouth for ahearty bite. They had allbecome enthusiastic thieves,

it was a universal habit,anythingofthemeanestvaluecould be expected todisappearinshortorderifnotsecurelyhidden.Thestrawintheir mattresses had longsince been replacedwith anystray piece of fabric or softhide they could lay theirhands on. Punishment fortheft was often severe butbereft of any lectures onimmoralityordishonestyand

soontheycametorealisethattheywerenotbeingpunishedfor stealing but for gettingcaught.Barkuswastheirmostprolificthief,especiallywhenit came to food, closelyfollowed by Mikehl whospecialised in clothing…Mikehl.

Vaelin stared into thefire, biting his lip, decidinghow to phrase the lie. It’s abad thing, he decided. It’s a

hard thing to lie to yourfriends. “Mikehl’s dead,” hesaidfinally.Hecouldn’tthinkofakinderway tosay itandwincedat thesuddensilence.“He…wastakenbyabear.I- I found what was left.”Behind him he heard Barkusspitouthismouthfulofapple.Therewas a rustle asDentossank heavily onto his bunk.Vaelin gritted his teeth andwent on, “Master Hutril will

bring the body backtomorrowsowecangivehimto thefire.”A logcracked inthe fire place. The chill wasalmostgoneandtheheatwasstartingtomakehisskinitch.“So we can give thanks forhislife.”

Nothing was said. Hethought Dentos might becrying but didn’t have thehearttoturnandseeforsure.Afterawhilehemovedaway

from the fire andwent tohisbunk,layinghisclothesouttodry, unstringing his bow andstowinghisquiver.

The door opened andNortah entered, rain soakedbut triumphant. “Fourth!” heexulted. “I was sure I’d belast.”Vaelinhadn’t seenhimcheerful before, it wasdisconcerting. As wasNortah’s ignorance of theirevidentgrief.

“Ievengot lost twice,”helaughed,dumpinghisgearon his bunk. “Saw a wolftoo.” He went to the fire,hands splayed to soakup theheat. “So scared I couldn’tmove.”

“You saw a wolf?”Vaelinasked.

“Oh yes. Big bastard.Think he’d already fedthough. There was blood onhissnout.”

“What kind of bear?”Dentosasked.

“What?”“Was it a black or a

brown? Brown’s are biggerand nastier. Black’s don’tcomenearmenmostly.”

“Wasn’t a bear,”Nortahsaid,puzzled.“AwolfIsaid.”

“I don’t know,”VaelintoldDentos.“Ididn’tseeit.”

“Thenhowd’y’knowit

wasabear?”“Mikehlgot takenbya

bear,”BarkustoldNortah.“Claw marks,” Vaelin

said, realising deceit wasmore difficult than heimagined.“Hewas…inbits.”

“Bits!” Nortahexclaimedindisgust.“Mikehlwasinbits?!”

“’Cos my uncle saidy’don’t get browns in theUrlish,” Dentos said dully.

“Onlyget‘eminthenorth.”“IbetitwasthatwolfI

saw,” Nortah whispered inshock. “The wolf I saw ateMikehl.Itwould’veeatenmeifithadn’tbeenfull.”

“Wolves don’t eatpeople,”Dentossaid.

“Maybe it was rabid.”He sank onto his bunk inshock.“Iwasnearlyeatenbyarabidwolf!”

And so it went, the

other boys arrived one byone, tired and wet butrelieved at having passed thetest, theirsmilesfadingwhenthey heard the news. Dentosand Nortah argued overwolvesandbearsandBarkusshared out his meagre spoilsto be eaten in numb silence.Vaelinwrappedhimselfinhisblanketandtriedtoforgetthesight of Mikehl’s slacklifeless features and the feel

of dead flesh through thefabric of the sack as hescrapedashallowgraveinthedirt....

He woke shudderingwith cold a few hours later.The last vestiges of a dreamfledfromhismindashiseyesaccustomed to the dark. Hewas grateful the dream hadslippedaway,thefewimageslingeringinhismindtoldhimit was best forgotten. The

other boys were asleep,Barkus snoring, softly foronce,thelogsinthefireplaceblackened and smouldering.He stumbled out of bed torelight the fire, the darknessof the room suddenly scaredhim more than the gloom oftheforest.

“There’s nomore logs,brother.”

He turned to findCaenissittingonhisbunk.He

was still dressed, his clothesglistening with damp in thedim moonlight seepingthroughtheshutters.Hisfacewashiddeninshadow.

“Whendidyougetin?”Vaelinasked,rubbingfeelingbackintohishands.Heneverknew a body could get socold.

“A while ago.”Caenis’s voice was a vacantdrone,drainedofemotion.

“You heard aboutMikehl?” Vaelin began topace about, hoping to walksome warmth back into hismuscles.

“Yes,” Caenis replied.“Nortah said it was a wolf.Dentossaidabear.”

Vaelin frowned,detectinganoteofhumourinhis brother's voice. Heshrugged it off. They allreacted differently. Jennis,

Mikehl’s closest friend, hadactually laughed when theytold him, a full hearty laughthat went on and on, in facthe laughed so much Barkushad to slap him before hestopped.

“Abear,”Vaelinsaid.“Really?” Vaelin was

sure Caenis hadn’t moved,but he fancied there was aquizzical incline to his head.“Dentos said you found him.

Thatmusthavebeenbad.”Mikehl’s blood was

thick, clotting in the sack,seepingthroughtheweavetostain his hands… “I thoughtyou’dbeherewhenIgotin.”Vaelin wrapped his blanketmore firmly around hisshoulders. “I bet Barkus anafternooninthegardenyou’dbeatusallback.”

“Oh,Iwouldhave.ButI was distracted. I happened

acrossamysteryintheforest.Perhaps you could help mepuzzle it out. Tell me, whatdo you make of a dead manwith an arrow in his throat?Anarrowwithnofletching.”

Vaelin’s shuddersbecame almostuncontrollable, his fleshtrembling so much hisblanket slipped to the floor.“The woods are thick withoutlaws, I hear,” he

stammered.“Indeed. So thick I

found two more. Not killedwith arrows though, mayhapthey were taken by a bear,likeMikehl.Perhapseventhesamebear.”

“P-perhaps.” What isthis?Vaelinhelduphishand,staring at the twitchingfingers.This isnotcold.Thisis more…He had a sudden,almost irresistible impulse to

tell Caenis everything,unburdenhimself,seeksolaceinconfidence.Caeniswashisfriend after all. His bestfriend. Who better to tell?With assassins hunting himhe would need a friend towatch his back. They wouldfightthemtogether…

Confide in no one…This is a secret that couldmean your death. Sollis’swords stilled his tongue,

firming his resolve. Caeniswashisfrienditwastrue,buthecouldn’ttellhimthetruth.Itwas too big, too importantfor a whispered secretbetweenboys.

He found his shiversreceding as his resolvegrew.Itreallywasn’tthatcold.Thefearandhorrorofhisnightinthe forest had left amark onhim,amarkthatmightneverfade,buthewouldfaceitand

overcome it. There was nootherchoice.

Heretrievedhisblanketfrom the floor and climbedbackintohisbunk.“TrulytheUrlish is a dangerous place,”hesaid.“Youbettergetthoseclothes off, brother. MasterSollis'll whip you raw ifyou’re too chilled to traintomorrow.”

Caenissatinunmovingsilence, a thin sigh escaping

hislipsinaslowhiss.Afterasecond he rose to undress,laying out his garments withhis habitual neatness,carefully stowing hisweapons before slipping intobed.

Vaelin lay back andprayed for sleep to take him,dreamsandall.Helongedforthis night to be over, to feelthe warmth of the dawn’slight, searing away all the

blood and fear that crowdedhis soul. Is this a warrior’slot?hewondered.Alifelivedshiveringintheshadows?

Caenis’s voice wasbarely a whisper but Vaelinheard him clearly, “I’m gladyou’re alive, brother. I’mgladyoumade it through theforest.”

Comradeship, herealised.Alsoawarrior’slot.Youshareyourlifewiththose

who would die for you. Itdidn’t make the fear and thesick, hard feeling in his gutsdisappear, but it did take theedge off his sorrow. “I’mglad you made it too,Caenis,” he whispered back.“Sorry I couldn’t help withyour mystery. You shouldtalktoMasterSollis.”

Heneverknewifitwasa laugh or a sigh that camefromCaenisthen.Manyyears

later he would think howmuch pain he would havesaved himself and so manyothers ifonlyhehadheard itclearly, if he had known onewayor theother.At thetimehe took it for a sigh and thewords that followeda simplestatement of obvious fact,“Oh, I think they’ll bemysteries aplenty in ourfuture.”

They built the pyre onthe practice ground, cuttinglogs from the forest andpiling them up underMasterSollis’s direction. They hadbeenexcused training for theday but the work was hardenough, Vaelin found hismusclesachingafterhoursofheaving freshly cut timberonto the wagon for transportback to the House, butresisted the temptation to

voice a complaint. Mikehldeserved a day’s work atleast. Master Hutril returnedearlyintheafternoon,leadinga pony laden with a tightlybound burden. They pausedin their labour as he passedby on his way to the gate,staring at the cloth-wrappedbody.

Thiswillhappenagain,Vaelinrealised.Mikehlisjustthe first. Who’ll be next?

Dentos?Caenis?Me?“We should’ve asked

him,” Nortah said, afterMaster Hutril disappearedthroughthegate.

“Asked him what?”saidDentos.

“If it was a wolf or abe-” He ducked, narrowlyavoiding the log Barkusthrewathim.

The masters laid thebodyon thepyreas theboys

paraded onto the practiceground in the early evening,over four hundred in all,standing silently in theircompanies. After Sollis andHutril stepped down theAspect came forward, aflamingtorchheldaloftinhisbony,scarredhand.Hestoodnext to the pyre and scannedthe assembled students, hisface was as lacking inexpressionasever.“Wecome

to witness the end of thevessel that carried our fallenbrother through his life,” hesaid, again displaying theuncannyability toprojecthissomnolent tones for thewholecrowdtohear.

“We come to givethanks for his deeds ofkindness and courage andforgiveness for his momentsof weakness. He was ourbrother and fell in service to

the Order, an honour thatcomestousallintheend.HeiswiththeDepartednow,hisspirit will join with them toguideus inourserviceto theFaith. Think of him now,offer your own thanks andforgiveness, remember him,nowandalways.”

Heloweredthetorchtothepyre, touching the flamesto the apple wood kindlingtheyhadworkedintothegaps

between the logs. Soon thefire began to build, flamesand smoke rising, the sweetapple scent lost amidst thestenchofburningflesh.

Watching the flamesVaelin tried to rememberMikehl’s deeds of kindnessand courage, hoping for amemory of nobility orcompassion he could carrythrough his life, but insteadfound himself stuck on the

time Mikehl had conspiredwith Barkus to put pepperinto one of the feed bags inthestable.MasterRensialhadfitted it over themuzzle of anewly acquired stallion andnarrowly escaped beingkicked to death amidst ashower of horse snot. Wasthat courage? Certainly thepunishment had been severe,although both Mikehl andBarkus swore the beatings

were worth it and MasterRensial’s confusedmind hadsoon let the incidentslip intothe cloudy morass of hismemory.

He watched the flamesrise and consume themutilated fleshandbone thathadoncebeenhis friendandthought: I’m sorry Mikehl.I’msorryyoudiedbecauseofme.I’msorryIwasn’ttheirtosave you. If I can, one day I

will findwho sent thosemeninto the forest and they willpay for your life. My thanksgowithyou.

He looked around tosee most of the other boyshaddriftedaway,gonetotheevening meal, but his groupwas still there, even Nortah,although he looked morebored than sorrowful. Jenniswas crying softly, hugginghimself,tearsstreamingdown

hisface.Caenis layedahandon

Vaelin’s shoulder. “Weshould eat. Our brother isgone.”

Vaelin nodded. “I wasthinkingaboutthetimeinthestables.Remember?Thefeedbag.”

Caenis grinned a little.“I remember. Iwas jealous Ihadn’t thought of it.” Theywalked back to the dining

hall, Jennis being draggedalongbyBarkus, still crying,the others exchangingmemories about Mikehl asthe fire burned on behindthem, taking his body away.Inthemorningtheyfoundtheremnants had been cleared,leavingonlyacircleofblackash to scar the grass. In themonths and years thatfollowed even that wouldfade.

Chapter3The days came and

went, they trained, theyfought,theylearned.Summerbecame autumn and thenwinter descended withdriving rainandbitingwindsthat soon gave way to theblizzards common to Asraelin the month of Ollanasur.AfterthepyreMikehl’snamewas rarely mentioned, they

never forgot him but theydidn’ttalkabouthim,hewasgone.Watching a new batchof recruitsmarch through thegatesinearlywintertheyhadtheoddsensationofnolongerbeing the youngest, suddenlythe worst chores would besomeone else’s burden.Looking at the newcomersVaelin wondered if he hadever looked so young andalone.Hewasn’t a child any

more, he knew this, none ofthem were. They weredifferent,changed.Theywerenot like other boys. And hisdifferencerandeeperthantheothers,hewasakiller.

Eversincetheforesthissleep had been troubled andhe was often left sweatingand shivering in the dark bydreams in which Mikehl’sslacklifelessfacecametoaskwhy he hadn’t saved him.

Sometimes it was the wolfthat came, silent, staring,lickingbloodfromitsmuzzle,its eyes holding a questionVaelincouldn’tfathom.Eventhe faces of the assassins,bloodied and torn, wouldcome to spit hate-filledaccusations that would rendhim from sleep shoutingunrepentant defiance:“Murderers! Scum! I hopeyourot!”

“Vaelin?” It wasusuallyCaenishewoke,someof the others too, but usuallyCaenis.

Vaelinwould lie,say itwas a dream of his mother,fightingtheguiltofusinghermemory to hide the truth.They would talk for a whileuntil Vaelin felt the tug offatigue pulling him to sleep.Caenis proved a mine ofmanystories,heknewallthe

tales of the Faithful by heartand many others besides,especially the tale of theKing.

“King Janus is a greatman,” he said continually.“He built our Kingdom withthe sword and theFaith.”Henever tired of hearing howVaelin had once met KingJanus,howthetall,redhairedmanhad layedahandonhishead to ruffle his hair and

say, “Hope you have yourfather’s arm, boy,” with adeep chuckle. In fact, Vaelinbarely remembered theKing,hehadonlyeightyearswhenhis father nudged himforward at the palacereception. But he did recallthe opulence of the palaceand the rich clothing of theassemblednobles.KingJanushad a son and a daughter, aserious looking boy of about

seventeen and a girl ofVaelin’s own age whoscowled at him from behindher father’s long, erminerimmed cloak. TheKing hadno queen by then, she haddied the previous summer,theysaidhisheartwasbrokenand he would never takeanotherbride.Vaelinrecalledthatthegirl,hismothercalledher a princess, had lingeredwhen the King moved on to

greet another guest. Shelooked him up and downcoldly. “I’m not marryingyou,” she sneered. “You’redirty.” With that shescampered after her fatherwithout looking back.Vaelin’s father had voicedoneofhisrarelaughs,saying,“Don’t worry, boy. I’d notcurseyouwithher.”

“What did he looklike?” Caenis asked eagerly.

“Washesixfeettallliketheysay.”

Vaelin shrugged. “Hewas tall. Couldn’t say howtall. And he had funny redmarks on his neck, like he’dbeenburnt.”

“Whenhewassevenhewas struck down by theRedHand,” Caenis told him,dropping into his storytellervoice. “For ten days hesuffered the agonies and

bloodsweatsthatwouldhavekilledagrownmanbeforehisfever broke and he grewstrong again. Even the RedHand, which had broughtdeath to every family in theland, couldn’t take Janus.Evenasachildhisspiritwastoostrongtobreak.”

Vaelin surmised thatCaenis would know manystories about his father, histime in the Order having

taught him the true extent ofthe Battle Lord’s fame, butnever asked to hear any. ToCaenis Vaelin’s father was alegend, a hero that stood atthe King’s side throughoutthe Wars of Unification. ToVaelin he was a riderdisappearingintothefogtwoyearsago.

“What are his childrencalled?” Vaelin asked. Forsome reason his parents had

never told him much aboutthecourt.

“The King’s son andheir to the throne is PrinceMalcius,saidtobeastudiousand dutiful young man. Hisdaughter is Princess Lyrnawhomanythinkwillgrowtooutshine even her mother’sbeauty.”

Sometimes Vaelin wasdisturbed by the light thatshone in Caenis’s eyeswhen

he talkedabout theKingandhis family. It was the onlytime his thoughtful frowndisappeared, as if he wasn’tthinking at all. He had seensimilar expressions onpeople’s faces when theyoffered thanks to theDeparted, as if their normalself had stepped out for amoment leaving only theFaithbehind.

Aswinterdeepenedandsnow covered the landpreparationbeganfortheTestof theWild.Their trekswithMasterHutrilbecame longer,hislessonsmoredetailedandurgent, he made them runthrough the snow until theyached and handed out severepunishments for laxness andinattention.Buttheyknewtheimportance of learning alltheycould.Bynow theyhad

been in the Order longenough for the older boys tofavour them with theoccasional word of advice,normallyconsistingofaluridwarningoffuturedangers,theTest of the Wild featuringlarge among them: Theythought he had disappearedfor good but they found hisbody the next year, frozen toa tree… He tried to eat fireberries and spewed his liver

up… Wandered into a wildcat's den and came outcarrying his guts in hisarms… The stories were nodoubt exaggerated butconcealed an essential truth:boysdiedineveryTestoftheWild.

When the time cametheywere taken out in smallgroups over the course of amonth to lessen the chancetheymightmeet up and help

eachotherthroughtheordeal.Thiswasatrialeachboyhadto face alone. There was ashortbargetripupriverthenalong cart journey over afeatureless, snow coveredroadwinding into the lightlyforested hill country beyondtheUrlish.Atintervalsoffivemiles Master Hutril wouldstop the cart and take one ofthe boys into the trees,returning some time later to

takeupthereinsagain.WhenVaelin’sturncamehewasledalonga small streamrunningintoashelteredgully.

“You have your flint?”MasterHutrilasked.

“Yesmaster.”“Twine, fresh

bowstring,extrablanket?”“Yesmaster.”Hutril nodded, pausing,

his breath steaming in thechilled air. “The Aspect has

givenmeamessageforyou,”he said after a moment.Vaelin found it odd thatHutrilwasavoidinghisgaze.“Hesays,asyouarelikelytobe hunted whenever youleave the shelter of theHouse, you may return withme and be given a pass onthistest.”

Vaelin was speechless.The shock of the Aspect’soffer coupled with the fact

thatthiswasthefirsttimeanyoftheMastershadreferredtohis ordeal in the forest lefthim dumfounded. The Testswere not just arbitrarytorments dreamt up over theyears by sadistic Masters.Theywere part of theOrder,set down by its founder fourhundred years ago and neverchanged since. They weremorethanalegacy,theywerean article of the Faith. He

couldn’t help feeling that toavoidatestandstillcontinuein the Order would be morethanjustdishonest,nottosaydisrespectful tohis friends, itwould be blasphemy.Pondering further, anotherthoughtcametohim:What ifthis is another test? What ifthe Aspect wants to see if Iwill avoid an ordeal mybrothers cannot? But as helooked into Master Hutril’s

guarded gaze he sawsomething that told him theoffer was genuine: shame.Hutril thought the offer aninsult.

“Ifeartocontradict theopinion of the Aspect,master,”hesaid.“ButIthinkit unlikely an assassinwouldbravethesehillsinwinter.”

Hutril nodded again, asoft sigh of relief escapinghim, a rare, very slight smile

onhislips.“Donotrangefar,listentothevoiceofthehills,follow only the freshesttracks.” With that heshouldered his bow andbegan his long trek back tothecart.

Vaelinwatchedhimgo,feeling very hungry despitethe hearty breakfast they hadall eaten that morning. Hewas glad he had taken theopportunity to steal some

breadfromthekitchenbeforetheyleft.

In accordance withHutril’s lessonsVaelinbeganbuilding a shelterimmediately, findingausefulnookbetweentwolargerockstoserveaswalls,hesetaboutgathering wood for a roof.There were some fallenbranches about that he coulduse but soon had to resort tocutting extra covering from

the surrounding trees. Hewalledoffone sidebypilingup snow, rolling it into thickblocksashehadbeentaught.His work complete herewarded himself with abreadroll,forcinghimselfnotto bolt it, despite his hunger,taking small bites andchewing thoroughly beforeswallowing.

Next he had to light afire, arranging some small

rocks in a circle next to theshelter’s entrance, clearingthesnowfromthecentreandfillingitwithtwigsandsmallbranches he had prepared bystripping away the snowdamp bark to reveal the drytimberbeneath.Afewsparksfrom his flint and soon hewaswarminghishandsabovea respectably lively fire.Food, shelter and heat,Master Hutril always told

them. That’s what keeps aman alive. Everything else isluxury.

His first night in theshelterwas restless,beset byhowling winds and bitingcold against which theblanket he had draped overthe entrance was scantprotection. He resolved tofashion a more sturdycovering the next day andpassed the hours trying to

hear voices in the winds. ItwassaidthatthewindswouldcarryintotheBeyondandtheDeparted used them to sendmessagesbacktotheFaithful,some of whom would standfor hours on hillsidesstraining for words ofwisdomor comfort from lostlovedones.Vaelinhadneverheardavoiceonthewindandwonderedwho itwouldbe ifhe did. His mother perhaps,

although she hadn’t come tohimagainsincehisfirstnightin the Order.Mikehl maybe,ortheassassins,spittingtheirhatred into the wind. Buttonight there were no voicesto hear and he drifted into afitful,chilledslumber.

The next day saw himgathering thin branches toweave into a door for hisshelter. The work was longandtricky,leavinghisalready

numbfingersachingfromtheeffort.Hespenttherestoftheday on the hunt, arrownotchedintohisbowstringashe scanned the snow fortracks. He fancied there hadbeenadeerthroughthegullyin the night but the trackswere too faint to followsuccessfully. He did findfreshgoat tracksbut they ledto a steep rise he had littlehope of climbing before

nightfall.Intheendhehadtocontenthimselfwithbringingdown a couple of crows thathad mistakenly perched tooclosetohisshelterandsettinga few snares for any unwaryrabbits that felt the need toventureintothesnow.

He plucked the crowsand kept the feathers forkindling, spitting the birdsand roasting them over hisfire. The meat was dry and

toughmaking him appreciatewhycrowwasnotconsidereda delicacy. As night camethere was little to do buthuddle near his fire until itburnt down then settle intohis shelter. The door he hadmadewasmore use than theblanket but still the coldseemed to settle into hisbones. His stomach growledbut the wind howled everlouder, but still he heard no

voices.He had better luck in

themorning,bringingdownasnow hare. He was proud ofthe kill, the arrow catchingtheanimalasitscamperedforits hole. He had it skinnedand cleaned within an hourand took a great amount ofpleasure in roasting it overthe fire, staring with wideeyes at the grease runningover theblistering skin.They

should call this the Test ofHunger, he decided as hisstomach gave voice toanother obscenely loudgrowl. He ate half the meatandstashedtheotherhalfinatreeholehehadchosenforagood hiding place. It was agooddistanceoff theground,he had to climb to reach it,and the tree was too slenderto support the weight of ascavengingbear.Itwasareal

effort to resist the urge togobble all the meat at oncebut he knew if he did hemight have to face the nextdaywithoutameal.

Therestofthedaywasspent hunting withoutsuccess, his snares remainedfrustratingly empty and hehad to content himselfdigging for roots from underthesnow.Therootshefoundwere hardly filling, and took

a lot of boiling before theywere edible, but sufficed totake the edge of his hunger.His one stroke of luck wasfindingayallin root, inediblebut possessed of aparticularly foul smellingjuice which would be usefulin protecting his food storeand shelter from prowlingwolvesorbears.

He was trudging backto his shelter after another

fruitless hunt when it beganto snow in earnest, the windsoonwhippingtheflakesintoa blizzard. He made it backbefore the snow became toothick for him to see his wayand wedged his door ofwoven branches firmly intotheentrance,warminghisicecold hands in the hare’s pelthe had chosen to use as amuffler. He couldn’t light afire in the middle of a

snowstormandhadnochoicebut to sit it out, shivering,flexinghishandsinthefurtostopthenumbnesssettingin.

The wind was louderthan ever, still howling,leaving its voices in theBeyond…Whatwasthat?Hesat up, holding his breath,ears straining. A voice, avoice on the wind. Faint,plaintive. He sat still andquiet, waiting for it to come

again.Theshriekofthewindwas continuous andinfuriating, every change intoneseemedtoheraldanothercallof themysteryvoice.Hewaited, breathing softly, butnothingcame.

Shaking his head, helay down again, huddlingbeneath theblanket, trying tomake himself as small aspossible…

“…curseyou…”

He jerked upright,instantly awake. There wasnomistaking it. Therewas avoice on the wind. It cameagain, quickly this time, thewind allowing only a fewwords to reach him, “…youhear me? I curse you! …regret nothing! I …nothing…”

Thevoicewasfaintbuthe could hear the rage in itclearly, this soul had sent a

message of hate back acrossthe void. Was for him? Hefeltcolddreadgriphimlikeagiantfist.Theassassins,Brakandtheothertwo.Hisshiversdeepened but not throughcold.

“…nothing!” the voiceraged.“Nothing…havedonehas … anything! You hearme?”

Vaelinthoughtheknewfear,he thought theordeal in

the forest had hardened him,made him in some waysimmune to terror. He waswrong. Some of the mastershad talked of men pissingthemselves when fearovercamethem.Hehadneverbelievedituntilnow.

“…I’ll carry my hateinto the Beyond! If youcursed my life you’ll cursemy death a thousandtimes…”

Vaelin’s shiversstoppedmomentarily.Death?What kind of Departed soulspeaks of dying? A veryobvious thought occurred tohim in a rush ofembarrassment he was gladno-one was there to see:someone is outside in thestorm whilst I sit herecowering.

He had to dig his wayout, the blizzard had piled a

drift against his door fullythree feet high. After a fewmoments’efforthescrambledoutintothefuryofthestorm.The wind was like a knifecuttingthroughhiscloakasifit weremade of paper, snowpelted his face like nails, hecouldseealmostnothing.

“Ho there!” he called,feeling thewordsvanish intothe gale as soon as theyescaped his lips. He dragged

airintohislungs,swallowingsnow, and tried again, “HO!WHO’STHERE?”

Something shifted intheblizzard,avagueshapeinthe wall of white. Gonebefore he could make senseof it.Drawinganotherbreathhe began to fight his waytowardswherehethoughttheshape had been, heaving hislegsoutofthefreezingdrifts.He stumbled several times

before he found them, twoshapes, huddled together,partially covered by theblizzard,onelarge,onesmall.

“Get up!” Vaelinshouted, prodding the largestshape. It groaned, rollingover,snowfallingawayfroma frost encrusted face, twopale blue eyes staring outfrom themask of ice.Vaelindrew back slightly. He hadnever seen agaze so intense.

NotevenMasterSollis’sstarecould pierce a soul like this.Unconsciously his handclosedovertheknifebeneathhis cloak. “If you stay hereyou’ll freeze to death inminutes,”heshouted.“Ihaveshelter.” He waved back theway he had come. “Can youwalk?”

The eyes kept staring,the frost face immobile.Myluck holds true, Vaelin

thoughtruefully.OnlyIcouldfindamadmaninthemiddleofasnowstorm.

“Icanwalk,”theman’svoice was growl. He jerkedhisheadat the smaller shapenext to him. “I’ll need helpwiththisone.”

Vaelin moved to thesmallshape,draggingittoitsfeet, drawing a pained gasp.As he pulled the figureupright a hood fell away to

revealapale,elfinfaceandashockofauburnhair.Thegirlremainedstandingforonlyaninstant before collapsingagainsthim.

“Here,” the mangrunted, taking one of herarms and laying it across hisshoulders. Vaelin took theother arm and together theystruggled back to the shelter.It seemed to take an age,incredibly the storm was

growing in intensity andVaelin knew that if theystopped for even a seconddeath would follow soonafter.Reaching theshelterhescraped the already re-growndrift away from the entranceand pushed the girl in first,gesturing for the man tofollow. He shook his head.“Youfirst,boy.”

Vaelin noted theadamanttoneinhisgrowland

knew lingering to arguewould be pointless, andpossibly deadly. He crawledinto the shelter, pushing thegirl’s body deeper as he didso,crammingthembothinastightly as he could. Themanfollowedtheminquickly,hisbulk leaving little remainingspace, and jammed Vaelin’sdoorintotheentrance.

They lay together,mingled breath clouding the

confines of the shelter,Vaelin’slungsburntfromtheeffort of struggling throughthe snow and his handstrembled uncontrollably. Heput them inside his cloak,hoping to stave off frostbite.An irresistible tirednessbegan to creep over him,cloudinghisvisionasheslidtowards unconsciousness. Hehad a final glimpse of themannext tohim,peeringout

at thestormthroughagap inthe door. Before exhaustionovertook him completelyVaelinheard themanmutter,“A little longer then. Just alittlelonger.”

He surfaced with a

splitting headache, a thinbeam of sunlight lancingthrough the roofdirectly intohis eye provoking a painfulyelp. Next to him the girl

shifted in her sleep, one ofherboots leavingabruiseonhis shin. The man wasn’t inthe shelter and a strong,distinctly appetising aromawas wafting through theentrance. Vaelin decided hewouldratherbeoutside.

He found the mancooking oat cakes over hiscampfire on an iron skillet,the smell provoking anexcruciating surgeofhunger.

Free of the mask of ice hisfeatures were lean thoughdeeply lined. The rage thathad clouded his eyes in thestorm was gone, replacedwith a bright friendlinessVaelin found disconcerting.He put the man’s age in themid-thirties but it wasdifficult to tellforsure, therewas a depth to the face, agravityinhisstarethatspokeof a wide breadth of

experience. Vaelin kept hisdistance, worried he wouldgrabatthecakesifhegottooclose.

“Went back for ourgear,” the man said noddingatthetwosnowdustedpacksnearby. “We had to dropthem last night a few milesback. Toomuchweight.”Hetook the cakes off the heatand offered the skillet toVaelin.

Vaelin, mouth floodedwithdrool,shookhishead.“Ican’t.”

“Orderboy,eh?”Vaelin nodded, dumb

withlonging.“Whyelsewouldaboy

belivingouthere?”Heshookhis head sadly. “Still, if youweren’t,SellaandIwouldbelyingunderthesnow.”Hegotup, approaching to offer hishand.“Mythanks,youngsir.”

Vaelin took the hand,feeling the hard callous thatcoveredthepalm.Awarrior?LookingthemanoverVaelindoubted it. The Masters allhad a certainwayofmovingandtalkingthatmarkedthemout. This man was different.He had the strength but notthelook.

“Erlin Ilnis,” the manintroducedhimself.

“VaelinAlSorna.”

The man raised aneyebrow. “The name of theBattleLord’sfamily.”

“Yes,I’veheard.”Erlin Ilnis nodded and

let the subject drop. “Howmanydaystogo?”

“Four. If I don’t starvebeforethen.”

“Then accept myapologies for intruding onyour Test. I hope it won’tspoil your chances of

passing.”“As long as you don’t

helpmeitshouldn’tmatter.”Themansquatteddown

to eat his breakfast, cuttingthecakesintoportionswithathin bladed knife and liftingthemtohismouth.Unabletobear it any longer Vaelinrushedofftocollecthisstashof hare meat from the treehole.Hehadtodigthroughathick covering of snow but

was soon back at the campwithhisprize.“Haven’t seen a storm likethat for many a year,” Erlincommented softly as Vaelinbegan roasting his meat.“Used to think it an omenwhentheweatherturnedbad.Alwaysseemed likeawarora plague would follow soonafter. Now I just think itmeans the weather turnedbad.”

Vaelinfeltcompelledtotalk, it took his mind of theendlessgrowlofhisstomach.“Plague? The RedHand youmean. You couldn’t be oldenoughtohaveseenit.”

The man gave a faintsmile. “I am… widelytravelled. Plague comes tomanylands,inmanyforms.”

“How many?” Vaelinpressed. “How many landshaveyouseen?”

Erlin stroked hisstubble grey chin as hepondered the question. “Ihonestly couldn’t say. I’veseenthegloriesoftheAlpiranEmpire and the ruins of theLeandren temples. I’vewalked the dark paths of thegreatnorthernforestandtrodtheendlesssteppeswheretheEorhil Sil hunt the great elk.I’ve seen cities and islandsand mountains aplenty. But

always, without fail,everywhere I go, I findmyselfinastorm.”

“You are not from theRealm?”Vaelinwaspuzzled.The man’s accent was odd,possessed of vowels thatjarred on the ear, but stillclearlyAsraelin.

“Oh, I was born here.There’savillagea fewmilessouthofVarinshold,sosmallit doesn’t even have a name.

You’llfindmykinthere.”“Why did you leave?

Why travel to so manyplaces?”

The man shrugged. “Ihadalotoftimeonmyhandsand I couldn’t think ofanythingelsetodo.”

“Why were you soangry?”

Erlin turned to himsharply.“What?”

“I heard you. I thought

it was a voice on the wind,one of the Departed. Youwere angry, I could hear it.It’showIfoundyou.”

Erlin’s face took on anexpression of deep, almostfrighteningsadness.Suchwasthe depth of his sorrow thatVaelin wondered again if hehadn’trescuedamadman.

“When a man facesdeath he says many foolishthings,” Erlin said. “When

theymakeyoua fullBrotherI’m sure you’ll hear dyingmen say the most ridiculousnonsense.”

The girl emerged fromthe shelter, blinking dazedlyin the sunlight, a shawlclutchedabouther shoulders.SeeingherclearlyforthefirsttimeVaelinfoundithardnotto stare. Her face was aflawless pale oval framed bylight auburn curls. She was

olderthanhimbyacoupleofyears and an inch or twotaller. He realised he hadn’teven seen a girl for a longtime and felt uncomfortablyoutofhisdepth.

“Sella,” Erlin greetedher.“Morecakes inmypackifyou’rehungry.”

She smiled tightly,casting a wary glance atVaelin.

“This is Vaelin Al

Sorna,” Erlin told her. “Anovice brother of the SixthOrder. We owe him ourthanks.”

She hid it well butVaelin saw her tense whenErlin mentioned the Order.She turned to Vaelin andmoved her hands in a seriesofintricate,fluidmovements,an empty smile fixed on herface.Mute,herealised.

“She said we are

fortunatetofindsuchabravesoul in the midst of thewilderness,”Erlinrelated.

In fact she had said:TellhimIsaidthankyouandlet’s go. Vaelin decided itwouldbebetterifhekepthisknowledge of sign languageto himself. “You’rewelcome,” he said. Sheinclined her head andmovedtothepacks.

Vaelin began to eat,

shovelling the food downwith dirty fingers and notcaring that Master Hutrilwould have been appalled atsuch a spectacle. Erlin andSella conversed in signlanguage whilst he ate. Theshapes they made werepractised and formed with afluency which shamed hisown clumsy attempts tomimic Master Smentil. Butdespite the fluency of their

communication Vaelinmarked the sharp, nervousmovements of her hands andthe more restrained, calmingshapesmadebyErlin.

Does he know who weare?sheaskedhim.

No,Erlin replied.Heisachild.Braveandclever,buta child. They are taught tofight. The Order tells themnothingofotherfaiths.

She cast a brief,

guarded glance in Vaelin’sdirection. He grinned back,licking grease from hisfingers.

Will he kill us if heknows?sheaskedErlin.

He saved us, don’tforget. Erlin paused andVaelin got the impression hewastryingnottolookathim.And he’s different, his handssaid. Other Brothers of theSixthOrderarenotlikehim.

Differenthow?There is more in him,

morefeeling.Can’tyousenseit?

She shook her head. Isense only danger. It’s allI’vefelt fordays.Shepausedfor a moment, a frowncreasinghersmoothbrow.HehastheBattleLord’sname.

Yes. I think this is hisson. I heard he gave him totheOrderafterhiswifedied.

Hermovementsbecamefrantic, insistent.We have toleavenow!

Erlin forced a smile inVaelin’s direction. Calmdown or you’ll make himsuspicious.

Vaelingotupandwentto the stream to wash thegrease from his hands.Fugitives, he thought. Butfrom what? And what wasthis talk of other faiths? Not

for the first time he wishedoneof theMasterswereheretoguidehim.SollisorHutrilwould know what to do. Hewondered if he should try tohold them here somehow.Overpowerthemandtiethemup. He wasn’t sure he coulddoit.Thegirldidn’tpresentaproblem but Erlin was agrownman, and strong. AndVaelin suspected he knewhowtofightevenifhewasn’t

a warrior by trade. All hecould do was keep watchingtheir conversation to learnmore.

Hecaughtitbychance,thewind shifted and broughtit to him, faint butunmistakable: horse sweat.MustbecloseifIcansmellit.More thanone.Coming fromthesouth.

He hurriedly climbedthe south side of the gully,

scanning the southern hills.He spotted them quickly, adark knot of riders a half amile or so to the south east.Five or six of them, plus atrio of hunting dogs. Theyhadhalted, itwasdifficult tomake out what they weredoing from this distance butVaelin surmised they werewaiting for the dogs to pickupascent.

He forced himself to

stroll slowly back to thecamp,findingthegirlsullenlyprodding thefirewithastickand Erlin retying one of thestrapsonhispack.

“We’ll be on our waysoon,” Erlin assured him.“We’ve put you to enoughtrouble.”

“Heading north?”Vaelinasked.

“Yes. The Renfaelincoast.Sellahasfamilythere.”

“You’re not herfamily?”

“Just a friend andtravellingcompanion.”

Vaelin went to theshelter and fetched his bow,feeling the girl’s mountingtension as he strung thebowstring and slung thequiver over his shoulder. “Ihavetohunt.”

“Of course. I wish wecould give you some of our

food.”“It’s not permitted to

take aid from others duringthistest.BesidesI’msureyoucan’tspareany.”

Thegirl’shandsmovedirritably:True.

“I suppose we shouldtake our leave now,” Erlinsaid,comingovertoofferhishand.“Onceagain,mythanksyoung sir. It’s unusual tomeet such a generous soul.

Trustme,Iknow…”Vaelin moved his

hands, the shapes he madeclumsy compared to theirsbut the meaning was clearenough: Riders to the south.Withdogs.Why?

Sella’shandwenttohermouth, her pale face nearlywhitewith fear. Erlin’s handinched closer to the curvebladedknifeathisbelt.

“Don’tdo that,”Vaelin

instructed him. “Just tell mewhy you’re running. Andwho’shuntingyou.”

Erlin and the girlexchanged frantic glances.Her hands fidgeted as shefought the impulse tocommunicate. Erlin took herhand,Vaelinwasn’tsureifhewas trying tocalmor silenceher.

“So they teach you thesigns,” he said, his tone

neutral.“They teach us many

things.”“Did they teach you

aboutDeniers?”Vaelin frowned,

remembering one of hisfather’s infrequentexplanations. It had been thefirsttimehesawthecitygateand the bodies rotting in thecages that hung from thewall. “Deniers are

blasphemers and heretics.Thosewho deny the truth oftheFaith.”

“And do you knowwhat happens to Deniers,Vaelin?”

“They are killed andhung from the city walls incages.”

“They are hung fromthewallswhilststillaliveandleft to starve to death. Theirtongues are cut out so their

screams will not disturbpassers by. This is donepurely because they follow adifferentfaith.”

“There is no differentFaith.”

“Yes there is, Vaelin!”Erlin’s tone was fierce,implacable. “I toldyou Ihadbeen all over this world.There are countless faiths,countless gods. There aremore ways to honour the

divine than there are stars inthesky.”

Vaelin shook his head,finding the argumentirrelevant. “And that’s whatyouare?Deniers?”

“No. I follow the sameFaithasyou.”Hegaveashortbitterlaugh.“I’velittlechoiceafter all. But Sella has adifferent path. Her belief isdifferent, but just as true asyours andmine. But if she’s

taken by themen hunting ustheywill torture andkill her.Doyouthinkthat’sright?DoyouthinkallDeniersdeservesuchafate?”

Vaelin studied Sella.Fear dominated her face, herlips trembling, but her eyeswereuntouchedbyherterror.They stared into his,unblinking, magnetic,questing,makinghimthinkofMasterSollisduringthatfirst

sword lesson. “You can’ttrickme,”hetoldher.

Shetookadeepbreath,gentlydisentangledherhandsfromErlin’sandsigned:Iamnot trying to trick you. I’mlookingforsomething.

“Andwhat’sthat?”Something I didn’t see

before. She turned to Erlin.Hewillhelpus.

Vaelin opened hismouth to retortbut found the

words dying on his lips. Shewas right: he would helpthem. There was nocomplexity to thedecision. Itwas right, he knew it. Hewould help them becauseErlin was honest and braveandSellawaspretty andhadseen something in him. Hewould help them because heknew they didn’t deserve todie.

Hewentintotheshelter

and returned with the yallinroot. “Here.” He tossed it toErlin. “Cut it in half andsmear the juice on your feetand hands. Whose scent dotheyhave?”

Erlin sniffed the rootuncertainly.“Whatisthis?”

“It’ll mask your scent.Which of you do theyfollow?”

Sella patted her chest.Vaelin noted the silk scarf

around her neck. He pointedat it, motioning for her tohanditover.

My mother’s, sheprotested.

“Then she’ll be glad itsavedyourlife.”

After a moment’shesitationsheundid thescarfandgaveit tohim.Hetieditaroundhiswrist.

“This is disgusting!”Erlin complained smearing

the yallin juice on his boots,facecontortedat thepungentstench.

“Dogs think so too,”Vaelintoldhim.

After Sella hadanointed her own boots andhands he led them into thedensest part of thesurroundingwoodland.Therewas a hollow a few hundredyards from the camp, deepenough to hide two people

but offering little protectionagainst expert eyes. Vaelinwas hoping whoever huntedthem wouldn’t get closeenough to see it.When theyhadsettledintothehollowhetooktheyallinrootfromSellaandsmearedasmuchjuiceashe could squeeze from it onthe surrounding ground andfoliage.

“Stay here, keep quiet.If you hear the dogs lie still,

don’t run. If Idon’t return inan hour head south for twodays then circlewest, followthecoast roadnorth, stayoutofthetowns.”

HemadetoleavewhenSella reachedout tohim,herhand hovering close to his.Sheseemedwaryoftouchinghim.Her eyesmet his again,not questing this time, justbright with gratitude. Hesmiled back briefly and was

gone, running full pelttowards the hunters. Thesparse woods blurred aroundhim, his hunger wrackedbody aching from the effort.Hepushedhispainsawayandranon, the scarfonhiswristtrailinginthewind.

It took five longminutes of hard runningbefore he heard the dogs,distant high pitched yelpsgrowing into sharp

threatening barks as theydrew closer. Vaelin chose adefensible position atop afallenbirchtrunkandquicklytook the scarf fromhiswrist,tying it around his neck andtucking it out of sight. Hewaited,arrownotchedtighttohis bowstring, breathsteaming as he dragged airinto his lungs and fought thetremblefromhislimbs.

The dogs were on him

quicker than he expected,three dark forms burstingfrom theundergrowth twentyyards away, snarling, yellowteethflashing,churningsnowas they sped towards him.Vaelin was momentarilyshockedbythesightofthem,they were an unfamiliarbreed. Larger, faster andmore thickly muscled thananyotherhuntingdoghehadseen. Even the Renfaelin

houndsintheOrder’skennelsseemed like pets incomparison. The worst thingwas their eyes, glaringyellow, filledwith hate, theyseemed to glow with it asthey closed on him, drooltrailingfromsnarlingmaws.

Hisarrowtookthefirstone in the throat, sending ittumblingintothesnowwithasurprised, piteous whine. Hetriedforanotherarrowbutthe

second dog was on himbefore the shaft was clear ofthe quiver. It leapt, sharpnailed paws scrabbling at hischest, head angled to fix theflashingteethonhisneck.Herolled with the force of thelunge, letting his bow slipaway, his right hand pullingtheknifefreefromhisbelttostab upwards as his backconnected with the ground,thedog’smomentumhelping

bury the blade in its chest,punching through ribs andcartilage to find the heart,bloodgoutingfromthemouthin a thick black spray.Fighting nausea, Vaelin puthisbootsunder the twitchingbody and heaved it away,rollingupright,knife levelledatthethirddog,readyforthecharge.

Itdidn’tcome.The dog sat, ears

flattened, head lowered nearthe ground, eyes averted.Whining, it raised itsmuscular formtoedgecloserthen sat again, glancing athim with a strange, fearfulbutexpectantexpression.

“You better be rich,boy,” a gruff, deeply angryvoicedsaid.“Youowemeforthreedogs.”

Vaelin whirled, knifeready, finding a ragged,

stocky man emerging fromthebushes, his heaving chestindicating the hardship ofrunning in the wake of thedogs.AswordoftheAsraelinpattern was strapped acrosshisbackandheworeasoileddarkbluecloak.

“Two dogs,” Vaelinsaid.

Theman glowered andspat on the ground, reachingback to draw his sword in a

practised easy movement.“These are Volarian slave-hounds, you little shit. Thethird’s no good tome now.”He came closer, his feetmoving over the snow in afamiliar dancing motion,swordpointlow,armslightlybent.

Thedoggrowled,alowmenacing rumble. Vaelinrisked a glance at it,expectingtofinditadvancing

on him once again, butinstead its yellow, hate filledgaze was fixed on the manwiththesword,lipstremblingoverbaredteeth.

“You see!” the manshouted atVaelin. “Seewhatyou’ve done? Four years totrain these bastards in theshitter.”

It came toVaelin then,a rush of recognition heshould have felt as soon as

the man appeared. He raisedhislefthandslowly,showingit to be empty, and reachedinsidehisshirttopullouthismedallion, holding it up forthe man to see. “Myapologies,brother.”

Momentary confusionplayed over the man’s face,Vaelin realised he wasn’tpuzzled at the sight of themedallion,hewascalculatingifhewasstillpermittedtokill

him even though he was ofthe Order. In the event thedecisionwasmadeforhim.

“Sheath your sword,Makril,” said a strident,cultured voice.Vaelin turnedas ahorse and rider emergedfrom the trees. The sharpfaced man on the horsenoddedathimcordiallyasheguided his mount closer. Itwas a grey Asraelin hunterfrom the southlands, a long

legged breed renowned forstamina rather thanaggression.Themanreinedina few feet away, lookingdown at Vaelin with whatmight have been genuinegood will. Vaelin noted thecolourofhiscloak,black:theFourthOrder.

“Gooddaytoyou,littlebrother,”thesharpfacedmangreetedhim.

Vaelin nodded back,

sheathing his knife. “Andyou,master.”

“Master?” He smiledfaintly. “I think not.” Heglanced the remaining dog,nowgrowling at him. “I fearwemayhaveprovidedyouanunwelcome companion, littlebrother.”

“Companion?”“Volarian slave-hounds

areanunusualbreed.Savagebeyond belief at times but

possessed of a rigidhierarchical code.You killedthisanimal’spack leaderandthe one who would havereplaced him. Now he seesyou as the pack leader. He’stooyoungtochallengeyousoinsteadwillprovideyouwithunswervingloyalty,fornow.”

Vaelin looked at thedog seeing a snarling,droolingmass ofmuscle andteethwithanintricatewebof

scars on its snout and furmattedwithmingleddirt andshit.“Idon’twantit,”hesaid.

“Too late for that, youlittle sod,” Makril mutteredbehindhim.

“Oh stop being sotiresome, Makril,” the sharpfaced man admonished him.“You lost some dogs, we’llget some more.” He bentdown to offer Vaelin hishand. “Tendris Al Forne,

brother of the Fourth OrderandservantoftheCouncilforHereticalTransgressions.”

“Vaelin Al Sorna,”Vaelin shook the hand.“NoviceBrother of the SixthOrder, awaitingconfirmation.”

“Yes, of course.”Tendrissatbackinhissaddle.“TestoftheWildisit?”

“Yes,brother.”“I certainly don’t envy

your Order’s tests.” Tendrisoffered a sympathetic smile.“Remember your tests,brother?”heaskedMakril.

“Only in mynightmares.” Makril wascircling the clearing, eyesfixed on the ground,occasionally crouching topeer closely at amark in thesnow.VaelinhadseenMasterHutril do the same thing,butwith considerably more

grace.Hutrilgaveoffanauraof calm reflection when helookedfortracks.Makrilwasa sharp contrast, constantlyon the move, agitated,restless.

The crunch of hooveson snow heralded the arrivalof three more brothers fromtheFourthOrder,allmountedon Asraelin hunters likeTendris, and possessing thehardy,weatheredlookofmen

whospentmostof their liveson the hunt. They eachgreeted Vaelin with a briefwave when Tendrisintroduced him, before goingoff to scour the surroundingarea.“Theymayhavetrackedthrough here,” Tendris toldthem. “The dogs must havescented something beyond alikely meal in our youngbrotherhere.”

“MayIaskwhatyou’re

searching for, brother?”Vaelinenquired.

“Thebaneofourrealmand our Faith, Vaelin,”Tendris replied sadly. “TheUnfaithful. It is a taskcharged to me and thebrothers with whom I ride.We hunt those who woulddeny the Faith. It may be asurprisetoyouthatsuchfolkexist, but believe me theydo.”

“There’snothinghere,”Makril said. “No tracks,nothing for the dogs toscent.” He made his waythroughaheavysnowdrifttostand in front of Vaelin.“Exceptyou,brother.”

Vaelin frowned. “Whywouldyourdogstrackme?”

“Have youmet anyoneduring your test?” Tendrisasked. “A man and a girlperhaps?”

“ErlinandSella?”Makril and Tendris

exchangedaglance.“When?”Makrildemanded.

“Two nights ago.”Vaelin was proud of thesmoothnessofthelie,hewasbecoming more adept atdishonesty. “The snow washeavy, they needed shelter. Ioffered them mine.” Helooked at Tendris. “Was Iwrongtodoso,brother?”

“Kindness andgenerosity are never wrong,Vaelin.” Tendris smiled.Vaelin was disturbed by thefact that the smile seemedgenuine. “Are they still atyourcamp?”

“No, they left the nextmorning.

They said little, in factthegirlsaidnothing.”

Makril snorted amirthless laugh. “She can’t

speak,boy.”“Shedidgiveme this.”

Vaelin pulled Sella’s silkscarf from under his shirt.“By way of thanks the mansaid.Isawnoharmintakingit. If offers no warmth. Ifyou’re hunting them perhapsyourdogsscentedthis.”

Makril leaned closer,sniffing the scarf, nostril’sflared, his eyes locked onVaelin’s.Hedoesn’tbelievea

wordofit,Vaelinrealised.“Did the man tell you

where they were going?”Tendrisasked.

“North, to Renfael. Hesaid the girl had familythere.”

“He lied,” Makril said.“She has no familyanywhere.” Next to Vaelinthe dog’s growls deepened.Makril moved back slowly,making Vaelin wonder what

kind of dog could provokefearinitsownmaster.

“Vaelin, this is veryimportant,” Tendris said,leaningforwardinhissaddle,studying Vaelin intently.“Did the girl touch you atall?”

“Touchme,brother?”“Yes.Eventheslightest

touch?”Vaelin remembered the

hesitancy as Sella reached to

him and realised she hadn’ttouched him at all, althoughthe depth of her gaze whenshe found something in himhad felt almost like beingtouched, touched on theinside.“No.Noshedidn’t.”

Tendris settled backinto the saddle, nodding insatisfaction. “Then you wereindeedfortunate.”

“Fortunate?”“The girl’s a Denier

witch, boy,”Makril said. Hehad perched on the birchtrunk and was chewing asugar cane that had appearedin his weathered fist. “Shecan twist your heart with atouch of that dainty hand ofhers.”

“What our brothermeans,” Tendris explained.“Is that thisgirlhasapower,anabilitythatcomesfromtheDark. The heresy of the

Unfaithful sometimesmanifests itself in strangeways.”

“Shehasapower?”“It’s better we don’t

burdenyouwith thedetails.”He tugged his horse’s reins,guiding it to the edge of theclearing, looking around fortracks. “They left yesterdaymorning,yousay?”

“Yes, brother.” Vaelintried not to look at Makril,

knowing the stocky trackerwas subjecting him to anintense, dubious scrutiny.“Headingnorth.”

“Mmm.” Tendrisglanced at Makril. “Can westill track them without thedogs?”

Makril shrugged.“Maybe, won’t be easy afterlast night’s storm.” He tookanother bite from his sugarcaneandtosseditaway.“I’ll

dosomescoutingnorthofthehills. Best if you take theothersandcheck towards thewestandeast.Theymayhavetried todoubleback to throwus off their trail.” He gaveVaelin a final, hostile glarebefore disappearing into thetreesatadeadrun.

“It’stimeformetotakemy leave, brother,” Tendrissaid. “I’m sure I’ll see youagainwhenyou’vepassedall

your tests. Who knows,perhaps there’llbeaplace inmy company for a youngbrotherwithabraveheartandaquickeye.”

Vaelin looked at thebodies of the two dogs,streaks of blood staining thewhite blanket of snow. Theywould have killedme. That’swhat they’re bred for. Notjust tracking. If they’d foundSella and Erlin… “Who

knows down what paths theFaith leads us, brother,” hetold Tendris, not having thestomachtoforcemorethananeutraltoneintohisvoice.

“Indeed.” Tendrisnodded, accepting thewisdom. “Well, luck gowithyou.”

Vaelinwassosurprisedthathisplanhadworked thatheletTendrisguidehishorseto the edge of the clearing

beforehe remembered toaskavitalquestion.

“Brother!WhatdoIdowiththisdog?”

Tendrislookedoverhisshoulder as he rode away,spurring his mount to acanter. “Kill it if you’resmart. Keep it if you’rebrave.”He laughed, raisingahandashishorseacceleratedintoagallop,snowrisingintoa thickcloud that shimmered

inthewintersun.Vaelin looked down at

the dog. It gazed up at himwith adoring eyes, long pinktongue lolling from a mouthwet with drool. Again henoted the numerous scars onits snout. Although stillyoung,thisanimalclearlyhadendured a hard life.“Scratch,”hetoldit.“I’llcallyouScratch.”

Dog flesh proved atough, sinewy meat butVaelin was long past beingchoosyoverhisfood.Scratchhad whined continually asVaelin butchered one of thecarcassesbackattheclearing,slicing a rear haunch off thelargest dog. He had kept hisdistanceasVaelincarriedtheprize back to the camp andcut strips of meat to roastover his fire. Only when the

meat had been eaten andVaelin had hidden theremainderinhistreeholedidthe dog venture closer,snuffling at Vaelin’s feet insearch of reassurance.Whatever thesavage traitsofVolarian slave-dogs itappearedcannibalismwasnotamongthem.

“Don’t know what I’mgoing to feed you if youwon’t eat your own kind,”

Vaelinmused,pattingScratchawkwardly on the head. Thedog was clearly unused tobeing petted and shrankwarilywhenVaelinfirsttriedit.

Hehadbeenbackatthecamp for over an hour,cooking, building the fire,clearing snow from hisshelter and resisting thetemptation to go and see ifErlin and Sella were still

hiding in the hollow.He hadfeltasenseofwrongnesseversince Tendris had riddenaway, a suspicion that themanhadacceptedhiswordalittle too easily. He could bewrong,ofcourse.Tendrishadstruck him as the kind ofbrother whose Faith wasabsolute and unshakeable. Ifso then the concept of afellowbrother lying, lying toprotect a Denier at that,

simply wouldn’t occur tohim.Ontheotherhand,coulda man who spent his lifehuntingtherealmforhereticsremainsofreeofcynicism?

Without answers tothese questions Vaelincouldn’t riskcheckingon thefugitives. There was nothingon the wind to warn himotherwise, no change in thesong of the wild threateningambush but still he stayed in

his camp, ate dog flesh andpuzzledoverwhat todowithhisgift.

Scratch seemed anoddly cheerful animalconsideringhehadbeenbredto hunt and kill people. Hescampered about the camp,playing with sticks or boneshe dug out of the snow,bringing them toVaelinwhoquickly learned trying towrestle them away was a

pointlessly tiring task. Hewasn’t remotely sure hewouldbeallowedtokeepthedog when he returned to theOrder. Master Chekril, thekeeper of the kennels, wasunlikely towantsuchabeastnear his beloved hounds.Morelikelytheywouldpulladagger across its throat assoon as he appeared at thegates.

They went hunting in

the afternoon, Vaelinexpecting another fruitlesssearch but it wasn’t longbefore Scratch picked up atrail.Withabriefyelphewasoff, bounding through thesnow,Vaelinstrugglinginhiswake. It wasn’t long beforehe found the source of thetrail: the frozen carcass of asmalldeernodoubtcaughtinthe storm the night before.Oddly it was untouched,

Scratch sat patiently besidethe corpse, eyeing Vaelinwarily as he approached.Vaelin gutted the carcass,tossingtheentrailstoScratchwhose ecstatic reaction tookhim by surprise. He yelpedhappily, gulping the meatdowninafrenzyofteethandsnapping jaws. Vaelindragged the deer back tocamp pondering the an oddchange in his circumstances.

He had gone from nearstarvationtoanabundanceoffoodin less thanaday,morefoodinfactthanhecouldeatbeforeMasterHutril returnedtotakehimbacktotheOrderhouse.

Darkness came swiftly,a cloudless, moonlit nightturningthesnowintofoldsofblue silver and laying out avastpanoramaof starsabovehim. IfCaenishadbeenhere

he could have named all theconstellations but Vaelincould pick out only a fewofthe more obvious ones; theSword, theStag, theMaiden.Caenis had told him of alegend that claimed the firstsoulsoftheDepartedhadcastthestarsintotheskyfromtheBeyond as a gift for thegenerations to come, makingpatterns to guide the livingthroughthepathoflife.Many

claimedtobeabletoreadthemessage written in the sky,most of them seemed tocongregate in market placesand fairs, offering guidanceforapalmfulofcopper.

He was wondering atthe meaning of the Swordpointing towards the southwhenhis senseofwrongnesshardened into cold certainty.Scratch tensed, lifting hishead slightly. There was no

scent, no sound, no warningat all, but something wasn’tright.

Vaelin turned, glancingover his shoulder at theunmoving foliage behindhim.Sosilent,hewondered,alittleawed.Noassassincouldbethatskilful.

“If you’re hungry,brother,” he called. “I haveplenty ofmeat to spare.” Heturnedbacktothefire,adding

some logs tokeep theflameshigh. After a short intervalthere was a crunch of bootson snow as Makril steppedpast him to crouch opposite,spreading his hands to thefire.Hedidn’t lookatVaelinbutgloweredatScratch.

“Should’ve killed thatbloodything,”hegrumbled.

Vaelin ducked into hisshelter to fetch a portion ofmeat. “Deer.”He tossed it to

Makril.Thestockymanspeared

the meat with his knife andarranged a small mound ofrockstosecureitoverthefirebefore spreading his bedrollonthegroundtositdown.

“Afinenight,brother,”Vaelinsaid.

Makril grunted,undoinghisbootstomassagehis feet. The smell wasenough to make Scratch get

upandslinkaway.“I am sorry Brother

Tendrisdidnotfindmywordtrustworthy,” Vaelincontinued.

“He believed you.”Makril picked somethingfrom between his toes andtosseditintothefirewhereitpopped and hissed. “He’s atrue man of the Faith.Whereas I am a suspicious,gutter born bastard. That’s

why he keeps me with him.Don’t get me wrong, he’s aman ofmany abilities, finesthorseman I ever saw and hecan extract information froma Denier quicker than youcouldblowyournose.But insomeways he’s an innocent.He trusts the Faithful. Forhim all the Faithful have thesamebelief,hisbelief.”

“Butnotyours?”Makrilplacedhisboots

near the fire to dry. “I hunt.Tracks, signs, spoor, a scentonthewind,therushofbloodthatcomesfromakill.That’smyFaith.What’syoursboy?”

Vaelin shrugged. Hesuspected a trap in Makril’sopenness, luring him into anadmissionbest kept silent. “Ifollow the Faith,” he replied,forcing certainty into hiswords.“IamabrotheroftheSixthOrder.”

“The Order has manybrothers, all different, allfinding their ownpath in theFaith. Don’t kid yourself theOrder is filled with virtuousmen who spend every sparemoment grovelling to theDeparted. We’re soldiers,boy. Soldier’s life is hard,shortonpleasureandlongonpain.”

“The Aspect saysthere’sadifferencebetweena

soldier and a warrior. Asoldier fights for pay orloyalty. We fight for theFaith, war is our way ofhonouringtheDeparted.”

Makril’sfacetookonasombre cast, a craggy, hairymask in theyellowfire light,his eyes distant, focused onunhappy memories. “War?War is blood and shit andmen maddened with paincalling for their mother as

they bleed to death. There’sno honour in it, boy.” Hiseyes shifted, meetingVaelin’s. “You’ll see it, youpoor littlebastard.You’llseeitall.”

Suddenlyuncomfortable, Vaelin addedanother log to the fire. “Whywereyouhuntingthatgirl?”

“She’s a Denier. ADeniermostfoul,forshehaspower to twist the hearts of

virtuous men.” He gave ashort, ironic laugh. “So Ithink I’d be safe if she evermetme.”

“What is it? Thispower?”

Makril tested the meatwithhis fingersandbegan toeat, biting off smallmouthfuls, chewingthoroughly then swallowing.It was the practised,unconscious action of a man

who did not savour food butmerelytookitintohimselfasfuel. “It’s a dark tale, boy,”he said, between mouthfuls.“Mightgiveyounightmares.”

“I’ve got thosealready.”

Makril raised a bushyeyebrowbutdidn’tcomment.Instead he finished his meatand fished in his pack for asmallleatherflask.“Brother’sFriend,” he explained, taking

a swig. “Cumbraelin brandymixedwith redflower.Keepsthefireinaman’sbellywhenhe’s walking a wall on thenorthern frontier waiting forLonak savages to cut histhroat.” He offered the flaskto Vaelin who shook hishead. Liquor wasn’tforbidden in theOrder,but itwas frowned upon by themore Faithful masters. Somesaid anything that dulled the

senses was a barrier to theFaith, the less a manremembered of his life theless he had to takewith himto the Beyond. ClearlyBrother Makril didn’t sharethisview.

“So you want to knowaboutthewitch.”Herelaxed,resting his back against arock, intermittently sippingfrom his flask. “Well, thestory goes she was arrested

on Council orders followingreports of Unfaithfulpractises. Allegations areusually a load of nonsense;peopleclaimingtohaveheardvoices from the Beyond thatdon’t come from theDeparted, healing the sick,communing with beasts andso on. Mostly it’s justfrightened peasants blamingeach other for theirmisfortunes, but every once

in a while you get one likeher.

“There’d been troublein her village. She and herfather were outsiders, fromRenfael. Kept to themselves,hemade a living as a scribe.A local landowner wantedhim to forge some deeds,something to do with adispute over the inheritanceof some pasture. The scriberefusedandendedupwithan

axe in his back a few dayslater. The landowner was acousinofthelocalmagistrateso nothing was done. Twodays laterhewalked into thelocal tavern, confessed hiscrime and cut his own throatfromeartoear.”

“And they blamed herforthat?”

“Itseemstheyhadbeenseen together earlier in theday, which was odd because

there was said to be hatredbetweenthemevenbeforethebastardkilledherfather.Theysaidshetouchedhim,ashortpat on the arm. Didn’t helpthat she was mute, and anoutsider. Being a little toopretty and a little too smartdidn’t do her any favourseither.Theyalwayssaidtherewassomethingabouther,shewasn’tright.Buttheyalwayssaythat.”

“Soyouarrestedher?”“Oh no. Tendris and

me, we only hunt the onesthat run. Brothers from theSecond Order searched herhouse and found evidence ofDenier activity. Forbiddenbooks, imagesofgods,herbsand candles, the usual stuff.TurnedoutsheandherfatherwerefollowersoftheSunandthe Moon, a minor sect.They’re pretty harmless

mostlysincetheydon’ttrytoconvertotherstotheirheresy,but aDenier’s aDenier. Shewas taken to the Blackhold.Thenextnightsheescaped.”

“She escaped theBlackhold?” Vaelin wasunsureifMakrilwasmockinghim. The Blackhold was asquat, ugly fortress in thecentre of the capital, itsstonesstainedwithsootfromthe nearby foundries, famed

asaplacewherepeopleweretaken and didn’t come outagain unless it was to walkthepathtothegallowsorthegibbet.Ifamanwentmissingand his neighbours heard hewas taken to the Blackholdthey stopped askingwhenhewould return, in fact theydidn’t mention him at all.Andno-oneeverescaped.

“How is such a thingpossible?”Vaelinwondered.

Makril tooka longpullfrom his flask beforecontinuing. “Did you everhearofBrotherShasta?”

Vaelinrecalledsomeofthe more lurid battle storiestold by the older boys.“ShastatheAxe?”

“That’s him. A legendin theOrder,agreatbruteofaman, arms like tree trunks,fistslikehams,theysaidhe’dkilled over a hundred men

before they sent him to theBlackhold. Truly he was ahero…andquitethestupidestshit-head I ever met. Meanwith it too, ‘specially whenhe’dhadadrink.Hewashergaoler.”

“I had heard he was agreat warrior who did theOrder much service,” Vaelinsaid.

Makril snorted. “TheKeepiswheretheOrderputs

its relics, boy. The ones thatsurvive their fifteen yearswho’retoostupidor toomadtobemastersorcommanders,they get sent to the Keep toliveout their timelockingupheretics, even if they’re nobloody good at it. I’ve seenplenty of Shastas, big, ugly,brutishidiotswithnothoughtin their heads but the nextbattle or the next tankard ofale. Usually they don’t last

longenough tobe aproblembut if they’re big and strongenoughtheylinger,likeabadsmell. Shasta lingered longenough to be sent to theBlackhold,Faithhelpus.”

“So,” Vaelin venturedcarefully, “this oaf left hercell open and she walkedout?”

Makril laughed, a hardunpleasantsound.“Notquite.He gave her the keys to the

frontgate,tookhisaxedownfrom thewall of his quartersand started killing the otherbrothers onwatch.Cut downten men before one of thearchers put enough shafts inhimtoslowhimdown.Eventhen he killed two morebeforetheyguttedhim.Weirdthing,hediedwithasmileonhis face, and before he diedhe said something: ‘Shetouchedme.’”

Vaelin realised hisfingers were playing on thesubtleweaveofSella’sscarf.“Shetouchedhim?”heasked,auburn curls and elfinfeatures looming large in hishead.

Makril took anotherlonggulpfromhisflask.“Sothey say. Didn’t know thenature of herDark affliction,see? If she touches you,you’rehersforever.”

Vaelin was feverishlyengagedinrecallinghiseveryencounter with Sella. Ipushed her into the shelter,didItouchherthen?No,shewas well clothed… Shereached tome though... I felther, in my head. Was thathow she touchedme? Is thatwhy Ihelpedher?He felt anurge to ask Makril for moreinformation but knew itwould be folly. The tracker

was suspicious enoughalready. Drunk as he was itwould be unwise to questionhimfurther.

“Tendris and me’vebeenhuntinghereversince,”Makril continued. “Fourweeks now. This is theclosest we’ve got. It’s thatbastardshe’swith,swearI’mgonnamakehimsquealgoodand long before I kill him.”He cackled and drank some

more.Vaelin found his hand

inchingclosertohisknife.Hewasformingadeepdislikeofbrother Makril, he remindedhimtoomuchoftheassassinsin the forest.Andwho knewwhat conclusions he haddrawn.“HetoldmehisnamewasErlin,”hesaid.

“Erlin, Rellis, Hetril,he’sgotahundrednames.”

“Sowhoishereally?”

Makril gave anextravagant shrug. “Whoknows? He helps Deniers.Helps them hide, helps themrun.Didhetellyouabouthistravels? From the AlpiranEmpire to the LeandrenTemples.”

Theknifehiltwastightin Vaelin’s grasp. “He toldme.”

“Impressedwere you?”Makril belched, a long

rumbleofescapinggas.“I’vetravelled, y’know. I’vebloody travelled. MeldeneanIslands, Cumbrael, Renfael.Killed rebels, heretics andoutlaws all over this greatland, I have. Men, women,children…”

Vaelin’s knife washalfway out of its sheath.He’s drunk, won’t be toodifficult.

“One time, me and

Tendris found a whole sect,families, bowing to one oftheir gods in a barn in theMartishe. Tendris got angry,it’sbestnottoarguewithhimwhen he gets like that. Heordered us to lock the doorsand douse the place in lampoil, then he struck a flint…Wouldn’t have thoughtchildren could scream soloud.”

The knife was almost

clear of its sheath whenVaelin saw something thatmade him stop: beads ofsilver were shining inMakril’s beard. He wascrying.

“They screamed forsuch a long time.” He liftedhis flask to his mouth butfound it was empty. “Shit!”Grumbling he got unsteadilyto his feet and stumbled offinto the darkness, a short

while later came thedistinctive sound of pisshissingintosnow.

Vaelin knew if he wasgoing to do it now was thetime.Slitthebastard’sthroatwhen he’s having a piss. Afitting end for such a vileman. How many morechildren will he kill if I lethim live?But the tears weretroubling, tears that told himMakrilwasamanwhohated

what he did. And he was abrother of the Order. Itseemed wrong to kill a manwhose fate he might besharing in years to come. Asuddenconvictionroseinhimthen, fierce and implacable:I’ll fight but Iwon’tmurder.I’ll kill men who face me inbattle but I won’t take thesword to innocents. I won’tkillchildren.

“Is Hutril still there?”

Makril slurred, stumblingback to collapse onto hisbedroll. “Still teaching youlittleshitshowtotrack?”

“He’sstillthere.Wearegratefulforhiswisdom.”

“Fuckhiswisdom.Wassupposed to be my job,y’know. Commander LildensaidIwasthefinesttrackerinthe Order. Said when he gotmade Aspect he’d bring meback to the House to be

master of the wild. Then thesillybastardgotaMeldeneansabre through his guts andArlyn was chosen. Neverliked me, the sanctimoniousshit. Chose Hutril, legendarysilent hunter of the Martisheforest. Sent me off to huntheretics with Tendris.” Heslumped onto his back, hiseyes half lidded, his voicesoftening to a whisper.“Never asked for this. I just

wanted to learn how totrack… Like my old mancould… Just wanted totrack…”

Vaelin watched himpass out and added morewood to the fire. Scratchcrept back to camp andsettlednexttohimafterafewwary glances at Makril.Vaelin scratched his ears,reluctant to go to bed,knowinghisdreamswouldbe

full of burning barns andscreamingchildren.Althoughhis urge to kill Makril hadevaporated he still he didn’tfeel comfortable sharing acampwiththeman.

He spent another hourstudying the stars withScratch beside him. On theother side of the fire Makrilslept his drunken sleep insilence. It was odd that thetracker made so little noise,

not a snore or a grunt, evenhisbreathingwassoft.Vaelinwondered if this was a skillthatcouldbelearnedorwasitaninstinctallbrothersgainedafter years of service; nodoubt the ability to sleep insilencecouldprolongaman’slife. He took to the shelterwhen tiredness made hiseyelidsdroop,settlingintohisblanketwithScratchbetweenhimandtheentrance.Hehad

decided Makril hadn’t cometo kill himbut itwas best tobe safe and it seemed highlyunlikely the man wouldattemptanattackifhehadtogetpastthedog.

Vaelinhuddledclosetothe animal, drawing warmthand feeling glad he had kepthim. A boy could do worsethan have a slave-dog for afriend…

In the morning Makrilwas gone. Vaelin searchedthoroughlybut foundnosignthe tracker had ever beenclose by. As expected thehollow where he had hiddenSella and Erlin was empty.HetookSella’sscarffromhisneck, studying the intricatepattern woven into the silk,gold threads describingvarious sigils. Some wereclearly recognisable, a

crescent moon, the sun, abird, others unfamiliar.Probably icons of herDenierbeliefs. If so he shoulddiscardit,anyMasterfindingit would mete out severepunishment, maybe morethan a beating. But it wassuch a well made thing, sofinelywoven,thegoldthreadglittered like new. He knewSella would grieve its lossterribly, it had been her

mother’safterall.Sighing he tucked the

scarf intohis sleeve and senta silent plea to the Departedto see the pair safely towherevertheyweregoing.Hemade his way back to thecamp,lostinthought.Hehadto decidewhat to tellMasterHutril and needed time toconsider his lies carefully.Scratch scampered ahead ofhim, snapping at the snow

joyfully.Itwasasilentrideback

with Master Hutril, Vaelinwas the only boy in the cart.Heaskedabouttheothersandreceived only a gruntedresponse: “Bad year, thestorm.” Vaelin shivered,suppressing panickedthoughts about his comrades,and climbed onto the cart.HutrilstartedoffwithScratch

scampering after in the deepruts left in the snow. HutrilhadlistenedtoVaelin’sstoryin silence, staringexpressionlesslyatScratchasVaelin stumbled through hispartiallyinventedaccount.Hestuck mostly to the samestoryhehad toldTendrisbutleft out Makril’s visit thenight before. Hutril’s onlyreaction had come whenVaelin mentioned the

tracker’s name; a raisedeyebrow. Otherwise he saidnothing, letting the silencedrag out when Vaelin hadfinishedtalking.

“Erm,Isuggestwetakethe dog back to the House,master,”Vaelinsaid.“MasterJeklin may find a use forhim.”

“TheAspectwilldecidethat,”Hutrilsaid.“Getin.”

At first it seemed the

Aspectwould have even lessto say than Master Hutril,sitting behind his large oakwooddeskstaringwordlesslyat Vaelin over steepledfingersasherepeatedhistale,desperately hoping heremembered it correctly.Thepresence of Master Sollis,seatedinthecorner,didlittleto alleviate his discomfort.Vaelin had been to theAspect’s rooms only once

before, on an errand todeliverparchment,andfoundthepilesofbooksandpapersthat littered the place hadgrownsince.Theremusthavebeen hundreds of bookscrammed in here, stacksstretching from floor toceiling,withcountlessscrollsand ribbon bound sheaves ofdocuments occupying theremaining space. It was acollection that made his

mother’s library seem paltryincomparison.

Vaelin had beensurprised at the lack ofinterest in Scratch. TheMasters seemed preoccupied,besides which they weredifficultmentoimpressatthebest of times. Sollismet himin the courtyard as he gotdownfromthecart,favouringScratch with a brief look ofincurious disgust, he said,

“Nysa and Dentos made itbacksofar,theothersaredueintomorrow.Leaveyourgearhere and follow me to theAspect’schambers.Hewantstoseeyou.”

Vaelin assumed theAspectwantedanexplanationas to why he had returnedwith a large and savageanimal in tow and repeatedhis story when the Aspectaskedforareportonhistest.

“You seem well fed,”the Aspect observed.“Usually boys return thinnerandweaker.”

“I was fortunate,Aspect. Scr- the dog, helpedby scentinga stagkilled in astorm.Ididn’t thinkitwouldbreach the conditions of thetestaswearepermittedtousewhatevertoolswefindinthewild.”

“Yes.” The Aspect

clasped his long fingerstogether, resting them on thedesk. “Very resourceful. Pityyou couldn’t help BrotherTendris in his search. He isone of the Faith’s mostvaluedservants.”

Vaelin thought ofburning children and forcedan earnest nod. “Indeed,Aspect.Iwasimpressedwithhisdevotion.”

Vaelin heard Sollis

make a small noise behindhim and couldn’t decide itwas a laugh or a snort ofderision.

The Aspect smiled, anodd sight on such thin face,but it was a smile of regret.“There have been… eventsbeyond our walls since yourtest began,”he said. “That iswhy I called you here. TheBattleLordhasresignedfromthe King’s service. This has

caused disharmony in theKingdom, the Battle Lordwas popular with thecommon folk.Thatbeing thecase,andinrecognitionofhisservice, theKinghasgrantedhim a boon. Do you knowwhatthatis?”

“Agift,Aspect.”“Yes, a King’s gift.

Anything which it is in theKing’s power to give. TheBattle Lord has chosen his

boonandtheKinglookstousto fulfil it. Except our OrdercannotbecommandedbytheKing, we defend the RealmbutweservetheFaithandtheFaithisabovetheRealm.Butstill, he looks to us, and it isnot an easy thing to refuse aKing.”

Vaelin stirreduncomfortably. The Aspectseemed to be expectingsomething from him but he

hadnoideawhat itcouldbe.Eventually, finding thesilenceunbearablehesaid,“Isee,Aspect.”

The Aspect exchangeda brief glance with MasterSollis. “You understandVaelin? You knowwhat thismeans?”

I am the Battle Lord’sson no longer, Vaelinthought.Hewasn’t sure howto feel about that, in fact he

wasn’tsurehefeltanythingatallaboutit.“Iamabrotherofthe Order, Aspect,” he said.“Events outside these wallsdonotconcernmeuntilIpasstheTestoftheSwordandamsent forth to defend theFaith.”

“Your presence herewas a symbol of the BattleLord’s devotion to the Faithand the Realm,” the Aspectexplained. “But he is Battle

Lordnolongerandwisheshissonreturnedtohim.”

Vaelinwondered at theabsenceofjoyorsurprise,noleap of the heart or stomachchurningsurgeofexcitement.Just numb puzzlement. TheBattle Lord wishes his sonreturned to him. Heremembered the drumbeatthud of hooves on damp sodfading into morning fog, thesterncommandinhisfather’s

words, Loyalty is ourstrength.

He forced himself tomeet theAspect’s eye. “Youwould send me away,Aspect?”

“My wishes are not atissuehere.NeitherareMasterSollis’s,althoughrestassuredhe hasmade themplain.No,this decision falls to you,Vaelin. As the King cannotcommand us, and it is a

cherished maxim of ourOrder that no student isforced to leave unless theyfail a test or transgress theFaith, theKinghasgiven thechoicetoyou.”

Vaelin suppressed abitter laugh. Choice? Myfather made a choice once.Now so will I. “The BattleLordhasnoson,”hetoldtheAspect. “And I have nofather. I am a brother of the

Sixth Order. My place ishere.”

The Aspect lookeddown at his desk, suddenlyseeming older than Vaelinhadseenhimbefore.Howoldis he? Itwas difficult to tell.He had the same fluidmovements of the othermasters but his long featureswere lean and worn withoutdoor living, his eyes agedand heavy with experience.

There was a sadness too, aregret as he ponderedVaelin’swords.

“Aspect,”MasterSollissaid.“Theboyneedsrest.”

The Aspect looked up,meeting Vaelin’s gaze withhis old, tired eyes. “If that isyourfinalword.”

“Itis,Aspect.”The Aspect smiled,

Vaelin could tell it wasforced. “You gladden my

heart, young brother. TakeyourdogtoMasterChekril,Ithink he’ll prove morewelcoming than you mightexpect.”

“Thankyou,Aspect.”“ThankyouVaelin,you

maygo.”“A Volarian slave-

dog,” Master Chekrilbreathed in awe as Scratchstared up at him, his scarred

head angled in puzzlement.“Haven’t seen one in twentyyearsormore.”

Master Chekril was acheerful, wiry man in earlymiddle age, his movementsmorejerkyandlessmeasuredthan the other masters,mirroringthehoundshecaredforwith suchdedication.Hisrobe was dirtier than anyVaelinhadseen,stainedwithearth, hay and a mixture of

urine and dog muck. Theodour he emitted was trulyspectacular but he didn’tseem to mind, or pay theslightest heed to any offenceitmightcauseanyoneelse.

“You killed its packbrothers you say?” he askedVaelin.

“Yes master. BrotherMakrilsaiditsawmeaspackleadernow.”

“Oh yes. He’s right

about that. Dogs are wolves,Vaelin, the live inpacks, buttheir instincts are dulled, thepacks they run in aretemporary, they quicklyforgetwhois leaderandwhois not. But slave-dogs aredifferent, got enough of thewolf left in them tokeep thepack order but they’re morevicious than any wolf, bredthatway centuries ago.Onlythe nastier pups got bred,

somesaytherewasatouchofthe Dark in their breeding.They were changedsomehow,mademore than adogbut less thanawolf,anddifferent to both. When youkilled the pack leader itadopted you, saw you asstronger, a worthy leader.Doesn’t happen every timethough. You’ve certainly gota measure of luck youngman.”

Master Chekril took asmallpieceofdriedbeeffromthe pouch at his belt andcrouched lower to offer it toScratch, Vaelin noting thehesitant, wary movements ofthe man. He’s scared, herealised, appalled. He’sfrightenedofScratch.

Scratchsniffedthemeatcautiously, glancinguncertainlyatVaelin.

“See?” Chekril said.

“He wont take it from me.Here.” He tossed the morseltoVaelin.“Youtry.”

Vaelin held the meatouttoScratchwhosnappeditup andwolfed it down in aninstant.

“Why’s he called aslave-dog, master?” Vaelinasked.

“Volarians keep slaves,lots of them. When one ofthem runs they bring him

backandcutthesmallfingersoffhishands.Ifherunsagaintheysendtheslave-dogsafterhim. They don’t bring himback, except in their bellies.It’s not an easy thing for adog to kill a man. Men arestronger than you think, andmore cunning than any fox.For a dog to kill a man itmust be strong and swift butalso cunning, and vicious,veryvicious.”

Scratch lay down atVaelin’s feet and rested hishead on his boots, tailthumpingslowlyonthestonefloor. “He seems friendlyenough.”

“He is, to you. Butneverforget,he’sakiller.It’swhathe’sbredfor.”

Master Chekrilwent tothe rear of the large stonestore room that served as hiskennels and opened a pen.

“I’llputhiminhere,”hesaidoverhisshoulder.“Youbetterlead him in, he won’t stayotherwise.”

Scratch obedientlyfollowed Vaelin to the penand went inside, brieflycircling a patch of strawbeforelayingdown.

“You’ll have to feedhim too,” Chekril said.“Muck him out and so on.Twiceaday.”

“Ofcoursemaster.”“He’ll need exercise,

plenty of it. Can’t take himout with the other hounds,he’dkillthem.”

“I’ll attend to itmaster.”Hewentintothepenand patted Scratch on thehead, provoking a slobberingattack of licks that knockedhim off his feet. Vaelinlaughed and wiped the droolaway.“Ihadwonderedifyou

would be happy to see him,master,” he told Chekril. “Ithought you might want himkilled.”

“Killed? Faith no!Would a blacksmith throwaway a finely made sword?He’ll be the start of a newblood line, he’ll sire manypuppies andhopefully they’llbe just as strong as him buteasiertomanage.”

He stayed in the

kennels for another hour,feeding Scratch and makingsure he was comfortable inhis new surroundings. Whenit came time to leaveScratch’s whines were heartrending but Master Chekriltoldhimhehadtogetthedogusedtobeingleftsohedidn’tturn around after he closedthe pen door. Scratch startedhowlingwhenhewentoutofhissight.

The evening was

subdued,anunspokentensionreigning in the room. Heexchangedstoriesofhardshipand hunger with the others.Caenis, like Vaelin lookingbetter fed than when he left,had taken shelter in thehollow trunk of an ancientoak only to find himselfattacked by an angry eagleowl. Dentos, never fleshy at

the best of times but nowdistinctly gaunt, had spent amiserable week fightingstarvation with roots and thefew birds and squirrels hemanaged to catch. Like themasters, neither seemed allthat impressedwithhisstory.It was as if hardship bredindifference.

“What’s a slave-dog?”Caenisaskeddully.

“Volarian beast,”

Dentos muttered. “Nastybuggers. Can’t use ‘em forfighting, they turn on thehandlers.” He turned toVaelin, his gaze suddenlyinterested. “Did you bringanyfoodbackwithyou?”

Theyspent thenight ina sort of exhausted trance,Caenishoningtheedgeonhishunting knife with a whetstone andDentos nibbling atthe dried venisonVaelin had

hidden in his cloak with thesmall bites they knew werebestwhenyou had an emptystomach, bolting would onlymakeyousick.

“Never thought it wasgonna end,” Dentos saideventually. “Really thoughtI’ddieoutthere.”

“Noneof thebrothers Iwent out with came back,”Vaelin commented. “MasterHutrilsaiditwasthestorm.”

“Starting to see whythey’resofewbrothersintheOrder.”

The next day wasprobably the least punishingthey had endured so far.Vaelin had expected a returnto the harsh routine butinstead Master Sollis filledthe morning with a signlanguage lesson, Vaelinfound hismeagre ability hadimproved after his brief

exposure to Sella andErlin’sfluid signs although not bymuch and he still laggedbehindCaenis.Theafternoonwas taken up with swordpractice, Master Sollisintroducing a new exercise,throwing rotten fruit andvegetables at them withblindingspeedastheytriedtofendoff theputridprojectileswith theirwooden swords. Itwas smelly but strangely

enjoyable, more like a gamethan most of their exerciseswhich normally left themsporting a few bruises or abloodynose.

Afterwards they atetheir evening meal inuncomfortable silence, thedininghallwasmuchquieterthan usual, the many emptyplaces seemed to stallattemptsatconversation.Theolder boys gave them a few

looks of sympathy or grimamusement but no onecommented on the absences.It was like the aftermath ofMikehl’s death only on agrander scale. Some boyswere already lost andwouldn’t be coming back,otherswereyet to return andthe tension of worrying overtheirpossiblenon-appearancewas palpable.Vaelin and theothers exchanged some

grunted comments aboutstinking like compost fromthe afternoon practice buttherewaslittlerealhumourinit. They concealed a fewapplesandbreadrollsintheircloaks and returned to thetower.

Itgrewdarkandstillnoonereturned.Vaelinbegantofeel a sinking certainty thatthey were the only boys leftin their group. No more

Barkus to make them laugh,noNortah to bore themwithanother of his father’saxioms.Itwasatrulychillingprospect.

They were climbinginto bed when the sound offootsteps on the stonestaircaseoutsidecaused themtofreezeinwaryanticipation.

“Two apples says itsBarkus,”Dentossaid.

“Taken,” Caenis

accepted.“Ho there!” Nortah

greeted them brightly,comingintodumphisgearonhis bed.Hewas thinner thanCaenisandVaelin,butdidn’tquitematchDentos’shaggardemaciation,andhiseyeswerered with exhaustion. Despiteit all he seemed cheerful,eventriumphant.

“Barkus here yet?” heasked, stripping his clothes

away.“No,” Caenis said

smilingatDentoswhocurledadisgustedlip.

Vaelin noticedsomething new about Nortahashepulledhisshirtoverhishead, a necklace of whatlooked like elongated beadsaround his neck. “Did youfind that?” he asked,gesturingatthenecklace.

There was a flash of

smugsatisfactiononNortah’sface,amingledexpressionofvictory and anticipation.“Bearclaws,”hesaid.Vaelinadmired his off-handedmanner and imagined thehours of rehearsal it musthave taken. He decided tokeep quiet and force Nortahto tell the tale of his ownvolitionbutDentosspoiltit.

“Youfoundabearclawnecklace,”hesaid.“Sowhat?

Took it off some poor foolcaughtinthestormeh?”

“No,ImadeitfromtheclawsofabearIkilled.”

He continued toundress, affecting disinterestin their reaction but Vaelinsawclearlyhowmuchhewasenjoyingthemoment.

“Killed a bear myarse!”Dentossneered.

Nortah shrugged.“Believemeornot,it’sofno

matter.”They lapsed into

silence, Dentos and Caenisrefusing to ask the inevitablequestiondespitetheirobviouscuriosity. The momentstretched and Vaelin decidedhe was too tired to let thetensionendure.

“Please brother,” hesaid.“Tellushowyoukilledabear.”

“I put an arrow in its

eye. It tooka fancy toadeerI’d brought down. Couldn’thave that. Anyone who tellsyou bears sleep through thewinterisaliar.”

“Master Hutril saystheyonlywakeupwhentheirforced.Youmusthavefoundaveryunusualbear,brother.”

Nortah fixed him withan odd look, coldly superior,which was usual, but alsoknowing which was not. “I

mustsayI’msurprisedtofindyou here brother. I met atrapper in the wilds, a roughfellow to be sure, and adrunkardifI’manyjudge.Hehad a lot of news to shareabout events in the widerworld.”

Vaelinsaidnothing.Hehad decided not to tell theothersabout theKing’sboonto his father but it seemedNortahwouldleavehimlittle

choice.“The Battle Lord left

the King’s service,” Caenissaid.“Yes,weheard.”

“Some say he asked aboonoftheKingtoreturnhisson from the Order,” Dentosput in. “But since the BattleLord don’t have a son, howcouldhebereturned?”

They knew, Vaelinrealised. They knew eversince I arrived. That’s why

they’ve been so quiet. Theywere wondering when I wasgoing to leave.Master Sollismust have told them I wasstayingtoday.HewonderedifitwastrulypossibletokeepasecretintheOrder.

“Perhaps,” Nortah wassaying. “The Battle Lord’sson, if he had one,would begrateful foranopportunity toescapethisplaceandreturntothecomfortofhisfamily.It’s

notachanceanyoftherestofuswilleverget.”

Silencereigned.Dentosand Nortah glaring at eachother fiercely and Caenisfidgeting in uncomfortableembarrassment. FinallyVaelin said, “It must havebeen a fine piece of bowwork, brother. Putting anarrowinabear’seye.Was itcharging?”

Nortahgrittedhisteeth,

controllinghisanger.“Yes.”“Thenit’stoyourcredit

thatyouheldyournerve.”“Thank you, brother.

Do you have any stories toshare?”

“Imetapairoffugitiveheretics, one with the powerto twist men’s minds, killedtwo Volarian slave-dogs andkept another. Oh, and I metBrother Tendris and BrotherMakril,theyhuntDeniers.”

Nortah threw his shirtonto his bed, standing withhis muscular arms on hiships, face set in a neutralfrown. His self-control wasadmirable, thedisappointment he felt barelyshowing but Vaelin saw it.Thiswastobehismomentoftriumph,hehadkilled abearand Vaelin was leaving. Itshould have been one of thesweetest moments of his

younglife.InsteadVaelinhadrefused thechanceofescape,a chance Nortah hungeredfor, and his adventuresmadeNortah’s look paltry incomparison. Watching himVaelin was struck byNortah’s physique. Althoughstill only thirteen, the shapeof themanhewouldbecomewas clear; sculpted muscleand lean, handsome features.A son to make his King’s

Minister father proud. If hehad lived his life outside theOrder it would have been atale of romance andadventure played out underthe admiring gaze of thecourt.Insteadhewasdoomedto a life of war, squalor andhardship in service to theFaith. A life he hadn’tchosen.

“Didyoutakeitspelt?”Vaelinasked.

Nortah frowned inirritatedpuzzlement.“What?

“Thebear,didyouskinit?”

“No. The storm wasbrewingandIcouldn’tdragitback to my shelter so Ihackeditspawofftotaketheclaws.”

“Awisemove,brother.And an impressiveachievement.”

“Idunno,”Dentossaid.

“IthoughtCaenis’seagleowlthingwasprettygoodtoo.”

“Anowl?”Vaelin said.“Ibroughtbackaslave-dog.”

They bickered goodnaturedly for a while, evenNortah joined inwithcausticobservations of Dentos’sthinness, they were familyonce more, but stillincomplete.Theywenttobedlater than usual, nervous ofnot greeting the next arrival,

but tiredness overtook them.Vaelin’s sleepwasdreamlessforonceandwhenhewokeitwas with a startled shout,handsinstinctivelyscrabblingfor his hunting knife. Hestopped when his eyes fixedon the bulky shape on thenextbunk.

“Barkus?” he askedgroggily.

Therewas a soft grunt,the shape immobile in the

gloom.“Whendidyougetin?”No answer. Barkus sat

still,hissilencedisconcerting.Vaelin sat up, fighting thedeepseateddesire tosnuggleback into his blankets. “Areyouallright?”heasked.

Moresilence,stretchinguntil Vaelin wondered if heshould fetch Master Sollis,but Barkus said, “Jennis isdead.”Hisvoicewaschilling

in its complete lack ofemotion.Barkuswas the sortof boy who always feltsomething, joy or anger orsurprise, itwas always there,writ large in his face andhisvoice. But now there wasnothing, just cold fact. “Ifoundhimfrozentoatree.Hedidn’t have his cloak on. Ithinkhewantedit tohappen.He hadn’t been the samesinceMikehldied.”

Mikehl, Jennis… Howmany more? Would any ofthem be left by then end? Ishould be angry, he thought.We are just boys and thesetestskillus.Buttherewasnoanger, just fatigue andsorrow. Why can’t I hatethem? Why don’t I hate theOrder?

“Gotobed,Barkus,”hetold his friend. “In themorning we’ll offer thanks

forourbrother’slife.”Barkus shivered,

hugginghimselfclosely.“I’mscaredofwhatI’llseewhenIsleep.”

“AsamI.ButweareoftheOrderandthereforeoftheFaith. The Departed do notwant us to suffer. They sendusdreams toguideus,not tohurtus.”

“Iwashungry,Vaelin.”Tears glittered in Barkus’s

eyes. “I was hungry and Ididn’tthinkaboutpoorJennisbeingdeadorhowwe’dmisshimoranything.Ijustlookedthrough his clothes for food.He didn’t have any so Icursedhim,Icursedmydeadbrother.”

AtalossVaelinsatandwatchedBarkuscryinginthedarkness. The Test of theWild,hethought.Morea testof the heart and the soul.

Hunger tests us in so manyways. “You didn’t killJennis,” he said eventually.“Youcan’tcurseasoulthat’sjoined the Departed. Even ifour brother heard you hewould understand the weightoftheTest.”

It took a lot ofpersuading but Barkus wenttobedaboutanhourlater,histirednessnowtooacutetobedenied. Vaelin settled back

into his own bed, knowingsleep would evade him nowand the next day would bespentinafugueofclumsinessand confusion.Master Solliswill start caning us againtomorrow,herealised.Helayawake and thought about histest and his dead friend andSella and Erlin and Makrilcrying likeBarkushad cried.Was there a place for suchthoughts in the Order? A

sudden, unbidden thought,loud and bright in his mind,shocking him: Go back toyour father and you couldthinkwhatyoulike.

Hesquirmedinhisbed.Where had that come from?Go back to my father? “Ihave no father.” He didn’trealise he had spoken alouduntilBarkusgroaned, turningover restlessly. On the otherside of the room Caenis too

had been disturbed, sighingheavily and pulling hisblanketsoverhishead.

Vaelinsankdeeperintohis bed, seeking comfort,willing himself to sleep,clingingtothethought:Ihavenofather.

Chapter4Spring saw the snow

covered practice field darkeninto deep green as theylaboured under MasterSollis’s tutelage, their skillsgrowing with every day, asdid their bruises. A newelement was introduced latein the month of Onasur;studies for the Test ofKnowledge under the

guidanceofMasterGrealin.Every day they were

trooped down into thecavernouscellarsandmadetosit and listen to his tales ofthe history of the Order. Hespoke well, a natural storyteller conjuring images ofgreat deeds, heroism andjustice thathadmostof themrapt in attentive silence.Vaelin liked the stories toobuthisinterestwasdampened

by the fact that they allrelated to daring exploits orgreat battles and neverfeaturedDeniersbeinghuntedthrough the countryside orimprisoned in theBlackhold.At the end of every lessonGrealin would ask themquestions on what they hadheard. Boys who answeredcorrectly were given candy,those who couldn’t answerwere favoured with a sad

shake of the head and asorrowful comment or two.Master Grealin was the leastharsh of all the masters, henever caned them, hispunishments were words orgestures,andhenevercursedor swore, something all theothermasters did, evenmuteMaster Smentil whose handscould shape profanity withremarkableaccuracy.

“Vaelin,” Grealin said

after relating the tale of thesiegeofBaslenCastleduringthe first War of Unification.“Who held the bridge so hisbrothers could close the gatebehindhim?”

“Brother Nolnen,Master.”

“Very good Vaelin,haveabarleysugar.”

Vaelinalsonoticedthatevery time Master Grealingavethemcandyherewarded

himself too. “Now then,” hesaid, his considerable jowlsquivering as he worked thebarleysugararoundhisteeth.“What was the name of thecommander of theCumbraelin forces?” Hescanned them for a moment,seekingavictim.“Dentos?”

“Erm,VerligMaster.”“Oh dear.” Master

Grealin held up a toffee andshook his large head sadly.

“No reward for Dentos. Infact,remindmelittlebrother,howmany rewards have youreceivedthisweek?”

“None,” Dentosmuttered.

“I beg your pardon,Dentos,whatwasthat?”

“None,master,”Dentossaidloudly,hisvoiceechoinginthecaverns.

“None. Yes. None. Iseemedtorecallyoureceived

no rewards last week either.Isn’tthatright?”

Dentos looked as ifhe’dratherbesufferingunderMaster Sollis’s cane. “Yesmaster.”

“Mmmm.” Grealinpopped the toffee into hismouth, chins bobbing as hechewed with gusto. “Pity.These toffees are quitesuperlative. Caenis, perhapsyoucanenlightenus.”

“Verulin commandedthe Cumbraelin forces at thesiege of Baslen castle,master.” Caenis’s replieswere always prompt andcorrect. Vaelin suspectedsometimes his knowledge oftheOrder’shistorywasequalif not superior to MasterGrealin’s.

“Quite so. Have asugaredwalnut.”

“Bastard!” Dentos

fumed later in the main hallas they ate their eveningmeal. “Fat, smart-arsedbastard. Who cares if weknow what some bugger didtwo hundred years ago?What’s it gotta do withanythin’?”

“Thelessonsofthepastguide us in the present,”Caenis quoted. “Our Faith isstrengthened by theknowledgeofthosewhohave

gonebeforeus.”Dentosgloweredathim

over the table. “Oh piss off.Justbecausethebigmoundofblubber loves you so much.‘Yes master Grealin,’” hedropped into a surprisinglyaccurate impression ofCaenis’s soft tones, “thebattle of shit-house bendlasted two days andthousandsofpoorsodslikeusdied in it. Let me have a

sugarcaneandI’llwipeyourarsetoo.’”

Next toDentos,Nortahchucklednastily.

“Watch your mouth,Dentos,”Caeniswarned.

“Or what? You’ll boreme to death with anotherbloody story about the Kingandhisbrats…”

Caenis was a blur,leaping across the table in aperfectly executed display of

gymnastics, his bootsconnecting with Dentos’sface, blood erupting as hishead snapped back and theytumbled to the floor. Thefight was short but bloody,their hard won skills madefights dangerous affairswhich they usually tried toavoid even during the mostfractious arguments, andCaeniswassportingabrokentoothanddislocatedfingerby

the time they pulled themapart. Dentos wasn’t muchbetter, his nose broken andribsseverelybruised.

TheytookthembothtoMaster Henthal, the Order’shealer,who patched themupastheystaredsullenlyateachotherfromoppositebunks.

“What happened?”Master Sollis demanded ofVaelinastheywaitedoutside.

“A disagreement

between brothers, Master,”Nortah told him, it was thestandard response insituationslikethis.

“I wasn’t asking you,Sendahl,” Sollis snapped.“Getbacktothehall.YouaswellJeshua.”

Barkus and Nortah leftquickly after givingVaelin apuzzled glance. It wasunusual for the masters totake a close interest in

disagreements between theboys. Boys were boys afterall,andboyswouldfight.

“Well?” Sollis saidwhentheyhadgone.

Vaelin had amomentaryimpulsetoliebutthe hard fury in MasterSollis’s gaze told him itwould be a very bad idea.“It’s the test, Master. Caenisissuretopass,Dentosisn’t.”

“So,whatareyougoing

todoaboutit?”“Me,Master?”“We all have different

roles to play in the Order.Most of us fight, some trackheretics across the kingdom,others slip into the shadowsto do their work in secret, afew will teach, and a few, averyfew,lead.”

“You… want me tolead?”

“The Aspect seems to

thinkit’syourrole,andheisrarelymistaken.”He glancedover his shoulder at MasterHenthal’s room. “Leadershipis not learned by watchingyourbrothersbeateachotherbloody. Nor is it learned byletting them fail their tests.Fixthis.”

He turned and leftwithoutanotherword.Vaelinrested his head against thestonewallandsighedheavily.

Leadership. Don’t I haveburdensenough?

“You lot are gettingmeaner by the year,”MasterHenthal told him brightly ashe entered. “Time was boysin their thirdyear couldonlymanage to bruise each other.Clearly we’re teaching youtoowell.”

“We are grateful foryour wisdom, Master,”Vaelin assured him. “My I

speakwithmybrothers?”“As you wish.” He

pressed a ball of cotton toDentos's nose. “Hold thatuntil the bleeding stops.Don’t swallow the blood,keepspittingitout.Anduseabowl,getanyonmyfloorandyou’ll wish your brother hadkilled you.” He left themaloneinstrainedsilence.

“How is it?” VaelinaskedDentos.

Dentos could speakonly in a wet rasp, “Idbokken.”

Vaelin turned toCaenis,cradlinghisbandagedhand.“Andyou?”

Caenisglanceddownathisbandagedfingers.“MasterHenthal popped it back intoplace. Said it’ll be sore for awhile.Won’t be able to holda sword for about a week.”He paused, hawking and

spitting a thickwadofbloodintoabowlnext tohisbunk.“Hadtopullwhatwasleftofmy tooth. Packed it withcottonandgavemeredflowerforthepain.”

“Doesitwork?”Caenis winced a little.

“Notreally.”“Good.Youdeserveit.”Caenis face flashed

with anger. “Youheardwhathesaid…”

“Iheardwhathesaid.Iheard what you said beforethat. You know he’s havingtrouble with this but youdecidetogivehimalecture.”He turned to Dentos. “Andyou should know better thanto provoke him. We getenough chances to hurt eachotheronthepracticefield.Doitthereifyouhaveto.”

“’E pisshes me od,”Dentos sputtered. “Bein’

shmartallatime.”“Then maybe you

should learn from him. Hehas knowledge, you need it,who better to ask?” He satdown next to Dentos. “Youknow if you don’t pass thistest you’ll have to leave. Isthatwhatyouwant?GobacktoNilsaelandhelpyourunclefighthisdogsand tell all thedrunkards in the tavern howyou nearly got to be in the

Sixth Order? I bet they’ll beimpressed.”

“Shod off Vaelin.”Dentos leaned over to let alarge glob of blood fall fromhis nose into the bowl at hisfeet.

“You both know Ididn’t have to stay here,”Vaelin said. “Do you knowwhyIdid?”

“Youhateyourfather,”Caenis said, forgetting the

usualconvention.Vaelin, unaware his

feelingswere so obvious, bitbacka retort. “Icouldn’t justleave. I couldn’t go and liveoutside the Order alwayswaitingtohearonedayaboutwhat happened to the rest ofyou,wonderingmaybe if I’dbeen there it wouldn’t havehappened. We lost Mikehl,welostJennis.Wecan’t loseanyone else.” He got up and

moved to the door. “We’renot boys any more. I can’tmakeyoudoanything.It’suptoyou.”

“I’m sorry,” Caenissaid, stopping him. “What Isaidaboutyourfather.”

“Idon’thavea father,”Vaelinremindedhim.

Caenis laughed, bloodseeping thick and fast fromhislip.“No,neitherdoI.”Heturnedandthrewhisbloodied

cloth at Dentos. “How aboutyou,Brother?Gotafather?”

Dentos laughed, longand hard, his face streakedwith crimson. “Wouldn’tknow the bugger if he gavemeapoundofgold!”

They laughed together,fora long time.Pain recededand was forgotten. Theylaughed and never spokeabouthowmuchithurt.

They took it onthemselves to teach Dentos.Hecontinuedtolearnnext tonothing fromMaster Grealinso every night after practicethey would relate a story ofthe Order’s past and makehim repeat it back, over andoveragainuntilheknewitbyheart. It was tedious andexhausting work undertakenfollowing hours of exercisewhen all they wanted to do

was sleep but they stuck totheir task with grimdetermination. As the mostknowledgeable, much of theburden fell on Caenis, whoprovedadiligent if impatientmentor. His normally placidnaturewastestedtoextremesby the stubborn refusal ofDentos’s memory to storemore than a few facts at atime. Barkus, who had asound but not exhaustive

knowledge of Order lore,tended to stick to the mosthumorous tales, like thelegendofBrotherYelnawho,bereftofweapons,hadcausedan enemy to faint with theremarkablynoxiousnatureofhisflatulence.

“They’re not going toask him about the fartingbrother,” Caenis said indisgust.

“They might,” Barkus

replied.“It’sstillhistoryisn’tit?”

Surprisingly Nortahproved the most effectiveteacher, his story tellingtechnique straightforwardbuteffective.He seemed to havean uncanny ability to makeDentos remember more.Instead of simply telling thetale and expecting Dentos torepeat it word for word hewouldpausetoaskquestions,

encouraging Dentos to thinkabout the meaning of thestory. His usual taste forridicule was also put asideand he ignored numerousopportunities to laugh at theignoranceofhispupil.Vaelinnormally found much tocriticiseinNortahbuthehadto admit he was asdeterminedastherestofthemto ensure the continuance oftheir group; life in theOrder

washardenough,withouthisfriends he might find itunbearable. Although hismethods bore fruit, Nortah’schoice of tale was fairlynarrow, whilst Barkusfavoured humour and Caenisliked parables illustrating thevirtues of the Faith, Nortahhad a taste for tragedy. Herelated the Order’s defeatswith relish, the fall of thecitadelofUlnar, thedeathof

greatLesander,consideredbymany the finest warrior everto serve in the Order, fatallyflawed by his forbidden lovefor a woman who betrayedhim to his enemies.Nortah’stales ofwoe seemed endless,some of them were new toVaelin and he occasionallywonderediftheblondbrotherwasn'tjustmakingthemup

Vaelin, with his addeddutiesofseeing toScratch in

the kennels every evening,took on the task of testingDentos’sacquiredknowledgeat the end of each week,firing questions at him withincreasing rapidity. It wasoften frustrating, Dentos’sknowledge was growing buthe was fighting years ofhappy ignorance with a fewweek’s effort. Neverthelesshe did manage to earn somerewards fromMasterGrealin

whoconfinedhissurprisetoaraisedeyebrow.

With the month ofPrensur the remaining timenarrowed to a few days andMaster Grealin informedthemtheirlessonswereover.

“Knowledge is whatshapes us, little brothers,” hetold them, for once his smilewas absent, his tone entirelyserious.“Itmakesuswhoweare. What we know informs

everything we do and everydecisionwemake.Inthenextfew days think hard onwhatyou have learned here, notjust the names and the dates,thinkonthereasons,thinkonthe meaning. All I have toldyou is the sumof ourOrder,what it means, what it does.The test of knowledge is thehardest many of you willface, no other test bares aboy’ssoul.”Hesmiledagain,

gravely this time, thenbrightened into his habitualhumour. “Now then, finalrewards for my littlewarriors.” He produced alarge bag of sweets, movingdownthelineanddroppingaselection into their upturnedhands. “Enjoy little men.Sweetnessisararethinginabrother’s life.” Sighingheavily he turned andwaddled slowly back to the

store room, closing the doorsoftlybehindhim.

“Whatwasthatabout?”Nortahwondered.

“Brother Grealin is avery strange man,” Caenissaidwithashrug.“Swapyoua honey drop for a sugarbean.”

Nortah snorted. “Asugar bean is worth threehoneydropsatleast…”

Vaelin resisted the

temptation to barter hissweets and took them to thekennels where Scratch rolledandyelpedwithdelightathetossed the treats into the airfor him to catch. He didn’tmissasingleone.

The Test began on a

Feldrian morning, two daysbefore Summertide. Thoseboys who passed would berewarded not only with the

right to stay in theOrderbutalso a pass for the greatSummertide fair atVarinshold,thefirsttimetheywould be allowed out of theOrder’scare since thedayoftheir joining. Those whofailed would be given theirgold coins and told to leave.For once the older boys hadno dire warnings or ridiculeto offer. Vaelin noted thatmention of the Test of

Knowledgearoundtheirpeersprovoked only sullen looksand vicious cuffs. Hewonderedwhatmadethemsoangry, it was only a fewquestionsafterall.

“The only brother tojourney through the greatnorthern forest,” hedemanded of Dentos as theymade theirway to thedininghall.

“Lesander,” Dentos

repliedsmugly.“Thatwastooeasybyhalf.”

“Third Aspect of theOrder?”

Dentos paused, browfurrowed as he searched hismemory for the answer.“Kinlial?”

“Are you asking ortelling?”

“Telling.”“Good. You’re right.”

Vaelin clapped him on the

backastheycontinuedacrossthe courtyard. “Dentos, mybrother,Ithinkyoumaypassthistesttoday.”

TheywerecalledtotheTest in the afternoon, liningup outside a chamber in thesouthwall.MasterSollisgavethem a stern warning tobehave themselves and toldBarkus he was first. Barkusseemedabout tomakea jokebut the gravity on Sollis’s

facestoppedhimandhegavethemonlyabriefbowbeforeentering the chamber. Sollisclosedthedoorbehindhim.

“Wait here,” heordered. “When your doneget to the dining hall.” Hestalked off leaving themstaring at the solid oak doortothechamber.

“I thought he’d bedoing this,” Dentos said, alittleweakly.

“Doesn’t look like itdoes it?” Nortah said. Hewent to the door, leaningdown to put his ear to thewood.

“Hear anything?”Dentoswhispered.

Nortah shook his head,straightening.“Justmumbles,the door’s too thick.” Hereached inside his cloak andcameoutwithaboardofpinewood about a foot square

with numerous scars on itssurface and an inch widecircle of black paint in thecentre.“Knivesanyone?”

Knives had becometheirprinciplegameinrecentmonths, a simple enoughcontest of skill where theywouldtaketurnstryingtogettheirthrowingknivesascloseto the centre of the board aspossible. The winner wouldkeep all the other knives in

the board. There werevariations on the basic gamewhere a board was proppedagainst a convenient wall,sometimes it would besuspendedfromaropetiedtoa roof beam and the objectwastohititasitswungbackand forth, in other games itwould be thrown in the air,occasionally set spinningendover end. Throwing kniveswere a kind of surrogate

currency in the Order, theycouldbeswappedfortreatsorfavours and a brother’spopularity was invariablyenhanced if he managed toamass a large stock. Theweapons themselves wereplain, cheaply made items,triangular six inch bladeswith a stubby handle, littlelarger than an arrowhead.Master Grealin had begun tohand themoutonat the start

of their third year, ten foreach boy, the supply to berenewed every six months.There was no formalinstruction in how to usethem, they simply watchedthe older boys and learnt asthey played. Predictably thebest archers turned out to bethe most successful players,Dentos and Nortah had thelargest knife collection withCaenis a close third. Vaelin

wononlyonegameintenbutknew he was consistentlyimproving, unlike Barkuswho seemed incapable ofwinning a single match,makinghimguardhisknivesjealously, although hebecame skilled at barteringformorewiththespoilsofhismanythievingexpeditions.

“Shitting, stupid,sodding thing!” Dentosfumed as his knife struck

sparksonthewallbehindtheboard. Evidently his nerveswerethrowinghisaim.

“You’re out,” Nortahinformed him. If a playermissed the board they wereout of the game and theirknifewasforfeit.

Vaelin went next,sinking the knife into theouter edge of the circle, abetter throw than he usuallymanaged.Caenis’s knifewas

a little further in but Nortahtook the game with a bladeonly a finger width from thecentre.

“I’m just too good atthis,” he commented,retrievinghisknives.“Ireallyshould stop playing, it’s notfaironeveryoneelse.”

“Pissoff!”Dentosspat.“I’ve beaten you tons oftimes.”

“Onlywhen I let you,”

Nortah replied mildly. “If Ididn’t you wouldn’t keepcomingbackformore.”

“Right.” Dentossnatchedaknifefromhisbeltand let fly at the target in asingle smooth movement. Itwas probably the best throwVaelin had seen, the knifeburied dead in the centre oftheboarduptothehilt.“Beatthat, rich boy,” Dentos toldNortah.

Nortah raised aneyebrow. “Luck smiles onyoutodaybrother.”

“Luck my arse. Yougonnathrowornot?”

Nortahshrugged,takinga knife and eyeing the boardcarefully. He slowly drewback his arm and thensnappeditforwardsofasthishandblurred,theknifeabriefglitter of silver as it spuntowardsthetarget.Therewas

the high ping of metal onmetal as it rebounded fromDentos’sknifehiltandlandedafewfeetaway.

“Ohwell.”Nortahwenttoretrievehisknife,itsbladebent at the tip. “Yours Ibelieve,” he said, offering ittoDentos.

“We should call it adraw. You would’ve hitcentre if my knife wasn’t intheway.”

“But it was, brother.And I didn’t.” He continuedto hold the knife out untilDentostookit.

“Iwon’ttradethisone,”he said. “This’ll be mycharm,forlucky’know?Likethat silk scarf Vaelin thinkswehaven’tnoticed.”

Vaelin snorted indisgust. “Can’t I keepanythingfromyoubuggers?”

They passed the

remaining time playing tossboard, hurling knives at theboardasVaelintossedit intothe air. It was Caenis’s bestgame and he was up fivemore knives by the timeBarkusemerged.

“Thought you’d be inthereforever,”Dentossaid.

Barkus seemedsubdued, responding onlywith a brief, guarded smilebefore turning and walking

quicklyaway.“Shit,” Dentos

breathed, his rebuiltconfidencefalteringvisibly.

“Bear up brother.”Vaelin clapped him on theshoulder.“Soonbeover.”Histone hid a real unease.Barkus’s demeanour worriedhim, reminding him of theolder boys’ sullen silencewhen the subjectof thisTestcame up. Master Grealin’s

wordscomingbacktohimashepuzzledoverwhythis testinspired such grim reticence.No other test bares a boy’ssoul.

He steeled himself ashe approached the door, ahundred and one likelyquestions flitting through hishead. Remember, he toldhimself emphatically, Carlistwas the third Aspect in theOrder’s history not the

second. It’s a commonmistake due to theassassination of the previousincumbentonlytwodaysafterinauguration. He took abreath, forcing the tremblefrom his hand as he turnedthe heavy brass door handleandwentinside.

The chamber wassmall,anunremarkablespacewithalowarchedceilinganda single narrow window.

Candles had been placedaroundtheroombutdidlittleto alleviate the oppressivegloom. Three people satbehindasolidoaktable,threepeople who wore robes adifferent colour to his owndark blue, three people whowere not of the Sixth Order.Vaelin’s trepidation tookanother leap and he couldn’tsuppressavisible start.WhatkindofTestisthis?

“Vaelin,” one of thestrangers addressed him, ablondwoman in agrey robe.Shesmiledwarmly,gesturingat the empty chair facing thetable.“Pleasesitdown.”

Hesteadiedhimselfandmovedtothechair.Thethreestrangers studied him insilencegivinghimthechanceto return the scrutiny. Themaninthegreenrobewasfatand bald with a thin beard

tracing the line of this jawand mouth, although hiscorpulencedidn’t compare toMasterGrealin’shehadnoneof the brother’s innatestrength,hispink,fleshyfaceshiningwith sweat, his jowlswobbling as he chewed. Abowl of cherries sat on thetablenexttohislefthand,hislipsatell-taleredofcontinualindulgence. He regardedVaelin with a mixture of

curiosityandobviousdisdain.By contrast the man in theblack robe was thin to thepointofemaciation,althoughhe was equally bald. Hisexpression was moretroubling than the fat man’s,it was the same fierce maskofblinddevotionhehadseenonbrotherTendris’sface.

But it was the womaningreythatcommandedmostof his attention. She seemed

to be in her thirties, herangular face framedbygold-blonde hair that hung downover her shoulders, wascomelyandvaguely familiar.But it was her eyes thatintrigued him, bright withwarmth and compassion. Hewas reminded of Sella’s paleface,andthekindnesshehadseeninherwhenshestoppedherself touching him. ButSella had been full of fear,

whereas he found it hard toimagine this woman everbeing so vulnerable. Therewas a strength in her. Thesame strength he saw in theAspectandMasterSollis.Hefoundithardnottostare.

“Vaelin,”shesaid.“Doyouknowwhoweare?”

He saw little point intrying to guess. “No mylady.”

The fat man grunted

and popped a cherry into hismouth. “Another ignorantwhelp,” he said, chewingnoisily.“Don’ttheyteachyoulittlesavagesanythingbuttheartsofslaughter?”

“They teach us todefend the Faithful and theRealm,sir.”

The fat man stoppedchewing, his contemptsuddenly replaced by anger.“We’llseewhatyouknowof

theFaithyoungman,”hesaidevenly.

“I am Elera AlMendah,” the blondewomansaid. “Aspect of the FifthOrder. These are my brotherAspects,DendrishHendril ofthe Third Order,” shegestured to the fat man ingreen, “and Corlin Al Sentisof the Fourth Order.” Thethin man in black noddedgravely.

Vaelinwastakenabackto be in such augustcompany. Three Aspects, allin the same room, all talkingto him. He knew he shouldfeel honoured but insteadthere was only a chillinguncertainty.WhatcouldthreeAspects from other Ordersask him about the history ofhisown?

“You’re wonderingabout all your hard earned

facts on the fascinatinghistoryoftheSixthOrderandits innumerableblood-baths.”Dendrish Hendril, the fatman, spat a cherry stone intoa delicately embroideredhandkerchief. “Your mastershave been misleading you,boy.Wehavenoquestionsonlong dead heroes or bestforgotten battles. That’s notthe strain of knowledge weseek.”

EleraAlMendahturnedher smile on her fellowAspect. “I think we shouldexplain the test in greaterdetail,dearestbrother.”

Dendrish Hendril ’seyesnarrowedslightlybuthegave no reply, reachinginsteadforanothercherry.

“The Test ofKnowledge,” Elera went on,turning back to Vaelin, “isuniqueinthatallbrothersand

sisters in training in each oftheOrdersmust pass it. It isnota testofstrength,skillormemory. It is a test ofknowledge, self knowledge.ToserveyourOrderyoumusthave more than skill witharms, just as servants of myorder must know more thanthe arts of healing. It is yoursoulthatmakesyouwhoyouare, your soul that guidesyourservicetotheFaith.This

test will tell us, and you, ifyou know the nature of yoursoul.”

“And don’t botherlying,” Dendrish Hendrilinstructed. “You can’t lie inhereandyou’llfailthetestifyoutry.”

Vaelin’s uncertaintydeepened further.The lieshetoldkepthimsafe.Lyinghadbecome a necessary act ofsurvival. Erlin and Sella, the

wolf in the forest and theassassin he had killed. Allsecrets shrouded in lies.Fighting panic he forcedhimself to nod and say, “Iunderstand,Aspect.”

“No you don’t, boy.You’re shitting your pants. Icanalmostsmellit.”

Aspect Elera’s smilefaltered slightly but she keptherattentiononVaelin. “Areyouafraid,Vaelin?”

“Is this the test,Aspect?”

“The test started themoment you entered theroom.Please,answerme.”

You can’t lie. “I am…worried.Idon’tknowwhattoexpect. I don’twant to leavetheOrder.”

Dendrish Hendrilsnorted. “Scared of facingyour father more like. Thinkhe’llbehappytoseeyou?”

“I don’t know,”Vaelinrepliedhonestly.

“Your father wantedyou returned to him,” Elerasaid.“Doesn’tthattellyouhecaresaboutyou?”

Vaelin squirmed indiscomfort. He had avoidedor suppressed memories ofhisfatherforsolongthiskindof scrutiny was hard toendure.“Idon’tknowwhatitmeans. I… barely knew him

before I came here. He wasoften away, fighting theKing’s wars, and when hewas home he said little tome.”

“So you hate him?”DendrishHendrilenquired.“Ican certainly understandthat.”

“I don’t hate him. Idon’tknowhim.Heisnotmyfamily.Myfamilyishere.”

Thethinman,CorlinAl

Sentis, spoke for the firsttime. His voice was harsh,rasping. “You killed a manduringthetestoftherun,”hesaid, his fierce eyes lockedontoVaelin’s.“Didyouenjoyit?”

Vaelin was stunned.They know!Howmuchmoredotheyknow?

“Aspects shareinformation, boy,” DendrishHendril told him. “It’s how

our Faith endures. Unity ofpurpose, unity of trust. OurRealm was named for it.Something you’d do well toremember. And don’t worry,your sordid secrets are safewith us. Answer AspectSentis’squestion.”

Vaelin took a deepbreath, trying to still theheavythumpinhischest.Hethoughtbacktothetestoftherun,thesnapofthebowstring

that had saved him from theassassin’s arrow, the slack,inanimatemask of theman’sface, his gorge rising as hesawed at the fletching withhis knife… “No.No I didn’tenjoyit.”

“Do you regret it?”CorlinAlSentispersisted.

“Themanwastryingtokill me. I had no choice. Icannotregretstayingalive.”

“So that’s all you care

about?” Dendrish Hendrilasked.“Stayingalive?”

“I care about mybrothers, I care about theFaith and the Realm…” Icare about Sella the Denierwitch and Erlin who helpedherrun.ButIcan’tsayIcaremuchforyou,Aspect.

He tensed, waiting forrebukeorpunishment,butthethree Aspects said nothing,exchanging unreadable

glances. They can hear lies,herealised.Butnot thoughts.He could hide things, hedidn’t have to lie. Silencecouldbehisshield.

It was Aspect Elerawhospokenext,herquestionthe worst yet, “Do yourememberyourmother?”

Vaelin’s discomfortwas abruptly replaced byanger. “We leave our familyties behind when we enter

thishouse…”“Don’t be impertinent,

boy!” Aspect Hendrilsnapped. “We ask, youanswer. That’s how thisworks.”

Vaelin’sjawachedwiththe effort of biting back afurious retort. Fighting tocontrol his anger, he grated,“Of course I remember mymother.”

“I remember her too,”

AspectElerasaid.“Shewasagood woman who sacrificedmuch to marry your fatherandbringyouintothisworld.Like you she had chosen alifeintheserviceoftheFaith.She was once a sister in theFifthOrder, highly respectedforherknowledgeofhealing,she was to be a mistress inour House, she may evenhavebecomeAspect in time.At the King’s command she

travelledwithhisarmywhenit moved against the firstCumbraelin revolt. She metyour father when he waswounded after the Battle ofthe Hallows. As she tendedhis wounds love grewbetweenthemandshelefttheOrder to marry. Did youknowthat?”

Vaelin, numb withshock, could only shake hishead. His memories of

childhood outside the Orderwere dimmed with time anddeliberate suppression but herecalledoccasionalsuspicionsof his parents’ dissimilarorigins; their voices weredifferent, his father’s lack ofgrammar and clipped vowelsacontrast to theevenprecisetones of his mother. Hisfatheralsoknewlittleoftablemanners, often ignoring theknife and fork next to his

plate and reaching for thefoodwithhishands,seeminggenuinely bemused when hismother sighed a gentlerebuke, “Please dear. This isnot a barracks.” But he hadnever dreamed she too onceservedtheFaith.

“Ifshewerestillalive,”AspectElera’svoicesnappedhim back to the present.“WouldsheletyougiveyourlifetotheOrder?”

The temptation to liewas almost overwhelming.He knew what his motherwould have said, how shewouldhavefelttoseehiminthis robe, his hands and facebruised and raw frompractice, how it would havehurt her. But if he said it, itbecamereal,hecouldn’thidefrom it any longer. But heknewitwasatrap.Theywantme to lie, he realised. They

wantmetofail.“No,” he said. “She

hatedwar.”Soitwasout.Hewas living a life his motherwouldneverhavewanted,hewas dishonouring hermemory.

“Shetoldyouthat?”“No,shetoldmyfather.

Shedidn’twanthim to leavefor the war against theMeldeneans. She said thestenchofbloodsickenedher.

She wouldn’t have wantedthislifeforme.”

“How does that makeyoufeel?”Elerapersisted.

He found himselfspeaking without thinking,“Guilty.”

“And yet you stayed,when you had the chance toleave.”

“I felt that I needed tobehere.Ineededtostaywithmybrothers.Ineededtolearn

what the Order could teachme.”

“Why?”“I…thinkit’swhatI’m

supposed todo. It’swhat theFaith requires ofme. I knowthe sword and the staff as ablacksmith knows hishammer and anvil. I havestrength and speed andcunning and...” He hesitated,knowing he had to force thewords out, hating them even

so. “And I cankill,”he said,meeting her eyes. “I can killwithout hesitating. I wasmeanttobeawarrior.”

Therewassilenceintheroom save for the soft wetsound of Dendrish Hendrilchewing another cherry.Vaelinstaredateachofthemin turn, appalled by the factthat none of them wanted toreturn his gaze. Elera AlMendah’s reaction was

almost shocking, lookingdownatherhandsclasped infronther,shelookedasifshewasabouttocry.

Finally, DendrishHendril broke the silence,“That’lldo,boy.Youcango.Don’t talk toyour friendsonthewayout.”

Vaelinroseuncertainly.“Thetestisover,Aspect?”

“Yes. You passed.Congratulations. I am sure

you’ll be credit to the SixthOrder.” His acid tone spokeclearly that he did notconsiderthisacompliment.

Vaelin moved to thedoor,gladfortherelease;theatmosphere in the room wasoppressive,thescrutinyoftheAspectsdifficulttobear.

“Brother Vaelin,”Corlin Al Sentis’ cold raspstoppedhimashereachedforthedoorhandle.

Vaelin swallowed asigh of exasperation andforcedhimself toturn.CorlinAlSentiswasgivinghimthefull benefit of his fanaticalgaze. Aspect Elera didn’tlook up and Dendrish AlHendril gave him a brief,disinterestedglance.

“Yes,Aspect?”“Didshetouchyou?”Vaelin knew who he

meant, of course. It was

foolish of him to think hecould escape without facingthis question. “You meanSella,Aspect?”

“Yes, Sella themurderer,Denier and studentof the Dark. You helped herandthetraitorinthewilddidyounot?”

“I didn’t know whotheywereuntillater,Aspect.”Thetruth,hidingalie.Hefelthimself start to sweat and

prayed it didn’t show on hisface. “They were strangerslost in a storm. TheCatechismofCharity tellsusto treat a stranger as abrother.”

Corlin Al Sentis raisedhis head slightly, hisunwaveringglare takingonacalculating cast. “I didn’tknow the Catechism ofCharitywastaughthere.”

“It isn’t, Aspect.My…

mother taught me all thecatechisms.”

“Yes.Shewasaladyofconsiderable charity. Youhaven’t answered myquestion.”

He didn’t have to lie.“She didn’t touch me,Aspect.”

“You know the powerofhertouch?Whatitdoestomen’ssouls?”

“Brother Makril told

me. Truly I was fortunate toescapesuchafate.”

“Truly.” The Aspect’sgaze softened, but onlyslightly. “You may feel thatthis Test has been harsh butyou realise what awaits youwill be harder still. Life inyour Order is never easy.Many of your brothers willsuccumb to madness ormaiming before they arecalled to the Departed. You

knowthis?”Vaelin nodded. “I do,

Aspect.”“It doesyou credit that

you decided to stay, whenyou could have left with nostainonyourcharacter.Yourdevotion to the Faith will beremembered.”

For no apparent reasonVaelin felt thesewords tobea threat, a threat the Aspectdidn’t even know he was

making. But he forcedhimself to say, “Thank you,Aspect.”

Outside he closed thedoor softly behind him,restinghisbacktoit,exhalingexplosively in relief. Hedidn’t notice the othersstaring for a few seconds.They looked worried,especiallyDentos.

“Faith help me,”Dentos breathed softly,

clearly appalled at Vaelin’scountenance.

Vaelin straightened,fixed what he knew to be aweak smile on his face andwalked away, trying not tohurry.

With the exception of

Dentos, the Test ofKnowledge left a cloud ofdepression over them all.Caenis was silent, Barkus

monosyllabic, Nortahaggressively truculent andVaelin so preoccupied withmemories of his mother thathe found himself wanderingthroughtherestof thedayina miserable daze, tossingscrapstoScratchandfendingoff his attempts at play,beforejoiningtheothersforadesultory game of knives onthepracticefield.

“What a piece of piss

that was,” Dentos said, theonlyoneofthemtoretainanysemblance of good humour,sending a knife skyward toconnect with the boardBarkus had tossed into theair. His cheerfulness wasmade more annoying by hisapparent ignorance of themood of his companions. “Imean they didn’t ask meanythingabouttheOrder,justkeptgoingonaboutmymum

and where I grew up. Thelady Aspect, Elerawhatsername, asked if I washomesick. Homesick? LikeI’d want to go back to thatshitpit.”

He retrieved the board,working his knife loose andcasting it upwards forNortah’s throw. The knifewentwide, in fact itwent sowide it nearly caughtDentosonthehead.

“Watchit!”“Stop talking about the

test,” Nortah said in a toneheavywithdarkpromise.

“What’s the problem?”Dentos laughed, genuinelypuzzled. “I mean we allpassed didn’t we? We’re allstillhere,andwegettogototheSummertideFair.”

Vaelinwonderedwhyithadn’toccurredtohimbeforethat they had all passed the

test. Because it doesn’t feellikeasuccess,herealised.

“We just don’twant totalk about it, Dentos,” hesaid. “We didn’t find it aseasy as you did. Best if wedon’tmentionitagain.”

Altogether six boysfrom other groups failed thetest and had to leave. Theywatched them go the nextmorning,darkhuddledshapesin the mist, walking silently

throughthegatebearingtheirmeagre possessions in thepacks they had been allowedto keep. Sobbing could beheard echoing through thecourtyard. It was impossibleto tellwhichof theboyswascrying,whetheritwasoneorall. It seems to go on for alongtime,evenaftertheyhadfadedfromview.

“Iwouldn’tbesheddingany tears, that’s for sure,”

Nortah said. They were onthe wall, wrapped tightly intheir cloaks, waiting for thesuntoburnthemistawayandbreakfast to appear in thedininghall.

“Wonder where they’llgo,”Barkussaid.“Wonder ifthey’vegotanywheretogo.”

“The Realm Guard,”Nortah replied. “It’s full ofrejects from the Order. Maybe why they hate us so

much.”“Sod that,” Dentos

grunted. “I know where I’dbe headed. Straight for thedocks.Getmeaberthononeof them big trader ships thatgowest.UncleFantiswenttothe far west on a ship, cameback rich as stink. Silks andmedicines.Theonlyrichmaninourvillage'shistory.Didn’tdo him any good, droppeddead a year after coming

back, a black pox he pickedupfromsomeharbourdoxy.”

“Life on a ship’s nolife, what I hear,” Barkussaid. “Bad food, floggings,work from morn to night.Like being in the Order Is’pose, except for the food.ReckonI’dtaketothewoods,make myself a famousoutlaw. I’d have my ownband of cut-throats, but wewouldn’tcutanyone’s throat.

We’djuststealtheirgoldandjewels,onlyrichfolkthough.Poor folk’ve got nothingworthstealing.”

“Clearly, you’ve put alot of thought into it,brother,” Nortah commenteddryly.

“Man needs a plan inthis life. What about you?Where’dyougo?”

Nortah turned back tothegate, still shrouded in the

morningmist,his facedrawnin a depth of longing Vaelinhadn’t seen before. “Home,”he said softly. “I’d just gohome.”

Chapter5Aweek or so after the

Test of Knowledge MasterSollis took them to acavernous chamber off thecourtyard,thickwithheatandthe stench of smoke andmetal. Waiting inside wasMaster Jestin, the Order’srarely seen principalblacksmith. He was a largeman, emanating strength and

confidence, brawny armscrossed in front of his chest,his hairy body marked withnumerous pink scars wheresplashesofmoltenmetalhadescaped the forge. Struck bytheevidentpowerofthemanVaelin wondered if he hadevenfeltit.

“Master Jestin willforge your swords,” Sollisinformed them.“For thenexttwo weeks you will work

underhisguidanceandassistin the forging. By the timeyouleavethesmithyyouwilleach have a sword you willcarryfortherestofyourtimein the Order. You shouldremember that Master Jestindoes not share my generousand forgiving nature, mindhimwell.”

Alone with theblacksmith they stood insilence as he surveyed them,

hisbrightblueeyes scanningeachinturn.

“You,” he pointed athick, blackened finger atBarkuswhowas lookingatastack of freshly made pole-axes. “You’ve been in asmithybefore.”

Barkus hesitated. “Myf-…Igrewupnear a smithyinNilsael,master.”

Vaelin raised aneyebrowatCaenis.Giventhat

Barkusadheredstrictlytotherulesandsaidlittleornothingabouthisupbringing itwasasurprisetofindhisfatherhadbeen a craftsman. Boys withfathers in trade tendednot toend up in the Order, a boywith a future had no need toseekalifeelsewhere.

“Ever see a swordforged?”Master Jestin askedhim.

“No, master. Knives,

plough blades, manyhorseshoes,aweathervaneortwo.” He laughed a little.MasterJestindidn’t.

“Weather vane’s adifficult thing to forge,” hesaid. “Not all smiths can doit. Only master smiths areallowedtoforgesuchathing.It’s a rule of the Guild,shaping metal to read thesong of the wind is a rareskill.Knowthat,didyou?”

Barkus looked awayand Vaelin realised he waschastened, shamed somehow.Something had passedbetween them, he knew,something the rest of themcouldn’tunderstand.Ithadtodowiththisplaceandtheartpractised here, but he knewBarkuswouldn’ttalkofit.Inhisownwayhehadasmanysecrets as the rest of them.“No,master,”wasallhesaid.

“This place,” MasterJestin said, spreading hisarms, encompassing thesmithy. “This place is of theOrderbut it belongs tome. Iam King, Aspect,Commander, Lord andMaster of this place. This isnot a place for games. It isnot a place for japes. It is aplace for work and learning.The Order requires that youknow the art of working

metal. To truly wield aweapon with skill it isnecessarythatyouunderstandthenatureofitsfashioning,tobe part of the craft thatbrought it into being. Theswords you will make herewill keep you alive anddefend the Faith in the yearsto come.Workwell and youwillhavea sword to relyon,a blade of strength with anedgekeenenoughtocutsteel

plate.Work poorly and yourswordswillbreakinyourfirstbattleandyouwilldie.”

Once more he turnedhis gaze on Barkus, his coldstare seeming to contain aquestion. “The Faith is thesourceofallourstrength,butour service to the Faithrequires steel. Steel is theinstrument by which wehonour the Faith. Steel andblood is the whole of your

future.Doyouunderstand?”They all murmured

their agreement, but Vaelinknew Barkus was the onlyonetowhomthequestionhadbeenaddressed.

Therestofthedaywasspentshovellingcokeintothefurnace and lifting stacks ofironrodsintothesmithyfroma heavily laden cart in thecourtyard.MasterJestinspenthis time at the anvil, his

hammer a constant, singingrhythm of metal on metal,glancing up occasionally toissue instructions amidst afountain of sparks. Vaelinfound it grim, monotonouswork, his throat raw withsmoke and his ears dulledfrom the endless din of thehammer.

“I can see why youdidn’t relish a life in thesmithy, Barkus,” he

commented as they trudgedwearilyback to their roomattheendoftheday.

“I’ll say,” Dentosagreed,massaginghis achingarm.“Givemeadayofbowpracticeanytime.”

Barkus said nothing,staying silent for the rest ofthe night amidst their tiredgrumbling. Vaelin knew hebarely heard them, his mindwas still fixed on Master

Jestin’s questions, the one inhiswords and the one in hiseyes.

Thenextdaysawthem

backatthesmithy,oncemorelifting and carrying, luggingsacks of coke into the largechamberthatservedasafuelstore.MasterJestinsaidlittle,concentrating on inspectingevery one of the iron rodsthey had carried inside the

daybefore, holding eachoneup to the light, running hisfingersalongthemandeithergrunting in satisfaction andsetting it back on the pile ortutting in annoyance andadding it to a small butgrowingstackofrejects.

“What’s he lookingfor?” Vaelin wondered,groaning with effort as heheaved another sack into thestore room. “One piece of

iron’s the same as anotherisn’tit?”

“Impurities,” Barkusanswered, glancing over atMasterJestin.“Therodshavebeenforgedbyanothersmithbefore they get here, mostlikely by less skilled handsthat our Master. He’schecking to see if the smithwhomadethemputtoomuchpoorironinthemix.”

“Howcanhetell?”

“Touch mostly. Therodsaremadeofmanylayersof iron hammered togetherthen twisted and flattened.The forging leaves a patternon the metal. A good smithcantellqualityrodsfrombadby the pattern. I’ve heardtalesofsomethatcouldevensmellquality.”

“Could you do it? ThetouchingthingImean,notthesmelling.”

Barkus laughed,Vaelinsensinganoteofbitternessinthesound.“Notinathousandyears.”

At noon Master Sollisappeared and ordered themonto the practice field forsword work, saying theyneeded to keep their skillssharp. They were sluggishfrom the hard labour in thesmithyandhiscanefellmorefrequently than usual,

although Vaelin found itdidn’t sting as much as itonce did. He wonderedbriefly if Master Sollis waslightening his blows anddismissed the ideaimmediately. Master Solliswasn’t going soft, they weregrowinghard.He’sbeatenusinto shape, he realised.He’soursmith.

“It’s time to fire the

forge,” Master Jestin toldthem when they returned tothe smithy after a hastilyconsumed afternoon meal.“There is only one thing toremember about the forge.”He held his arms updisplayingthenumerousscarsthat marked the thicklymuscledflesh.“It’shot.”

He had them emptyseveralsacksofcokeintothebrick circle that formed the

forge then toldCaenis to fireit, a task that involvedcrawling underneath andsetting light to the oakwoodtinder in the gap beneath.Vaelin would have balked atit but Caenis scrambled to itwithout any hesitation,flaming taper in hand. Heemergedafewmomentslater,blackened but undamaged.“Seems well alight Master,”hereported.

Master Jestin ignoredhim and crouched down toinspect the growing blaze.“You,” he nodded at Vaelin,he never called them byname, seemingly recallingnames was a pointlessdistraction. “On the bellows.You too,”he flickeda fingerat Nortah. Barkus, DentosandCaenisweretoldtostandandwaitforinstructions.

Heftinghisheavy,blunt

headedhammerMasterJestinlifted one of the iron rodsfrom the stack next to theanvil. “A sword blade of theAsraelin pattern is fashionedfrom three rods,” he toldthem. “A thick central rodand two thinner rods for theedge. This,” he held up therodinhishand,“isoneoftheedge rods. Itmust be shapedbefore it is melded with theothers. The edge is the

hardest part of the sword toforge, it must be fine butstrong, it must cut but alsowithstand a blow fromanother blade. Look at themetal, lookclosely.”Heheldtherodouttoeachoftheminturn,his rough,unevenvoiceoddly hypnotic. “See theflecksofblackthere?”

Vaelin peered at therod, picking out the smallblack fragments amidst the

darkgreyoftheiron.“It’s called star silver

becauseitglowsbrighterthanthe heavens when it’s put tothe flame,” Jestin went on.“Butit’snotsilver,it’saformof iron, rare iron that comesfromtheearthlikeallmetals,there’snothingDarkaboutit.But it’s this that makesswords of theOrder strongerthan others. With this yourblades will withstand blows

thatwouldshatterothersand,ifwieldedwith skill,will cutthrough mail and armour.This is our secret. Guard itwell.”

HemotionedforVaelinandNortahtobeginpumpingthe bellows and watched astheir efforts were rewardedby the gradual appearance ofadeepred-orangeglowinthemass of coke. “Now,” hesaid, hefting his hammer.

“Watch closely, try andlearn.”

Vaelin and Nortahstarted to sweat profusely asthey heaved at the heavywooden handle of thebellows, the heat in thesmithyrisingwitheveryflushof air they forced into theforge. The atmosphereseemed to thicken with it,drawing a breath becominganeffortinitself.

Get on with it forFaith’s sake, Vaelin groanedinwardly, his sweat slickedarmsaching,asMasterJestinwaited…andwaited.

Finally satisfied thesmith took hold of the rodwith a pair of iron tongs andplunged it into the forge,waiting until the red-orangeglow flowed into the metaland along its length beforetakingitoutandplacingiton

the anvil.The first blowwaslight, little more than a tap,scattering a small cloud ofsparks. Then he began towork in earnest, the hammerrising and falling withdrumbeat precision, sparksfountaining around him, thehammer sometimes blurringwith the speed of his swing.Oddly there seemed to bescant change in the glowingrod at first, although it may

havegotalittlelongerbythetimeMaster Jestinplunged itintotheforgeagain,gesturingirritably for Vaelin andNortahtopumpharder.

It wore on for whatseemedlikeanhourbutcouldonly have been about tenminutes, Master Jestinhammering at the rod,returning it to the forge,hammering again. Vaelinfoundhimselflongingforthe

bruising comforts of thepractice field, hand to handcombat on icy ground wasbetterthanthis.WhenMasterJestin signalled them to stopthey both staggered awayfrom the bellows and leanedtheir heads out of the door,heaving great gulps of sweettastingairintotheirlungs.

“Thebastard’stryingtokillus,”Nortahgasped.

“Get back here,”

Master Jestin growled andthey hurried inside. “Youneedtogetusedtorealwork.Look here.” He held up therod, its original roundedshapehadchanged toa threesided strip of metal about ayardlong.“Thisisanedge.Itseemsroughnow,butmeldedwith it’s brothers it will bekeen and bright withpurpose.”

DentosandCaeniswere

told to take over the bellowsand Master Jestin started ontheotheredge, thetollof thehammer a ringingcounterpoint to the rasp oftheir breath as they worked.When the second edge wascomplete he began on thethick central rod, his blowsbecoming harder and morerapid, extending the rod’slength to match the edgesthen tempering the blade to

formaraisedspinealong themiddle. By the time he wasfinished Caenis and Dentoswere ready to drop andBarkus partnered Vaelin atthebellows.Thesmithtookabrackettobindthethreerodstogetheratthebaseandmadereadytomeldthem.

“Themeldingisthetestof a sword smith,” heinformed them. “It is thehardest skill to learn. Too

hard a blow will spoil theblade, too light and the rodswon’tmeld.”HeglancedoveratVaelinandBarkus.“Heavehard, keep the fire hot. Noslacking.”

Astheyworked,Vaelinprayingforanend,henoticedBarkus’s gaze was fixed onMasterJestin,hisarmsrisingand falling without pause,seemingoblivioustothepain,hiswholeattentionrivetedon

the process unfolding on theanvil. At first Vaelinwondered what was sointeresting, it was a manhittingapieceofmetalwithahammer.Hesawnospectaclein it, no mystery. But as hefollowed Barkus's gaze hefound himself increasinglyabsorbed by the sight of theblade taking shape, the threerodsfusingtogetherundertheforce of the hammer.

Occasionally the flecks ofstar silver in the edge rodswould flare as Master Jestintookthebladefromtheforge,glowingsobrightlyhehadtolookaway.Hebelievedwhatthe smith had said about thestar silver being just anothermetal but still it wasunnerving.

“You,” Master Jestinnodded at Nortah as hefinished shaping the point.

“Fetchthebucketcloser.”Nortah obediently

dragged the heavy woodenbucket closer to the anvil, itwas nearly full to the brimand water sloshed over hisfeetasheheaveditintoplace.“This is salt water,” Jestintoldthem.“Abladequenchedin brine will always bestrongerthanonequenchedinfresh water. Stand back, it’llboil.”

He took a firm grip onthe tang at the base of theblade and plunged it into thebucket, making it steam androil as the heat seeped intothe water. He held it thereuntil the boil subsided thenwithdrewthesteamingblade,holdingitupforinspection.Itwas black, the metal stainedwith soot, but Master Jestinseemed content with it. Theedges were straight and the

pointperfectlysymmetrical.“Now,” he said. “The

real work begins. You,” heturned to Caenis. “Since youlittheforgeyoucanhavethisone.”

“Um,” Caenis said,clearlywondering if thiswasanhonouroracurse.“Thankyoumaster.”

Jestin carried the bladeto the far end of the smithy,layingitonabenchnexttoa

largepedal-drivengrindstone.“A new forged blade is onlyhalfborn,”heinformedthem.“It must be sharpened,polished, honed.” He hadCaenisstandatthegrindstoneand set it turning with thepedal, demonstrating how toget a good rhythm going bycounting “one two, one two”beforetellinghimtoincreasethe speed and hold the bladeto the stone. The instant

fountain of sparks madeCaenisstepbackinalarmbutJestinorderedhim tokeepatit,guidinghishandstogetthecorrect angle then showinghim how to move the bladeacross the stone so that itswhole length was honed.“That’sit,”hegruntedafterawhile when Caenis grewconfidentenoughtomovetheblade on his own. “Tenminutes for each edge then

show me what you’ve done.The rest of you back to theforge. You and you on thebellows…”

And so they workedand sweated in the forge,seven long days of heavingbellows, grinding edges andworking polish into theblades so that the sootdisappearedandtheygleamedlike silver. None of themescaped unscathed, Vaelin

bore a livid scar on the backofhishandwherea speckofmoltenmetallanded,thepainandthesmellofhisownskinburning was uniquelysickening. The otherssuffered similar injury,Dentos coming off worsewith a scattering of sparksintohiseyesduringacarelessmoment on the grinder. Thesparks left a cluster ofblackened scars around his

lefteyebut luckily therewasnodamagetohisvision.

Despite the exhaustion,the risk of disfiguring injuryand the tedium of the workVaelin couldn’t resist acertain fascination with theprocess. There was a beautyto it; the gradual birth of theblades under Master Jestin’shammer, the feel of the edgeagainst the grindstone, thepattern that emerged in the

blade as he polished it, darkswirls in theblue-greyof thesteel, as if the flames of theforge had been frozen in themetalsomehow.

“It comes from themergingof the rods,”Barkusexplained.“Differentkindsofmetal coming together leavesamark.Iguessthestarsilvermakes it more noticeable inOrderblades.”

“I like it,” Vaelin said,

liftingthehalfpolishedbladeup to the light. “It’s…interesting.”

“It’s just metal,”Barkus sighed, turning backto the stone where he wasputting an edge on his ownsword.“Heatit,beatit,shapeit.There’snomysterythere.”

Vaelin watched hisfriendwork at thewheel, theway his hands movedexpertly, honing the edge

with perfect precision.WhenBarkus’s turn came MasterJestinhadn’tevenbotheredtoshow him, just handed himthe blade and walked away.Somehow Barkus’s skill wasobvious to the smith, theysaid little, barely exchangingmore than a few grunts ormumbled agreements, as ifthey had been workingtogether formany years. ButBarkus showed no joy in his

work, no satisfaction. Hestucktoitreadilyenough,theskills he displayed puttingthem all to shame, but hisface was an uncharacteristicmask of grim endurancewhenever they were in thesmithy, only brighteningwhen they escaped to thepracticefieldordininghall.

The next day saw thefittingofthehilts.Thesewerereadymade, almost identical,

Master Jestin fitting them tothebladesandsecuring themwith three iron nailshammered through the tangthat extended into the hilt.They were then set to workfilingdown thenailheads sotheywere flushwith the oakhandles.

“You are done here,”Jestin toldthemat theendofthe day. “The swords areyours.Usethemwell.”Itwas

the closest he had come tosounding like the othermasters. He turned back tothe forge without anotherword. They stood arounduncertainly, holding theirswordsandwonderingiftheywere supposed to sayanythinginreturn.

“Erm,” Caenis said.“Thankyouforyourwisdom,master.”

Jestin lifted an

unfinished spear-head ontohis anvil and began to workthebellows.

“Our time here wasvery…” Caenis began butVaelin nudged him andgesturedatthedoor.

As they were leavingJestin spoke again, “BarkusJeshua.”

They stopped, Barkusturning, his expressionguarded.“Master.”

“There door’s alwaysopen to you,” Jestin saidwithout turning. “I could usethehelp.”

“I’m sorry master,”Barkus said tonelessly. “I’mafraidmy training leavesmelittletimeasitis.”

Jestin released thebellows and lifted the spear-head into the forge. “I’ll behere, sowill the forge,whenyougettiredofthebloodand

theshit.We’llbehere.”Barkus missed the

evening meal, somethingnoneofthemcouldrememberhappening before. Vaelinfound him on the wall afterpaying his nightly visit toScratch’s kennel. “Broughtyou some leftovers,” Vaelinhandedhimasackcontainingapieandafewapples.

Barkus nodded his

thanks, his attention fixedonthe river where a barge wasmaking its way upstream toVarinshold.

“You want to know,”he said after a while. Hisvoice held none of his usualhumour or irony but Vaelinwas chilled to detect a fainttraceoffear.

“If you want to tellme,” he said. “We all haveoursecrets,brother.”

“Like why you keepthat scarf.” He gestured atSella’s scarf around Vaelin’sneck.Vaelin tucked it out ofsight and patted him on theshoulderbeforeturningtogo.

“ItfirsthappenedwhenIwasten,”Barkussaid.

Vaelin paused, waitingfor him to continue. In hisownwayBarkus couldbe asclosedastherestofthem,hewould talk or he wouldn’t,

prompting or persuasionwouldbeuseless.

“My father had meworkinginthesmithysinceIwas little,” Barkus continuedafter a moment. “I loved it,lovedwatchinghimshapethemetal, loved the way itglowed in the forge. Somesaythewaysofthesmitharemysterious.Formeitwasallso obvious, so easy. Iunderstood it all. My father

hardly had to teach meanything,Ijustknewwhattodo. I could see the shape themetal would take before thehammer fell, could tell if aplough blade would cutthroughsoilorgetstuckorifashoewouldfallfromahoofafter only a few days. Myfather was proud, I knew it.Hewasn’tmuch for talk, notlike me, I get that from mymother, but I knew he was

proud. Iwanted tomakehimeven more proud. I hadshapesinmyhead,shapesofknives, swords, axes, allwaiting to be forged. I knewexactly how to make them,exactly the right mix ofmetalstouse.SoIsnuckintothesmithyonenight tomakeone.Ahuntingknife,asmallthing,Ithought.AWinterfallpresentformyfather.”

He paused, staring out

into the night as the bargemoved further downstream,the shapes of the barge menon the deck vague andghostlike in the dim lightfromthebowlantern.

“So you made theknife,” Vaelin prompted.“But your father was…angry?”

“Oh, hewasn’t angry.”Barkus sounded bitter. “Hewas scared.Theblade folded

overandovertostrengthenit,the edge keen enough to cutsilk or pierce armour, sopolishedyoucoulduseitasamirror.” The small smileforming on his lips faded.“He threw it in the river andtoldmenevertospeakofittoanyone,ever.”

Vaelin was puzzled.“Heshouldhavebeenproud.Aknifelikethatmadebyhisson. Why would it scare

him?”“My father had seen a

lot in his life.He’d travelledwith the Lord’s host, servedon a merchant ship in theeastern seas, but he’d neverseen a knife forged in asmithy where the forge wascold.”

Vaelin’s puzzlementdeepened. “Then how didyou…?” Something inBarkus’sfacemadehimstop.

“Nilsaelins are a greatpeople in many ways,”Barkus went on. “Hardy,kind, hospitable. But theyfear the Dark above allthings. In my village therewasonceanoldwomanwhocouldhealwithatouch,orsothey said. She was respectedfor the work she did butalwaysfeared.WhentheRedHand came she could donothing to stop it, dozens

died, every family in thevillage lost someone, but shenever caught it. They lockedherinherhouseandsetitonfire.The ruin’s still there,noone ever had the courage tobuildonit.”

“How did you makethatknife,Barkus?”

“I’m still not sure. Iremember shaping the metalat the anvil, the hammer inmy hand. I remember fitting

thehandle,but for the lifeofmeIcan’trememberlightingtheforge.Itwasas ifwhenIstarted towork I lostmyself,asifIwasjustatool,likethehammer… like somethingwasworkingthroughme.”Heshook his head, clearlydisturbed by the memory.“Myfatherwouldn’tletmeinthe smithy after that. Tookme to old man Kalus, thehorse breeder, told him he’d

triedhisbesttoteachmebutIjust wasn’t going to make asmith. Paid him a fivecoppers amonth to teachmethehorsetrade.”

“He was trying toprotectyou,”Vaelinsaid.

“I know.But that’s nothow it felt to a boy. It feltlike…likehewas frightenedby what I’d done, worriedthatI’dshamehimsomehow.I even thought he might be

jealous.SoIdecidedtoshowhim, show himwhat I couldreally do. I waited until hewas away hawking wares attheSummertidefairandwentback to the smithy. Therewasn’t much to work with,some old horse shoes andnails.He’d takenmostofhisstock tosellat the fair.But Itook what he’d left and Imadesomething…somethingspecial.”

“What was it?” Vaelinasked, envisioning mightyswordsandgleamingaxes.

“Asunvane.”Vaelin frowned. “A

what?”“Like a wind vane

except instead of pointing atthe direction of the wind itpointed at the sun.Whereveritwas in the sky you alwaysknewwhattimeofdayitwas,even when the sky was

clouded over. When the sunwent down it’d point at theground and track it throughtheearth.Imadeitprettytoo,hadflamescomingoutoftheshaftandeverything.”

Vaelincouldonlyguessat the value of such an item,and thestir itwouldcause inavillageterrifiedoftheDark.“Whathappenedtoit?”

“I don’t know. Isuppose my father melted it

down. When he came backfrom the fair I was standingthere, showing him what I’dmade, I felt very smug. Hetold me to pack. My motherwasawayatmyaunt’s sohedidn’t have to explain it toher.Faithknowswhathetoldherwhen she camebackandfound me gone. We spentthree days on the road thentook ship to Varinshold thencame here. He spoke to the

Aspect for a while then leftmeat thegate.Said if I evertold anyone what I could dotheywould certainly killme.Said I’d be safe here.” Helaughed shortly. “Hard tobelieve he thought he wasdoing me a favour.SometimesIthinkhegotloston the way to the House oftheFifthOrder.”

Vaelin shook away thememory of hoof beats and,

remembering Sella’s tale,said, “He was right, Barkus.You shouldn’t tell anyone.You probably shouldn’t havetoldme.”

“Why,going tokillmeareyou?”

Vaelin smiled grimly.“Well,nottoday.”

They stood at the wallin companionable silence,watching the barge until itturned the bend in the river

anddisappeared.“I think he knew,

y’know,” Barkus said.“Master Jestin. I think hecouldsenseit,whatIcando.”

“How could he knowsuchathing?”

“Because I could sensethesamethinginhim.”

Chapter6The next day saw the

first practice with their newswords. It seemed to Vaelinthathalfthelessonwastakenupwiththecorrectmethodofstrappingitacrossthebacksoitcouldbedrawnbyreachingovertheshoulder.

“Tighter, Nysa.” Sollistugged hard at Caenis’s beltstrap,drawingapainedgrunt.

“This thing gets loose in abattle you’ll know about itsoon enough. Can’t kill anenemyifyou’retrippingoveryourownswordbelt.”

Theythenspentoveranhour learning the correctmethodofdrawingtheswordin a smooth, swiftmotion. ItwasharderthanMasterSollismade it look. The leatherstrap holding the swordfirmly in the scabbardhad to

be thumbed aside and theblade pulled clear withoutsnaggingorcuttingitsowner.Their first attempts were soclumsySollis ran them twicearoundthefieldatfullspeed,the unfamiliar weight of theswords making themsluggish.

“Faster Sorna!” Sollislashedathimashestumbled.“You too Sendahl, pick yourfeetup.”

He ordered them to tryagain.“Doitright.Thefasteryou can get your sword inyour hand and ready to usethelesslikelysomebastardisgoingtospillyourgutsoutinfrontofyou.”

There were more runsandseveralcaningsbeforehewas satisfied they weremaking progress. For somereason Vaelin and Nortahwereattractingmostofhisire

today, the cane falling onthem more than the others.Vaelin surmised it waspunishment for someforgotten infraction. Solliswas like that sometimes,often remembering pastmisdemeanours after anintervalofweeksormonths.

As the lesson endedhelined them up to make anannouncement. “Tomorrowyoulittlebuggersaretobelet

looseontheSummertideFair.Someboysfromthecitymaytry to fight you to provethemselves. Try not to killany. Some of the local girlsmay also see you as adifferent kind of challenge.Avoid them. Sendahl, Sorna,you’restayinghere.I’llteachyoutoslackoff.”

Vaelin, crushed bydisappointment and injustice,could only gape in shock.

Nortah, however, was fullycapable of voicing hisfeelings.

“You must be bloodyjoking!” he shouted. “Theotherswerejustasbadasus.Howcomewehavetostay?”

Later, as he sat on hisbed nursing a bruised andaching jaw,hisangerwasnoless fierce. “That bastard’salways hated me more thantherestofyou.”

“He hates everyone,”Barkussaid.“YouandVaelinwerejustunluckytoday.”

“No, it’s because myfather’s the King’s FirstMinister.I’msureofit.”

“Ifyouroldman’ssucha biggy big, how come hecan’t get you out of theOrder?” Dentos asked. “Imeanyouhatebeinghere.”

“How should I know?”Nortah exploded. “I didn’t

askhimtosendmetothispit.I didn’t ask to be frozen,nearly killed ten times over,beaten everyday, live in thishovel with peasants…” Hetrailed off miserably,huddlingontohisbunk,headburied in his pillow. “Ithought they would let meleave at the Test ofKnowledge,”hesaid,moretohimself than them, his voicemuffled.“Whentheysawmy

heart. But that dammedwoman said Iwaswhere theFaithneededmetobe.Ievenstartedlyingabouteverythingbut theywouldn’t letme go.That pig Hendril said theSixth Order would benefitfrom having one of mybreedinginitsranks.”

He fell silent, stillhiding his face. Barkusmoved to pat him on theshoulder but Vaelin stopped

himwithashakeofthehead.Hepulledthesmalloakchestfromunder his bed, hismostvalued possession next toSella’s scarf, stolen from theback of a merchant’s cartcarelessly left near the frontgate. He unlocked it andretrieved a leather pouchcontaining all the coins hehadfound,wonorstolenoverthe years. He tossed it toCaenis.“Bringmebacksome

candies. And a new pair ofsoft leather boots if you findanythat’llfitme.”

The morning dawned

thickwithmist,aheavy,softblue haze hanging over thesurrounding fields, waitingforthesummersuntoburnitaway. Vaelin and Nortah satin miserable silence throughthe morning meal as theothers triednot toappear too

eagertoleaveforthefair.“Think they’ll be any

bears?” Dentos askedcasually.

“I suppose,” Caenissaid. “Always bears at theSummertide Fair. Drunkardswrestle them for money.Plenty of other things too.When I went there was amagician from the AlpiranEmpire who could play aflute and make a snake

dance.”Vaelin had been taken

to the fair every year beforehis father gave him to theOrder and retained vividmemories of dancers,jugglers, hawkers, acrobatsandathousandothermarvelsamidstthemassofsoundandsmell. He hadn’t realisedbefore justhowbadlyhehadwanted to see it again, totouch something from his

childhood and see if itmatched the whirlwind ofcolour and joy heremembered.

“The King will bethere,” he said to Caenis,recallingadistantviewoftheRoyal pavilion where Janusand his family looked downon the many contests playedout on the tourney field.There were horse races,wrestling, fist fights,archery,

the victors receiving a redribbon from the hand of theKing. It had seemed a poorrewardforsomucheffortbutthewinnersallseemedhappyenough.

“Maybeyou’llgetcloseenough to lethimuseyouasa foot scraper,” Nortah said.“You’d like that wouldn’tyou?”

Caenis seemedunperturbed. “It’s not my

fault you’re not allowed togo, brother,” he respondedmildly.

Nortah looked as if hewas about to voice anotherinsultbut instead justpushedhis plate away and got upfrom the table, stalking fromthehall,hisfacesetinamaskofanger.

“He’s really not takingthiswell,”Barkusobserved.

After the meal Vaelin

bade them farewell in thecourtyard, gratified by theeffort they put in to theirfaçadeofreluctance.

“I’ll...” Caenis beganwith an effort, “stay if youwantmeto.”

Vaelin was touched bytheoffer,heknewhowbadlyCaenis wanted to see theKing. “If you don’t go howamIgoingtogetmyboots?”He clasped hands with each

of them and waved as theywalkedtothemaingate.

Hewent to seeScratchand found to his surprise theslave dog had made a newfriend, an Asraelin wolf-hound bitch almost as tall atthe shoulder as he was,although nowhere near asmuscular.

“Shegot intohispen afew nights ago,” MasterJeklin toldhim“Faithknows

how. Surprised he didn’t killheroutright.Thinkhewantedthe company. Reckon I’llleave ‘embe,maybehaveusalitterinafewmonths.”

Scratch was his usualhappy, bouncing self atseeing Vaelin, the bitchcautious but reassured byScratch’s welcome. Vaelintossed scraps to them,notinghow the bitch wouldn’t eatuntilScratchhad.

“She’s afraid of him,”hecommented.

“With good reason,”MasterJeklinsaidcheerfully.“Can’t keep away though.Bitches are like thatsometimes, choose a mateandwon’t letgowhateverhedoes.Typicalwomeneh?”Helaughed. Vaelin, having noidea what hemeant, laughedalongpolitely.

“Not at the Fair then?”

Jeklin continued, movingawaytotosssomefoodtothethreeNilsaelinterriershekeptat the far endof thekennels.Theywere deceptively prettyanimals with short pointedsnouts and big brown eyes,but would nip viciously atanyhandthatcametooclose.Master Jeklin kept them forhunting hares and rabbits, anactivity at which theyexcelled.

“Master Sollis felt Iwas slacking at swordpractice,”Vaelinexplained.

Jeklin tutted indisapproval. “Never make abrother if youdon’t tryhard.‘Courseinmydaythey’dflogyou with a horse whip forslackingoff.Tenstrokesforafirst offence, ten more foreach offence after that. Usedtolosetenor twelvebrothersayearthroughflogging.”His

sigh was heavy withnostalgia. “Pity you’ll missthe Fair though. They havesomefinedogsforsalethere.Be off myself when I’vefinished up here. It’ll beterriblecrowdedthough,whatwith the execution and all.Here you go, you littlemonsters.” He threw somemeat into the terriers’ cage,provoking an explosion ofyelps and growls as they

fought each other for thefood.Master Jeklin chuckledatthesight.

“Execution, master?”Vaelinasked.

“What?Oh, theKing’shaving his First Ministerhung.Treasonandcorruption,usualthing.S’whythere’llbesuch a crowd. Everyone inthe Realm hates the bastard.Taxesy’see.”

Vaelin felt his mouth

godryandhisheartsinkintohis gut. Nortah’s father.They’regoingtokillNortah’sfather.That’swhySolliskeptushere.Mademestaytoosoitdidn’t looksuspicious…SoI would be here when thenews arrived. He foundhimselftakingacloserlookatMasterJeklin.

“DidMasterSollisvisitherethismorning?”heasked

Jeklin didn’t look at

him,stillsmilingdownathisdogs. “Master Sollis is verywise. You should appreciatehimmore.”

“I have to tell him?”Vaelingrated.

Jeklin said nothing,dangling some ham throughthebarsofthecage,gruntingalaugheverytimetheterriersjumpedforit.

“Erm,”Vaelinstumbledover the words, clearing his

throat, backing towards thedoor. “If you’ll excuse me,master.”

Jeklin waved a hand,not turning, laughingaffectionately at thesquabbling terriers. “Littlemonsters.”

Crossing the courtyardVaelin felt the weight ofresponsibility might forcehim to thecobbles.Suddenlyhe hated Sollis and the

Aspect. Leadership? hethoughtbitterly.Youcankeepit.

But there was anotherthought, a growing suspicionashereluctantlyascendedthewinding steps to the towerroom, a lingering image ofNortah’s face as he stalkedfrom the dining hall. Vaelinhad seen only anger at thetime but now realised therehad been something more, a

sense of determination, adecision…

He stopped asrealisationhithim.Ohplease,Faithno!

He took the remainingsteps at a run, bursting intothe room, panic making himshout,“NORTAH!”

Empty. Maybe he’s atthe stables. He likes thehorses…

Then he saw it, the

openwindow, theabsenceofsheets and blankets on theirbeds. Leaning out of thewindow he saw the knottedlinendanglingagood twentyfeetbelow,whichleftanotherfifteenfootdroptotheroofofthe north gate house and tenmore from there to theground. For Nortah, like therest of them, it was hardly achallenging prospect. Thelingeringmorningmistwould

enablehimtoslipawayunderthe noses of the brothers onthe wall, most of whomwouldhavebeenpreoccupiedwith the anticipation ofbreakfast.

ForthebriefestmomentVaelin considered findingMaster Sollis or the Aspectbut discounted it. Nortah’spunishment would be severeand he already had at least ahalf hour start. Besides,

Vaelin didn’t even know ifSollis or the Aspect were intheHouse, theymaywell beattheFairtoo.Andtherewasanother possibility, ringingloud and terribly clear in hishead: What if he makes ittherefirst?Whatifhesees?

Vaelinquicklygatheredawaterbottleandacoupleofknives then strapped hissword across his back. Hewent to the window, took a

firm grip on Nortah’s ropeand began to descend. Asexpected it was an easyclimb, taking barely amoment to reach the ground.Withthemistallbutgonehehadtobewaryofbeingseen,standing flat against thewalluntil the brother on thebattlements above, a boredlooking boy of aboutseventeen, wandered away,then sprinting full tilt for the

trees. The run would haveseemed short on the practicefield, scarcely two hundredyards to the forest, but it feltlike amile ormorewith thewall at his back, expectingevery second to hear a shoutofalarmoreventhethrumofan arrow. At this range fewbrothers would miss. So itwaswithreliefthatheenteredthe cool shadow of the treesand dropped his speed to a

halfsprint,stillfasterthanhewouldhavelikedforcomfortbut he couldn’t afford towaste any time.He stayed inthetreesforhalfamileorsothenturnedontotheroad.

It was busier than hehadeverseenit,packedwithfarmers driving carts ladenwith produce for sale at thefair,familiesmakingtheoncea year journey to see thecontests and the many

spectacles on offer, this yearno doubt the promise of aFirst Minister’s executionadded a certain spice to theoccasion. None of thetravellers seemed daunted bythe prospect. Vaelin sawcheerful, laughing faceseverywhere,heevenpassedacartfullofwhathetooktobewoodsmen from theircollectionofaxes,allsingingaraucousdoggerellaboutthe

impendingevent:“His name was Artis

SendahlHe was a greedy old

goatKing Janus came to

counthispurseAnd stretched his

greedythroat.”“Don’t run so fast,

order boy!” one of the

woodsmencalledtohimashepassed, swaying as he raiseda stoneware bottle. “Theycan’tchokethebastard‘tilwegetthere.Somebuggerhastocut the wood for the fire.”The rest of the woodsmenroared with laughter asVaelin ran on, resisting theurge to see how well adrunkardcouldcutwoodwithhisfingersbroken.

He heard it before he

sawit,adullroarbeyondthenext hill, the sound ofthousands of voices speakingat once. As a child he hadthought it a monster,snuggling into his mother’sembraceinfear.“Hushnow,”she said, stroking his hair,turning his head gently asthey crested the rise. “LookVaelin. Look at all thepeople.”

Tohisboy’seyesithad

seemed every subject in theRealm had come to theexpansive plain before thewalls of Varinshold to shareintheblessingsofsummer,avast throng covering severalacres. Now he found hewasamazedtoseethecrowdwaseven larger than heremembered, stretching thewhole length of the city’swestern wall, a haze ofmingled exhalation and

wood-smoke hanging overthe mass, tents and brightlycoloured marquees risingfromthecarpetofbodies.Forayouthwhohad spentmuchof the last four years in thecrampedfortressoftheOrderHouse it was almostoverwhelming.

HowcanI trackhiminthis? he wondered. Behindhim came the song of thedrunken woodsmen again as

their cart caught up, stillrejoicing in the death of theKing’s minister. Don’t lookforhim,he realised.Look forthegallows.He’llbethere.

Enteringthecrowdwas

an odd experience, minglingexhilaration with trepidation,the throngenvelopinghim inamassofmovingbodiesandunfamiliar odour. Hawkerswereeverywhere,theirshouts

barely audible above thenoise,sellingeverythingfromsweet meats to earthenware.Here and there a knot ofspectators had gatheredaround players andperformers,jugglers,acrobatsandmagiciansdrawingeithercheers and applause or jeersof derision. Vaelin tried notto be distracted but foundhimself stopping at themorespectacular sights.Therewas

a hugely muscled man whocould breath fire and a darkskinned man in silk robeswho pulled trinkets from theears of people in the crowd.Vaelinwouldlingerforafewseconds before rememberinghis mission andshamedfacedlymoving on. Itwasashestopped,amazedatthe sight of a half nakedfemale tumbler that he felt ahand inside his cloak. It was

deft, almost unnoticeable,searching. He caught theintruder’s wrist with his lefthand and dragged the ownerforward,trippinghimoverhisleft ankle. The pickpocketwent down heavily, gruntingpainfully with the impact. Itwas a boy, small, skinny,dressedinrags.HelookedupatVaelinandsnarled,lashingout with his free hand anddesperately trying to pull

away.“Ha, thief!” a man in

the crowd laughed nastily.“Should know better than totryitonwiththeOrder.”

At the mention of theOrdertheboy’seffortstofreehimself redoubled,scratchingandbitingatVaelin’shand.

“Kill him, brother,”another passerby suggested.“One less thief in the city’salwaysagoodthing.”

Vaelin ignored thevoice and lifted thepickpocket off his feet, itwasn’t difficult, the boywaslittle more than skin andbone.“Youneedpractice,”hetoldhim.

“Fuck you,” the boyspat, squirming frantically.“You’re not a real brother.You’re one of them boybrothers. You’re no better’nme.”

“Needs a beatin’ thisone,” a man said, emergingfromthecrowdtoaimacuffattheboy’shead.

“Go away,” Vaelininstructed.Theman,aplumpfellowwithalargealesoakedbeard and eyes showing theunfocused gaze of the newlydrunk, gave Vaelin a briefappraisal and quickly movedaway.AtfourteenVaelinwasalready taller thanmostmen,

the Order’s regime makinghim both broad and lean.Hestared in turn at the severalother spectators who hadpaused to watch the smalldrama. They all moved onrapidly. It’s not just me,Vaelin surmised. They feartheOrder.

“Lemmego,y’bastard,”the boy said, fear and furycolouring his voice in equalmeasure. He had exhausted

himself struggling anddangled in Vaelin’s grasp,face set in a soot stainedmaskofimpotentrage.“Igotfriends, y’know, people youdon’twanttocross…”

“I have friends too,”Vaelin said. “I’m looking forone.Wherearethegallows?”

The boy’s faceconstricted in a puzzledfrown.“Wassat?”

“The gallows where

they’re going to hang theKing’s minister. Where arethey?”

The boy’s creasedbrowsformedintoanarchofcalculation.“Wossitworth?”

Vaelin tightened hisgrip.“Abrokenwrist.”

“Miserable Orderbastard,” the boy mutteredsullenly. “Break me wrist ifyou want. Break me bloodyarm.Whatoddsdoesitmake

anyway?”Vaelin met his eyes,

seeing fear and anger butsomething more, somethingthatmadehimrelaxhisgrip:defiance. The boy had prideenough not to be a victim tohisfear.Vaelinsawhowtrulyragged and threadbare theboys clothes were and themud covering his bare feet.Maybeprideisallhehas.

“I’m going to put you

down,” he told the boy. “Ifyou run I’ll catch you.” Hepulled the boy closer untilthey were face to face. “Doyoubelieveme?”

The boy shrank back alittle, head bobbing. “Uhhuh.”

Vaelin set him downand released his wrist. Hesaw the boy fight theinstinctive impulse to run,rubbing his wrist and edging

back a little. “What’s yourname?”Vaelinaskedhim.

“Frentis,” the boyreplied cautiously. “What’syours?”

“Vaelin Al Sorna.”There was a flicker ofrecognitionintheboy’sgaze.Evenhe,atthebottomofthepile in the city’s hierarchy,hadheardof theBattleLord.“Here,” Vaelin fished athrowing knife from his

pocket and tossed it to theboy. “It’s all I have to trade.You get another two whenyoushowmethegallows.”

The boy peered at theknifecuriously.“Whassis?”

“Aknife,youthrowit.”“Couldja’ kill someone

withit?”“Only after a lot of

practice.”Theboytouchedthetip

of theknife, tuttingpainfully

and licking his bloodiedfinger when he discovered itwas sharper than it looked.“Youteachme,”hemumbledaroundhisfingers.“TeachmehowtothrowitandI’llshowyathegallows.”

“After,” Vaelin said,seeing the boy’s distrust headded,“mywordonit.”

The word of the Orderseemed tocarrysomeweightwithFrentisandhissuspicion

receded, but not completely.“This way,” he said, turningand moving into the crowd.“Stayclose.”

Vaelinfollowedtheboythrough the mass of people,sometimes losing him amidstthe crush only to find him afew steps on, standingimpatientlyandmutteringforhimtokeepup.

“Don’t they teach yahow to followfolk then?”he

asked as they struggledthrough a particularly thickknot of spectators at adancingbearshow.

“They teach us how tofight,”Vaelinreplied.“I’m…unused to so many people. Ihaven’t been to the city forfouryears.”

“Lucky bastard. I’dgivemerightnuttoneverseethisdumpagain.”

“You’ve never been

anywhereelse?”Frentisgavehimalook

that told him he was verystupid.“Ohyeah,gotmeownriver barge I ‘av. GoanywhereIplease.”

Itseemedtotakeanageof struggling through thecrowd before Frentis halted,pointing at a wooden framerisingabovethethrongaboutahundredyardsaway.“Therey’go. That’s where they’ll

stretch the poor sod’s neck.What they killin’ ‘im foranyway?”

“I don’t know,”Vaelinreplied honestly. He handedtheboythetwokniveshehadpromised. “Come to theOrder House on Eltrianevening and I’ll teach youhowtousethem.Waitbythenorthgate,I’llfindyou.”

Frentis nodded, theknives quickly disappearing

into his rags. “You gonnawatchitthen?Thehanging.”

Vaelin moved awayfrom him, eyes scanning thecrowd.“Ihopenot.”

Hesearchedforagoodquarter hour, checking everyface,watchingforanysignofNortah, finding nothing. Heshouldn’t have beensurprised;theyallknewwaysof avoiding searching eyes,subtle ways of making

oneself unrecognisable andjust another body in thecrowd. He paused by apuppet show, feeling amounting knot of panicbuilding in his gut.Where ishe?

“Oh, blessed souls ofthe Departed,” the puppeteerwas saying in a mock tragictone, his expert handsworkingthestrings,mouldingthewoodendoll on the stage

into a pose of despair. “Everhave I been Faithless, buteven a wretch such as Ideservesnotthisfate.”

Kerlis the Faithless.Vaelinknewthestory,itwasone of his mother’sfavourites. Kerlis denied theFaith and was cursed to liveforever until the Departedconsented toallowhimentrytotheBeyond.Itwassaidhestill wandered the land,

seeking his Faith but neverfindingit.

“You have made yourfate, Faithless one,” intonedthe puppeteer, bobbing thecollection of wooden headsthatrepresentedtheDeparted.“We do not judge you. Youjudge yourself. Find yourFaith and we will welcomeyou…”

Vaelin, momentarilydistracted by the puppeteer’s

skill and the craftsmanshipevident in the dolls, forcedhimself to turn back to thecrowd.Look,he toldhimself,Concentrate. He’s here. Hehastobe.

His survey stoppedwhen a face in the audiencecaughthisattention,amaninhis thirties with lean, strongfeatures and a sad gaze. Afamiliar gaze. Erlin! Vaelinstared in astonishment. He

camebackhere.Ishemad?Erlin seemed

completelyraptbythepuppetshow, his sad gaze utterlyabsorbed. Vaelin puzzledover what to do. Speak tohim? Ignore him?… Killhim?Dark thoughts flickeredthrough his head, driven bypanic. I helped him and thegirl. If they catch him… Itwas the image of the girl’sfaceand the feelofher scarf

around his neck that forcedsanityback intohis thoughts.Walkaway,hedecided.Saferifyouneversawhim…

Erlin looked up then,his eyes meeting his,widening into alarmedrecognition.Heglancedonceback at the puppet show, hisexpression an unreadableconfusion of emotion, thenturned and disappeared intothecrowd.Vaelinwasseized

by a compulsion to followhim,findoutifSellawaswellbut as he started forward ashout erupted behind himfollowed by the sound ofclashing blades. It was fiftyyardsaway,nearthegallows.

A crowd was knottedaround the scene of thedisturbance and he had toforce his way through,drawing grunts of pain andinsults as his desperation

madehimlessthangentle.“What was he doing?”

someone in the crowd wassaying.

“Trying to get throughthe cordon,” another voicesaid.“Oddestthing.Notwhatyouexpectfromabrother.”

“Thinkthey’llhanghimtoo?”

Finally he was throughthe thronganddrewupshortat the scene before him.

There were five of them,soldiers of the Twenty-Seventh Cavalry judging bytheblacktail-feathersintheirtunicswhich gave them theirinformal name: theBlackhawks. Reputedly afavourite with the Kingbecause of their serviceduring the wars ofunification, the Blackhawkswere often given the honourof policing public events or

ceremonials.Oneofthem,thelargest, had Nortah by thethroat, a beefy arm wrappedaroundhisneckastwoofhiscomrades attempted torestrain him. A fourth manstoodback a little, his swordraised, poised for a strike.“Holdthebastardstill,Faith’ssake!” he shouted. They allbore bruises or cuts showingNortah had not been easilycaptured. A fifth man was

kneeling nearby, clutching ata bloody wound in his arm,his face grey with pain andtense with fury. “Kill thefucker!” he snarled. “He’sbloodycrippledme!”

Seeingthemanwiththesword draw his arm backfurther Vaelin acted withoutthought. His one remainingthrowing knife left his handbeforeheknewhehaddrawnit. It was the finest throw he

had evermanaged, the bladecatching the swordsman justbelow the wrist. The sworddropped to the groundinstantly, itsownergaping inshock at the shiny piece ofmetalimpalinghislimb.

Vaelin was alreadymoving, his sword hissingfrom the scabbard on hisback.OneofthemenholdingNortah’s arms released himasVaelincharged,scrabbling

athisbeltforhisownsword.Nortah saw the opportunityand brought his elbow roundto smash into the soldier’sface,makinghimstaggerintoVaelin’s flying kick. Hestumbled a few more paces,blood streaming thickly fromhis nose and mouth, beforecollapsing heavily to theearth.

Nortah snatched athrowing knife from his belt

and stabbed backwards,sinking the blade deep intothe thighof themanchokinghis neck, forcing him torelease his hold. Vaelinmoved in and dropped himwith a blow to the templefrom his sword hilt. Theremaining Blackhawk hadreleased his hold on Nortahandwasbackingaway,sworddrawn, the trembling pointflickingbetweenthem.

“You’re…” hestammered.“You’rebreakingthe King’s peace. You’reunderarr-”

Nortah moved withblinding speed, duckingunder the sword andsmashing his fist into theman’s face. Two morepunchesandhewasdown.

“Hawks?” Nortah spaton the unconscious soldier.“Morelikesheep.”Heturned

to Vaelin, a hystericaldesperation shining in hiseyes. “Thank you brother.Come,” he turned awaywildly. “We have to rescuemyfa-”

Vaelin’sblowtookhimunder the ear, a techniquethey had learned after muchpainful tutelageunderMasterIntris, it rendered the victimunconscious but withoutlastingdamage.

Vaelinkneltdownnextto his friend, checking thepulse in his neck. “I’m sorrybrother,”hewhisperedbeforesheathing his sword andgatheringhimup,hoistinghisinert form over his shoulderwithdifficulty.Hewasbiggerthan Nortah but still hisbrother’s weight was asubstantial burden as hemovedtowardsthecordonofstunned spectators. Not one

of them said a word as hegestured for them to makeway.

“Holdthere!”ashoutedcommand breaking thesilencelikeglass,thecrowd’sshock giving way to suddenbabble of incomprehensionandamazement.

“Beat fiveBlackhawks,justthetwoofthem…”

“Neverseenthelike…”“It’s treason to strike a

soldier. King’s edict saidso…”

“HOLD!” the voiceagain, cutting through thenoise. Looking round Vaelinsawamountedfigurekickinghishorseforwardthroughthecrush, occasionally layingabout himself with a ridingcrop to speed progress.“Makeway!”hecommanded.“King’s business. Makeway!”

Emerging from thethronghedrewhismountupand Vaelin saw him clearly.A tall man on a black warhorse, a thoroughbred ofRenfaelin stock. He wore aceremonial uniform with ablackfeather inhis tunicandtheshort-plumedhelmetofanofficer on his head, beneaththe visor the rider’s lean,clean-shaven face was hardwith fury. The single four

pointed star on his breast-plate depicted his rank: LordMarshalof theRealmGuard.Behind the mounted man atroop of Blackhawks on footemerged and fanned out,swords drawn, pushing thecrowdbackwith theaidof afewkicksandpunches.Someofthemtendedtotheirfallencomrades, casting vengefulglances atVaelin as theydidso. The man with Vaelin’s

knife through his wrist wasweepingopenlyinpain.

Seeing no avenue ofescape, Vaelin gently laidNortah on the earth andsteppedaway,carefultokeephimself between his friendandthemanonthehorse.

“What is this?” themarshaldemanded.

“IanswertotheOrder,”Vaelinreplied.

“You’ll answer to me,

OrderwhelporI’llstringyoufromthenearest treebyyourguts.”

Vaelin resisted theimpulsetodrawhisswordassome of the Blackhawksmoved closer. He knew hecouldn’t fight them all, notwithout killing a few whichwasunlikelytohelpNortah.

“Might I know yourname,mylord?”heenquired,desperately playing for time

and hoping his voice didn’ttremble.

“I’ll know your namefirst,whelp.”

“Vaelin Al Sorna.Brother of the Sixth Order,awaitingconfirmation.”

The name ran throughthe crowd like a wave.“Sorna…”

“Battlelord’sboy…”“Should’ve known,

spittingimage…”

The rider’s eyesnarrowedat thenamebuthisfurious expression remainedfirmly in place. “Lakrhil AlHestian,” he said. “LordMarshal of the Twenty-Seventh Regiment of HorseandSwordoftheRealm.”Henudged his mount closer,peering down at Nortah’sinertform.“Andhim?”

“Brother Nortah,”Vaelinsaid.

“I’m told he tried torescuethetraitor.WhywouldabrotheroftheOrderdosuchathing,Iwonder?”

He knows, Vaelinrealised. He knows whoNortah is. “I couldn’t say,LordMarshal,”hereplied.“Isaw my brother about to bemurderedandpreventedit.”

“Murdered my arse!”one of the Blackhawks spat,face flushedwith anger. “He

wasresistinglawfularrest.”“He is of the Order,”

Vaelin spoke to Al Hestian.“Like me.We answer to theOrder.Ifyoubelievewehavetransgressed you must takethemattertoourAspect.”

“All are subject toKing’sLaw,boy,”AlHestianreplied evenly. “Brothers,soldiers and Battle Lords.”He stared hard into Vaelin’seyes. “And you and your

brotherwillanswertoit.”Hemotioned his men forward.“Keep you hands clear ofyourweapons, boy, or you’llbe answering to theDeparted.”

Vaelin reached back tograsp his sword hilt as theBlackhawks advanced.Perhaps ifhewoundeda fewhe could create enoughconfusion to escape into thecrowd with Nortah. There

could be no return to theOrder after this, nowelcomefor those that fought theRealm Guard. Life as anoutlaw, Vaelin pondered.Can’tbethatbad.

“Easynow,lad,”oneofthe Blackhawks warned, aveteran sergeant with aweather beaten face. Headvanced slowly, his swordheld low,adagger inhis lefthand.Seeingthewayhisfeet

moved and the easy balanceof his stance Vaelin judgedhimtobethemostdangerousof his opponents. “Leave thesword where it is,” thesergeantcontinued.“Noneedforanymorebloodhere.Youletustakeyouinandit’llallget sorted out, nice andcivilised.”

Seeingthewaryfuryinthe faces of the otherBlackhawks, Vaelin judged

that the treatment he andNortah would receive wouldbeanythingbutcivilised.

“I’ve no wish to spillany blood,” he told thesergeant, drawing his sword.“ButIwillifyoumakeme.”

“The hour drags everonwards, sergeant,” AlHestian drawled, leaningforward in his saddle. “Endthis…”

“Well here’s a pretty

picture!” a voiced boomedfrom the crowd, the throngparting amidst shouts ofprotestasthreefiguresforcedtheirwaythrough.

Vaelin felt a tug at hisheart. It wasBarkus, flankedbyCaenisandDentos.Barkuswas smiling at the Crows, apicture of affability. Bycontrast Caenis and Dentosstared at them with the flatconcentrated aggression they

had learned through years ofhard training. They all hadtheirswordsdrawn.

“A pretty pictureindeed!” Barkus went on asthe three of them fell inbeside Vaelin. “A brace ofHawks all lined up forplucking.”

“Get out of here boy!”Al Hestian spat at Barkus.“Thisisnotyourconcern.”

“Heard the

commotion,” Barkus toldVaelin, ignoring Al Hestian.He glanced back at Nortah’sinert form. “Snuck out didhe?”

“Yes. They’re going toexecutehisfather.”

“We heard,” Caenissaid.“Badbusiness.Theysayhewasagoodman.Still, theKingisjustandmusthavehisreasons.”

“Tell that to Nortah,”

Dentos said. “Poor bastard.Didtheydothattohim?”

“No,” Vaelin said.“Couldn’t think of anotherwaytostophim.”

“Master Sollis is goingto beat us forweek,”Dentosgrumbled.

They fell silent,watching the Blackhawkswhostaredback,facesfullofmalevolentanger,butmakingnomovetoadvance.

“They’re afraid,”Caenisobserved.

“They should be,”Barkussaid.

Vaelin risked a glanceat Al Hestian. Clearly not aman used to being baulkedthe marshal was visiblyshakingwithfury.“You!”Hestabbedafingeratoneofthecavalrymen. “Find CaptainHintil. Tell him to bring hiscompany.”

“A whole company!”Barkus sounded cheerful atthe prospect. “You do usmuchhonour,mylord!”

A few people in thecrowd laughed making AlHestian’s rage even morepalpable. “You’ll all beflayed for this!” he shouted,his voice nearly a scream.“Don’timaginetheKingwillgrantyouaneasydeath!”

“Speakingformyfather

again,LordMarshal?”Atall,redhairedyoung

man had emerged from themass of onlookers. Hisclothes were modest butfinely made and there wassomething strange about theway the crowd parted beforehim, each citizen’s eyesaverted, heads bowed, a feweven dropping to one knee.Vaelinwas shockedwhenheturnedbackandfoundCaenis

and the Crows all doing thesame.

“Kneel brothers!”Caenis hissed. “Honour theprince.”

Prince?Looking at thetallmanagainVaelinrecalledtheseriousyouthhehadseenat theKing’spalacesomanyyears before. Prince Malciushadgrownalmost as tall andbroad as his father. Vaelinlooked for soldiers of the

RoyalGuard but saw no-oneaccompanying the prince. Aprince who walks aloneamongst his people, hethought,puzzled.

“Vaelin!” Caeniswhisperedinsistently.

Ashemadetokneeltheprince waved his hand. “Noneed brother. Please rise, allof you.” He smiled at thekneeling multitude. “Theground is muddy. Now then

my lord,” he turned to AlHestian. “What manner ofdisturbanceisthis?”

“A traitorous outrage,Highness,” Al Hestian saidforcefully,risingfromabow,his left knee caked in mud.“Theseboysattackedmymenin an effort to rescue theprisoner.”

“You bloody liar!”Barkus exploded. “We cameto help our brothers when

theyhadbeenattacked…”Hefell silent as the prince heldup his hand.Malcius pausedand surveyed the scene,taking in the woundedBlackhawks and Nortah’sunconsciousform.

“You brother,” he saidto Vaelin. “Are you a traitorastheLordMarshalclaims?”Vaelin noted his eyes barelyleftNortah.

“I am no traitor,

Highness,” Vaelin replied,trying to keep any trace offear or anger from his voice.“Neither are my brothers.They are here only in mydefence.Ifananswermustbegiven forwhat has happenedhere then it ismine alone tomake.”

“And your fallenbrother.” Prince Malciusmovedcloser,staringdownatNortahwithanodd intensity.

“Should he make an answertoo?”

“His… actions weredriven by grief,” Vaelinfaltered. “He will answer toourAspect.”

“Ishebadlyhurt?”“A blow to the head,

Highness.Heshouldwake inanhourorso.”

Theprincecontinuedtostare down at Nortah for amomentlongerbeforeturning

away, saying softly, “Whenhe wakes tell him I grievetoo.”

He moved away andaddressed Al Hestian. “Thisis a very serious business,LordMarshal.Veryserious.”

“IndeedHighness.”“So serious that full

resolution will take so muchtime as to delay theexecution,somethingIshouldhate to explain to the King.

Unlessyouwishtodoso.”Al Hestian’s eyes

briefly met the Prince’s, thelight of mutual enmityshiningclearly.“Ishouldhateto intrudeon theKing’s timeneedlessly,” he gratedthroughclenchedteeth.

“I am grateful for yourconsideration.” PrinceMalcius turned to theCrows.“Take thesewoundedmen tothe royal pavilion, they will

have the care of the King’sphysician. Lord Marshal, Ihear there are some riotousdrunkards near the west gateinneedofyourattentions.Donot let me detain youfurther.”

Al Hestian bowed andremounted.Guidinghishorsepast Vaelin and the otherswith the promise ofretribution writ large in hisface. “Out of the way!” he

shouted, his riding croplashing at the crowd as heforcedhiswaythrough.

“Take your brotherback to the Order,” PrinceMalcius told Vaelin. “Makesure you tell your Aspectwhat occurred here, lest hehearitfromotherlipsfirst.”

“We will Highness,”Vaelin assured him, bowingaslowashecould.

A hundred yards away

a steady, monotonousdrumbeat was sounding, thecrowd falling silent as thebeat increased in volume.Vaelin could see a row ofspear points rising above thethrong, moving in time withthedrum,drawingevercloserto the dark silhouette of thegallows.

“Take him away!” thePrince commanded.“Senseless or not, he should

notbehere.”It was as they made

their way through the silentcrowd, Vaelin and Caeniscarrying Nortah, Dentos andBarkusforcingapassage,thatthe drumbeat stopped. Therewasasilenceso thickVaelincould feel the anticipationlike a weight pressing himinto the earth. There was adistant clatter then aneruption of cheering,

thousands of fists raised inthe air in triumph,manic joyoneveryface.

Caenis surveyed thecelebratingcrowdwithnakeddisgust. Vaelin couldn’t hearthewordhemouthedbut theshape of his lips carried themeaning clearly enough:“Scum.”

Nortahdisappearedinto

the care of the masters as

soon as theywerewithin thewalls of the Order House. Itwas obvious from theguarded looks of the otherboys and the glares of themasters that word of theiradventure had sped ahead oftheirreturn.

“We’ll see to him,”Master Checkrin said,relieving them of Nortah’sburden, lifting him easily inhis muscle thick arms. “You

lot get to your room.Do notcome out until ordered. Donot talk to anyone untilordered.”

To ensure theinstruction was followedMasterHaunlin accompaniedthem to the north tower, theburntman’susualpassionforsongevidentlyquelledbythecircumstances. When thedoor slammed behind themVaelin was sure the master

was waiting outside. Are weprisonersnow?hewondered.

In the room they setasidetheirgearandwaited.

“Did you get myboots?”VaelinaskedCaenis.

“Ididn’tgetthechance.Sorry.”

Vaelin shrugged. Thesilencestretched.

“Barkusnearlyshaggeda tart behind the ale tent,”Dentos blurted. He always

found silence particularlyoppressive.“Rightsaucybintshewastoo.Titslikemelons.Rightbrother?”

Barkus stared balefullyathisbrotherfromacrosstheroom. “Shut up,” he saidflatly.

Moresilence.“Youknowthey’llgive

you your coins if you getcaught?” Vaelin said toBarkus. Occasionally girls

from Varinshold andsurrounding villages turnedup at the gate with swollenbelliesor squalling infants intow.Theguiltybrotherwouldbeforcedintoahastyjoiningceremony conducted by theAspect and given his coinsplusanextratwo,oneforthegirl and one for the child.Oddly, a few boys actuallyseemed happy to be leavingunder such circumstances

althoughotherswouldprotesttheir innocence, but a truthtest by the Second Orderwould soon prove thematteronewayortheother.

“I didn’t bloody doanything,”Barkussputtered.

“You had your tonguedown her throat,” Dentoslaughed.

“I’d had a few ales.Besides,itwasCaenisgettingalltheattention.”

Vaelin turned toCaenis, seeing a slow flushcreeping up his friend’scheeks.“Really?”

“Nothalf.Alloverhimthey were. ‘Ooh, isn’t hepretty?’”

Vaelin suppressed alaugh as Caenis began toblush furiously. “I’m sure heresistedmanfully.”

“I dunno,” Dentosmused.“Afewmoreminutes

Ireckonwe’d’vehadawholetroopofprettybastardsatthegates in nine months time.Lucky some drunk came inand started shouting about afight between theCrows andtheOrder.”

Mention of the fightbrought the silence again. Itwas Barkus who finally saidit: “You don’t think they’llkillhimdoyou?”

The roomwasgrowingdark before the door openedandMasterSollisstrodein,amountainous angerdominating his expression.“Sorna,” he grated. “Comewithme.Therestofyougetameal from the kitchens thengotobed.”

The urge to ask aboutNortah was overwhelmingbutSollis’sthunderousvisagewas enough to keep them

silent. Vaelin followed himdownthestairsandacrossthecourtyardtothewestwall,allthe time watching for anysignofhiscane.Heexpectedto be led to the Aspect’schambers but instead theymade their way to theinfirmary, finding MasterHenthal tending Nortah. Hewas laid in bed, his faceslack, half-lidded eyesunfocused and dimmed.

Vaelin knew the look;sometimes boys withgrievous injurieshadneedofstrong medicine which tookthe pain away but left themoutoftouchwiththeworld.

“Redflower and ShadeBloom,” Master Henthalexplained as Vaelin andSollis entered. “He wasraving when he came round.Gave the Aspect a nastywhack before we got him

undercontrol.”Vaelin moved to the

bed, heart heavy with thesightofhisbrother.Helookssoweak…

“Will he be all right,Master?”heasked.

“Seen it before, ravingand thrashing about. Usuallyhappens tomenwho’ve seenabattletoomany.He’llsleepsoon.Whenhewakeshe’llbeshakybuthimselfagain.”

Vaelin turned to Sollis.“Has the Aspect madejudgement,Master?”

SollisglancedatMasterHenthalwhonoddedand leftthe room. “Judgement is notwarranted,”Sollisreplied.

“We wounded theKing’ssoldiers…”

“Yes. If you had beenmore attentive to myteaching, you might havekilledthem.”

“TheLordMarshal…”“Does not command

here. Nortah disobeyedinstruction for whichpunishment shouldbe levied.However, the Aspect feelspunishment has been leviedalready. As for you, yourdisobedience was in defenceofyourbrother.Judgementisnotrequired.”

MasterSollismoved tothe far side of the bed and

placed a hand againstNortah’s brow. “His fevershould fade when theredflower wears off. He’llfeel it though, feel the painlike a knife, sticking in hisguts, twisting. Pain like thatcan eithermake a boy into aman or a monster. It is myopinion that the Order hasseenenoughofmonsters.”

Vaelin understood itthen; Sollis’s anger. It’s not

us, he realised. It’s what theKing did to Nortah’s father,what that did to Nortah.We’rehisswords,hebeatsusinto shape. The King hasspoiledoneofhisblades.

“MybrothersandIwillguidehim,”Vaelinsaid.“Hispain will be ours. We willhelphimbearit.”

“See that you do.”Sollis looked up, his gazemore intense than usual.

“When a brother goes to thebad there is but one way ofdealingwithhim,andbrothershouldnotkillbrother.”

Nortah came round in

the morning, his groanwaking Vaelin who hadstayedbesidehimthroughthenight.

“What?” Nortah gazedaround with bleary eyes.“What’s this…?” Seeing

Vaelinhefellsilent,thelightof memory returning to hiseyes as his handwent to thelumponthebackofhishead.“Youhitme,”hesaid.Vaelinwatched the dreadfulknowledge flood back,draining Nortah’s face ofcolourandmakinghimslumpunder the weight of hissorrow.

“I’m sorry, Nortah,”Vaelin said. It was all he

couldthinktosay.“Why did you stop

me?” Nortah whisperedthroughtears.

“They would havekilledyou.”

“Then theywouldhavedonemeaservice.”

“Don’t talk like that. Idoubt your father’s soulwould have dwelt happily intheBeyondknowingthatyouhad followed him there so

soon.”Nortahweptsilentlyfor

a while and Vaelin watchedhim, a hundred emptycondolencesdyingonhislips.I don’t have the words, herealised.There are nowordsforthis.

“Did you see it?”Nortahaskedfinally.“Didhesuffer?”

Vaelin thought of theclatter of the trap and the

exultation of the crowd. Afearfulknowledgetotakeintothe Beyond that so manyrejoiced at your death. “Itwasquick.”

“They said he stolefrom the King. My fatherwould never do that, hecherished the King andservedhimwell.”

Vaelin seized on theonly comfort he could offer.“Prince Malcius said to tell

youthathegrievesalso.”“Malcius? He was

there?”“He helped us, made

theCrowsletusgo.Ithoughtthatherecognisedyou.”

Nortah’s expressionsoftened a little, becomingdistant. “When I was a boywe would ride together.Malcius was my father’sstudentandoftencametoourhome.Myfathertaughtmany

boysofthenoblehouses.Hiswisdom in state craft anddiplomacy was famed.”Nortah fumbled for the clothonthetablenearbyandwipedthetearsfromhisface.“WhatistheAspect’sjudgement?”

“He feels you havebeenpunishedenough.”

“Then I am not evengranted the mercy of releasefromthisplace.”

“We were both sent

here at the behest of ourfathers. I have respected myfather’s wishes by stayinghere although I do not knowwhyhegavemetotheOrder.Your father also would havehad good reason for sendingyou here. It was his wish inlife, it will remain his wishnowhe iswith theDeparted.Perhaps you should respectit.”

“So I should languish

here while my father’s landsareforfeitandmyfamilyleftdestitute?”

“Will your family beany lessdestitutewithyouattheir side? Do you haveriches that will help them?Think what kind of life youwouldhaveoutsidetheOrder.You will be the son of atraitor,markedby theKing’ssoldiers for vengeance. Yourfamily will have burdens

enough without you at theirside. The Order is no longeryour prison, it’s yourprotection.”

Nortah sank back intothebed, staringat theceilingin mixed exhaustion andgrief. “Please brother, Imustbealoneforatime.”

Vaelinroseandwenttothedoor.“Rememberyouarenot alone in this. Yourbrotherswillnotallowyouto

fall victim to grief.” Outsidehe lingered at the doorlistening to Nortah’s hard,pain filled sobs. So muchpain.Hewonderedifhisownfather had been on thegallows if he would havefought so hard to save him.WouldIhaveevencried?

That night he collected

Scratchfromthekennelsandtook him to the north gate

where they played fetch theball and waited for the boyFrentis toarrive forhisknifethrowing lesson. Scratchseemed to be growingstronger and fasterwith eachpassing day. Master Jeklin’sdog feed, a hash of mincedbeef, bone marrow andpulped fruit, had put evenmore meat on his frame andhis constant exercise withVaelin left his physique both

lean and powerful. Despitehis fierce appearance andunnerving size, Scratchretainedthesamehappy,facelickingspiritofanovergrownpuppy.

“Don’t you normallytake him to the woods?” ItwasCaenis,slippingfromtheshadows cast by the gatehouse. Vaelin was a littleannoyed at himself for notsensinghisbrother’spresence

but Caenis was unusuallyskilled at remaining hiddenandtookaperversedelightinappearing apparently fromnowhere.

“Do you have to dothat?”Vaelinasked.

“I’mpractising.”Scratch came

scampering up with the ballin his mouth, dropping it atVaelin’s feet and greetingCaenis with a sniff of his

boots. Caenis patted himuncertainlyon thehead.Likethe other brothers he hadneverlosthisbasicfearoftheanimal.

“Nortah still sleeping?”Caenisasked.

Vaelin shook his head.He didn’t want to talk aboutNortah; his brother’s tearshad left a hard knot in hischest that was taking a longtimetofade.

“The coming monthswillbehard,”Caeniswentonwithasigh.

“Aren’t they always?”Vaelin hurled the balltowards the river, Scratchhurtling after itwith a joyfulyelp.“Sorryyoudidn’tgettoseetheking.”

“No, but I saw theprince. That was enough.Whatagreatmanhe’llbe.”

Vaelin gave Caenis a

sidelong glance, seeing thefamiliar glint in his eye. Hehad never been comfortablewith his friend’s blinddevotion to the king. “He…was a very impressive man.I’m sure he’ll be a fine kingoneday.”

“Yes, he’ll lead us toglory.”

“Glory,brother?”“Of course. The king

has ambitions, he wishes to

maketheRealmevengreater,perhaps as great as theAlpiranEmpire.Therewillbebattles, Vaelin. Mighty,glorious battles, and we willseethem,fightthem.”

Warisbloodandshit…there’s no honour in it,Makril’swords.Vaelinknewthey would mean nothing toCaenis. He wasknowledgeable and oftenfrighteningly intelligent but

he was also a dreamer. Hehad a mental library of athousand stories and seemedto believe them all. Heroes,villains,princessesinneedofrescue,monstersandmagicalswords. It all lived in hishead, as vital and real as hisownmemories.

“I think we havedifferent notions of glory,brother,” Vaelin said asScratch came bounding back

withtheballinhisjaws.Theywaitedforanother

hourbuttheboydidn’tcome.“He probably sold the

knives,” Caenis said, afterVaelinhadtoldhimthestory.“He’ll have tanked up ongrog in a gutter somewhere,or gambled it away. Likelyyou’llneverseehimagain.”

They walked back tothestables,VaelintossingtheballintotheairforScratchto

catch. “I’d rather believe hespent the money on shoes,”he said glancing back at thegate.

PartIIWhatisthebody?Thebodyisashell, the

cradleofthesoul.What is the body

withoutthesoul?Corrupted flesh,

nothing more. Mark thepassing of loved ones bygivingtheirshelltothefire.

Whatisdeath?Death isbutagateway

totheBeyondandunionwiththe Departed. It is bothendingandbeginning.Fearitandwelcomeit.

TheCatechismofFaith

Verniers'Account“It was Blood Rose,

wasn’t it?” I asked. “TheLord Marshall at theSummertideFair.”

“Al Hestian? Yes,” theHopeKillerreplied.“Thoughhedidn’tearnthatnameuntilthewar.”

Idrewa lineunder thepassage I had just set down,finding myself nearly out of

ink. “A moment,” I said,rising to open my chest andextract another bottle andsomemore parchment. I hadfilled several pages alreadyand worried that I mightexhaustmysupply.Ihesitatedbefore opening the chest,finding his hateful swordproppedagainstit.Seeingmydiscomforthereachedfortheweapon, resting it on hisknees.

“The Lonak have asuperstition that imbues theirweaponswiththesoulsoftheenemies they kill,” he said.“They give names to theirwarclubs and knives,imagining them possessed oftheDark.Mypeoplehavenosuchillusions.Aswordisjusta sword. It’s the man whokills,nottheblade.”

Why was he telling methis?Didhewantme tohate

him even more? Seeing hisscarred, powerful handresting on the sword hilt Irecalled how Seliesen,following his Naming, hadsubmitted himself to monthsof harsh tutelage under theImperial Guard, becomingproficient, even skilled withsabre and lance. “The Hopemust be a warrior,” he toldme. “The Gods and thepeople expect it.” The

Imperial Guard had takenhim in like one of their ownandhehad riddenwith themagainst the Volarians thesummerbeforeJanussenthisarmiestoourshores,winningplauditsforhiscourageinthemelee. It had availed himnothing against the HopeKiller. I knew the momentwould come when theNorthman would relate whathadhappenedonthatterrible

day, and, even though I hadheard many accounts of theevent,theprospectofhearingit fromAl Sornahimselfwasbothdreadfulandirresistible.

I sat down again andopened the inkbottle, dippedthe quill and smoothed afresh sheet of parchment onthedeck.“TheDark,”Isaid.“What’sthat?”

“Your people call itmagic,Ibelieve.”

“They might, I call itsuperstition. You believe insuchthings?”

There was a moment’spause and I formed theimpression he wasconsidering his next wordscarefully. “There are manyunknown facets of thisworld.”

“There are stories toldof the war, stories thatascribe great and powerful

magic to the Northmen, andto you in particular. Someclaim it was with magic thatyou clouded our soldiers’mindsattheBloodyHill,andthat you stole through thewallsofLineshwithsorcery.”

His mouth twitched infaintamusement.“Therewasnomagic at the BloodyHill,just men possessed of amindless anger hurlingthemselves at certain death.

As forLinesh, a shit stinkingsewer in the harbour hardlycounts as sorcery. Besides,anyRealmGuardofficerwhoeven suggested use of theDark would most likely findhimselfhungfromthenearesttree by his own men. TheDark is believed to beintegral to those forms ofworshipthatdenytheFaith.”

He paused again,looking down at the sword

restinginhis lap.“There’sastory, if you’d like tohear it.Astorywetellourchildrentowarn them against thedangersoftheDark.”

He glanced up at me,eyebrows raised. Although Iconsider myself a historianand not a compiler of mythsand fables, such tales oftenshed some light on the truthof events, if only to illustratethe delusions that many

mistake for reason. “Tellme,”Isaidwithashrug.

When he spoke againhisvoicehadtakenonanewtone, grave but engaging, astoryteller’s voice. “Gatherclose and listen well to thetale of the Witch’s Bastard.This is not a story for thefaint at heart or theweak ofbladder. This is the mostterrible and frightful of talesandwhenIamdoneyoumay

curse my name for everhavinggivenitvoice.

“In the darkest part ofthe darkest woods in oldRenfael, longbefore the timeof the Realm, there stood avillage. And in this villagetheredweltawitch,comelytothe eye but with a heartblacker than the blackestnight.Sweetandkindwasthefacesheofferedtothevillage,butmeanandjealouswasthe

soulbehindit.Foritwaslustthat drove this woman, lustfor flesh, lust for gold andlust for death. TheDark hadtakenheratanearlyageandshe had surrendered to itsvileness with willingabandon, denying the Faithandwinningpowerinreturn,the power to possess men,inflame their desires andhave them commit dreadfulactsinhername.

“First to fall underherspell was the village Factor,agoodandkindman,grownwealthy through thrift andhard work, grown wealthyenough to arouse thewitch’slust. Every day she wouldwander past his place ofbusiness, flaunting herself insubtle ways, stoking theflames of his passion untilthey became a raging fire,burning away his reason,

makinghimpreyforherDarkwhisperedplan:killyourwifeandtakemeinherplace.Andso, one fateful night, hesprinkled the poison knownas Hunter’s Arrow into hiswife’s supper and, come themorn,shebreathednomore.

“Being a woman ofmiddleyearswithahistoryofillness, the passing of theFactor’s wife was taken assimplyanactofnaturebythe

village. But of course thewitchknewbetter,hidingherdelight with tears when theygave the poor murderedwomantothefire,allthetimecallingtotheFactorwithherDarkpower:“lavishgifts onme,andIwillbeyours.”Andgifts he gave her, a finehorse, jewels and gold andsilver, but the witch wasclever and refused it all,making a great show of

outrageat the improprietyofamanpressinghissuitonsoyoungawoman,andsosoonafter his wife’s passing atthat.Howshetormentedhim,calling to him and thenrebuffing his every advance,it wasn’t long before hercruelty unhinged his reasonand, seeking escape from theDarkenslavementofherlust,he stole away into the forestand stretched his neck from

thehighbranchofatalloak,leaving writ word of his illdeedandnamingthewitchasthecauseofhismadness.

“Ofcoursethevillagerswouldn’t believe it, so sweetshewas, so kind.TheFactorwasclearlydrivenmadbyhisown delusion of love for ayounger woman. They gavehim to the fire andendeavoured to forget thisdreadepisode.But,ofcourse,

the witch was not done, forher eye had alighted on thevillage blacksmith, a greathandsome fellow, strong ofarm and strong of heart, buteven his heart could betwistedbyherDarkpower.

“Shehadtakentolivingapart from the villagers, allthebetter topracticehervilearts away from prying eyes.As she could turn a man’sheart this witch could also

turn the wind, and as theblacksmith burned charcoalin the forest, she called anorthern gale to whip snowdown from the mountains,forcing him to seek shelterunder her roof, and there,although he resisted with allhis mighty strength, sheforced him to lie with her, ablack, evil union from whichher dread bastard would beborn.

“It was shame thatbroke her spell, shame of agoodmanforcedtobetrayhiswife, shame that made himdeaftohersweetenticementsthenextmorn,anddeaftothethreats she screamed as hefledbacktothevillagewhere,foolishly, he told no one ofwhathadtranspired.

“And the witch, shewaited. As the black seedgrewinherbelly,shewaited.

Aswintergavewaytospringand the crops grew tall, shewaited. And then, when thescythes were sharpened forharvestandher foulcreationclawed from between herlegs,sheacted.

“It was a storm unlikeany seen before or since,heraldedbyashencloudsthatcovered the whole sky fromnorth to south, east to west,bringing wind and rain in

terribleabundance.Forthreeweeks the rain fell and thewind blew and the villagershuddled in fearful miseryuntil,whenatlastitwasover,they ventured into the fieldsto find every acre a wastedruin. The only crop theywould reap that year wouldbehunger.

“They looked to theforest, seeking game to filltheir bellies, but finding all

thebeastsdrivenoffbysomeDark whisper of the witch.The children cried to be sohungry, the old peoplesickened and, one by one,began to pass into theBeyond, and all the time thewitch kept to her smallcottage in thewoods, for sheand her bastard always hadplentytoeat,unwittingbeastscouldbeeasilysnaredbyonesowellversedintheDark.

“Itwasthedeathoftheblacksmith’s beloved motherthat finally drove the truthfrom him. Confess he did tothegatheredvillagers,tellingthem all of the witch’sdesigns and how he hadfallen under her spell to sirethe well-fed bastard shecarried through the forest,mocking their starvingyoungwith his happy laughter. Thevillagers voted and none

disagreed: thewitchmust bedrivenout.

“Atfirstshetriedtouseher power to assuage them,castingliesattheblacksmith,accusing him of the mostterrible of crimes: rape. Buther power had no effect nowthey could see the truth, nowthey could hear the venomthat coloured every lie shetold, the evil glint in her eyeshowing the vileness hidden

behindherprettyface.Andsowith torches flaming theydrove her forth, her cottageburned by their righteousanger as she fled into theforest, clutching her vilewhelp to her breast, allpretence gone as she cursedthem… and promisedrevenge.

“And so, while thevillagers returned to theirhomes and tried best they

could to survive the comingwinter,thewitchsoughtoutahiding place in the darkreachesof the forest,aplacewhere no foot had steppedbefore, and began to teachher spawn the ways of theDark.

“Years passed, thevillage buried its dead andrefused todie.Yearswentbyand the witch became but amemory then a story told on

cold nights to frightenchildren.Thecropsgrew,theseasons passed and allseemed right with the worldonce more. How blind theywere, how naked before thecoming storm. For the witchhad made a monster of herbastard, seemingly but ascrawny, ragged boy gonewildinthewoods,butintruthpossessedofall theDarkshecouldpourintohim,firstwith

the taintedmilkofherbreastthenthewhisperedtutelageintheir stinking refuge andfinally with her own blood.For she had sacrificedherself, this witch, this hatefilled woman, when he hadgrownoldenoughshe tookaknife to her wrists and badehim drink. And drink he did,hardanddeepuntilthewitchwas but a husk, gone to thenothingness that awaits the

unfaithful but succoured bythe knowledge of herimpendingvengeance.

“He started with theiranimals,belovedpetstakeninthe dead of night and foundtormented to death on themorn. Then heifers or pigswere taken, their severedheadsimpaledonfencepostsateachcornerof thevillage.Fearful, ignorant of the truedangerthatassailedthem,the

villagers set watches, littorches, kept weapons closetohandwhendarknesscame.Itavailedthemnothing.

“After the beasts hecame for the children,tottering infants and babesstill in their cribs, any hecould take he took, andgruesome was their fate.Enraged, maddened theyscoured the forest, hunterssought tracks, every known

hiding place checked, trapsset to ensnare this unseenmonster.They foundnothing,and on it went, through theautumn and into winter, thenightly toll of torture anddeathcontinued.Andthen,aswinter’s chill gripped them,he finally made himselfknown, simply walking intothe village at noon. By nowtheir fear was so great nohand was lifted against him,

and they begged. Theybeggedfortheirchildrenandtheir lives, they offered allthey had if he would justleavetheminpeace.

“And the Witch’sBastardlaughed.Itwasnotalaughanynormalchildcouldmake,nora laugh thatcouldhave come from any humanthroat. And with that laugh,theyknewtheyweredoomed.

“He called forth the

lightning and the villageburned.Thepeoplefledtotheriver but he swelled it withrainuntilthebanksburstandcarried them away. Still hisvengeancewasnotsatedandhe brought down a blast ofwind from the far north toencasetheminice.Andwhenthe ice had set, he walkedacross it until he found theface of his father theblacksmith, frozen in terror

foralltime.“No one knows what

became of him, althoughsome say on the coldestnights, in a place where it’ssaidavillageoncestood,youcan hear laughter echoingthroughthewoods,forthatishowit iswiththosewhogivethemselves over to the Darkso completely, release fromlife is denied them, and theBeyond closed to them for

evermore.”Al Sorna fell silent, his

expression thoughtful as hereturned his gaze to thesword in his lap. I had asense that he attached someimportance to this lurid tale,something in thegravitywithwhich he had related thestoryspokeofasignificanceIcouldn’t discern. “Youbelievethisstory?”Iasked.

“They say all myths

have some kernel of truth attheirheart.Perhapsintime,alearned fellow likeyoucouldfindthetruthinthisone.”

“Folklore is not myfield.” I set aside theparchment uponwhich I hadset down the tale of theWitch’s Bastard. It would beseveralyearsbeforeIread itagain, by which time I hadgood cause to bitterly regretnotfollowinghissuggestion.

I reached for freshpages, looking at himexpectantly.

Hesmiled.“Letme tellyouhow I first came tomeetKingJanus.”

Chapter1They began riding late

in the month of Prensur.Their horses were allstallions, no more than twoyears old, youthful mountsfor youthful riders. Thepairing was done underMasterRensial’ssupervision,his more extreme behaviourthankfully in check today,although he muttered

constantly to himself as heled each of them to theirmount.

“Yes, tall, yes,” hemused, surveying Barkus.“Need strength.” He tuggedBarkusby the sleeve and ledhim to the largest of thehorses, a hefty chestnutstallion standing at leastseventeen hands. “Brush hiscoat,checkhisshoes.”

Caenis was led to a

fleet looking dark brownstallion andDentos a sturdy,dappledgrey.Nortah’smountwas almost completely blackwith a blaze of white on hisforehead. “Fast,” MasterRensialmuttered.“Fast rider,fast horse.” Nortah regardedhis horse in silence, hisreaction tomost things sincehisreturnfromtheinfirmary.Their constant attempts toengage him in conversation

were met with shrugs orblank indifference. The onlytimeheseemedtocomealivewas on the practice field,displaying a new foundferocitywithswordandpole-axe that left themall bruisedorcut.

Vaelin’s own mountturned out to be a sturdy,russetcolouredstallionwithaclusterofscarsonhisflanks.“Broken,” Master Rensial

told him. “Not bred. Wildhorse from the north lands.Still got some spirit left,needsguidance.”

Vaelin’shorsebareditsteeth at him and whinniedloudly, the shower of spitmaking him step back. Hehadn’t ridden a horse sinceleavinghisfather’shouseandfound the prospect oddlydaunting.

“Care for them today,

ride them tomorrow,”MasterRensial was saying. “Wintheir trust. They will carryyou through war, withouttheir trust you will die.” Hestopped talking and, seeinghis eyes take on theunfocused cast that signifiedanother onset of rambling orviolence, they quickly ledtheirmountstothestablesforgrooming.

They began to ride the

next morning and did littleelse for the next fourweeks.Nortah, having ridden froman early age, was by far thebest horseman, beating themall in every race andtraversing the most difficultcourse Master Rensial coulddevise with relative ease.Only Dentos could competewithhim,takingtothesaddlelikeanatural.“Usedtogotothe races every month in

summertime,” he explained.“Me mum would make apacket betting onme. Said Icould get a race out of acarthorse.”

Caenis and Vaelinprovedadequateifnotexpertriders and Barkus learnedquickly although itwas clearhe didn’t relish the lessons.“My arse feels like it’s beenhit with a thousandhammers,” he groaned one

night,loweringhimselftohisbedfacedown.

Theotherssoonbecamebonded to their horses,naming them and getting toknow their ways. Vaelincalled his horse Spit, sincethat was all the animal everseemed to do when heattemptedtowinhistrust.Hewasperenniallybadtemperedwith a tendency towardswaywardhoovesandsudden,

bruising lurches of the head.Attempts to court his favourwith sugar sticks or applesdid nothing to assuage thebeast’s basic aggression.Theonly comfort in the pairingwas the fact that Spit waseven more badly behavedtowards theothers.Whateverhis character faults the beastproved fast at the gallop andfearless in practice, oftensnapping at the othermounts

as they charged each otherandnevershyingawayfromamelee.

Their lessons inmounted combat proved agruelling affair as theyattempted to unseat eachother with lance or sword.Nortah’s horsemanship andnew found love of the fightmeantmanytumblesfromthesaddle and more than a fewminor injuries. They also

begantolearnthedifficultartof mounted archery, anecessaryelementoftheTestof the Horse which theywould have to pass in lessthanayear.Vaelinfoundthebow a hard discipline at thebest of times but attemptingtosinkashaftintoahaybalefrom twenty yards whilsttwisting in a saddle wasalmost impossible.Nortahontheotherhandhitthemarkon

hisfirsttryandhadn’tmissedsince.

“Can you teach me?”Vaelin asked him, chagrinedby another disastrouspractice. “Master Rensial’sinstruction is often hard tofollow.”

Nortah stared at himwiththeemptypassivitytheyhad come to expect. “That’sbecause he’s a gibberingloon,”hereplied.

“He’sclearlyatroubledman,” Vaelin agreed with asmile. Nortah said nothing.“So, any help you couldprovide...”

Nortah shrugged. “Ifyouwish.”

It turned out there wasno real trick to it, justpractice. Every day theywouldspendanhourormoreafter the evening meal withVaelin consistently failing to

hit the target and Nortahcoaching him. “Don’t rise sohighinthesaddlebeforeyouloose… Make sure you getthestringbacktoyourchin…Only loose when you feelyour mount’s hooves leavethe ground… Don’t aim solow…” It took five daysbefore Vaelin could put ashaft in the hay bale andanother three before his aimwas true enough to find the

markatalmosteverypass.“My thanks, brother,”

he said one night as theywalked their mounts back tothe stables. “I doubt Iwouldhave picked it up withoutyourhelp.”

Nortah gave him anunreadable glance. “I owedyouadebt,didInot?”

“Wearebrothers.Debtsmeannothingbetweenus.”

“Tellme,doyoureally

believe all this tripe youspout?”Therewasnovenomin Nortah’s tone, just vaguecuriosity.“Wecalleachotherbrother but we share noblood.We’rejustboysforcedtogetherby thisOrder.Don’tyou ever wonder what itwould have been like if wehad met on the outside?Would we have been friendsthen,orenemies?Ourfatherswere enemies, did you know

that?”Hoping silence would

end the conversation, Vaelinshookhishead.

“Oh yes. When I wasyoung I found a secret placeinmy father’shousewhere Icouldlistentothemeetingsinhis study. He spoke of yourfather often, and not withkindness. He said he was ajumped up peasant with nomore brains than an axe

blade. He said Sorna shouldhave been kept in a lockedroom until war required hisservice and couldn’t fathomwhytheKingeverlistenedtothecounselofsuchanoaf.”

They were halted now,facing each other. Nortah’seyes were bright with thefamiliar hunger for combat.Sensing the tension Spittossed his head and nickeredinanticipation.

“You seek to provokeme, brother,” Vaelin said,patting his horse’s neck tocalm him. “But you forget, Ihavenofather,soyourwordsmean nothing. Why is it theonlyjoyyoushowthesedaysis in battle? Why do youhunger for it so? Does itmakeyouforget?Doesiteaseyourpain?”

Nortah tugged hishorse'sreinsandresumedthe

walk to the stables. “It easesnothing.Butitdoesmakemeforget,forawhileatleast.”

Vaelin kicked Spit intoa canter, overtaking Nortah.“Then mayhap a race willhelp you forget too.” Hespurred into a gallop andheaded for the main gate.Naturally,Nortahbeathimbya clear length, but he wassmilingwhenhedidso.

Itwaslateinthemonthof Jenislasur, a week afterVaelin’s uncelebratedfifteenth birthday, when hewas called to the Aspect’schambers.

“What now?” Dentoswondered. They were at themorning meal and he spatbreadcrumbsacrossthetableas he spoke. Table mannerswere a lesson too far forDentos. “He must like you,

you’re never away from hisrooms.”

“Vaelin is theAspect’sfavourite,” Barkus said in amockserioustone.“Everyoneknows that. He’ll be Aspecthimself one day, you markmywords.”

“Piss off the pair ofyou,” Vaelin responded,stuffinganappleinhismouthasherosefromthe table.Hehad no idea why he was

called to theAspect, likely itwas a another sensitivequestion regarding his fatheroranewthreattohislife.Hewas often surprised at howthepassageoftimehadmadehim immune to such fears.Hisnightmareshadabated inrecent months and he couldlookbackon thedark eventsduring the Test of the Runwithcoldreflection,althoughhisdispassionate scrutinydid

nothingtodispelthemystery.He had munched his

waythroughmostofthefruitby the time he got to theAspect’s door and concealedthe core in his cloak beforeknocking.HewouldfeedittoSpitlater,doubtlessearningashower of slobber as areward.

“Comein,brother,”theAspect’s voice came throughthedoor.

Inside the Aspect wasstanding next to the narrowwindow affording a view ofthe river, smiling his slightsmile.Vaelin’snodofrespectwas cut short by the sight ofthe room’s other occupant: askeletally thinboydressed inrags with bare, mud-stainedfeetdanglingovertheedgeofthe chair in which he wasuncomfortablyperched.

“That’s ‘im!” Frentis

said, jumping to his feet asVaelin entered. “That’s thebrother that in-inspiratedme!BattleLord’sson‘eis.”

“He is no-one’s son,boy,”theAspecttoldhim.

Vaelin swore inwardly,closing the door. Givingknives to a street urchin, ashamefulepisode.Notwhatisexpectedofabrother…

“Doyouknowthisboy,brother?” the Aspect

enquired.Vaelin glanced at

Frentis, seeing eagernessunder a mask of dirt. “Yes,Aspect.Hewasof assistanceto me during a recent…difficulty.”

“Y’see?” Frentis saidurgently to theAspect.“Toldya’!Toldya’heknewme.”

“Thisboyhasrequestedentry to the Order,” theAspect went on. “Will you

vouchforhim?”Vaelin stared at Frentis

in appalled surprise. “YouwanttojointheOrder?”

“Yeh!” Frentis said,nearly jumping withexcitement. “Wanna join.Wannabeabrother.”

“Are you - ?” Vaelinchokedoffattheword“mad”andtookadeepbreathbeforeaddressing the Aspect.“Vouchforhim,Aspect?”

“This boy has nofamily, no one to speak forhimor formallyplacehim inthe hands of the Order. Ourrules demand that all boyswho join must be vouchedfor, either by a parent or, inthe case of an orphan, asubject of recognised goodcharacter. The boy hasnominatedyou.”

Vouched for? No-onehad told him this. “Was I

vouchedfor,Aspect?”“Ofcourse.”Myfatherspoketothem

before he brought me here.How many days or weeksbefore had he arranged it?How longhadhe knownandnottoldme?

“Tell ‘im I can be abrother,” Frentis was saying.“Tell‘imIhelpedyou.”

Vaelin drew a heavybreathandlookeddownatthe

frantic desperation inFrentis’seyes.“MayIhaveamoment alone with this boy,Aspect?”

“Verywell.Ishallbeinthemainkeep.”

After he had gone,Frentis started again, “Yagotta tell ‘im. Tell ‘im I canbeabrother…”

“Doyou think this is agame?” Vaelin cut in,stepping close to grasp the

rags covering Frentis’snarrow chest, pulling himclose. “What do you wanthere? Safety, food, shelter?Don’t you know what thisplaceis?”

Frentis’s eyes werewide with fear as he shrankback, his voice small now,“’S where they train thebrothers.”

“Yes they train us.They beat us, they make us

fight each other every day,theyputus through tests thatmight kill us. I have fifteenyears and more scars on mybody than any seasonedsoldier in the Realm Guard.There were ten boys in mygroup when I started here,now there are five.What areyouaskingme for?Toagreeto your death?” He releasedFrentisandturnedbacktothedoor.“Iwon’tdoit.Goback

to the city. You’ll livelonger.”

“Igoback there I’ll bedead by nightfall!” Frentiscried, voice heavy with fear.He sank back into his chairand sobbedmiserably. “I gotnowhereelsetogo.Yousendme away and I’m dead.Hunsil’sboys’lldoformeforsure.”

Vaelin’s hand lingeredonthedoorhandle.“Hunsil?”

“Runs the gangs in thequarter, all the dippers,whores and knifers pay ‘imhomage, five coppers amonth. I couldn’t pay lastmonthsohisboysgavemeabeatin’.”

“And if you can’t paythismonthhe’llkillyou?”

“It’s too late for that.Not about the moneyanymore.‘Sabout‘iseye.”

“Hiseye?”

“Yeh, the right one. Itain’ttherenomore.”

Vaelin turned backfrom the door with a heavysigh. “The knives I gaveyou.”

“Yeh, couldn’twait foryoutoteachme.Practisedonmeown.Got rightgoodat ittoo.ThoughtI’dtry itoutonHunsil, waited in the alleyoutsidehistavern‘tilhecameout.”

“Takinghim in theeyewasanimpressivethrow.”

Frentis smiled weakly.“Wasaimin’for‘isthroat.”

“And he knows it wasyou?”

“Oh ‘e knows alright.Bastardknowseverything.”

“I have some money,not much but my brotherswill pitch in somemore.Wecould buy you a berth on amerchant ship, a cabin boy.

Youwouldbesaferonashipthanyoucouldeverbehere."

“Thought about that,din’twanna.Don’tlikeships,get queasy just crossing theriver in a flatboat. Besides,I’ve ‘eard sailors’lldo thingstocabinboys.”

“I’m sure they’ll leaveyoualoneifweguaranteeit.”

“But I wanna be abrother.Isawwhatyoudidtothose Crows. You and the

otherone.Neverseennothin’like it. Iwannabeable todothat.Iwannabelikeyou.”

“Why?”“’Cos it makes you

someone, makes you matter.They’re still yakkin’ about itin the taverns y’know, howthe Battle Lord’s boyhumbled the Blackhawks.You’re almost as famous asyouroldman.”

“And that’s what you

want?Tobefamous?”Frentis fidgeted. It was

clearhewas rarely asked foran opinion on anything andfound this level of scrutinydisconcerting. “Dunno.Wanna be someone, not justsomedipper.Can’tdothatallmelife.”

“All you are likely toearnhereisanearlydeath.”

Frentis no longerlookedlikeaboythen,rather

he seemed so aged andburdened by experience thatVaelin almost felt himself tobe a child in the presence ofan old man. “That’s all I’veeverbinlikelytoearn.”

Can I do this? Vaelinasked himself. Can Icondemn him to this? Theanswercame tohimwithinaheart beat.At least he had achoice. He chose to comehere. And what will I

condemnhimtoifIsendhimaway?

“What doyouknowoftheFaith?”Vaelinaskedhim.

“’Swhatpeoplebelieve‘appenswhenyoudie.”

“Andwhatdoeshappenwhenyoudie?”

“You join the otherDeparted and they, y’know,helpus.”

Hardly the Catechismof Faith but succinctly put.

“Doyoubelieveit?”Frentis shrugged.

“’Spose.”Vaelinleaneddownand

lookedhim in theeye, fixinghim. “When the Aspect asksyou, don’t suppose, becertain. The Order fights forthe Faith before it fights forthe Realm.” He straightened.“Let’sgoandfindhim.”

“You’re gonna tell ‘imtoletmein?”

May my mother’s soulforgiveme.“Yes.”

“Great!” Frentis surgedtohisfeetandrantothedoor.“Thanks…”

“Don’t ever thank mefor this,” Vaelin told him.“Notever.”

Frentis gave him aquizzical look. “Alright. SowhendoIgetasword?”

It would be another

threemonths before the nextintake of recruits so Frentiswas put to work. He ranerrands, laboured in thekitchens or the orchard andswept the stables. They gavehim a bunk in their northtower room, the Aspect feltleaving him alone in one ofthe other rooms would be apoorwelcometotheOrder.

“This is Frentis,”Vaelin introduced him to the

others. “A novice brother.He’ll bunk with us until theturnoftheyear.”

“Is he old enough?”Barkusasked,lookingFrentisup and down. “He’s just ragandbone.”

“Up yours fatso!”Frentis snarled in response,drawingback.

“How charming,”Nortah observed. “An urchinofourveryown.”

“Why’s he bunkingwith us?” Dentos wanted toknow.

“Because the Aspectcommands it, and because Iowe him a debt. And so doyou brother,” he said toNortah. “If he hadn’t helpedme you’d be swinging in awallcage.”

Nortah inclined hisheadbutsaidnomore.

“He’s the one you

knocked out,” Frentis said.“The one that knifed thatBlackhawk in the leg.Propersharp that was. Are weallowed to knife RealmGuardthen?”

“No!” Vaelin tuggedhimtohisbunk,Mikehl’soldbedwhichhadlainunusedinthe years since his death.“This is yours. You’ll getbedding fromMasterGrealinin the vaults, I’ll take you

theresoon.”“DoIgetaswordfrom

him?”The others laughed.

“Ohyou’llgeta sword, rightenough,”Dentossaid.“Finestbladeashcanmake.”

“Wannapropersword,”Frentisinsistedsullenly.

“You’llhavetoearnit,”Vaelin told him. “Like therestofus.Now,Iwanttotalktoyouaboutthieving.”

“I ain’t gonna thievenothin’.I’mdonewiththat,Iswear.”

More laughter fromtheothers. “Fine brother he’llmake,”Barkussaid.

“Thieving is…” Vaelinfumbled for the right words,“accepted here, but there arerules. You never steal fromanyofusandyouneverstealfromtheMasters.”

Frentis gave him a

suspicious look. “Is this oneofthemtests?”

Vaelingrittedhis teeth.Hewasstartingtounderstandwhy Master Sollis was sofond of his cane. “No. Youcan steal from others in theOrder provided they aren’t amaster and their not in yourgroup.”

“What? And no-onecares?”

“Oh no, they’ll tan the

hideoffyouifyougetcaughtbut that’s for getting caught,notforstealing.”

A very small smileappearedonFrentis’s lips. “Ionly ever got caught once.Won’thappenagain.”

If Vaelin had expected

Frentis to be quicklydisillusionedbytherigoursofOrder life he was to bedisappointed. The boy

happily scampered to everytaskgivenhim,movinglikeablur around the House,watching attentively duringpractice sessions andpestering them to teach himtheirskills.Mostly theywerehappy tooblige, traininghimin sword play and unarmedcombat. He needed littleinstruction in knife throwingand soon began to rivalDentos and Nortah at the

game. Seeing an opportunitythey quickly arranged aknivestournamentandreapeda tidy sum in blades whichweresharedoutequally.

“How come I can’tkeep‘em?”Frentiswhinedastheycountedthewinnings.

“’Cosyou’re not a realbrotheryet,”Dentostoldhim.“When you are you’ll get tokeepallyouwin.Tillthenweall get a share, payment for

ourkindtutoring.”The most surprising

thing was Frentis's completelack of fear when dealingwithScratch.Wheretheotherboys were wary he wasplayful, wrestling the animalwithhappyabandon,gigglingwhen the dog threw himaroundwithease.Vaelinhadbeen concerned at first butsaw that Scratch wasexercising his own brand of

caution, Frentis was nevernippedorscratched.

“To him the boy’s acub,” Master Jeklinexplained. “Probably thinkshe’s one of yours. Seeshimselfasanolderbrother.”

Frentis also earned thedistinction of being the onlyboytoneverreceiveabeatingfrom Master Rensial. Forsomereasonthestablemasternever raisedhishand tohim,

simply pointing him towardshis allotted tasks andwatching silently until theywerecomplete,hisexpressioneven odder than usual; acurious mix of puzzlementand regret that made VaelinresolvetokeepFrentisoutofthe stables as much aspossible.

“What’s wrong withMaster Rensial?” Frentisasked one evening as Vaelin

taught him the basics of theparry. “Is ‘e funny in thehead?”

“I know little abouthim,” Vaelin replied. “Heknows his horses that’s forsure.As forwhat goes on inhis head, it’s clear that thehardships of a life in theOrdercandostrangethingstoaman’smind.”

“Think it’ll happen toyouoneday?”

Vaelin didn’t answer,instead he sent an overhandswipeatFrentis’sheadwhichtheboyonly justmanaged toblockwithhiswoodenblade.“Pay attention,” Vaelinsnapped.“Youwon’tfindthemastersasforgivingasme.”

The months withFrentis passed quickly, hisenergy and blind enthusiasmmaking them forget theirwoes, even Nortah seemed

enlivenedbyhistimewiththeboy, taking on the task ofshowing him the bow. Aswith his tutelage of DentosbeforetheTestofKnowledgeVaelin noted once againNortah’sfacilityforteaching,where the other boys wouldoccasionally make theirfrustration with Frentisobvious, particularly Barkus,Nortah seemed to possess anabundanceofpatience.

“Good,” he said asFrentis managed to get hisshaft within a yard of thetarget.“Trypushingthestaveat the same time as you pullthe string, the bowwill bendeasier.”

ItwasthankstoNortahthatFrentiswasabletobeginhistrainingastheonlyboytohit the target during his firstformalpractice.

“Can’t I stay with you

lot?” Frentis had asked thenight before he was due tomove to the room he wouldsharewithhisgroup.

“You must be in agroup,” Vaelin said. Theywereinthekennels,watchingScratch as he stood guardover his heavily pregnantbitch. No one else wasallowednearhispennow,hismate’s conditionmakinghimviolently protective, even

Master Jeklin was likely toprovokeanattack ifhecametooclose.

“Why?” Frentis said,the whine in his voice hadabatedsomewhatbutwasstillnoticeable.

“Becausewe cannot bewith you throughout yourtraining,” Vaelin told him.“You will find brothersamongst the boys you meettomorrow. Together youwill

helpeachotherfacethetests.It is how things are done intheOrder.”

“Whatiftheydon’tlikeme?”

“Like and dislikemeanlittle here. The bond thatbinds us is beyondfriendship.”HegaveFrentisanudge. “Don’t worry. Youalready know more thanthem, they will look to youforguidance,justdon’tbetoo

cockyaboutit.”“Areyouandtheothers

stillgonnateachme?”Vaelin shook his head.

“You will be under MasterHaunlin’scare.Hewill teachyou now. We cannotinterfere. He is a fair man,sparingwiththecaneas longasyoudon’tpushhim.Mindhimwell.”

“Will I be allowed tostealforyou,still?”

This was somethingVaelin hadn’t considered.Frentis’s effortless ability toprocureitemsofconsiderablevaluewouldbesorelymissed.Theywere now rich in extraclothing, money, talismans,knives and myriad othersundries thatmadeOrder lifea little more comfortable.True to his word, he hadnever been caught althoughtheotherboyshadbeenquick

to connect Frentis’s arrivalwith the upsurge in missingvaluables leading to aparticularly bloody fight inthe dining hall one night.Luckily they now possessedboththeskillandthestrengthto defend themselves, evenfrom the older boys, and theincidenthadn’tbeenrepeatedalthough Master Sollis hadtold Vaelin to make Frentislayoffforawhile.

“You’ll have to stealfor your own group now,”Vaelin told him, not withoutregret. “But you can tradewithus.”

“ThoughtIwouldn’tbeallowedtotalktoyounow.”

“Wecanstilltalk.Let’ssay we meet here everyEltrianeve.”

“Will Master Jeklin letmehaveoneofthepuppies?”

Vaelin looked at

Scratch, noting the waryhostility of his gaze and thetensioninhisstance,knowingevenhewould earn a bite ortwo if he attempted to enterthepen.“Idon’tthinkit’suptoMasterJeklin.”

Chapter2The Test of the Melee

came after the Winterfallfeast mid-way through themonth of Weslin. Theirswords were exchanged forwoodenbladesandtheyweredivided, along with the fiftyorsootherboysof theirage,into two equal contingents.On the practice field a lanceadornedwithredpennanthad

beenthrustintothefrost-hardearth.Vaelinwassurprisedtosee the other Mastersstandingonthefringesofthefield,evenMasterJestinwhowas rarely seen outside hisforge.

“War is our sacredcharge,”theAspecttoldthemwhen they had been arrayedbefore him. “It is the reasonfortheOrder’sexistence.Wefight in defence of the Faith

and the Realm. Today youwill fight a battle. Onecontingent will seek tocapture that pennant, anotherwill defend it. Masters willobserve the battle. AnyBrother failing to showsufficientcourageandskillinbattle will be required toleave on the morrow. Fightwell, rememberyour lessons.Killing blows are notpermitted.”

As the Aspect walkedfrom the field the twocontingents eyed each otherwithmingled trepidation andexcitement. They all knewwhat this meant, no killingblowsandwoodenswordsornot this would be a bloodyday.

Master Sollis cameforward and handedVaelin’scontingent a number of redribbons and told them to tie

themtotheirleftarm.NearbyMaster Haunlin was handingout white ribbons to theirnominal enemies. “You willattack, the whites willdefend,” Sollis told them.“Thebattle isoverwhenoneof you gets his hands on thelance.”

Astheirwhiteribbonedenemies trooped off toarrangethemselvesinalooseline in front of the lance

Vaelin saw the Aspectgreeting three unfamiliaronlookers. There were twomen,onelargeandbroadtheotherleanandwirywithlongblack hair trailing in thewind. The third figure wassmall, muffled in furs, andclung to the sideof the largeman.

“Who is that, master?”he askedwhenSollis handedhim a ribbon but it was

clearly not a day forquestions.

“Worry about the Test,boy!” Sollis cuffed himangrily on the side of thehead. “Distraction will killyouthisday.”

When they had all tiedtheribbonstotheirarmstheystood eyeing the defendersabout a hundred yards away.Somehow they seemed tohavegrowninnumber.

“What do we do,Vaelin?” Dentos asked,lookingathimexpectantly.

Vaelin was about toshrug when he noticed theywere all looking at himexpectantly,not just theboysfrom his group, all of them.Nortah was the onlyexception,blithelytossinghiswooden sword into the airand catching it again. Heseemed bored. Vaelin

struggledtoformulateaplan;they were taught combat butnot tactics. He had heard offlanking manoeuvres andfrontalattacksbuthadnorealidea how they worked.Mostof the battle stories he knewconcerned heroic brotherswinning victory throughindividual effort and eventhen theywereusually tryingtostormacitywallordefenda bridge not capture a lance.

The lance…What value isthereinalance?

“Vaelin?” Caenisprompted.

“This isn’t really abattle,” Vaelin said, thinkingaloud.

“What?”Battles are not over

whenamangetshishandsona lance, they’re over whenone army destroys the other.That’swhyit’scalledtheTest

of the Melee. They want tosee us fight, that’s all. Thelancemeansnothing.

“We’ll go straight intothem,” he said, raising hisvoice, trying to sound bothconfident and decisive.“We’ll charge into the centreof their line, hard and fast.Breakitopenandthelanceisours.”

“Hardly a subtlestratagem, brother,” Nortah

observed.“Do you want to lead

this?”Nortah inclined his

head, smiling. “I wouldn’tdream of it. I’m sure yourplanissound.”

“Formup,”Vaelin toldthem. “Keep it tight. Barkusyou’re in front withme, andyou Nortah. You two aswell,” he picked out two ofthe beefier boys he knew to

be more aggressive thanmost. “Caenis, Dentos stayclose,keepthemoffwhenwego for the lance. The rest ofyou heard what the Aspectsaid. If you don’t want yourcoins in the morning get inthere,pickanenemyandbeathim to the ground, whenyou’ve done that findanother.”

The cheer surprisedhim,araggedyellpunctuated

with a small forest ofupraised wooden swords. Hejoined in, waving his swordand yelling and feeling silly.Incredibly, they yelled evenlouder, some of them evenbeganshoutinghisname.

Hekeptitgoingastheybegan toadvance,walkingatfirst. The hundred yards tothe enemy seemed to shrinkinafewheartbeats.

“Vaelin!Vaelin!”

He took the pace up toajog,hopingtosaveasmuchenergy as possible for thefight.

“Vaelin!Vaelin!”Someof theboyswere

almost screaming now,Caenis amongst them. Thepacebegantoquickenastheycovered more than half thedistance to the enemy.Seemingly his small armywaseagertogetattheirfoes.

Someofthembreakingintoarun.

“Steady!” Vaelinshouted.“Keeptogether!”

“Vaelin! Vaelin!” Heglanced around seeing facesdistorted with rage.Fear, heunderstood.Theyhide fear inrage.He didn’t feel enraged.Infact,hisoverridingconcernwasthathedidn’tgetanotherscar.Hehadonlyjusthadthestitchesremovedfromhislast

one, a deep cut on his thighearnedfromanastyfallwhenriding.

“Vaelin!Vaelin!”They were all running

now, their formation startingto break up. Dentos, despiteinstructions,wasoutinfront,yellingwithmanicfervour.

Oh for Faith’s sake!Vaelin broke into a sprint,pointing his sword at thecentre of the enemy line.

“Charge!CHARGE…”The two groups met

with bone crunching force,Vaelin’sshoulderfeelinglikehe had rammed it into a treealthough he did manage toknockovertwodefenders.Atfirst it seemed the shock oftheir charge would force apath straight through to thelanceasfiveorsixdefenderswent down under thecombined weight, with

Barkus trampling over theirproneformstochargeforthepennant. However, their foesquickly gathered their witsand soon both sides werethrashingateachotherwithasavagery none had knownbefore. Vaelin found himselfassailedbytwoboysatonce,both swinging their ashswords with a ferocity thatmade themforget theirmanylessons. He parried a blow,

dodgedanother thenhitbackwith a swipe at one boy’slegs, sending him to theground. The other thrust atVaelin but over-extended,allowing Vaelin to trap hissword arm beneath his ownand send him reeling with aheadbutt.

As thebattle ragedandtheairfilledwiththemingledcacophony of cracking woodand grunted pain it became

harder to follow the chain ofevents, time seemed tofragment, the strugglebecoming a series ofconfused, bruising fights inwhich he caught only thevaguest glimpses of hiscomrades.Barkuswas layingabout with his sword, twohanded blows landing withsickening thwacks on thosewho made the mistake ofventuring too close. Dentos,

forehead bloodied, had losthis sword and wasexchanging punches with aboy a foot ormore taller, heseemedtobewinning.Caenisleapt on an opponent’s backand proceeded to choke himwith his sword, forcing himto the ground before one ofthe defender’s boots caughthimonthehead,sendinghimsprawling. Vaelin fought hisway through to him, hacking

through the press ofstruggling boys, findingCaenis on his backdesperately parrying blowsfrom the boy he had tried tochoke. Vaelin kicked him inthe stomach and brought hisswordup toconnectwithhistemple, dropping him to theearthwherehestayedfor therestofthebattle.

“Enjoying the glory ofit,brother?”heaskedCaenis,

leaning down and offering ahandtohelphimup.

“Duck!”Caenisyelled.Vaelin went down on

one knee and felt the windrush of a sword narrowlymissinghishead.Hetwisted,bringing his leg round tosweep the attacker off hisfeet, smacking his swordagainst his nose as he fell.They fought together afterthat, back to back, stumbling

overunconsciousorwoundedcomrades and enemies untiltheywerewithina fewyardsof the lance. One of thedefenders, seeing a finalchancetodisplayhiscourage,charged at them wildly,screaming and hacking.Caenis parried his first slashand Vaelin sent him to theground with a blow to theshoulderthatmadehimwinceat the audible crack of

breakingbone.Then it was done, no

more enemies, no one tofight. Just groaning boysstumbling around and rollingon the ground amidst theirimmobilebrothersandNortahstandingwiththelanceinhishands, blood streaming fromwoundsonhisheadandface.He smiled as Vaelinapproached, a thick crimsonbead swelling on the cut in

his lip. “It was a good plan,brother.”

Vaelin steadied him asheswayed,feelingmoretiredthan he could remember, hisarms felt like lead and theaftermath of violence left aball of sickness in the pit ofhisstomach.Hefoundhehadno real idea how long it hadlasted. It could have been anhourorafewminutes.Itwaslike waking from a

particularly drainingnightmare.Hewasrelievedtosee Barkus and Dentos wereamong the ten boys still leftstanding, although Dentoscouldonlyremainuprightbyvirtue of Barkus’s meatyhand on his neck. “What’sthat,brother?”he said loudlyforthebenefitofthemasters,leaningcloseasiftolistentoDentos’s words althoughspeech seemed to be beyond

him at present. “Yes! A finefightindeed!”

“The Test isconcluded!” Master Solliswas striding across the field.“Help the wounded to theinfirmary. Leave thesenseless ones lying, themasterswillseetothem.”

“Comeon,”VaelintoldNortah. “Let’s get youpatchedup.”

“I’d like that,” Nortah

said. “But I’m not too sure Ican walk.” He swayed againandVaelinhad to catchhim.Together he and Caenishelped him from the field,still clinging to the lance.Barkus followedwithDentosdangling in his arms, feetdraggingontheearth.

“Brother Vaelin,” itwas the Aspect, standingalongsidethethreestrangers.

Vaelin halted,

struggling to keep Nortahfromfalling.“Aspect.”

“Our guests haverequested to meet you.” TheAspect gestured at the threestrangers. Vaelin could seethe smallest figure clearlynow,agirl,wrappedinblackfurs like the large man towhose arm she clung. Shewas about his own age butsmall, pale skin and blackhair... and very pretty. She

barely seemed to notice him,her eyes staying fixed onNortah’s barely consciousform. He wasn’t sure if herexpression was one ofadmirationorfear.

“BrotherVaelin, this isVanosAlMyrna,”theAspectsaid. The large man cameforwardandofferedhishand.Vaelin shook it awkwardly,narrowly avoiding lettingNortah fall over. Caenis

stiffenedatthementionofthelarge man’s name but itmeantlittletoVaelin.Hehada dim memory of his fathermentioningittohismother,itwas not long before he hadbeen made Battle Lord butVaelin couldn’t recall whatthediscussionwasabout.

“I knew your father,”VanosAlMyrnatoldVaelin.

“I have no father,”Vaelinrepliedautomatically.

“Show Lord Vanossome respect, Vaelin,” theAspect said, a thin smile onhislips.“HeisaSwordoftheRealmandTowerLordoftheNorthern Reaches. Hehonours us with hispresence.”

Vaelinsawtheghostofa smile play on Vanos AlMyrna’s lips. “You foughtwell,”hesaid.

Vaelin nodded at

Nortah. “My brother foughtbetter,hegotthelance.”

Al Myrna studiedNortah for a second andVaelinrealisedhehadknownhis father too. “This boyfights without fear. Notalways a desirable trait in asoldier.”

“We are all fearless inserviceoftheFaith,mylord.”That was a good answer, hedecided.Iwishitwasn’talie.

TheTowerLordturnedandgesturedatthewiry,longhaired man. He had similarcolouringtothegirl,paleskinand dark hair, but his facewas different, high cheekbonesandahawknose.“Thisis my friend Hera Drakil oftheSeordahSil.”

Seordah. Vaelin hadnever thought to see aSeordah with his own eyes.Theywereatrulymysterious

peoplewho,itwassaid,neverventured from the shelter ofthe great northern forest andshunnedoutsiders. Itwas theSeordah Sil that made theforestaplaceofdarkmysteryfor Realm folk who rarelyattemptedtowalkbeneathitstrees. Stories abounded ofhapless travellers who hadgoneintotheforestandneverreturned.

Hera Drakil nodded at

Vaelin, his expressionunreadable.

“Andthis,”LordVanospulled the girl at his sideforward a little, provoking aruefulsmile,“ismydaughterDahrena.”

SheturnedhersmileonVaelin who wondered whyhis palms were suddenlysweating. “Brother. Youappear to be the only oneuninjured.”

Vaelinrealisedshewasright, he ached all over, andwouldnodoubtacheworseinthe morning, but he didn’thave a cut. “Luck smiles onme,mylady.”

She looked at Nortahagain, her expressionconcerned. “Will he be allright?”

“He’s fine,” Caenissaid,histonesoundingalittlecurttoVaelin.

Nortah’s head came upand he gazed blearily at thegirl, frowning in confusion.“You’re Lonak,” he said, hishead swivelling towardsVaelin. “Are we in thenorth?”

“Easy brother.” Vaelinpatted him on the shoulderand was relieved whenNortah’s head slumpedforwardagain.“Mybrotherisnothimself,”he told thegirl.

“Myapologies.”“For what? I am

Lonak.” She turned to theAspect. “I have some smallhealing skill. If I can be ofanyassistance…”

“We have a verycapable physician, my lady,”the Aspect replied. “But Ithank you for your concern.Now, we must repair to mychambers and allow thesebrothers to see to their

comrades.”Heturnedandmadefor

the Keep followed by theTower Lord but the otherslingered a moment. HeraDrakil gave them all a longlook, his eyes moving fromDentos slumped in Barkus’sarms to Caenis’s bloodsmeared nose and Nortah’ssagging form, his unreadableexpression turning intorecognisable disgust. “Il

Lonakhim hearin mardurolin,” he said sadly andwalkedaway.

The girl, Dahrena,seemed embarrassed by thewords and gave them a briefglance of farewell beforeturningtofollow.

“What did he say?”Vaelin asked, making herpause.

She hesitated and hewondered if shewould plead

ignorance of the Seordahlanguagebutheknewshehadunderstood the words. “Hesaid ‘The Lonak treat theirdogsbetter.’”

“Anddothey?”Her mouth tightened a

little and he saw a frown ofangerbeforesheturnedaway.“Iexpectso.”

Nortah’s head lolledback and he grinned atVaelin. “She’s pretty,” he

said before finally passingout.

“So how does the

Tower Lord of the NorthernReaches come to have aLonak for a daughter?”VaelinaskedCaenis.

They were walking thewall, the post-midnight shift,one of the drawbacks ofachieving four years in theOrder was a regular stint at

guard duty. The wall wassparselymanned tonightwithsomanyboysintheinfirmaryor too badly injured to taketheir turn, Barkus amongthem. He had waited untiltheywereback in their roombefore revealing a deep cutacrosshisback.

“I think someone put anail through their sword,” hegroaned.

TheyputNortahinbed

and cleaned him up as bestthey could. Luckily his cutsdidn’tseemseriousenoughtowarrant stitches and theydecided the best course ofaction was to bandage hisheadandleavehimtosleepitoff.Dentoswasworseoff,hisnose seemingly broken againand he kept slipping in andout of consciousness. Vaelindecided he should go to theinfirmary along with Barkus

whose wound was beyondtheir skill to stitch. Dentoswasput tobedbyaharassedMaster Henthal and Barkusallowed to go after his cuthad been stitched andsmeared with corr tree oil, afoul smelling but effectiveguardagainst infection.Theyhad left him watching overNortah to take their turn onthewall.

“Vanos Al Myrna,”

Caenis said,“isnotaman tobe easily understood. Butdisloyalty is ever a difficultthingtofathom.”

“Disloyalty?”“He was banished to

the Northern Reaches twelveyearsago.Nooneknowswhyfor sure but it is said hequestioned the King’s word.HewasBattleLord then andKing Janus may be kindlyand just but he could not

tolerate disloyalty from onesohighinhiscourt.”

“Andyethereheis.”Caenis shrugged. “The

King’s forgiveness is famed.Andtherehavebeenrumoursof agreatbattle in thenorth,beyond the forest and theplains. AlMyrna supposedlydefeated an army ofbarbarians who came acrosstheice.ImustconfessIgaveit little credence but perhaps

he is here to report to theKingonthevictory.”

He was Battle Lordbefore my father, Vaelinrealised.Herememberednowalthough he had been veryyoung.HisfathercamehomeandtoldhismotherhewouldbeBattleLord.Shehadgonetoherroomandcried.

“Andhisdaughter?”heasked, trying to dispel thememory.

“ALonak foundling sothey say. He came upon herlost in the forest. Apparentlythe Seordah allow him totravelthere.”

“Theymustholdhiminhighesteem.”

Caenis sniffed. “Theregard of savages meanslittle,brother.”

“The Seordah with AlMyrna seemed to have littleregard for ourways. Perhaps

tohimwe’rethesavages.”“You give his words

too much credence. TheOrder is of theFaith and theFaithcannotbejudgedbyonesuch as him. Although, Iconfess I am curious as towhy the Tower Lord shouldbring him here to gawk atus.”

“I don’t think that’swhy he came. I suspect hehad business with the

Aspect.”Caenis looked at him

sharply. “Business? Whatcould they possibly have todiscuss?”

“Youcannotbeentirelydeaf to word of the worldoutside these walls, Caenis.The Battle Lord has quit hispost, theKing’sMinister hasbeen executed. Now theTower Lord comes south. Itmustallmeansomething.”

“This was ever aneventful realm. It’s why ourhistoryissorichinstories.”

Stories of war, Vaelinthought.

“Perhaps,”Caeniswenton, “Al Myrna had anotherreason for coming here, apersonalreason.”

“Suchas?”“He said he and the

Battle Lord had beencomrades.Perhapshewished

tocheckonyourprogress.”Myfathersenthimhere

to seeme?Vaelinwondered.Why? To check I’m stillalive? See how tall I’vegrown? To count my scars?He had to force down thefamiliar well of bitternessbuilding in his chest. Whyhate a stranger? I have nofathertohate.

Chapter3Only two boys were

given their coins in themorning, both having beenjudged as displaying eithercowardice or a chronic lackof skill during the battle. Itseemed to Vaelin all theblood spilled and bonesbrokenintheTesthadhardlybeenworth the outcome, buttheOrderneverquestionedits

rituals,theywereoftheFaithafter all. Nortah recoveredquickly, as did Dentos,although Barkus would havea deep scar on his back fortherestofhislife.

As winter’s chilldeepened their trainingbecame more specialised.Master Sollis’s sword scalesacquired a dauntingcomplexity and lessons withthe pole-axe began to

emphasise the discipline ofclose order drill. They weretaught to march andmanoeuvre in companies,learning themanycommandsthat formed a group ofindividuals into a disciplinedbattle line. It was a difficultskill to learn andmany boysearned thecane for failing toknow right from left orcontinuallyfallingoutofstep.Ittookseveralmonthsofhard

trainingbefore they truly feltthey knew what they weredoing and a couple morebefore the masters appearedsatisfiedwiththeirefforts.Allthroughthis theyhadtokeepup their ridingpractice,mostof which had to be done inthe evening during theshortening hours of dusk.They had found their ownracing course, a four miletrailalong theriverbankand

back around the outer wallwhich took in enough roughgroundandobstacles tomeetMaster Rensial’s exactingstandards. It was during oneof their evening races thatVaelinmetthelittlegirl.

He had misjudged ajumpoverafallenbirchtrunkand Spit, with characteristicbad grace, had reared,dumpinghimfromthesaddleto connect painfullywith the

frosted earth. He heard theothers laughing as theyspurredonahead.

“You bloody nag!”Vaelin raged, climbing tohisfeet and rubbing at a bruisedbackside. “You’re fit fornothingbutthetallowmill.”

Spit bared his teeth inspite and dragged a hoofalong the ground beforetrotting off to chewineffectually at some bushes.

In one of his more coherentmomentsMaster Rensial hadcautioned them againstascribing human feelings toananimalthathadabrainnolarger than a crab apple.“Horses feel only for otherhorses,”he told them.“Theircares andwants are not oursto know, no more than theycanknowaman’s thoughts.”WatchingSpitcarefullyshowhim his backside Vaelin

thought if that was true thenhis horse had an uncannyability to project the humanqualityofindifference.

“Your horse doesn’tlikeyoumuch.”

His eyes found herquickly, hands involuntarilymoving to his weapons. Shewas about ten years old,wrapped in furs against thecold,herpalefacepokingouttopeerathimwithunabashed

curiosity. She had emergedfrom behind a broad oak,mitten clad hands clasping asmall bunch of pale yellowflowers he recognised aswinterblooms. They grewwell in the surroundingwoodsand sometimespeoplefrom the city came to pickthem. He didn’t understandwhy sinceMasterHutril saidthey were no use as eithermedicineorfood.

“I think he’d rather beback on the plains,” Vaelinreplied, moving to the fallenbirch trunk and sitting downtoadjusthisswordbelt.

Tohissurprisethelittlegirlcameandsatnexttohim.“My name’s Alornis,” shesaid. “Your name is VaelinAlSorna.”

“That it is.” He wasgrowing accustomed torecognition since the

Summertide Fair, drawingstares and pointed fingerswhenever he ventured closetothecity.

“Mumma said Ishouldn’t talk to you,”Alorniswenton.

“Really?Why’sthat?”“I don’t know. I think

Daddawouldn’tlikeit.”“Then maybe you

shouldn’t.”“Oh I don’t always do

whatI’mtold.I’mabadgirl.I don’t do things girlsshould.”

Vaelin found himselfsmiling. “What things arethese?”

“Idon’tsewandIdon’tlike dolls and I make thingsI’mnotsupposedtomakeandI draw pictures I’m notsupposed to draw and I doclevererthingsthanboysandmakethemfeelstupid.”

Vaelin was about tolaugh but saw how seriousher face was. She seemed tobe studying him, her eyesroaming his face. It shouldhave been uncomfortable buthe found it oddly endearing.“Winterblooms,” he said,nodding at her flowers. “Areyousupposedtopickthose?”

“Oh, yes. I’m going todraw them and write downwhat they are. I have a big

book of flowers I’ve drawn.Daddataughtmetheirnames.He knows lots about flowersand plants. Do you knowaboutflowersandplants?”

“A little. Iknowwhichones are poison, which areusefulforhealingoreating.”

She frowned at theflowers in her mittens. “Canyoueatthese?”

He shook his head.“No, nor heal with them.

They’re not much good foranythingreally.”

“They’re part ofnature’s beauty,” she toldhim,asmalllineappearinginher smooth brow. “Thatmakes them good forsomething.”

He laughed this time,he couldn’t help it. “Trueenough.” He glanced aroundfor sign of the girl’s parents.“Youaren’therealone?”

“Mumma’s in thewoods. I hid behind that oaksoIcouldseeyouridepast.Itwasveryfunnywhenyoufelloff.”

Vaelin looked over atSpit who artfully swung hishead in the other direction.“Myhorsethoughtsotoo.”

“What’shisname?”“Spit.”“That’sugly.”“So is he, but I have a

dogthat’suglier.”“I’ve heard about your

dog.It’sasbigasahorseandyou tamed it after fighting itfor a day and a night duringthe Test of the Wild. I’veheardotherstoriestoo.IwritethemdownbutIhavetohidethe book from Mumma andDadda. I heard you defeatedten men on your own andhave already been chosen asthe next Aspect of the Sixth

Order.”Tenmen?hewondered.

LastIhearditwasseven.Bymy thirtieth year it’ll be ahundred. “It was four,” hetoldher,“andIwasn’tonmyown. And the next Aspectcannot be chosen until thedeath or resignation of thecurrent Aspect. And my dogisn’tasbigasahorse,nordidI fight him for a day and anight.IfIfoughthimforfive

minutesI’dlose.”“Oh.” She seemed a

little crestfallen. “I’ll have tochangemybook.”

“Sorry.”Shegaveasmallshrug.

“When I was little Mummasaidyouweregoing tocomelive with us and be mybrother but you never did.Daddawasverysad.”

The wave of confusionthat swept through him was

sickening. For amoment theworld seemed to movearound him, the groundswaying, threatening to tiphimover.“What?”

“ALORNIS!” Awomanwashurryingtowardsthem from the woods, ahandsomewoman with curlyblackhairandaplainwoollencloak.“Alorniscomehere!”

The girl gave a smallpout of annoyance. “She’ll

takemeawaynow.”“I’m sorry, brother,”

the woman said breathlesslyas she approached, catchinghold of the girl's hand andpullingherclose.Despite thewoman’s evident agitationVaelin noted her gentlenesswith the girl, both armsclosingoverherprotectively.“Mydaughterisevercurious.I hope she didn’t bother youoverly.”

“HernameisAlornis?”Vaelin asked her, hisconfusion giving way to anicynumbness.

The woman’s armstightened around the girl.“Yes.”

“And your name,lady?”

“Hilla.” She forced asmile.“HillaJustil.”

Itmeantnothingtohim.Idonotknowthiswoman.He

saw something in herexpression, somethingbesides the concern for herdaughter. Recognition. Sheknows my face.He switchedhis gaze to the little girl,searching her face carefully.Pretty, likehermother, samejaw, same nose…differenteyes. Dark eyes. Realisationdawned with the force of anicy gale, dispelling thenumbness, replacing it with

something cold and hard.“How many years do youhave,Alornis?”

“Ten and eightmonths,” she repliedpromptly.

“Nearly eleven then. Iwas eleven when my fatherbroughtmehere.”Henoticedher hands were empty andsaw she had dropped herflowers. “I always wonderedwhyhedidthat.”Hereached

down to gather thewinterblooms, being carefulnot to break the stems, andwent over to crouch in frontof Alornis. “Don’t forgetthese.” He smiled at her andshe smiled back. He tried tofix the image of her face inhishead.

“Brother…” Hillabegan.

“You shouldn’t lingerhere.” He straightened and

went over to Spit, graspinghis reins tight. The horseplainly read his moodbecauseheallowedhimselftobe mounted without demur.“These woods can betreacherous in winter. Youshould seek flowerselsewhereinfuture.”

He watched Hillaclutching her daughter andfighting to master her fear.Finallyshesaid,“Thankyou,

brother.Weshall.”He allowed himself a

finalglanceatAlornisbeforespurring Spit into a gallop.This time he vaulted the logwithout the slightesthesitationand they thunderedinto the woods leaving thegirlandhermotherbehind.

Ialwayswonderedwhyhedidthat…NowIknow.

The months passed,

winter’s frost becamespring’s thaw and Vaelinspokenomorethanhehadto.He practised, hewatched thebirth of Scratch’s pups, helistened to Frentis’s joyoustales of life in the Order, herode his bad tempered horseand he said almost nothing.Always it was there, thecoldness,thenumbemptinessleft by his meeting withAlornis.Her face lingered in

hismind, the shapeof it, thedarknessofhereyes.Tenandeight months… His motherhad died little under fiveyears ago. Ten and eightmonths.

Caenis tried to talk tohim,seekingtodrawhimoutwith one of his stories, thetaleoftheBattleoftheUrlishForest where the armies ofRenfael and Asrael met inbloodyconflict foradayand

a night. It was before theRealmwasmade,whenJanuswas a Lord and not a King,when the four Fiefs of theRealm were split and foughteachotherlikecatsinasack.But Janus united them, withthe wisdom of his word andthekeennessofhisblade,andthepowerofhisFaith.Itwasthis that brought the SixthOrder into the battle, thevisionof aRealm ruledby a

KingthatputtheFaithbeforeallthings.ItwasthechargeoftheSixthOrderthatbroketheRenfaelin line and won theday. Vaelin listened to it allwithout comment. He hadhearditbefore.

“…and when theybrought the Renfaelin LordTheros before the King,woundedandchained,hespatdefianceanddemandeddeathrather than kneel before an

upstart whelp. King Janussurprised all by laughing. ‘Ido not require you to kneel,brother,’ he said. ‘Nor do Irequire you to die. Scant useyou would be to this Realmdead.’ At this Lord Therosreplied...”

“‘Your Realm is amadman’s dream,’” Vaelincutin.“AndtheKinglaughedagain and they spent a dayand a night arguing until

argument became discussionand finally Lord Theros sawthe wisdom of the King’scourse. Ever since he hasbeen the King’s most loyalvassal.”

Caenis’sfacefell.“I’vetoldyouthisbefore.”

“Once or twice.” Theywerenear theriver,watchingFrentis and his group ofyoungsters play withScratch’spuppies.Thehound

bitchhadproducedsixinall,four males and two females,seemingly harmless bundlesof wet fur when she hadlicked at them on the kennelfloor. They had grownquicklyandwerealreadyhalfthe size of a normal dog,though they gambolledaroundand trippedover theirown paws like all pups.Frentis had been allowed tonamethemallbuthischoices

proved somewhatunimaginative.

“Slasher!” he called tohis favourite pup, the largestof the lot, waving a stick.“Hereboy!”

“What is it, brother?”Caenis asked him. “Wheredoesthissilencecomefrom?”

Vaelin watched Frentisbeing bowled over bySlasher, giggling as the pupslobbered over his face. “He

lovesithere,”heobserved.“The Order has

certainlybeengoodforhim,”Caenis agreed. “Seems he’sgrownafootormoresincehecame here, and he learnsquickly. The masters thinkwell of him since he neverneeds to be told anythingtwice.Idon’tthinkhe’sevenhadacaningyet.”

“Whatwashislifelike,I wonder, that this place is

somewhere he could love?”He turned back to Caenis.“Hechose tobehere.Unlikethe rest of us.He chose this.Hewasn’tforcedthroughthegatebyanunlovingparent.”

Caenis moved closerandloweredhisvoice.“Yourfather wanted you back,Vaelin. You should alwaysremember that. Like Frentis,youchosetobehere.”

Ten years, eight

months…Mumma said youwould come and live in ourhouse and be my brother…but you never did…“Why?Whydidhewantmeback?”

“Regret? Guilt? Whydoesamandoanything?”

“The Aspect told meonce that my presence herewas a symbol ofmy father’sdevotion to theFaith and theRealm. If he had come intoconflict with the King

perhaps withdrawing mewould symbolise theopposite.”

Caenis’s expressiongrew sombre. “You think solittle of him, brother.Although we are taught toleave our families behind itbodesillforasontohatehisfather.”

Tenyears,eightmonths…“Youhavetoknowamantohatehim.”

Chapter4Thecomingofsummer

brought the traditional weeklong exchange with brothersand sisters from differentOrders.Theywereallowedtochoose the Order in whichtheywould be placed. Itwasusual for boys of the SixthOrder to trade places withbrothers from theFourth, theOrderwithwhichtheywould

work most closely followingconfirmation. Instead VaelinoptedfortheFifth.

“The Fifth?” MasterSollis frowned at him. “TheOrderoftheBody.TheOrderof Healing. You want to gothere?”

“Yesmaster.”“What on earth do you

think you can learn there?More importantly what doyouthinkyoucanoffer?”His

cane tapped the back ofVaelin’s hand, marked withthe scars of practice and thesplash of molten metal fromMaster Jestin’s forge. “Thesearen’tmadeforhealing.”

“My reasons are myown, master.” He knew hewas risking the cane but ithadlostitsstinglongago.

Master Sollis gruntedand moved down the line.“What about you, Nysa?

Want to join your brother inmoppingthebrowofthesickandfeeble?”

“I would prefer theThirdOrder,Master.”

Sollis gave him a longlook. “Scribblers and bookhoarders.”Heshookhisheadsadly.

Barkus and Dentoschose the safe option of theFourth Order whilst Nortahtook evident delight in

electingfortheSecond.“TheOrder of Contemplation andEnlightenment,” Sollis saidtonelessly. “You want tospendaweekin theOrderofContemplation andEnlightenment?”

“I feel my soul wouldbenefit from a period ofmeditation on the greatmysteries, master,” Nortahreplied, showing his perfectteeth inanearnest smile.For

the first time in monthsVaelinfeltlikelaughing.

“Youmeanyouwantaweekofsittingonyourarse,”Sollissaid.

“Meditationisnormallyconducted in a sittingposition,master.”

Vaelin laughed, hecouldn’t help it. Three hourslater, as he completed hisfortieth lap of the practiceground, he was still

chuckling.“Brother Vaelin?” The

greycloakedmanat thegatewas old, thin and bald, butVaelin found himselfdisconcerted by the man’steeth, pearly white andperfect,likeNortah’sonlythesmile was genuine. The oldbrother was alone, wiping amop across a dark brownstain on the cobbled

courtyard.“I am to report to the

Aspect,”Vaelinreplied.“Yes,weweretoldyou

were coming.” The oldbrotherliftedthecatchonthegateandpulleditopen.“RareforabrotherfromtheSixthtocometolearnfromus.”

“Are you alone,brother?” Vaelin said,stepping through the gate. “Iassumeinaplacesuchasthis

there is sore need for aguard,”

Unlike the Sixth, thehouseof theFifthOrderwassituated within the walls ofthecapital,alarge,cruciformbuilding rising from theslumsofthesouthernquarter,its whitewashed walls abrightbeaconamidstthedrabmass of closely packed,poorly built houses huggingthe fringes of the docks.

Vaelinhadneverbeen to thesouthern quarter before butquickly came to understandwhy it was rarely frequentedby people with somethingworth stealing. The intricatenetwork of shadowed alleyways and refuse cloggedstreets provided ampleopportunities for ambush.Hehad picked his way throughthe mess, not wishing toreporttotheFifthOrderwith

dirty boots, stepping overhuddled forms sleeping offthepreviousnight’sgrogandignoring the unintelligiblecallsof thosewhohadeitherhad toomuchornot enough.Here and there a few listlesswhores gave him adisinterestedglancebutmadenoefforttoenticehiscustom,Order boys had no moneyafterall.

“Oh we never get

bothered,” the old man toldhim. As he closed the gateVaelin noted there was nolock. “Been guarding thishouse for ten years or more,neveraproblemhere.”

“Thenwhydoyouhavetoguardthegate?”

The old brother gavehim a puzzled look. “This istheOrderofHealing,brother.People come here for help.Someonehastomeetthem.”

“Oh,” Vaelin said. “Ofcourse.”

“Still IdohavemyoldBess.” The old brother wentinto the small brick buildingthat served as a guard houseandreturnedwithalargeoak-woodclub.“Justincase.”Hehanded it to Vaelin,seemingly expecting anexpertopinion.

“It’s…” Vaelin heftedthe club, swinging it briefly

before handing it back, “afineweaponbrother.”

The old man seemeddelighted. “Made it meselfwhentheAspectgavemethegate to guard.My hands hadgottentoostifftomendbonesor sew cuts, y’see?” Heturned and walked quicklytowards the House. “Come,come, I’ll take you to theAspect.”

“You’ve been here a

long time?” Vaelin asked,following.

“Only five years or so,apart from training o’course.Spent most of mybrotherhood in the southernports.Itellyouthere’snopoxordiseaseonthisearththatasailorcan’tcatch.”

Instead of leading himto the large door at the frontof the house the old brothertookhimaround thebuilding

and into a side entrance.Inside was a long corridor,bare of decoration andpossessingastrongredolenceof somethingbothacidicandsweet.

“Vinegar andlavender,” the old man said,seeing himwrinkle his nose.“Keeps theplace freeof foulhumours.”

He took Vaelin pastnumerous rooms, where it

seemed there was little butempty beds, and into acircular chamber tiled fromfloor to ceiling with whiteporcelain tiles. In the centreof the chamber a youngmanlay atop a table, naked andwrithing. Two burly, greycloaked brothers held himdownwhilstAspectEleraAlMendah examined thecrudely bandaged wound inhis stomach. The man’s

screamswere stopped by thestrap of leather clamped intohismouth.Thecircumferenceofthechamberwaslinedwithascending rows of bencheswhere an audience of greyrobed brothers and sisters ofvaryingageslookeddownonthe spectacle. There was arustle of movement as theyturnedtheirgazeonVaelin.

“Aspect,” the old mansaid, raising his voice, the

echo of it incredibly loud inthechamber.“BrotherVaelinAlSornaoftheSixthOrder.”

AspectElera lookedupfromtheyoungman’swound,hersmilingfaceadornedwitha line of fresh blood-spatteracross her forehead. “Vaelin,howtallyou’vegrown.”

“Aspect,” Vaelinrepliedwith a formal nod. “Isubmit myself to yourservice.”

On the table the youngman arched his back, aplaintive whimper escapingthegag.

“You find me engagedin a most pressing case,”Aspect Elera said, taking apairofscissorsfromanearbytable to cut away the dirtybandage covering the youngman’s wound. “This mantookaknife in thegut in theearly hours of the morning.

Anargumentoverthefavoursof a young lady apparently.Given the amount of ale andredfloweralreadyinhisbloodwecannotgivehimanymoreforfearofkillinghim.Sowemustworkwhile he suffers.”Sheputthescissorsasideandheld out her hand. A young,grey robed sister placed alongbladedinstrumentinherpalm. “Adding to his woes,”AspectElerawenton,“isthe

fact that the tip of the bladebroke off inside his stomachand must be removed.” Sheraised her gaze to theaudience on the benches.“Cananyonetellmewhy?”

Most of the audienceraised ahandand theAspectnodded at a grey hairedmanin the front row. “BrotherInnis?”

“Infection,Aspect,” theman said. “The broken blade

may poison the wound andcause it to fester. Itmayalsobe lodged close to a bloodvesselororgan.”

“Very good, brother.And so we must probe thewound.” She bent over theyoung man and spread thelips of the cut with her lefthand,applyingtheprobewiththe right. The young man’sscreamspat thegag fromhismouthandfilledthechamber.

Aspect Elera drew back alittle, glancing at the twoburly brothers holding theyoungman to the table. “Hemust be securely held,brothers.”

The young man beganto thrash wildly, succeedingin wresting one of his armsfree,hisheadbangingon thetable, madly kicking legsnarrowly missing the Aspectwho was forced to retreat a

fewsteps.Vaelin moved to the

table and placed his handovertheyoungman’smouth,forcinghisheadbackontothetable, leaning close, meetinghis eyes. “Pain,” he said,fixingtheman’sgaze.“It’saflame.” The young man’seyesfilledwithfearasVaelinbore down on him. “Focus.The pain is a flame insideyourmind,seeit.Seeit!”The

man’s breath was hot onVaelin’s palm but histhrashing had subsided. “Theflame grows smaller. Itshrinks, it burns bright, butit’ssmall.Youseeit?”Vaelinleanedcloser.“Youseeit?”

The young man’s nodwasbarelyperceptible.

“Focus on it,” Vaelintoldhim.“Keepitsmall.”

He held him there,talkingtohim,fixinghiseyes

whilst Aspect Elera workedon his wound. The youngmanwhimperedandhiseyesflickered away, but Vaelinalways brought them backuntiltherewasthedullclatterofmetalfallingintoapanandAspect Elera said, “Needleand cat gut please, SisterSherin.”

“Master Sollis teaches

youwell.”

They were in AspectElera’schamber,aroomevenmore crammed with booksand paper than AspectArlyn’s.Butwhere the roomof the Aspect of the SixthOrder had a certain chaoticquality this one was tightlyordered and meticulouslytidy.Thewallswereadornedwith overlapping diagramsand pictures, graphic, almostobscene depictions of bodies

shorn of skin or muscle. Hefound his eye continuallydrawn to the image on thewall behind her desk, a manshownspreadeagledandsplitfromcrotchtoneck,theflapsof the wound drawn back toreveal his organs, eachexpertly rendered withabsoluteclarity.

“Aspect?” he said,tearinghisgazeaway.

“The pain control

technique you used,” theAspectexplained.“Solliswasalwaysmymostadeptpupil.”

“Pupil,Aspect?”“Yes. We served

together on the north easternborder, years ago. On quietdays I would teach thebrothers of the Sixthrelaxation and pain controltechniques. It was a way topass the time. Brother Solliswas always the most

attentive.”They knew each other,

theyservedtogether.Theideaof them even conversing feltincredible but an Aspectwould never lie. “I amgrateful for Master Sollis’swisdom, Aspect.” It seemedthesafestreply.

His eyes flicked to thedrawing again, and sheglanced at it over hershoulder. “A remarkable

workdon’tyou think?AgiftfromMasterBenrilLenialofthe Third Order. He spent aweek here drawing the sickand the recently expired, hesaid he wished to paint apicturethatwouldcapturethesuffering of the soul.Preparatory work for hisfresco commemorating theRedHand.Ofcoursewewerehappy to allow access andwhen he was done he gifted

his sketches to our Order. Iuse them to teach the novicebrothers and sisters thesecrets of the body. Theillustrations in our olderbookslackthesameclarity.”

She turned back. “Youdid well this morning. I feelthe other brothers and sisterslearned much from yourexample. The sight of blooddidn’t concern you? Makeyoufeelillorfaint?”

Was she joking? “I amaccustomed to the sight ofblood,Aspect.”

Her gaze clouded for asecond before her customarysmile returned. “I cannot tellyouhowmuchitgladdensmyheart to see how strongyou’ve grown and thatcompassion is not absentfrom your soul. But I mustknow, why have you comehere?”

He couldn’t lie, not toher. “I thought you mightprovide answers to myquestions.”

“And what questionsarethese?”

There seemed littlepoint in vagary. “When didmyfathersireabastard?WhywasIsenttotheSixthOrder?Why did assassins seek mydeath during the Test of theRun?”

Sheclosedhereyes,herface impassive, breathingregular and even. She stayedthat way for several minutesand Vaelin wondered if shewas going to speak again.Then he saw it, a single tearsnakingdownhercheek.Paincontrol techniques, hethought.

She opened her eyes,meeting his gaze. “I regret Icannot answer your

questions,Vaelin.Beassuredthat your service here iswelcome. I believe you willlearn much. Please report toSister Sherin in the westwing.”

Sister Sherin was the

young woman who hadassisted the Aspect in thetiled room. He found herwrapping bandages aroundthewaistofthewoundedman

in a room off the west wingcorridor.Theman’s skinhadan unhealthy grey pallor anda sheen of sweat covered hisflesh but his breathingseemed regularandhedidn’tappeartobeinanypain.

“Will he live?” Vaelinaskedher.

“I expect so.” SisterSherinsecuredthebandageinplacewithaclaspandwashedher hands in a water basin.

“Although, service in thisOrder teaches us that deathcan often deny ourexpectations. Take those.”Shenoddedatapileofbloodstained clothes lying in thecorner. “They need to becleaned. He’ll needsomething to wear when heleaveshere.Thelaundryisinthesouthwing.”

“Laundry?”“Yes.” She faced him

with the smallest of smiles.Althoughhefoughtit,Vaelinfound himself taking note ofher form. She was slender,thedarkcurlsofherhairtiedback, her face displaying ayouthful prettiness but hereyes somehow bespoke awealth of experience wellbeyond her years. Her lipsformed the words withprecision,“Thelaundry.”

He was discomfited by

her, preoccupied with thecurve of her cheekbones andthe shape of her lips, thebrightness of her eyes,relishing confrontation. Hequickly gathered the clothesandwent to find the laundry.He was relieved to find hewasn’t required to wash theclothes himself and, afterSisterSherin’scoolreception,somewhattakenabackbythewelcome he received from

thebrothersandsistersinthesteamfilledlaundryroom.

“Brother Vaelin!”boomed a large bear-likeman, his hair covered chestbeadedwith sweat.His handfelt like a hammer onVaelin’s back. “I’ve waitedten years for a brother fromtheSixthtocomethroughourdoorsandwhenwefinallygetone it’s their most famousson.”

“Iampleasedtobeherebrother,”Vaelinassuredhim.“I have to clean theseclothes…”

“Oh tosh.” The clotheswere torn fromhisgraspandtossed into one of the largestonebathswherethelaundryworkers laboured. “We’ll dothat. Come and meeteveryone.”

Thebigmanturnedouttobeamaster,notabrother.

His name was Harin andwhen he wasn’t taking histurn in the laundry he taughtthenovicesthefinerpointsofbones.“Bones,master?”

“Yes, m’boy. Bones.How theywork,how they fittogether.Howtomendthem.I’vesnappedmorearmsbackinto sockets than I canremember. It’s all in thewrist. I’ll teach you beforeyou leave, if I don’t break

your arm first.” He laughed,the sound easily filling thecavernouschamber.

Therestofthebrothersand sisters gathered round togreet Vaelin and he foundhimself assailed withnumerous names and faces,all of whom displayed adisconcerting enthusiasm forhis presence, as well aplethoraofquestions.

“Tell us, brother,” one

brother said, a thin mannamedCurlis,“isittrueyourswords are made from starsilver?”

“A myth, brother,”VaelintoldhimrememberingtokeepMasterJestin’ssecret.“Ourswordsarefinelymade,butofplainsteelonly.”

“Do you they reallymakeyou live in thewilds?”ayoungsisterasked,aplumpgirlcalledHenna.

“Only for tendays. It’soneofourtests.”

“They make you leaveifyoufail,don’tthey?”

“If you live that long.”ItwasSisterSherin,standinginthedoorway,armscrossed.“That’s right isn’t brother?Manyofyourbrothersdie inthe tests? Boys as young aselevenyearsold.”

“A hard life requireshardtraining,”Vaelinreplied.

“Our tests prepare us for ourrole in defending the FaithandtheRealm.”

She raised an eyebrow.“IfMasterHarindoesn’tneedtoprolongyourpresenceherethe teaching room needsmopping.”

And so he mopped theteaching room. He alsomopped all the rooms in thewest wing. When he wasdone she had him boil a

mixture of pure spirit andwater and soak the metalimplements the Aspect hadusedtotreattheyoungman’swound. She told him iteradicated infection.The restof the day was spent insimilar endeavours, cleaning,mopping, scrubbing. Hishandsweretoughbuthesoonfound themchaffingwith thework,thefleshredfromsoapand scrubbing by the time

Sister Sherin told him hecouldgoandeat.

“When do I learn howto heal?” he asked. She wasin the teaching room, layingout a variety of instrumentson a white cloth. He hadspent two hours cleaningthemand theyshonebrightlyinthelightfromtheoverheadwindow.

“You don’t,” shereplied,notlookingup.“You

get to work. If I think youwon’t get in the way I’ll letyou watch when I tend tosomeone.”

A variety of responsesflickered through his mind,some caustic, some clever,but all certain to make himsound like a petulant child.“As you wish, sister. Whathourdoyourequireme?”

“We start at the fifthhour here.” She gave a

conspicuous sniff. “Beforereporting for work you areexpected towash thoroughly,which should help diminishyour rather pungent aroma.Don’t theywash in theSixthOrder?”

“Every three days weswim in the river. It’s verycold,eveninsummer.”

She said nothing,placing a strange lookingimplement on the cloth: two

parallel blades fastened by ascrewdevice.

“What is that?” heasked.

“Ribspreader.Itallowsaccesstotheheart.”

“Theheart?”“Sometimes thebeatof

a heart will stop and can berecommenced by gentlemassage.”

Helookedatherhands,slim fingers moving with

measuredprecision.“Youcandothis?”

She shook her head.“I’veyet to learn such skills.The Aspect can though, shecandomostthings.”

“She’ll teach you oneday.”

She glanced up at him,her expression wary. “Youshouldeat,brother.”

“You’renoteating?”“I take my meals later

than the others. I have moreworktodohere.”

“ThenI’llstay.Wecaneattogether.”

She barely paused inscrubbing at a steel basin. “Iprefer to eat alone, thankyou.”

He stopped a sigh ofexasperationbeforeitescapedhismouth.“Asyouwish.”

There were more

questions at mealtime, moreintense curiosity almostmaking him wish for SisterSherin’s disinterest. ThemastersoftheFifthOrderatewith their students so he satwithMasterHarinamongstagroup of novice brothers andsisters. He was surprised bythevariety in the agesof thenovices at the table, theyoungest little more thanfourteen whilst the oldest

clearlyinhisfifties.“People often come to

our Order later in life,”Master Harin explained. “Ididn’t join until my thirty-second year. Was in theRealm Guard before then,Thirtieth Regiment of Foot,the Bloody Boars. You'veheardofthemnodoubt.”

“Their renown doesthem credit,master, ”Vaelinlied, never having heard of

such a regiment. “How longhasSisterSherinbeenhere?”

“Been here since aninfantthatone,workedinthekitchens.Didn’tstart trainingtill she turned fourteenthough. That’s the youngestwe’ll allow novices to join.NotlikeyourOrder,eh?”

“It’s but one of manydifferences,master.”

Harin laughed heartilyand took a large bite from a

chickenleg.FoodintheFifthOrderwasmuch the sameasthe Sixth, but there was lessof it. He experienced amoment’s embarrassmentwhenhebeganwolfingdownlarge helpings with habitualhaste, drawing bemusedglancesfromtheothersatthetable.“Havetoeatquicklyinthe Sixth,” he explained.“Waittoolongandit’llallbegone.”

“Iheardtheystarveyouas punishment,” said SisterHenna,theplumpgirlhehadmetinthelaundry.Sheaskedevenmorequestions than theothers and whenever helooked up she seemed to bewatchinghim.

“Our masters havemore practical ways ofpunishing us than starvation,sister,”hetoldher.

“When do they make

you fight to the death?” thethin man Innis, asked. Thequestion was voiced withsuch earnest curiosity Vaelinfound he couldn’t takeoffence.

“TheTestoftheSwordcomes inour seventhyear intheOrder.Itisourfinaltest.”

“Youhavetofighteachother to the death?” SisterHennaseemedshocked.

Vaelin shook his head.

“Wewill bematched againstthree condemned criminals.Murderers, outlaws and soforth. If they defeat us theyare considered to have beenjudged innocent of theircrimes as the Departed willnot accept them into theBeyond.IfwedefeatthemwearejudgedfittocarryaswordinservicetotheOrder.”

“Brutal but simple,”Master Harin commented

before belching loudly andpatting his stomach. “Thewaysof theSixthOrdermayseem harsh to us, mychildren, but do not forgetthey stand between our Faithandthosewhowoulddestroyit.Intimespasttheyfoughttokeep us safe. If not for themwewouldn’t be here to offercare and healing to theFaithful.Thinkwellonthat.”

Therewasamurmurof

agreement around the tableand, for once, conversationturned to other matters. Theconcerns of the Fifth Orderseemed to revolve mainlyaround bandages, medicinalherbs, various forms ofdisease and the endlesslypopular subject of infection.Hewondered ifhe shouldbemore upset at having todiscusstheTestoftheSwordbut found it left him with

littlemorethanavaguesenseof unease. He had known itwas coming since his firstdays in the Order, they allhad, it was an annual event,watched by a great many ofthe city’s populace and,although novice brothers ofthe Order were forbidden toattend, he had heard manystories of prolonged combatsand unfortunate brotherswhose skills had failed to

matchthefinaltest.However,set against what he hadalreadyexperienceditseemedlittlemore than one ofmanydangers ahead. Perhaps thatwas the point of the tests, torender them immune todanger, accepting fear as anormalpartoftheirlives.

“Doyouhavetests?”heaskedMasterHarin.

“No m’boy. No testshere. Novice brothers and

sisters stay in the OrderHouse for five years wherethey are trained in ourways.Manywill leave or be askedto leave but those that staywill have earned the skills toheal and will be appointedtasks that match theirabilities. Myself, I spenttwenty years in theCumbraelin capital, seeing tothe needs of the smallFaithfulcommunitythere.It’s

a hard thing, brother, to liveamongst those who woulddenytheFaith.”

“TheKing’s Edict tellsus Cumbraelins are ourbrothersintheRealm,aslongas they keep their beliefswithintheirownfief.”

“Pah!” Master Harinspat. “Cumbrael may havebeenforcedintotheRealmbythe King’s sword but alwaysshe seeks to promote her

blasphemy.Iwasapproachedmany times by godworshipping clerics seekingmyconversion.Evennowshesendsthemacrossherbordersto spread their heresyamongst the Faithful. I fearyour Order and mine willhavemuchworkinCumbraelin the years to come.” Heshookhisheadsadly.“Apity,war was ever a terriblething.”

Theygavehimacellinthe south wing, bare apartfromabedandasinglechair.He undressed quickly andslippedintothebed,enjoyingthe unfamiliar but luxuriantfeel of clean fresh linen.Despite the comfort, sleepwas slow in coming; MasterHarin’stalkofCumbraelhaddisturbedhim.Warwas everaterriblething.Buttherewas

something in the Master’seyes that seemed almosteagerforwartobevisitedonthehereticalFief.

SisterSherin’scoldnesswas another concern. Sheclearly wanted little to dowith him, which he foundbotheredhimgreatly,andhadnoregardfortheSixthOrder,whichhefoundbotheredhimnot at all. He resolved to tryharder towin her confidence

in themorning.Hewoulddoeverything she asked of himwithout question orcomplaint,hehadasuspicionshewouldrespectlittleelse.

However, what kepthim awake longest wasAspect Elera’s refusal toanswerhisquestions.Hehadbeen so sure she wouldprovide the answers hecraved that the prospect of arefusal hadn’t even occurred

tohim.Sheknows,hethoughtwith certainty. So why won’tshetellme?

He fell asleep with thequestions tumbling throughhismind, findingno answersinhisdreams.

He forced himself out

of bed at first light, washedthoroughly in the trough inthecourtyardandreportedforwork a good measure before

the fifth hour. Sherin wasthere before him. “Fetchbandages from the storeroom,”shesaid.“Peoplewillsoon be at the gate seekingtreatment.”Shefrownedashemoved past her. “Yousmell…better,atleast.”

He borrowed a trickfrom Nortah and forced asmile.“Thankyousister.”

The first was an oldman with stiff joints and

endless tales of his time as asailor. Sister Sherin listenedpolitely to his stories as shemassagedbalmintohisjoints,giving him a jar of thesubstance to take home. Thenext was a thin young manwith trembling hands andbloodshot eyes whocomplainedofseverepainsinthe belly. Sister Sherin felthis stomach and the vein inhis wrist, asked a few

questions and told him thatthe Fifth Order did not giveredflowertoaddicts.

“Up yours Orderbitch!”theyoungmanspatather.

“Watch your mouth,”Vaelinsaid,steppingforwardto throw him out but Sherinstoppedhimwithaglare.Shestood impassively as theyoung man swore at herviciously for a full minute

whilstcastingwaryglancesatVaelin before storming out,hisprofanityechoingthroughthehallway.

“I don’t need aprotector,” Sherin toldVaelin. “Your skills are notrequiredhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he said,teeth gritted, failing tosummon another Nortahsmile.

They came in all ages

and sizes, men and women,motherswithchildren,sisterswithbrothers,allcut,bruised,painedorsick.Sherinseemedto know the nature of theirailments instinctively,working without pause orrest, tending to themallwithequal care. Vaelin watched,fetchedbandagesormedicinewhen he was told, trying tolearn but instead findinghimself preoccupied with

Sherin,fascinatedbythewayher face changed when sheworked, the severity andwariness disappearing intocompassion and humour asshe joked and laughed withher charges, many of whomsheclearlyknewwell.That’swhy they come, he realised.Shecares.

Andsohetriedashardashecould tohelp, fetching,carrying, restraining the

fearful and the panicked,offering awkward words ofcomforttothewivesorsistersor children who brought thewounded to be healed. Mostwere in need of little morethan medicine or a fewstitches, some, the onesSherin knew so well, hadprolonged sicknesses andtook the longest time to treatas she asked numerousquestions and offered advice

or sympathy. Twicegrievously wounded peoplecamein.Thefirstwasamanwith a crushed stomach whohadwalkedintothepathofarunaway cart. Sister Sherinfelt the vein in his neck andbegan pumping at his chestwith both fists clamped overhissternum.

“His heart stoppedbeating,” she explained. Shekeptatituntilbloodbeganto

flow from the man’s mouth.“He’sgone.”Shemovedbackfromthebed.“Fetchatrolleyfromthestore roomand takehimtothemorgue.It’sinthesouth wing. And clean theblood from his face. Thefamilydon’tliketoseethat.”

Vaelin had seen deathbefore but her coldness tookhim by surprise. “That’s all?There’s nothing else you cando?”

“Acartweighinghalfaton ran over his stomachturning his guts tomush andhis spine topowder.There isnothingelseIcando.”

The second badlywoundedmanwasbroughtinby the Realm Guard in theevening,astockyfellowwitha crossbow bolt through hisshoulder.

“Sorry sister,” thesergeantapologised toSherin

as he and two fellow guardshauledthemanontothetable.“Hatetowasteyourtimewithonesuchasthisbutwe’llgethell from the Captain if weturnupwithanothercorpse.”He gave Vaelin a curiousglance,takinginhisdarkbluerobe.“YouappeartobeinthewrongHouse,brother.”

“BrotherVaelin is hereto learnhow toheal,”Sherininformed him, leaning over

the stocky man to examinehis wound. “Twenty feet?”sheenquired.

“Closer to thirty,” oneoftheguardssniffedproudly,hefting his crossbow. “Andhewasrunning.”

“Vaelin,” the sergeantmurmured,hisglanceturninginto a stare of scrutiny as helooked Vaelin up and down.“AlSorna,right?”

“That’smyname.”

The three guardslaughed, it wasn’t a pleasantsound and Vaelin instantlyregrettedleavinghisswordinthecellthatmorning.

“The Boy Brother whobeat ten Crows singlehanded,” the younger guardsaid. “You’re taller than theysaid.”

“It wasn’t ten…”Vaelinbegan.

“WishI’dbeenthereto

see that,” the sergeantinterrupted. “Can’t standthosebloodyCrows,struttingabout theplace.Hear they’remaking a plan of revengethough. You should watchyourback.”

“Ialwaysdo.”“Brother,” Sherin cut

in. “I need cat gut, needle,probe, a serrated knife,redflower and corr tree oil,thegelnot thejuice.Oh,and

anotherbowlofwater.”He did as he was told,

grateful for the chance toescape the guardsmen’sscrutiny.Hewenttothestoreroom and filled a tray withthe required items returningto the treatment room to findit in uproar. The stockymanwasonhisfeet,backedintoacorner,hismeatyfistclampedaroundSisterSherin’s throat.One of the Guardsmen was

down, a knife buried in histhigh.Theothertwohadtheirswords drawn, shoutingthreatsandfury.

“I’m walking out ofhere!” the stocky manshoutedback.

“You’re goingnowhere!” the sergeantbarked in response. “Let hergoandyou’lllive.”

“Igo insideOneEye’llhavemedone.Standasideor

I’llwringthisbitch’sn-”The serrated knife

Vaelin had fetched from thestore room was heavier thanhewasusedtobutitwasn’tadifficult throw. The man’sthroat was clearly open buthis death spasm might havecaused him to snap SisterSherin’sneck.Thebladesankinto his forearm causing hishand to open by reflex,allowingSherintocollapseto

the floor. Vaelin vaulted thebed, scattering the tray’scontentsacrosstheroom,andfelled the stockymanwith afew well placed punches tothe nerve centres in his faceandchest.

“Don’t,” Sherin gaspedfrom the floor. “Don’t killhim.”

Vaelinwatchedthemanslumping to the floor, hiseyesvacant.“WhywouldI?”

He helped her to her feet.“Areyouhurt?”

She shook her head,pulling away. “Get him backonthebed,”shetoldhim,hervoice hoarse. “Sergeant, ifyou could help me get yourcomradetoanotherroom.”

“Bedoingthebastardafavour if youhadkilledhim,brother,”thesergeantgruntedas he and the otherguardsmanhelpedtheirfallen

comradetohisfeet.“Hangingdaytomorrow.”

Vaelin had to struggleto get the man off the floor,he seemed to be composedmainly of muscle andweighed accordingly. Hegroaned inpain asVaelin lethim fall back onto the bed,hiseyesflickeringopen.

“Unless you’ve gotanotherknifehidden,”Vaelintoldhim.“I’dliestill.”

The man’s gaze wasbalefulbuthesaidnothing.

“So who’s One Eye?”Vaelinaskedhim.“Whydoeshewantyoudead?”

“Iowehimmoney,”theman said, his face slickedwith sweat and lined withpainfromhiswounds.

He recalled Frentis’stalesofhistimeonthestreetsand the wayward throwingknife that had caused him to

seek refuge in the Order.“Yourtax?”

“Three golds. I’m inarrears. We’ve all gotta pay.AndOneEyehatesthosethatdon’t pay with a passion.”The man coughed, staininghis chin with blood. Vaelinpoured a cup of water andheldittohislips.

“I have a friend whotold me once about a manwholosthiseyetoaboywith

a throwing knife,” Vaelinsaid.

The stocky manswallowed the water, hiscough subsiding. “Frentis. Ifonly the little sod had killedthe bastard. One Eye sayshe’sgonnatakeayeartoskinhim alive when he findshim.”

Vaelin decided hewouldhavetomeetwithOneEye sooner or later. He

looked closely at thecrossbow bolt still buried intheman’sshoulder.“WhydidtheRealmGuarddothis?”

“Caughtmecomingoutof a warehouse with a sackfull of spice.Good stuff too,I’d’vemademeself sixgoldsatleast.”

He’sgoing todie forasack full of spice, Vaelinrealised.Thatand stabbingaGuardsman and trying to

choke Sister Sherin. “What’syourname?”

“Gallis. Gallis theClimber they call me. Not awall I can’t scale.”Wincing,he lifted his forearm, theserrated knife still embeddedthere.“Looks like Iwon’tbedoingthatagain.”Helaughedthen convulsed with pain.“Any redflower going,brother?”

“Prepare a tincture,”

Sister Sherin had returnedwith the sergeant in tow.“One part redflower to threepartswater.”

Vaelin paused to lookat her neck, red and bruisedfrom Gallis’s grip. “Youshouldhavethatseento.”

Momentary angerflashed in her eyes and hecouldtellshewasbitingbackasharpretort.Hecouldn'ttellifshewasangrythatshehad

beenprovedwrongorthathehad saved her life. “Pleasepreparethetincture,brother,”shetoldhiminahardrasp.

She worked on Gallisfor over an hour,administering the redflowerthen extracting the crossbowbolt from his shoulder,cutting the shaft in half thenwidening the wound andgently pulling the barbedpoint free, Gallis biting on a

leatherstraptostiflehiscries.She worked on the knife inhis arm next, it was moredifficultbeingclosertomajorblood vessels but came freeafter ten minutes work.Finallyshesewedthewoundsshut after painting themwiththe corr tree gel. Gallis hadlost consciousness by thenandhiscolourhadnoticeablypaled.

“He’s lost a lot of

blood,” Sherin told theSergeant.“Hecan’tbemovedyet.”

“Can’t wait too long,sister,” the sergeant said.“Got to have him in front ofthe magistrate for themorning.”

“No chance ofclemency?”Vaelinasked.

“I’ve got amanwith aknifed leg next door,” thesergeant replied. “And the

buggertriedtokillthesister.”“I don’t recall that,”

Sherin said, washing herhands.“Doyoubrother?”

Is a sack full of spiceworth a man’s life? “Not atall.”

The sergeant’s facetookonadeeplyangrytinge.“This man is a known thief,drunkardandredflowerfiend.He would’ve killed us all togetoutofhere.”

“Brother Vaelin,”Sherinsaid.“Whenisitrighttokill?”

“In defence of life,”Velin replied promptly. “TokillwhennotdefendinglifeisadenialoftheFaith.”

The sergeant’s lipcurled in disgust. “Softhearted Order sods,” hemutteredbeforestalkingfromtheroom.

“Youknowthey’llhang

him anyway?” Vaelin askedher.

Sherin lifted her handsfrom the bloodied water andhe passed her a towel. Shemet his eye for the first timethat day, speaking with acertainty that was almostchilling: “Noone is going todieonmyaccount.”

Heavoidedtheevening

meal, knowing his actions

wouldonlyhaveaddedtohiscelebrity and finding himselfunable to face the torrent ofquestions and admiration. Sohe hid himself in thegatehouse with BrotherSellin, the aged gatekeeperwho had greeted him theprevious morning. The oldbrother seemed glad of thecompany and refrained fromasking questions ormentioning the day’s events

for which Vaelin wasgrateful. Instead, at Vaelin’sinsistence, he told stories ofhis time in the Fifth Order,proving that a man did nothave to be a warrior to seemuchofwar.

“Got this one on thedeck of the Seaspite.” Sellindisplayed an odd horseshoeshaped scar on the undersideof his forearm. “I wasstitching a wound in a

Meldenean pirate’s stomachwhen he rears up and bitesme,nearlydowntothebone.It was just after the BattleLordhadburnt theircitysoIs’posehehadgoodreason tobe angry. Our sailors threwhiminthesea.”Hegrimacedatthememory.“Beggedthemnot to but men’ll do terriblethings when their blood’sup.”

“Howdid you come to

be on a war ship?” Vaelinasked.

“Oh, I was Fleet LordMerlish’spersonalphysic foranumberofyears.HealwayshadasoftspotformesinceIcured his pox a few yearsbefore. A right fine oldcaptainhewas, lovedthesealike a mother, loved allsailors, even had respect forthe Meldeneans, best sailorsin the world he said. Broke

his heart when the BattleLord burnt their city. Theyhad amighty row about it, Icantellyou.”

“They argued?” Vaelinwas curious. Brother Sellinwasoneofthefewpeoplehehad met who didn’t initiallyrefertotheBattleLordashisfather, in fact he appearedblithely unaware of the fact,althoughVaelinsuspectedtheold man had been in service

to the Faith for so long thatdisassociating its servantsfromtheirfamilyconnectionswassimplysecondnature.

“Oh yes,” Sellincontinued. “Fleet LordMerlishcalledhimabutcher,a killer of innocents, saidhe’d shamed the Realmforever.Everyonewho heardit thought the Battle Lordwoulddrawhisswordbutallhe said was ‘Loyalty is my

strength, my lord.’” Sellinsighed,sippingfromaleatherflask Vaelin suspectedcontained a mixture notdissimilar to what BrotherMakril had called Brother’sFriend. “Poor old Merlish.Stayed in his cabin all theway home, refused to reporttotheKingwhenwedocked.He died not long after, hisheartgaveoutonavoyagetothefarwest.”

“Did you see it?”Vaelin asked. “Did you seethecityburn?”

“I saw it.” BrotherSellin took a deep pull fromhis flask. “I saw it all right.Lit up the sky for milesaround. But it wasn’t thesightof it that chilledyou, itwas the sound. We wereanchoredagoodhalfmileoffshoreandstillyoucouldhearthescreams.Thousands,men,

women, children, allscreaming in the fire.” Heshudderedanddrankagain.

“I’m sorry, brother. Ishouldn’thaveasked.”

Sellinshrugged.“Timespast, brother. Can’t live in‘em.Justlearnfrom‘em.”Hepeered out at the gatheringdark. “You’d best be gettingbackelstyou’llnotgetamealtonight.”

He found Sister Sherin

in themealhall, eatingaloneaswasherhabit.Heexpectedarebukeoroutright rejectionwhenhe sat opposite her butshe made no comment. Thekitchen staff had placed agood selection on the tablebutsheseemedcontentwithasmallplateofbreadandfruit.

“May I?” he asked,gesturingatthearrayoffood.

She shrugged so hehelped himself to some ham

andchicken,gulping itdownravenously,drawingaplainlydisgustedglance.

He grinned, takingguilty enjoyment in herdiscomfort.“I’mhungry.”

There was the faintestghostofasmileasshelookedaway.

“No one eats alone intheSixthOrder,”hetoldher.“Weallhaveourgroups.Welive together, eat together,

fight together. We call eachother brother with goodreason. Here things seem tobedifferent.”

“My brothers andsisters respect my privacy,”shesaid.

“Because you’respecial? You can do whattheycan’t.”

Shetookabiteofappleandgavenoreply.

“How’s the thief?” he

asked.“Well enough. They

movedhimtotheupperfloor.Thesergeantput twomenonhisdoor.”

“You intend to speakforhimatthehearing?”

“Ofcourse.Althoughitwould help his case if youspoke as well. I feel yourword would carry moreweightthanmine.”

He washed down a

mouthful of ham with somewater.“Whatisit,Sister,thatmakes you care so much foronesuchashim?”

Her face hardened.“What is it that makes youcaresolittle?”

Silence reigned at thetable for a few moments.Finally, he said, “Did youknow my mother trainedhere? She was a sister, likeyou. She left the FifthOrder

tomarrymyfather.Shenevertoldme she had served here,she never told me about thispart of her life. I came hereseeking answers, Iwanted toknow who she was, who Iwas,whomyfatherwas.Butthe Aspect would tell menothing. Instead she pairedme with you, which I thinkwasananswerinitself.”

“Ananswertowhat?”“Who my mother was,

at least.PerhapspartlywhoIam. I’mnot likeyou, I’mnohealer. I would have killedthatmantodayifIcould,I’vekilled before. You couldn’tkillanyone,andneithercouldshe.That’swhoshewas.”

“Andyourfather?”Thousands, men,

women, children, allscreaming in the fire...Loyalty is my strength. “Hewasamanwhoburnedacity

becausehiskingtoldhimto.”Hepushedhisplateawayandgot up from the table. “I’llspeak for Gallis before themagistrate. See you at thefifthhour.”

In the morning it

transpired that their presenceat the magistrate’s courtwould not be necessary;Gallishadescapedduringthenight.Theguardshadentered

his room on the top floor tofinditemptyandthewindowopen. The wall outside wasnearly thirty feet high withhardly any visible hand-holds.

Vaelinleanedoutofthewindow to peer at thecourtyard below. “Gallis theClimber,”hemurmured.

“With the wounds hehad he shouldn’t have beenable to walk.” Sister Sherin

moved close to inspect thewall outside. Vaelin foundher proximity bothintoxicating anduncomfortable but sheseemed unconcerned. “I’llneverknowhowhemanagedit.”

“Master Sollis says aman doesn’t know his truestrengthuntilhe fears forhislife.”

“Thesergeantsaidhe’d

trackthemandownifittakeshimallhisdays.”Shemovedaway, leaving Vaelin in aconfusionofregretandrelief.“He probably will. That orI’ll see him again, draggedthrough the doors withanother wound for me toheal.”

“If he’s smart he’ll gethimself on a ship and be farawaybynightfall.”

Sherin shook her head.

“People don’t leave thisplace, brother.Nomatter thethreatsagainstthemtheystayandliveouttheirlives.”

He turned back to thewindow.Thesouthernquarterwaswakinguptotheday,thepale morning sky just takingon the stain of chimneysmoke that would hang overthe rooftops until nightfall,the shortening shadowsrevealing streets soiled with

mingled refuse and excreta,dotted here and there thehuddled forms of the drunk,druggedorhomeless.Alreadyhecouldhearvagueshoutsofconflict or hatred andwondered how many morewould come through thedoorstoday.

“Why?” he wondered.“Whystay inaplacesuchasthis?”

“Idid,”shesaid.“Why

shouldn’tthey?”“Youwerebornhere?”She nodded. “I was

luckyenoughtocompletemytraining in only two years.The Aspect offered me anypostingintheRealm.Ichosethisone.”

The hesitancy in hervoice told him he wasprobably the first person tohear her reveal so much ofher past. “Because this is…

home?”“Because I felt this is

where I needed to be.” Shemovedtothedoor.“Wehavework,brother.”

Thenextfewdayswere

hard but rewarding, not leastbecause hewas constantly inSister Sherin’s presence.Theparade of injured and illcoming through the doorprovided plenty of

opportunity to increase hismeagre healing skills asSherin began to impart someof her knowledge, teachinghim the best pattern to usewhen stitching a cut and themost effective mix of herbsfor aches in the stomach orhead. However, it quicklybecameobvioustheskillsshepossessedwouldneverbehis,shehadaneyeandanearforsickness so unerring it

reminded him of his ownaffinity for the sword.Luckily there was no furtherneed for him to display hisskills as the level ofaggression amongst patientshad declined considerablysincehis first day.Wordhadspread through the southernquarter that there was abrother from the Sixth hereand most of the more shadycharacters turning up to

request treatmentwiselykepttheir tonguesstillandviolenturgesincheck.

The only negativeaspecttohistimeintheFifthwas the constant attention oftheotherbrothersandsisters.Hehad continued to take hismeals with Sister Sherin latein the eveningand they soonfoundthemselvesjoinedbyacluster of novices eager forVaelin’s tales of life in the

Sixth Order or a retelling ofwhat they termed his ‘rescueofSisterSherin’,atalewhichseemed to have become aminor legend in only a fewdays. As ever, Sister Hennawas his most attentiveaudience.

“Weren’t you scared,Brother?” she asked, widebrowneyesgazingupathim.“When the big brute wasgoing to kill Sister Sherin?

Didn’titfrightenyou?”Beside him, Sherin,

whountil nowhadborne theintrusion on her meal timewith stoiccalm,pointedly lethercutleryfallontoherplatewithaloudclatter.

“I… have been trainedto control my fear,” hereplied, instantly realisinghow conceited it sounded.“NotaswellasSisterSherin,though,”hewentonquickly.

“She remained calmthroughout.”

“Oh she never getsbotheredbyanything,”Hennawaved a hand dismissively.“So, why didn’t you killhim?”

“Sister!”BrotherCurlisexclaimed.

Sheloweredhergaze,aflushcreepinguphercheeks.“I’msorry,”shemumbled.

“It matters not, sister.”

He patted her handawkwardly,which seemed tomakeherblushevenmore.

“Brother Vaelin and Ihave had a long day,” SisterSherin said. “We would liketoeatinpeace.”

Although she wasn’t aMistress, her word evidentlycommanded obediencebecause their small audiencequickly dispersed back totheirrooms.

“They respect you,”Vaelinobserved.

She shrugged.“Perhaps.But I am not likedhere. I am envied andresented by most of mybrothers and sisters. TheAspectwarnedmeitmightbethisway.”Her tone indicatedlittleconcern,shewassimplystatingafact.

“You could be judgingthem too harshly. Perhaps if

you mixed with themmore…”

“Iamnothereforthem.TheFifthOrder is themeansby which I can help thepeopleIneedtohelp.”

“No room forfriendship? A soul in whomtoconfide,shareaburden?”

Shegavehimaguardedglance.“Yousaidityourself,brother. Things are differenthere.”

“Well, although youmay not welcome it, I hopeyou know you have myfriendship.”

Shesaidnothing,sittingstill, eyes fixed on her half-emptyplate.

Wasthishowitwasformy mother? he wondered.Was she so isolated by herabilities?Did theyresenthertoo? He found it hard toimagine. He remembered a

woman of kindness, warmthand openness. She couldnever have been as closed toemotion as Sherin. Sherin isformedbywhateverhappenedto her beyond the gates, herealised. Out there in thesouthern quarter.Mymotherwould have had a differentlife. A thought occurred tohim then, something he hadneverconsideredbefore.Whowas she before she came

here? What was her familyname? Who were mygrandparents?

Suddenly preoccupiedherosefromthetable.“Sleepwell,sister.I’llseeyouinthemorning.”

“It’s your last daytomorrow is it not?” sheasked, looking up at him.Oddly her eyes seemedbrighter than usual, it almostseemed she was tearful but

theideawasabsurd.“It is. Although, I still

hope to learn more before Ileave.”

“Yes.” She lookedaway. “Yes of course. Sleepwell.”

“Andyou,sister.”Sleep was beyond him

as he sat, legs crossedbeneath him, and ponderedthe realisation that he knew

almost nothing of hismother’s past. She was asister of the Fifth Order, shemarried his father, she borehimason,shedied.Thatwasall he knew. For that matterhe knew just as little abouthis father.A soldier elevatedbytheKingforbravery,laterBattle Lord, city burner,fatherofasonandadaughterbydifferentmothers.Butwhohad he been before? He had

no knowledge of where hisfatherhadbeenborn,whetherhis grandfather had been asoldierorafarmerorneither.

So many questions,raging in his mind like astorm.Heclosedhiseyesandsought to control hisbreathing as Master Sollishad taught him, a skill nodoubt learned from theAspect of the Fifth Orderwhich in turn raised even

more questions. Focus, hetold himself. Breathe, slowandeven…

An hour later, the beatof his heart slowed and thestorminhismindcooling,hewas roused by a soft butinsistent knock at his door.Pausing topull his shirt overhisheadhewent to thedoor,finding Sister Henna there,smilingshyly.

“Brother,”shesaid,her

voice little above a whisper.“HaveIdisturbedyou?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”Surelyshecan’twantanotherstory.“Thehourislate,sister.If you require something ofme, perhaps it could waituntilmorning.”

“Require something?”Her smile broadened a littleand,beforehecouldstopher,shesteppedpasthim intohiscell. “I require your

forgiveness brother, for mythoughtless words thisevening.”

Vaelin’s calmed heartwas beginning to thumpagain. “There is nothing toforgive…”

“Oh, but there is!” shewhispered fiercely, movingclosetohim,makinghimstepback, the door forced closedbehind him. “I am such astupid girl. I say such silly

things. Thoughtless things.”She moved closer still,pressingagainsthim, thefeelof her ample breasts againsthischestprovokedan instantsheen of sweat and anunwelcome stirring in hisgroin. “Sayyou forgiveme,”she implored, a faint sob inhervoiceasshe layherheadon his chest. “Say you don’thateme!”

“Erm.” He searched

urgentlythroughhismindforan appropriate response butlifeintheOrderhadfailedtoequip him for such things.“OfcourseIdon’thateyou.”Gently he put his hands onher shoulders and eased heraway from him, forcing asmile. “You shouldn’t worryoversuchatrifle.”

“Oh, but I do,” sheassured him breathlessly.“The thought of offending

you, of all people.” Shelooked away, ashamed. “It’smorethanIcouldbear.”

“Youcaretoomuchformy opinion, sister.” Hereached behind him for thedoor handle. “You shouldgonow…”

Her hand reached out,touchinghischest,feelingthemusclebeneathhis shirt. “Sohard,” she murmured. “Sostrong.”

“Sister.” He put hishand over hers. “This isnot…”

She kissed him then,pressingclose,herlipsonhisbefore he knew what hadhappened.The sensationwasoverwhelming, a torrent ofunaccustomed feelingswashing through his body.This is wrong, he thought asher tongue probed betweenhis lips. I should stop her.

Rightnow…Imustendthis…Anysecondnow…

The sound that savedhim was faint at first, aplaintive note on the windseeping through his window,almost missed by hispreoccupation with SisterHenna’s lips, but somethingin it, something familiar,madehimpause,pullaway.

“Brother?” SisterHenna asked, the whisper of

herbreathcaressinghislips.“Canyouhearthat?”A slight frown creased

her brow. “I hear nothing.”Shegiggledandpressedcloseagain.“Butmyheartbeating,andyours…”

The sound grew, anunmistakablesirencall.

“Wolf’showl,”hesaid.“A wolf in the city?”

Sister Henna giggled again.“It’s just the wind, or a

dog…”“Dog’s don’t howl like

that. And it’s not the wind.It’sawolf.Isawawolfonce,in the forest.” Just before anassassintriedtokillme.

It would have beeneasily missed had he notspent years studying hisopponents’ faces on thepracticeground,searchingforthe ticks and subtle changesin expression that warned of

an attack. And he saw it inhers, a brief flicker ofdecisioninhereyes.

“You shouldn’t worryover such things,” she said,her left hand coming up tocaress his face. “Forget yourworries,brother.Letmehelpyoufor-”

The knife in her righthand came free of her robesin a blur, the steel shiningbrightas it arced towardshis

neck.Itwasapractisedmove,executed with the speed andprecisionofanexpert.

Vaelin twisted, theknifeleavingascratchonhisshoulder, his right armthrusting open handed intoherchest,propellingherbackto collide with the far wall.She rebounded quickly, alook of feline hatred on herface, leaping,spinningakickat his head and bringing the

knife round to slash at hisbelly.Hedodgedthekickandcaught her wrist, twisting,hearing the crack, forcingdown a spasm of revulsion.She’s not a girl, she’s not asister,she’sanenemy.

Her free hand cameround in a punch, palm flatand fore-knuckles extended,aimedatthebaseofhisnose,a blow he recognised fromMaster Intris’s lessons, a

killing blow. He moved hishead,takingthepunchonhisbrow,shakingoffthestingofit and gripping her hard onthe neck, forcing her againstthe wall. She thrashed,hissing, nails scraping at hisface. He forced her headback, the bones of her neckstraining, lifting her off herfeet, tightening his grip tosubdueherstruggles.

“You are very skilled,

sister,”heobserved.A grunt of pained fury

escaped her throat. Her skinfelthotagainsthishand.

“Perhapsyoucould tellme where you learned suchskills, and why you felt theneedtopracticethemonme.”

Hereyes,shiningbrightamidst the flushed, redmaskofher face, flicked to the ripin his shirt and the shallowscar beneath. A smile, ugly

andfullofmalice,twistedherlips. “Feeling… well,brother?” she grated throughspittle. “You don’t… havetime…tosavehernow.”

Hefelt it then, theheatrising in his chest, the freshslick of sweat washing overhim,afaintgreynesscreepinginto the corners of his eyes.Poison!Poisonontheblade.

He leaned close, hisface inches from hers,

meeting the hatred in hereyes.“Savewho?”

Her horrible smilewidened into a grotesquelaugh. “Once… there were...seven!” she told him, thehatredinhereyesshininglikealanterninthedark.

Suddenlyshejerkedherheadback,forcinghermouthopen, then clamping it shutwithaloudclackofcollidingteeth. She began towrithe in

his grasp, shudderinguncontrollably,frothspoutingfrom hermouth.He releasedhisgrip,lettingherfalltothefloorwhereshethrashed,feetslapping the tiles, beforelaying still, eyes wide andunblinking,lifeless.

Vaelin stared at her,sweat beading his forehead,theheat inhis chest buildingtoafire.

Poison on the blade…

You don’t have time to saveher now… Once there wereseven…You don’t have timeto save her… Save her…SAVEHER!

TheAspect!He went to where his

sword was propped againstthewall,tearingitfreeofthescabbard, dragging the dooropen, sprinting along thecorridortothestairwell.

Poison on the blade…

How long did he have? Hechased the thought from hismind. Long enough! hedecided fiercely, leaping upthe steps three at a time. Ihavelongenough.

The Aspect’s roomswereonthetopfloor.Hegotthere in seconds, runningalongthecorridor,seeingherdoorahead,findingnosignofathreat…

The blade was a sliver

of light in the shadows, ahalf-crescentofsteel,fastandskilful, it should have takenhisheadoff at the shoulders.He ducked it, going into aroll, feeling thewind rush asthe sword bit the air abovehim, coming to his feet,forming the parry stance inthe same movement, theswordbladeclashingwithhisown.Hewhirled,goingdownononeknee,swordarmfully

extended, his arm jarring ashisblademetflesh,drawingastifledshoutofpainandbriefrainfall spatter of blood onfloor tiles. His attacker worecotton garments of black, amask over his face, sootsmearedonthebrowsandeyelids. His eyes glared up atVaelin from the floor as heclutched at the deep gash inhis thigh, not in anger butshockedsurprise.

Vaelin killed him witha slash to the neck, left himwrithinginawelterofarterialbloodasheranon,thefireinhis chest now an inferno ofpain, his vision blurring,losing focus, fixing on theAspect’sdoor,nomorethanafew feet away now. Hestumbled, colliding with thewall, pushing himselfonwardswith an angry gruntofselfreproach.

SAVEHER!Two more blades

shimmered out of thedarkness, another black cladfigure, a short sword in eachhand,attackinginafrenzyofslashing blades. Vaelinparried the first two slashes,moved back to let the otherswhistlewithin an inch of hisface,steppedinsidethereachof the man’s kick and killedhim with a thrust to the

sternum, guiding his swordblade up under the ribs,finding the heart. The blackclad man went into a briefspasm, blood gouting fromhis mouth, then sagged, dolllike, devoid of life, hangingonVaelin’s blade like a rag.Theweightofitdraggedhimdown, sword buried in thebody up to the hilt, bloodcovering his arm in a thickred slick, bathing the floor.

The smell would have madehim gag but for the toxinraginginhisblood.

Tired… He slumpedagainst the corpse, a weightof exhaustion greater thanany he had known pressingdownonhim.Thepaininhischest receding, displaced bythis overwhelming need forsleep.Sotired…

“You don’t look well,brother.”

The voice wasanonymous, without sourceor owner, lost amidst theshadows. A dream? hewondered. A dream beforedeath.

“Shefoundyou,Isee,”thevoicewenton.Therewasthe faintest scrape of a bladetiponstone.

No dream. Vaelingritted his teeth, griptightening on his sword hilt.

“She’sdead!”heshoutedintothedark.

“I’m sure.” The voicewasmild,devoidofaccentorrecognition. Neither culturednor coarse. “Pity. I alwaysliked her in that guise. Shewassowonderfullycruel.Didyoubedher first? I thinkshewouldhavelikedthat.”

Itwasonlyaslightnoteof tension in the tone, butVaelin sensed the owner of

theunseenvoicewasabouttomakehismove.

Shakingwiththeeffort,hegotoffhisknees,standing,pulling his sword free of thecorpse. Waited too long, herealised. Should’ve killed mewhen Iwas vulnerable. Is hewaiting for the poison tocompletethetaskforhim?

“You’reafraid,”Vaelingrunted into the darkness.“You know you can’t beat

me.”Silence. Silence and

shadows, broken only by thedripofblood fromhis swordtickingon thefloor.Notime,he thought, his visionswimming, a dreadful, icynumbness creeping into thislimbs.Notimetowait.

“Once,” he said, hisvoiceadryrasp,makinghimcry it out. “Once there wereseven!”

There was a clatter oflocksandlatchesfollowedbythe creak of hinges as theAspect’s door opened behindhim and her comely, faintlyannoyed face appearedshroudedbycandlelight.

“What is all thisnoise…”

The knife camespinningoutof thedark, endoverend,aprecise throw, itstip certain to take theAspect

intheeye.Vaelin’sswordarmfelt

like lead as he brought hisblade round in an arc, theblade meeting the knife,sending it spinning into theshadows. He never saw theassassin followuphisattack,he felt it, knew it, but heneversawit.Hiscounterwasautomatic, unconscious,immediate. He spun, bothhands on his sword hilt, the

lastvestigesofhisstrengthintheblow,heneverfeltitmeetthe man’s neck, heard ratherthan saw thegeyserofbloodpaintingtheceilingandwallsas the headless corpsecontinued for a few stepsbefore collapsing. All heknew was the inescapable,dominatingneedtosleep.

The floor tiles werecool against his cheek, hischest moving in a sedate

rhythm, he wondered if hewoulddreamofwolves…

“Vaelin!” Strong handsgripped him, shook him,many feet thundered on thefloor, a babble of voices likea raging river.Hegroaned inannoyance.

“Vaelin! Wake up!”Something hard smackedacross his face making himwince. “Wake up! Don’tsleep!Doyouhearme?!”

More voices, tumblingtogether in a barelydecipherable clamour. “FetchSister Sherin, now!… Gethim to the teaching room…Forget them, they’re dead…What was he infected with?…Lookslikeaknifewound,where’stheblade?”

“She wanted toapologise,” Vaelin said,decidingheshouldbehelpful.“Came to my room…

Would’ve gotmebut for thewolf…”

“Check his room!”Sherin’s voice, more shrillandpanickedthanheknewitcould be. “Look for a knife,make sure you don’t touchtheblade.”

There were morevoices, a vague sensation ofbeingcarried, thecoolnessofthefloorreplacedbythehardsmoothness of a treatment

table. Vaelin groaned, hisbefuddled mind perceivingthepaintocome.

“Dead?” the Aspect’svoice. “What do you meandead?”

“Looks like poison,”Master Harin’s deep rumbleresponded. “A pellet hiddenin one of her teeth. Haven’tseen the like for a longtime…”

Vaelin decided to open

hiseyes,seeingonlyamurkycollage of shadows. Heblinked, his vision clearinglong enough to make outSister Sherin, nostril’s flaredas she sniffed SisterHenna’sknife. “Hunter’sArrow,” shesaid.“WeneedJoffrilroot.”

“That could kill him.”Vaelin knew he should havebeenshockedbythealarmintheAspect’s voice but foundhis mind filled with a

questionhehadtoask.“He’lldieifwedon’t!”

Sherin snapped, her facestricken, fearful, butdetermined.“He’syoungandstrong.Hecanstandit.”

Apause,asighofdeepfrustration. “Fetch the root,andplentyofredflower…”

“No!” Sherin cut in.“No, it diminishes the effect.Noredflower.”

“Faith sister.” Master

Harin’s hulking form movedinto Vaelin’s view for thefirst time. “Do you knowwhat that stuff does to aman?”

“She’s right,” theAspectsaid,hervoicetight.

“Aspect?”Vaelinsaid.Shemoved to him, her

hand clasping his, fingerssmoothinghisbrow.“Vaelin,please lie still, we have togive you a physic to make

you well. This will hurt…Youmustbestrong.”

“Aspect,” he fought tokeephisvisionstable, lockedon her eyes. “Please, whatwasmymother’sname?”

Vardrian.It sang in his mind

through a tumult of pain.Vardrian. Her name. Herfamily name. Sweat bathedhim,hischestwasa furnace,

darkness clouded his eyes,but her name held him, ananchorintheworld.

SisterSherinhad tiedaleather strap around his armand injected the tincture ofJoffril root directly into hisveinwith a long needle. Theagony was almostinstantaneous. The roomfracturedanddisappeared,theAspect’s soothing wordsfading away, Sherin’s

strickenfaceapalesmudgeinthedescendingshadow.

Vardrian.It was a curious effect

of pain that time becameinfinite, every instant ofagony prolonged to theultimate. He knew that hisback was arched, his spinetensed like a bow, stronghands holding him to thetable as he raved and ragedincoherently.Heknewit,but

he didn’t feel it. It was faraway,somewherebeyondthepain.

Ildera Vardrian. Hismother.Aplainname,anamewithout nobility or notoriety,a name that came from thefields or the streets. Shewaslike his father, elevated byher talent. She was special.Suddenly he could see herface so clearly, the darknessfleeing before the brightness

of her smile, the compassioninhereyes.Shewasabeaconin the pain, a focus for hiswill,hiswilltolive.

He never knew howlong it lasted, how long ittook him to exhaust himself.Theytoldhimlaterheinjuredseveral of the Fifth Order’sstronger brothers, that heeven tried tobite theAspect,that he screamed the mostfoul and terrible things, but

he had no knowledge of it.All he knew was the name.IlderaVardrian.

Itsavedhim.

Chapter5In his dream there was

no pain. In his dream softgoldenlightstreamedthroughthe window and SisterSherin’ssmilewasradiantasshegazeddownathim.

“You lived,” she said.“Iknewyouwould.”

A dream… a dreamallows you to speak yourheart. “You’re beautiful,” he

toldher.Her smile became a

laugh. “You’re delirious,brother. Try to sleep, youneed to rest. There are anumberofdangerouslookingyoung men outside who willbeveryangrywithmeifyoudon’trecover.”

“We should go awaytogether,” he went onblithely, rejoicing in thefreedom of the dream. “We

should escape. Find a quietpart of the world where youcanhealandIcanlearntobesomething other than akiller…”

“Shhh!” Her fingerswere on his lips, her smilegonenow.“PleaseVaelin…”

“I felt nothing when Ikilled those men. Nothing.Thatisn’tright…”

“YousavedtheAspect.Youhadnochoice.”

The man in blackclutched at the wound in hisleg,whenVaelin’s sword cutintohisneckafaint,childlikewhimperescapedhisthroat…“I have shamed my mother.Compared to her I’mnothing…”

“No.” Her handcaressed his brow, her facecame close to his and a softkiss played on his lips.“You’reaguardian,awarrior

who fights in defence of thehelpless. You are strong andyou are just. Alwaysremember that. And alwaysremember that Iwill be herewhenever you need me,wheneveryoucallforme,myskillsareyours.”

The dream began tofade, exhaustion dragginghim to oblivion. “I’d ratherwe just went awaytogether…”

He woke to pain, not

the agony of the Joffril rootbut the mingled ache ofstrained muscles anddehydration. Oddly shapedred brown stains discolouredhisbedsheetsand thecutonhis arm retained the sting ofpoison. His eyelids began todroop,thewelcomingarmsofhisdreambeckoning…whenhenoticedhewasnotalone.

MasterSollis sat in thecorner of the room, armsfolded, his sword resting onhisknees.The rednessofhiseyestoldofasleeplessnight.“Took you long enough towakeup,”hesaid.

“Sorry,Master,”Vaelincroaked.

Master Sollis rose andwent to the table beside thebed to pour a cup of waterfromalargeclayjug.“Here.”

He held the cup to Vaelin’slips. “Small sips, don’t gulpit.”

The water tasted betterthan water had ever tasted,floodinghismouth,banishingthe dryness of his throat.“Thankyou,master.”

“Sister Sherin said youshould drink at least a cupevery hour. She gave verystrict instructions for yourcare.”

Sherin…We should goaway together… A new paintugged at his chest and hefoundhimselfwishinghehadnever had thedream,wakingtofindithadn’tbeenrealwasalmost more than he couldbear.

He looked down at thestainsonhissheets.“Didtheyhavetocutmeopen?”Hehadavividlyunpleasantimageofthe rib spreader being

plungedintohischest.“ApparentlyJoffril root

causesamantosweatblood.Part of its useful purgativeeffect, so I’m told.” Sollispulled his chair from thecorner of the room and satdownnexttothebed.“Ineedto know what happenedhere.”

So Vaelin told him,omitting nothing. Sollislistened in silence, barely

raising an eyebrow at SisterHenna’svisittohisroomandremaining impassive whenVaelin mentioned the wolf’showlthathadsavedhim.Hisonly reaction came at themention of her words:Oncetherewereseven.Itwasonlyaslightshiftintheeyes,butitsaidmuch.Heknows,Vaelindecided. He knows what itmeans and I’d bet a sack ofgoldheisn’tgoingtotellme.

Sollis showed no reaction tothe rest of it, asking only afew questions. “And howwouldyouassess their skills,theseassassins?”

“They could swing ablade but seemed to knownothing of tactics. I waspoisoned, weak, theyshould’vekilledme,takenmein a rush. Instead they cameatmeinturn,eachtimefromambush.”

Master Sollis sat insilence, pondering theinformation. Vaelin felt adesperate need to sleep butforced himself to remainalert.NovicebrothersdidnotsleepinaMaster’spresence.

“Is Sister Sherincomingback?”Vaelin asked,hopingabreak in the silencewould keep him awake. “I…I’dliketoknowhowlongI’llbelaidinthisbed.”

“She’s tending thewounded. She’s likely to bebusyforawhile.Thelasttwodays have seenmuch troubleinthecity.”

Twodays.Hehadbeendreamingandsweatingbloodfor two days. “Trouble,master?”

“Therehavebeen riots.When word spread of theattacks rumours startedabouta Denier plot. Soon it was

commonknowledgeahiddenarmy of Cumbraelins waswaiting in the sewers tomurderusallinourbeds.”Heshook his head in disgust.“Ignorant peoplewill believeanything if they’re scaredenough.”

Vaelin was puzzled.“Attacks?”

“Elera Al Mendah wasnot the only Aspect to beattacked. The Aspects of the

FourthandSecondOrdersaredead. The others were luckyto survive. Aspect Hendrahlwas sorely wounded, seemstheknifewasn’t longenoughtoreachhisheartthroughtheblubber.”

Vaelin’s mind reeled.TwoAspectsslain, it seemedso utterly incredible. HerememberedAspectCorlinAlSentis well from his Test ofKnowledge, the solemn,

grave faced man who hadpressed him on the events inthe forest. It was strange tothink of him torn by daggersand poison. His chain ofthought led him to aninevitable concern. “AspectArlyn?”

“He’s alive and well.Theysent threemenforhim.Theytunnelledintothevaultswhere they were met byMasterGrealin. It’s always a

mistaketounderestimateafatman in a fight.” It was theclosestthingtoacomplimentSollis had ever voiced aboutMasterGrealin.

“Isheinjured?”“A few bruises only.

Although he was sorelygrievedhecouldn’tkeeponeofthemalivetoprovidesomeanswers.”

“Mybrothers?”“They’re all well.

Brother Nortah managed togethimselfexpelledfromtheSecond Order after only twodays. As for the others,Brother Caenis distinguishedhimselfbykillingtheassassinwho had knifed AspectHendrahl and the othersappear to have been sleepingoff a vatful of ale whenAspectMontishmet his end.Half the novice brothers ofthe SixthOrder lolling about

theHouseoftheFourthOrderandassassinsslittheAspect’sthroat and get away beforeanyone had noticed. Severepunishmentwaswarranted.”

Vaelin sank back intohis mattress, suddenlyoverwhelmed by tiredness.“Forgivememaster,”hesaid.“For not taking one of themalive. The poison dulled mywits somewhat...” He driftedaway seeing Master Sollis’s

lean, inexpressive face fadeintoshadow.

Barkus raged, Dentos

joked, Nortah laughed andCaenis said little. Vaelinrealised he had missed themallterribly.

“It’s just so bloodydaft,”Barkussaid,bafflementcreasing his brows. “I meanwhatisgoingon?”

“Clearly there are

enemies among us, brother,”Caenis said. “We must bewary.”

“Butwhythough?WhykilltheAspects?”

Vaelin was tired, thecut on his arm had darkenedinto a bluish scar and theagony instilled by the Joffrilroot had faded into a dullache that lingered in hislimbs. Throughout themorning he had had several

visitors, Master Harinawkwardly complimentinghim and forcing a boominglaugh or two. Vaelin couldtellthebigmanwasgratifiedbyhis survival and saddenedbyHenna’sbetrayal.Shehadbeensomethingofafavouritein his group. Brother Sellinstayed for over an hour,gnarled hands clutching hiswooden club and talking ofhowhewouldhaveusediton

the assassins if he’d but hadthechance.Vaelinhadabriefvision of an elderly brotherlyinginagatehousewithhisthroat cut but said, “Theywerewiseindeedtogiveyoua wide berth, brother.” Theold man seemed happyenoughwith this and said hewould come back the nextday with a healing broth ofhis own recipe. There hadbeen other visitors but Sister

Sherin had been conspicuousby her absence and heworried about anyembarrassing ramblings hemayhaveutteredinhissleep.

“How’s Frentis?” heasked.

“Angry,” Nortah said.“Doesn’t know what to dowithit,we’vehadtodraghimoutofthreefightsalready.Hebegged theAspect to let himcomewithusbutgotadayin

thestablesforhispains.”“Keep an eye on him

when you get back. I don’tlikehimbeingaroundMasterRensialonhisown.TellhimI’m well, I’ll be back soon.AndtellhimtomakesurehevisitsScratcheveryday.”

Nortah nodded. It wasunspoken but acknowledgedthat he would lead whilstVaelin recovered. “They saidyou killed four of them,” he

said.“Impressive.”“Three. There was a

girl,shehadpretendedtobeasister here for years. Shekilledherselfwhenshefailedtokillme.”

“A girl?” A faintlywicked smile played onNortah’slipsasheglancedatthe scar on Vaelin’s arm.“How close did you let herget,brother?”

“Tooclose.”A lesson I

won’tforget.“Brother Nillin had

been at the Fourth Order forover twelve years,” Caenissaid. “He was one of theirmost respected scholars,author of three books onlinguistics, teacher oflanguages to the novicebrothers, and all the time hewas waiting to kill AspectDendrahl.”

“The fat bastard’s got

you to thank he’s still withus,” Nortah said. “How didyoureckonitoutanyway?”

“I didn’t. I wasreturning a book the Aspecthadlentme.Ikickedthedoorin when I heard himscreaming.” He paused, hissombre mood deepeningvisibly.“BrotherNillinputupa fair fight for a man in hisforty-seventhyear.”

“What’d you do him

with?”Dentosasked.“I didn’t have a

weapon, couldn’t see thepoint of carrying one aroundtheFourthOrder.Ihadtousemyhands.”

“Couldn’t have beeneasy,” Barkus commented.“Facing off unarmed againstamanwithaknife.”

“The man was skilledbut…”Caenisshrugged.

“Hewasn’t one of us,”

Vaelinfinished.Caenisnodded.“Which

begs the question why waituntil the Orders are full ofboys from the Sixth Orderbeforemakingtheirmove.”

“Nothing about thismakes sense,” Nortah said,yawning. “Although I canunderstand someone wantingthe Aspect of the SecondOrderdead.Onemoreminuteof the boring old fool’s

twaddle and I’d’ve strangledhimmyself.”

“Is that why you wereexpelled?”Vaelinasked.

Dentos snickered andNortah’s smile for onceseemedtohavesomegenuinehumour in it. “There was amisunderstandingwithoneofthe sisters. Apparentlyrelaxation massage hascertain limitations. At least Ithink that’s what she said

before she slapped me andranoff.”

Vaelin let them laughfor a few seconds beforecutting in, raisinghisgaze tomeet each of their eyes inturn. “I don’t know whathappened here, brothers. Idon’tunderstanditanybetterthan you do. I do know thatweliveinperiloustimes,thattheonly trustwecanhave isin each other. Heed Master

Sollis, obey the Aspect and,above all, guard each otherwell.”

The door opened andSister Sherin entered with abowl of steaming water, thefirst timehehad seenher allday. “Out!” she commanded.“Time for Brother Vaelin’swash and you lot have beenherelongenough.”

“A wash eh?” Nortahraised an eyebrow, leaning

close toSherin as sheplacedthebowlon the table,Vaelinnoting how his gaze scannedher fromhead to toe.“I trustyou’ll be very thorough,Sister.”

Sherin gaveNortah thesame wearied, uninterestedglance he recognised fromher encounters with amorousdrunksinthetreatmentroom.“Don’t you have to go andplay with your sword

somewhere,brother?”LaughingwrylyNortah

followed the others from theroom.

“Your friend could dowith a lesson in manners,”Sherin observed, placing thebowl on the small tablebeside the bed. “Hisdemeanour is unseemly for abrother.”

“My order has manydifferent brothers within its

ranks, some of them moreseemlythanothers.”

She raised an eyebrowbut said nothing, dipping hercloth into the bowl andmaking to pull back thecovers. “I’m strong enoughnow towashmyself, Sister,”he toldher,gentlybut firmlyholdingontotheblankets.

She gave him abemused look. “Trust mewhenIsay,brother,youhave

nothingIhaven’tseenbefore.Who do you think washedyou when you wereunconscious?”

Vaelin drove theuncomfortable thought to theback of his mind and kepthold of the bed clothes.“Evenso.I’mstrongernow.”

“As you wish.” Shedropped the cloth into thebowlandmovedback.“Sinceyou’re somuch stronger you

can meet with the Aspecttoday. She’s been asking foryou. In the gardens at noon.I’llhelpyou,ifyoucanstandtoacceptmyhelpthatis.”

She left the roomwithoutabackwardglance.Ittook Vaelin a moment torealise he had actually hurtherfeelings.

The Gardens of the

Fifth Order were extensive,

coveringseveralacresofrichsoil where brothers andsisters tended the myriadvariety of herbs andmedicinal plants that playedsuchanimportantroleintheirwork. For the most part thegardens consisted of a seriesof rectangles, a monotonouschequer board of green andbrown but here and therewere islands of colour,clustersofflowersandcherry

blossoms.“We have gardens in

our Order,” Vaelin toldSherin as she helped himalong one of the gravelpathways between theallotments.Hislegsandcheststillachedagooddealandheleant on her shoulder moreheavily than he would havewished, knowing theproximity made heruncomfortable. She had said

nothing when she arrived atnoon to take him to theAspect and did her best toavoid his gaze. “They aren’tlike this,” he went on whenshe didn’t respond. “MasterSmentil tends them, mostlyonhisown.Heonlyspeaksinsigns, lost his tongue to theLonak…” His voice faded.Sister Sherin was clearly innomoodforconversation.

She halted at a small

series of flower beds. HecouldseetheslenderfigureofAspectEleramovingbetweentheblossoms.

“The Aspect will helpyouonthewayback,”Sherinsaid, moving away to let hisarmfallfromhershoulder.

“Thankyou,sister.”She nodded and turned

away.“Sister,” he said,

reaching out to touch her

wrist.“Amomentplease.”She pulled her wrist

away,avoidinghistouch,butlingered,eyesguarded.

“Ididn’tthankyou,”hesaid.“Forsavingmylife.”

“Itismyrole,brother.”“When I was…

undergoing my cure I hadmanystrangedreams. I thinkImayhavesaidthings,thingsI would never say. If I saidanything…offensive…”

“You said nothing,brother.”Sheraisedhergaze,meeting his, forcing a smallsmile. “Nothing offensive atleast.” She folded her armstightly across her chest, hersmile fading. “You’ll beleaving soon, going back tothat awful place, going tofight some dreadful war.We… we won’t talk again,perhapsnotever.”

Involuntarily hemoved

closer, reaching out to graspherhands.“We’lltalkagain.Ipromise.”

“Vaelin!”ItwasAspectElera,standingattheedgeofthe flower garden, a smallpruning knife in her hand.Her smile was bright.“You’resomuchstronger.”

“Thanks to SisterSherin’scare,Aspect.”

“Indeed. Her care isvaluable,asishertime.”

“Forgive me, Aspect.”Sherin bowed her head. “Ishouldn’tloiter…”

“There is no rebuke,sister. But the city is stilltroubled. I fear your skillswill be sorely needed againtoday.”

Sherin nodded, gaveVaelinapartingglance,asadsmile on her lips, beforereleasing his hands andmaking her way back to the

OrderHouse.Vaelinwatchedheruntilshewasoutofsight.

“What doyouknowofflowers, Vaelin?” Elera AlMendah asked him, offeringher arm for support andleading him into the flowergarden.

“Master Hutril taughtme to spot the poisonousones. He said they’re goodforgrindingupandsmearingon arrowheads.”And I have

a sister who likeswinterblooms.

“Very useful I’m sure.Do you know what theseare?” She stopped beside ashort row of purple flowerswith odd, curved headsframedbyfourlongpetals.

“I haven’t seen thembefore,Aspect.”

“MarlianOrchids, fromthe far south of the Alpiranempire. Actually, they’re

crossbreeds,Imixedinsomeofournativeorchidstoaddalittlehardiness,ourclimateiscolder than they’re used to.It’softenthewaywithplants,take them out of the soil inwhich they’ve grown andtheywitheranddie.”

He felt a lesson wasbeing taught, a lesson hedidn’t want to hear. “Iunderstand, Aspect.” Heassumed it was the response

sheexpected.“Sherin is special,” the

Aspect went on. “She cares,you see. Cares more thanmost, even the brothers andsisters of thisOrder. Perhapsthat’s where her skill comesfrom.Andsheisveryskilled,already she surpasses me inmostthings,butdon’ttellherthat.Skilllikethatisboundtomake her isolated. Therearen’t many who take the

time or trouble to know herwell enough to see howspecialsheis.Butyoudid,asIknewyouwould.It’swhyIplaced you together. But Ididn’texpectyourbondtobesostrong.”

“I believe friendship isnot forbidden those whoservetheFaith.”

Aspect Elera raised aneyebrow at the impertinencebut voiced no rebuke.

“Friendship is always to bevalued. But it cannot inhibittheroleyouandSherinaretoplay. Sherin is to this Orderwhatyouaretoyours.”

“Andwhatisthat?”“The future. It is

necessary you bothunderstand this.Yourmotherdid not, or she refused to.Lovecandothat,blindyoutothe path the Faith has madefor you. When she left this

placetomarryyourfathertheFifth Order lost a futureAspect.”

“I am sure my motherknewherownheart.”

She winced a little,hearing his bitterness. “Yes,shedid.Imeantnocriticism,merely regret. She was myclosest friend, when I firstcame here she taught me.Without her I would knownothing.”

She paused at a smallplainwoodenbenchandbadehim sit. He was grateful fortherest,hislegsfeltasiftheywould fold under him at anymoment.

“May I ask Aspect,haveyou learnedanythingofthemenwhoattackedyou?”

She shook her head.“Very little.Thebodieswereexamined,nothingof interestwas found save that they all

had poisoned pelletsconcealed in their teeth, likeSister Henna. Their faceswere not known to anyone.The Realm Guard and theFourth Order areinvestigating. I daresay theywill provide answers in duecourse.”

For a woman who hadrecently escaped death sheseemed remarkablyunconcerned about the

identity of her attackers.“You are not afraid othersmighttryagain?”

She frowned as if thethought had not occurred toherbefore.“Iftheycometheycome.ThereseemslittleIcandoaboutit.TheFaithtellsusto accept those things wecannotchange.”

“SisterHennahadbeenhere long time. Her betrayalmusthurt.”

“Betrayal? I doubt sheever had any loyalty to thisplacesohowcouldshebetrayit?Shedidwhatshewassenthere to do. I must say I’mimpressed with herdedication,allthistimelivinga lie and she never faltered,neverlethermaskslip.”

“She said something,before she died. ‘Once therewere seven.’ Do you knowwhatitmeans?”

There was somethingthere, some reaction but notthe same recognition he hadseen in Master Sollis, morelike fear, but gone in aninstant. “You have manyquestions today, Vaelin. Itseems to be a recurringfeatureofourconversations.”

Another onewho’ll tellme nothing. “Forgive me,Aspect.”

She dismissed his

concern with a laugh. “Afterwhat you did forme I feel Ioweyouone answer at least.So, askme,butonequestiononlymind.”

One question only. Italmostseemedcruel,asifshewas playing with him. Hewanted answers to every oneof the myriad questions thatplagued him, but after amoment’s frantic thought hesettled on the one that had

been at the forefront of hismind for months. “What doyouknowofmysister?”

“Ah.”Shepaused foramoment, sadness lining herface. “I know that she’s avery bright little girl. I knowher parents love her verymuch. I know that she wasborn little over ten yearsago.”

“Whenmymotherwasstillalive.”

The Aspect sighedheavily.“Vaelin,Idon’twishto hurt you but you mustunderstand that not everymarriage is a happy story.Yourmotherandfatherlovedeach other greatly but theywerealsoverydifferent.Yourmother hated war, she hadseen enough of it in herservice,butsheacceptedyourfather’s role as Battle Lordbecause she loved him and

because he was a man ofjusticewhostrovetokeeptheworst excesses of the RealmGuardincheck.Butwhenthethird Meldenean war cameshe found she could stomachit no longer. She knewwhathehadbeenorderedtodoandshebeggedhimnotto.ButhehadtoobeyhisKing.”

“The city.” Men,women,children…screamingintheflames.

“Yes. It haunted thembothanditendedtheirunion.She turned away from him.Hebeganspendingmoretimeawayfromhome,howhemetthe woman who would givehimadaughterIdon’tknow.But when your mother diedand you were placed in theSixth Order they werebrought to live in his home.He asked for permission tomarry and legitimise the girl

but the King refused. TheBattle Lord must be anexample, a model for thepeople to follow. It was notlongafterthisthatyourfatherlefttheKing’sservice.”

“Didmymotherknow?Aboutthegirl.”

“I don’t think so. Herhealthbegantofailabout thesame time. She concernedherselfwithyourfuture.”Shereacheduptosmooththehair

from his forehead. “She hadmany hopes for you. All thegood she did, all the peopleshe healed, but youwere theproudest achievement of herlife.”

“ThenIamgladshedidnot live to see what I havebecome.”

The slap was slow byhis standards but sounexpectedhefailedtoblockit.

“Don’t ever say that!”Her voice was heavy withanger as he rubbed hisstinging cheek. “What haveyou become?A brave youngmanwho savedmy life.Notto mention Sister Sherin’s. Iknow your mother’s spiritsings with pride at who youare.”

“I amakiller. It’s all Iknowhowtodo.”

“You are a warrior in

the service of the Faith. Donot forget that. It may meannothingtoyounowbutitwillintime.”

“It’s not what shewanted. Putting me in thatplace so my father couldmove his whore into herhouse…”

“Itwasn’thisdecision.”“Another King’s order,

then. A symbol of hisdevotion…”

“It was your mother’sdyingwish.”

He felt he had beenslapped again, only worse.His head spun,mind reeling.LIES!She’slying!Mymotherwould never have wantedthis.

“Vaelin?”Herosefromthebench,

staggering away from her,nausea and confusion boilinginsidehim,buthisweakened

legs could only carry him afewstepsbeforehecollapsed,crushingpreciousorchidsandfinding himself blinded bytears.

“Vaelin.” She washolding him, cradling him ashe sobbed. “I’m sorry. Youhadtoknow.”

“Why?” he whisperedinto her breast. “Why wouldshedothat?”

“Becauseshewasbrave

enough to look into yourheart and see the man youweremeanttobe.Sheprayedto the Departed you wouldinherit her gift, that youwould spend your life as ahealer, but as you grew sheknew it was your father’sskill that ran in your blood.As your father’s son youwould have had a verydifferentlife,alifeofservicetrue, but service to theKing,

not the Faith. The King hadplans for you, did you knowthat?Intimeyouwouldhavebeenveryusefultohim.Yourmother had lost her husbandto his plans, she wouldn’tlose a son. As her healthworsened she realised shewouldnotbe there toprotectyou and your father wouldalways obey his king. SheknewAspectArlynwellfromher time in the Cumbraelin

wars and asked him to takeyou. Of course he agreedalthough he knew it meantconflictwiththecrown.Yourfather raged when she toldhim, his anger was terrible,but your mother was dyingandashisfinalservicetohershe made him promise hewould give you to the Orderwhenshewasgone.Itwashislastactofloyaltytoher.”

Loyalty is our

strength…Loyaltytoaking…Loyaltytoabetrayedwife…

His voice came in awhisper, secrets rising fromdeep inside. “I heard heronce, my first night in theOrder as I lay shivering infear. I heard her say myname.”

Her arms tightenedaround him. “She loved yousomuch.When I placed youin her arms she seemed to

shinewithit.”He drew back a little,

puzzled.Shesmiledandplaceda

kiss on his forehead. “Idelivered you Vaelin AlSorna, and a big, squallingmassoffleshyouwere.”

Questions.Stillsomanyquestions. But somehow hefelt content to leave themunasked.Fornowtheanswersshe gave were enough. She

heldhimforawhilelongerashistearssubsidedthenhelpedhimbacktotheOrderHouse.He left twodays lateramidstfond farewells from thebrothers and sisters of theFifth Order. Sister Sherinwasn’t present, her Aspecthaving sent her to thesouthern coast the previousday where fresh rioting leftmany people in need ofhealing. It would be nearly

fivemoreyearsbeforeVaelinsawheragain.

Chapter6He recovered in a few

days with no lingeringailments save a tendency tocoughoncoldmorningsandalife-long suspicion of overlyamorous women, somethingwhich did not concern abrother of the Sixth Orderwith any regularity. Hisreturn to the Order wasgreeted with studied

indifferencefromthemasters,a marked contrast to thejoyous farewells he receivedfrom the brothers and sistersof the Fifth Order. Hisbrothers, of course, acteddifferently, fussing over himwithanembarrassinglevelofconcern,confininghimtobedfor a full week and forcingfood down his neck at everyopportunity. Even Nortahjoined in, although Vaelin

detected a certain sadism inthe way he tucked theblankets inandheldthesoupspoon to his mouth. Frentiswastheworst,spendingeveryspare minute in their towerroom, anxiously watchingover him and becomingagitatedattheslightestcoughor sign of ill health. Heearned his first caning fromMaster Sollis for failing toappear at sword practice

because he had been frettingover a slight fever Vaelindeveloped in the night.Finally the Aspect decreedtheir room off limits to himonpainofexpulsion.

When he was strongenough to leave his bedwithout assistance Vaelin’sfirst call was to the kennelswhereScratch’sgreetingwasaggressively ecstatic,knockinghimoffhisfeetand

painting his face with hisstone rough tongue as hisrapidly growing brood ofpups milled around themyelpingwithexcitement.

“Get off you brute!”Vaelin grunted, managing toheave the dog’s weight fromhis chest. Scratch whined alittle at the reproach but laidhis head affectionately onVaelin’s chest. “I know.”Vaelin scratched his ears. “I

missedyoutoo.”When he visited the

stableshefoundSpitalsohadawelcomewaiting.Itlastedafull two minutes and MasterRensial stated confidently itwas the longest fart he hadeverheardahorseproduce.

“Bloody nag,” Vaelinmuttered,holdingacandyupto the stallion’smouth. “Testof the Horse soon. Don’t letmedown,eh?”

He found Caenis atarchery practice, loosing asmany arrows as possible inthe shortest time, a skillcrucial to the Test of theBow. To Vaelin’s eyesCaenis hardly needed thepractice,hishandsseemingtoblur as he sent shaft aftershaftintothebuttthirtypacesaway. Vaelin had steadilyimprovedwiththebowbutheknew he could never match

the level of skill Caenisdisplayed with the weaponandevenhewasoutshonebyDentosandNortah.

“You’re a few pointsoff,”heobserved,althoughintruth the inaccuracy wasbarely noticeable. “The lastfewdriftedtotheleft.”

“Yes,” Caenis agreed.“My aimwanders after fortyarrows or so.” He drew thebowstring back, the finely

honed muscles of his armstraining before he sent theshaft into the centre of thetarget.“Alittlebetter.”

“I wanted to ask youabout the assassin youkilled.”

Caenis’s expressionclouded. “I’ve told the talemany times over, to you, theothers and the masters. AsI’m sure you’ve told yourstorymanytimes.”

“Didhesayanything?”Vaelin pressed. “Before youkilledhim.”

“Yes,hesaid‘Getawayfromme,boy,orI’llgutyou.’Hardlyworthyofasongisit?I was wondering if I shouldchange it when I write thetale.”

“Youintendtowriteofthis?”

“Of course. One day Iwill write the story of our

serviceintheFaith.IfeelourOrder has been sadly remissin recording its history. Doyou know we are the onlyOrder not to have its ownlibrary?Ihope tostartanewtradition.”He loosed anotherarrow, then two more inquick succession. Vaelinnotedhisaimhadworsened.

Killingaman isnotaneasy thing to bear, or talkabout,herealised.“Youliked

him,thisBrotherNillin?”“He was an interesting

man with many stories,although when I thoughtaboutitlaterIrealisedhehada fondness for the moreancient tales. TheOld Songsthey’re called, from the timebefore the Faith was strong,sagas of blood and war andthepracticeoftheDark.”

The Dark… A wolf inthe forest, a wolf howling

outside my window. “Oncethere were seven. Do youknowwhatitmeans?”

Caenis had drawn hisbow once again but slowlyrelaxed the tension. “Wheredidyouhearthat?”

“Sister Henna said itbeforeshetookpoison.Whatdoesitmean,brother?Iknowyouknow.”

Caenis took the arrowfrom thebowand returned it

tothequiverathiship,layingthe bow down gently on hispack.“It’sastory.AtaleliketheOldSongs,butitconcernsthe Faith. Truth be told I’dnever given it credence. It’srarelytoldandthearchivesofthe Orders make no mentionofit.”

“Nomentionofwhat?”“In our time there are

six Orders serving the Faith.But once, so some say, there

wereseven.Intheearlyyearsof heFaith,when theOrderswerefirstformedandthefirstAspectschosenit’ssaidtherewas a Seventh Order. TheOrders were formed to serveeach of the principal aspectsof the Faith, and so thebrother or sister chosen tolead an order is called theAspect. The Seventh Order,soitsclaimed,wastheOrderof the Dark, its brothers and

sisters would delve into themysteries,seekingknowledgeandpower tobetterserve theFaith. Traditionally practiceoftheDarkhasbeenascribedto the Denier creeds but, ifthis tale is to be believed, itwas once part of our Faith.The tale has it that after onehundred years a crisis arose.The Seventh Order began togrow in power, using itsknowledge of the Dark to

seek dominion over theOrders, claiming theirknowledge brought themcloser to the Departed,claimingtheycouldheartheirvoice,interprettheirguidancemore clearly than the lesserOrders. They said it was aprivilege that gave them theright to lead, to haveascendancyintheFaith.Suchathingcouldnotbetoleratedofcourse,theFaithmusthave

balance between the Orders,one cannot be set above theothers. So there was warbetween the Faithful and intime the Seventh wasdestroyed but not beforemuchbloodhadbeenspilled.Itissaidthatsogreatwasthechaoscausedbythiswarthatit brought the fracturing ofthe Realm into the four fiefsnot united again until thereignofourgreatKingJanus.

Whether any of this is truecannot be told. If true itwould have happened oversixhundredyearsagoandthefew books to survive thecenturiessaynothingoftheseevents.”

“And yet you seem toknowthetalewell.”

“You know me,brother.” Caenis smiledfaintly.“Iwasalwaysfondofstories.Themorefancifulthe

better.”“You believe it, don’t

you?”Asuddeninsightcameto Vaelin then, a realisationspawned by the faintness ofCaenis’s smile and theimmediacywithwhichhehadtold his tale. “You alreadyknew.YouknewthisSeventhOrderwerebehindthis.”

“I suspected. There aretales, little more than fables,that claim the SeventhOrder

was never truly destroyed,that it survived, thrived insecret, awaiting its time toreturn and claim theascendancy it sought so longago.”

“We will go to MasterSollis and the Aspect, theymusthearofthis.”

“They already have,brother. I told them all Isuspected as soon as Ireturned to the Order. I

formed the impression I wastelling them nothing theydidn’talreadyknow.”

Vaelin rememberedMaster Sollis’s reaction toSister Henna’s words andAspect Elera’s refusal todiscuss it. They know, herealised. They all know. AsecretkeptbytheAspectsforcenturies. Once there wereseven.AndtheSeventhwaits,itplots.Theyknow.

Hislimbsbegantoachewith a sudden chill althoughit was a bright, sunlit day.“Thank you for sharing yourknowledgewithmebrother,”hesaid,crossinghisarmsandhugginghimselfforwarmth.

“I alwayswillVaelin,”Caenis replied. “You knowthere are no secrets betweenus.”

The Test of the Horse

cametwomonthslater,amilelong course through woodsand rough country followedby three arrows loosed fromthe saddle into the centre ofthree targets. Surprising no-one, Nortah excelled in theTest, setting a new record inthe process. The others allfared well, even Barkuswhose riding was scarcelybetter than Vaelin. Hestruggled from the start, Spit

was his usual fractious selfand would only stir to agallop after a tiradeofheart-felt threats. They labouredoverthecourseintheslowesttime of the day andVaelin’sarchery from the saddle wasbarely adequate, but at leasthe had passed. For once noother brothers failed theTestandtheeveningmealbecamea raucous celebrationcompletewithsmuggledbeer

and much throwing of food.Theywere punished the nextmorningwithafreezingswimin the river and five laps ofthe practice field at full peltstark naked. No-one thoughtithadn’tbeenworthit.

Over the next fewweeks there were more talesof riots and discord beyondthe walls. Deniers, real orsuspected, were being setupon by angry mobs,

hundreds had died and theRealm Guard was hardpressed to keep order.Eventually, as summerslipped into autumn, theRealm calmed. Contrary tothe expectations of manythere were no moreassassinations, no hiddenarmyofCumbraelinsbeneaththe streets, in fact thehereticalfiefwascalmerthanithadbeenforoveradecade.

The Summer of Fire, as itbecame known, faded intomemoryleavingonlycorpses,griefandashinitswake.

In the aftermath of theassassinations new Aspectshad to be chosen for theFourth and SecondOrders, aprocess which required aConclave of the Faithful.Vaelin and Caenis werechosen to accompanyAspectArlyn to the proceedings,

ostensibly to act asbodyguards, theOrderHousebeing short on confirmedbrothersas thediscord in theRealm had called most ofthem away. But Vaelinsuspected the Aspect wantedthem to learn something ofhow the different OrdersgovernedtheFaith.

The Conclave tookplace in the debating hall oftheHouseoftheThirdOrder,

a cavernous chamber ofvaulted ceilings and longbenches lining the walls. InadditiontotheAspects,manyof the seniormastersof eachOrder were also present andallowed a voice in thediscussion.CaenisandVaelinhowever had been told tooffernoopinions.

“I never dreamed Iwould be allowed to comehere, brother,” Caenis

enthusedinawhisper,almostshaking with excitement asthey took their seats behindAspect Arlyn who sat in thefront row. “Present at thechoosingoftwonewAspects.Ablessingindeed.”

Vaelin noted he hadbrought along a good supplyof parchment and a stub ofcharcoal.“StartedtheTaleofBrotherCaenis,already?”

“Actually, I was going

to call it The Book of FiveBrothers.”

“It’s six, countingFrentis.”

“Oh,he’llgetapageortwo,don’tworry.”

Aspect Silla Colvis ofthe First Order was alreadypresent alongwith twenty orsoofhismasters,allwearingthe white robes of theirOrder. Theywere allmen intheir sixties or older, their

deeply lined faces apparentlylost in contemplation, eitherthat or they were asleep.Aspect Elera was next toarrive, accompanied by onlythreebrothersandtwosisters,Vaelin’s heart sinking whenhe saw that Sherin was notamongst them. AspectDendrish Hendrahl of theThird Order arrived last,sweating profusely as heheaved his bulk into the

chamberandsettled iton thefront row bench oppositeAspectArlyn.Hisbrushwithdeath had clearly left itsmark, his skin now a pallidgrey contrasting with itsprevious porcine pinkness,his eyes sunken into thefleshy mass of his face liketwo stones pushed into softdough.He had broughtmoremasters than the otherAspects, over thirty, mostly

men, all sharing a singularcharacteristic in that theyseemed to be smelling thesame bad smell. There wasonly the barest of flicker ofrecognition when he caughtsight of Caenis and no offerof a greeting to the youngmanwhohadsavedhislife.Ifanything Vaelin sensed aresentment in the Aspect’sdemeanour.Itmusthavehurtalmostasmuchasthepoison,

he surmised, to be saved byoneofus.

Aspect Colvis rose andwalked to the dais in thecentre of the chamber, hisbeardedfacesombrewiththegravity of the occasion.“Aspects, masters, brothers,sisters, we are called toconclave.Itisinourhandstodecide the future of twoOrders. Such a thing hasneverhappenedbeforeinour

Faithandisonlyforceduponusnowbythedireeventsthatclaimed two of our mostexalted brethren. It does nottakeawisemantorealiseweareat thedawnofanewdayforourFaith,adayoftrial,adaywherethetenetsweholdso dear will face the mostardent challenge. Heed thiswell when we make ourdecisions today.” He turnedto a brother of the Third

Orderstandingreadynearthedais.“Brother,pleaseask thecandidatestojoinus.”

The two prospectiveAspects were led into thechamber, a woman in herearly thirties and a manVaelin had seen before, asharp faced man in a blackrobe: Tendris Al Forne. Thewoman was introduced asMistress Liesa Ilnien of theSecond Order, a plain and

serene figure in a duncoloured robe who met thecombined gaze of thechamber’s occupants withcalm acceptance. Tendris AlForne of the Fourth Orderwasacontrast,staringbackathisaudiencewithafiercenessthatcouldalmostbedefiance,the odd cheerfulness Vaelinhad seen in him three yearsago had disappeared this daybut the fanaticism remained.

He scanned the assemblybriefly,pausingwhenhesawVaelintoofferasmallnod.

“These two comebefore us for recognition,”Aspect Colvis told theassembled representatives ofthe Orders. “The Faithrequireswemeet to considerthe merits of theirappointment. We will hearquestionsnow.”

Aspect Hendrahl was

first to raise his hand,addressing his question toLiesa Ilnien. “The lamentedAspect youwish to replace,”he began before pausing tocough loudly into a lacehandkerchief, “…served asAspect of the Second Orderforovertwentyyears.Doyouthink you can offer the samelevelofexperience?”

The woman respondedwithout pause, the words

flowing easily from her lipsin precise, even tones. “AnAspect does not requireexperience. An Aspect is abrother or sister who bestembodiesthevaluesofhisorherOrder.”

“And you presume tojudge yourself theembodiment of your Order’svalues?”Hendrahldemanded,reddening a little, althoughVaelin sensed his anger was

somewhatforced.“I presume to judge

myselfinallthings,”MistressLiesa Ilnien replied. “TheFaith teaches us to be ourown judge, for who knowsone’s heart better thanoneself?”

“Mistress Liesa,”Aspect Elera said beforeHendrahl could respond.“Have you journeyed far inthisRealm?”

“I have visited all fourFiefs and I spent a year onmission to the NorthernReaches, trying to bring theFaithtothehorsetribesofthegreatplains.”

“A noble endeavour.Didyouhaveanysuccess?”

“Sadly the horse folktend to shun outsiders andcling to their delusions. If Iam blessed by ascension toAspect it ismyhope to send

more missions north. TheFaith is a blessing that mustbe shared beyond ourborders.”

“Such concern for theoutsideworld,”AspectColvissaid, “would seem tocontradict the values of yourOrder. Ever has it been thebastion of contemplation andmeditation,shelteredfromthemany storms of our land.Wouldsuchworknotsufferif

you were to concernyourselves more with theharshness of the physicalworld?”

“In order tocontemplate one must havesomething to contemplate. Alife without experienceprovides no chance ofcontemplation. Those whohave not lived cannotmeditate on the mysteries oflife.”

Vaelin was impressedby the woman’s logic butcould sense the agitation ofthe assembled masters, asubdued rumble ofconversation filling thebenches.Next to himCaeniswasscribblingbusily.

Aspect Arlyn raised ahand and the murmuring ofthe crowd stoppedimmediately. “MistressIlnien,whydoyouthinkyour

Aspectwasmurdered?”TheMistressbowedher

head for a moment, her facetensed by a brief expressionof sadness. “There are thosewhowishtoharmourFaith,”she said, raising her head tomeetAspectArlyn’seye,herpreviously measured tonefaltering slightly. “Who theyareorwhytheywoulddothisis something I cannotimagine.”

Next to her BrotherTendris Al Forne spoke forthe first time. “If our sistercannot imagine who wouldstrike against us, perhaps Ican.”

“Youhavenotyetbeenquestioned,” Aspect Colvispointedout.

“Showsomerespectforthis occasion, young man,”Aspect Dendrahl said,wheezing a little. Vaelin

noted there were spots ofbloodonhishandkerchief.

“I offer no disrespect,”AlFornereplied.“Onlytruth,atruthsomeofusseemafraidtospeak.”

“And what truth isthis?”AspectEleraasked.

AlFornepaused,takeadeep breath as if gatheringstrength. Next to VaelinCaenis’s charcoal stub waspoised over his parchment in

anticipation. “We have beencomplacent,” Al Forne saideventually.“Wehaveallowedourselves to become weak.The SixthOrder once foughtonly against the enemies oftheFaith,nowtheypolicethefrontiersof thisRealmat thebeck and call of the Crownand Denier sects gather inforcewithoutchallenge.

“TheFourthOrderonceoffered healing only to those

who were true adherents ofthe Faith but now they opentheir arms to all, even theunfaithful, and so they growstrong and confident in theknowledgethattheymayplotagainst us and we will stillhealthem.

“My own Order oncekept records of Denier sectsand practices going backcenturies but not more thanthree months ago they were

destroyedtomakemoreroomfortheRoyalaccountswearenowrequiredtokeep.Iknowwhat I say may anger orshock many of you butbelieve me brothers andsisters,wehavetiedtheFaithtoo closely to theRealm andthe Crown. And that is whywe were attacked, becauseourenemiesseeourweaknessifwedonot.”

The silence was

palpable, broken only by thechoked rage of AspectDendrahl who managed togasp, “You come before usspouting this… this heresyand still expect to be madeAspect?”

“I come before you tospeak the truth in the hopeour Faith will return to itstrue path. As for yourapproval,Idonotrequireit.Iam the choice of my Order.

My election was unopposedandnootherwillcomebeforeyou.Thearticlesof theFaithstate you must be consultedbefore my ascension, that isall.Am I not correct,AspectColvis?”

The aged Aspectnodded his grey head stiffly,either too shocked or toooutragedtospeak.

“Then we haveconsultedandI thankyouall

foryourattention.Iprayyouwillallheedmywords.NowImust return tomyOrder, Ihavemuchtodo.”Hebowedand turned to walk brisklyfromthechamber.

TheConclaveexplodedwithrage,theassemblyrisingto their feet, shouting theirangeratAlForne’sretreatingback,thewords“heretic”and“traitor” loudest amongst thecries. Al Forne didn’t turn,

leaving the chamber withoutbreaking stride or sparing abackward glance.The tumultcontinued unabated, calls foraction to be taken risingabove the clamour, somemasters imploring AspectArlyn to seize Al Forne andtake him to the Blackhold.Aspect Arlyn however sat insilencethroughoutitall.NexttoVaelinCaenishaduseduphis supply of parchment and

was feverishly searching hispocketsformore.

“Has this everhappened before?” Vaelinasked him, finding he had toshouttobeheard.

“Never,” Caenisreplied, finding scrap ofparchment he began to writeagain, quickly covering it inscript. “Not ever in thehistoryoftheFaith.”

Chapter7Autumn brought the

Test of theBow.Once againallthenovicebrotherspassed.Predictably Caenis, Nortahand Dentos excelledthemselveswhilstBarkusandVaelinprovedonlyadequate,at least by the standards ofthe Order. They wererewarded with permission toattend the Summertide Fair,

delayed for two months duetotheriots.

BothVaelinandNortahoptedtoremainbehind.Therewere rumours that theCrowscontinued to nurse theirgrievance and it seemedpointless to invite retributionat the scene of theirhumiliation. Besides, Nortahhad no wish to revisit anevent synonymous with hisfather’s execution. They

spent the day hunting in thewoods with Scratch, theslave-hound’s nose quicklyleading them to a deer.Nortah put an arrow throughthe animal’s neck from fiftypaces.Insteadofcarryingthecarcass back to the kitchensthey decided to butcher it onthespotandcampoutforthenight. It was a pleasantevening in the woods, theleavesofearlyautumnlaying

a greenish bronze blanket onthe forest floor and shafts ofsunlight streaming throughthethinningbranches.

“Thereareworseplacesto be,” Vaelin observed,cutting a slice from thehaunch of venison spittedovertheircampfire.

“Reminds me ofhome,”Nortahsaid,tossingasliceofmeattoScratch.

Vaelin hid his surprise.

Since his father’s executionNortahrarelyspokeofhislifebefore the Order. “Where isit?Yourhome.”

“In the south, threehundred acres of landbordered by theHebril river.Myfather’shousewassetonthe shores of Lake Rihl. Ithad been a castle when hewas a boy but he’d mademany changes. We had oversixty rooms and a stable for

forty horses. We’d often goridinginthewoods,whenhewasn’t at Varinshold on theKing’sbusiness.”

“Did he tell you whathedidfortheKing?”

“Many times, hewanted me to learn. He saidonedayIwouldservePrinceMalcius the same way heservedKingJanus.Itwastheduty of our family to be theKing’s closest advisors.” He

gaveashort,bitterlaugh.“Did he ever tell you

about the war with theMeldeneans?”

Nortah gave him asidelong glance. “When yourfather burned their city youmean? He only mentioned itonce.HesaidtheMeldeneanscouldn’t hate us any morethantheyalreadydid.Besidesthey’d had amplewarning ofwhat would happen if they

didn’tleaveourshipsandourcoastinpeace.Myfatherwasa very pragmatic man,burningtheircitydidn’tseemtoconcernhimgreatly.”

“Hedidn’ttellyouwhyhesentyouhere,didhe?”

Nortah shook his head.The hour was growing lateandtheglowofthefireshonebrightly in his eyes, hishandsome face sombre inshadow. “He said I was his

sonanditwashiswishthatIjoin the Sixth Order. Irememberhehadarguedwithmy mother the night before,which was strange becausethey never argued, in facttheyrarelyspokeatall.Inthemorning she wasn’t atbreakfast and I wasn’tallowedtosaygoodbyewhenthe cart came for me. Ihaven’tseenhersince.”

They lapsed into

silence, Vaelin’s line ofthought leading him toquestions he felt were bestunasked.

“I know what you’rethinking,”Nortahsaid.

“Iwasn’tthinking…”“Yes you were. And

you’re right. My father sentme to theOrderbecauseyouweresentherebyyourfather.ItoldyoutheywererivalsbutIdidn’t tellyouallof it.My

father hated the Battle Lord,loathed him. For a while itseemed all he could talkabout was how his positionwas constantly underminedby a gutter born butcher. Itirked him greatly that yourfatherwassopopularwiththepeople, a thing my fathercould never achieve. Hewasn’t one of them, he washigh born, but your fatherwas a commoner, risen to

greatness on his ownmerits.Whenhesentyouhereitwasagreatsymbolofdevotiontothe Faith and the Realm, apublic sacrifice that couldonlybematchedoneway.”

“I’msorry…”“Don’t apologise. You

areasmuchavictimofyourfatherasIamofmine.Ittookmeyearstoreckonit,whyhehad done it, one day it justpopped into my head. He

gave me up to better hispositionatCourt.”Hegaveawry, humourless smile. “Ourdear King, it seems, caredlittleforhisgesture.”

I am not my father’svictim, Vaelin thought. Mymother sent me here, toprotect me. He left thethought unsaid, suspectingNortahwouldfind itdifficulttoaccept.

“It’s ironic don’t you

think?” Nortah asked after amoment.“Ifwe’dneverbeengiventotheOrdermostlikelywe’d have become enemies,likeourfathers.Andoursonswould have been enemies,maybe even their sons, andonandonitwouldhavegone.At least this way it endsbeforeitcouldbegin.”

“You sound almostcontenttobeintheOrder.”

“Content? No, just

accepting. This is my lifenow. Who can say what thefuturewillbring?”

Scratch yawned, histeeth gleaming in thefirelight, then moved toVaelin’sside,snugglingclosebeforesettlingdowntosleep.Vaelin patted his flank andlay back on his bed roll,lookingforshapesinthevastarray of stars above andwaiting for sleep to claim

him.“I… feel I owe you a

debt,brother,”Nortahsaid.“Adebt?”“Formylife.”Vaelin realised Nortah

was trying to thank him, inthe only way Nortah couldthank anyone. Not for thefirst time he wondered whatkind of man Nortah wouldhave been had his father notsent him here.A future First

Minister? A Sword of theRealm? Battle Lord even?But he doubted he wouldhave been the kind of manwhogavehissonawayjusttobetterhisrival.

“Idon’tknowwhat thefuturewillbring,”hetoldhisbrother eventually. “But Isuspect you’ll have manychancestorepaythedebt.”

Itwasacurious factof

lifeintheOrderthattheolderthey got the harder theirtraining became. It seemedtheir skills had to be raisedever higher, honed like asword blade. And so asautumn became winter theirsword practice doubled, thentripled until it seemed itwasall they did. Master Sollisbecametheironlymaster,theothers now distant figurespreoccupied with younger

charges. The sword becametheir life. Why was nomystery. Next year wouldbring the Test of the Swordwhen they would face threecondemned men, sword inhand,andtriumphordie.

Sword practice beganafter the seventh hour andcontinued for the rest of thedaywithabrief interlude forfoodand the reliefof a shortre-acquaintancewith thebow

or their horses. In themorningMaster Solliswouldshow them a sword scale,flashingthroughthedanceofthrusts,parriesandstrokes inthespaceofa fewheartbeatsbefore commanding them tocopy it. Failure to repeat thescale exactly earned a fullpelt run around the practiceground.Afternoonssawthemswaptheirswordsforwoodenreplicasandassaileachother

in contests that left them allwith an increasinglyspectacular collection ofbruises.

Vaelinknewhimself tobethebestswordsmanamongthem. Dentos was master ofthe bow, Barkus unarmedcombat, Nortah the finestrider and Caenis knew thewild like a wolf, but thesword was his. He couldnever explain the feeling it

gave him, the sense that theblade was part of him, anextension of his arm, hiscloseness to it accentuatinghis perception in combat,readinganopponent’smovesbefore they were made,parrying blows that wouldhavefelledanother,findingawaypastdefencesthatshouldhave baffled him. It wasn’tlong before Master Sollisstoppedmatchinghimagainst

theothers.“You’ll fight me from

now on,” he told Vaelin asthey faced each other,woodenswordsready.

“An honour master,”Vaelinsaid.

Sollis’s sword crackedagainsthiswrist, thewoodenblade flying from his grasp.Vaelin tried to stepbackwardsbutSolliswas toofast,theshaftofashthudding

into his midriff, forcing theair from his lungs as hecollapsedtotheground.

“You should alwaysrespect an opponent,” Solliswas telling the others asVaelin fought to contain hisrising gorge. “But not toomuch.”

With winter came

Frentis’sTestoftheWildandtheygatheredinthecourtyard

to see him off with a fewchoicewordsofadvice.

“Stay out of caves,”saidNortah.

“Killandeateverythingyou can find,” Caenis toldhim.

“Don’t loseyour flint,”Dentosadvised.

“If there’s a storm,”Vaelin said, “stay in yourshelteranddon’t listentothewind.”

Only Barkus hadnothing to say. FindingJennis’sbodyduringhisownTest was still a rawmemoryand he confined his farewellto a soft pat on Frentis’sshoulder.

“Lookin’ forward to it,I am,” Frentis told thembrightly, hefting his pack.“Five days outside thewalls.No practice, no canings.Can’twait.”

“Five days of cold andhunger,” Nortah remindedhim.

Frentisshrugged.“Beenhungry before. Cold too.Reckon I’ll get used to itagainquickenough.”

Vaelin was struck byhow strong Frentis hadbecomeinthetwoyearssincehis joining. He was nowalmost as tall as Caenis andhisshouldersseemedtogrow

broaderbytheday.Addedtothe change in his body wasthe change in his character,the whine that coloured hisspeech as a boy had mostlydisappeared and heapproached every challengewithablindconfidenceinhisown abilities. It was nosurprise that he had emergedas leader of his group,although his reaction tocriticism was often instant

anger and occasionalviolence.

They watched himclimb into the cart with theother boys. Master Hutrilsnappedthereinsandsteeredthe cart through the gate,Frentis waving with a broadgrinonhisface.

“He’llmake it,”CaenisassuredVaelin.

“Too right he will,”Dentos said. “He’s the type

that comes back fatter thanwhenhewentout.”

Thedayspassedslowly

as they practised and nursedtheir bruises, Vaelin’sconcern for Frentis growingwith every dawn. Four daysafter the boy’s departure ithad begun to dominate histhoughts, dulling his swordskills and leaving him withlivid bruises he barely

noticed. He couldn’t shakethe nagging knowledge thatsomethingwaswrong. Itwasa familiar feeling by now, ashadow on his thoughts hehad grown to trust, butstronger now, nagging,persistent, like a tune hecouldn’tquiteremember.

When the fifth daypassed he found himselfhovering near the gates,clutchinghiscloakabouthim

as he searched the gatheringdark for sign of the cartbringing Frentis back to thesafetyoftheOrderHouse.

“What are we doinghere?”Nortahasked,hisfacefor once made ugly by thepinching chill of a winter’snight. The others were backin their tower room.Today’spracticehadbeenhard,hardereven than theywere used to,and they had cuts to tend

beforetheeveningmeal.“I’m waiting for

Frentis,” Vaelin replied. “Goinsideifyou’recold.”

“Didn’tsayIwascold,”Nortah muttered but stayedput.

Finally, as the clearwinterskydarkenedtorevealits stars, the cart came intoview,MasterHutrilguidingittowardsthegate,bearingfourcharges, three less than had

left with him five daysbefore. Vaelin knew evenbefore the drays’ shoesclattered on the courtyardcobbles that Frentis was notamongthem.

“Where is he?” hedemandedofMasterHutrilashereinedin.

Master Hutril ignoredthe discourtesy and gaveVaelin a rigidly neutralglance. “Wasn’t there,” he

said,climbingdownfromthecart.“NeedtoseetheAspect.Stay here.” With that hestomped off towards theAspect’s chambers. Vaelinmanaged to wait a full tenseconds before hasteningafterhim.

Master Hutril was inthe Aspect’s rooms forseveral long minutes beforehe emerged, walking pastVaelin without a glance,

ignoring his questions. TheAspect’s door remainedfirmly closed and Vaelinfound himself steppingforwardtoknock.

“No!” Nortah’s handwas on his wrist. “Are youmad?”

“Ineedtoknow.”“Youhavetowait.”“Wait for what?

Silence?No sign that he hadever been here? LikeMikehl

or Jennis? Light a fire, saysome words and it’s anotheroneofusgone,forgotten.”

“TheTestoftheWildishard,brother…”

“Not for him! For himitwasnothing…”

“You don’t know that.You don’t know what couldhave happened beyond thewalls.”

“I know hunger andcold would never have laid

himlow.Hewastoostrong.”“For all his strengthhe

was but a boy. As we werewhentheysentusoutintothecoldand thedark to fend forourselves.”

Vaelin tore his wristaway, smoothing his handsthroughhishairinfrustration.“I don’t think hewas ever aboy.”

The sound of boots onstone snapped their attention

tothecorridor,seeingMasterSollis striding towards them.“What are you two doinghere?” he demanded, haltingbeforetheAspect’sdoor.

“Waiting for news ofour brother, master,” Vaelinrepliedevenly.

Sollis showed a briefspasm of anger before hereached for the door handle.“Then wait.” With that hewentinside.

Itwasonlyfiveminutesorsobutseemedlikeanhour.AbruptlythedooropenedandMasterSollis jerkedhisheadindicating leave to enter.They found the Aspectbehindhisdesk,hislongfaceas inexpressive as ever buttherewasacalculationinthegazehelevelledatVaelin,asifwhatwasabouttotranspirehad more import than hecouldknow.

“Brother Vaelin,” hesaid. “Do you know ifBrother Frentis has anyenemiesoutsidethesewalls?”

Enemies… Vaelin felthis heart plummet.He foundhim. I couldn’t protect him.“There isaman,Aspect,”hereplied, his tone heavy withsorrow. “The leader ofVarinshold’s criminalfraternity. Before BrotherFrentis joined us he put a

knifeinhiseye.Ihaveheardthathestillbearsagrudge.”

Master Sollis gave asnort of exasperation andNortah, for once, appearedlostforwords.

“And it didn’t occur toyou,” the Aspect said, “toshare this information withmyselforMasterSollis?”

Vaelincouldonlyshakehisheadinnumbsilence.

“You arrogant idiot,”

Master Sollis said, veryprecisely.

“Yesmaster.”“What’sdone isdone,”

the Aspect said. “Do youhaveanynotionofwherethismanwithoneeyemight takeourbrother?”

Vaelin’s head snappedup.“He’salive?”

“Master Hutril found abody, but it wasn’t BrotherFrentis, although the

unfortunatefellowhadoneofour Order’s hunting knivesburied in his chest. Therewere signs of a fiercestruggle, several blood trails,butnoBrotherFrentis.”

Somehow they knew hewas here. So stupid to thinkOne Eye’s servants wouldn’tfind him. They must havefollowed the cart, took himalive.ThewordsofGallistheClimber came back to him:

OneEyesayshe’sgonnatakeayeartoskinhimalivewhenhefindshim…

“Iwillrecoverhim,”hetold the Aspect, his voicecold with certainty. “I willkill those who took him andbring him back to theOrder.Livingordead.”

The Aspect’s eyesflickedtoMasterSollis.

“What do you need?”Sollisasked.

“Halfadayoutside thewalls, my brothers, and mydog.”

Scratch followed them

to the city gate willinglyenough, his initial joy at thenovelty of being outside theOrder House muted by theevidentgravityoftheirmood.Heseemedtoknowwhatwasexpected of him, sniffing thesock they had found under

Frentis’s bunk andimmediately sprinting for thegate with a brief yelp. Theyran after him, labouring tokeephiminsight.Theslave-hound set a killing pace asthey traced a winding routethrough the city’s backstreets. It was no surprise toVaelin that he soon led themtothesouthernquarter.

Thestreetsweremostlydeserted save for the usual

assortment of drunks andwhores,mostofwhomfoundsomewhere else to be whenthey saw five brothers fromthe Sixth Order runningbehind a very large dog.Eventually Scratch stopped,standingtensedandstillashedidwhenhewaspointingouta trail when they huntedtogether. His nose pointeddirectlyata tavernnestled ina shadowed alley way. The

sign hanging over the doormarked it as theBlackBoar.Lamplight glowed dimlythrough the windows andthey could hear the raucousbabble of liquor inducedmerriment.

Scratchbegantogrowl,asoftbutchillingrumble.

Vaelin knelt down,patting him gently on thehead.“Stay,”hecommanded.

The hound gave a

plaintive whine as theymoved towards the inn butdidashewastold.

“What’s the plan?”Dentos asked as they pausedatthedoorway.

“IthoughtI’daskthemwhere Frentis is,” Vaelinreplied. “After that I expectwe’llfindoutifwe’reaswelltaughtaswethinkweare.”

Thevocalgoodhumourof the inn’s patrons died

instantlyatthesightofthem.A room of mostly unwashedand prematurely aged facesstaredatthemwithamixtureof fear or palpable hatred.Theman behind the bar waslarge, bald and clearly lessthanhappytoseethem.

“Good evening sir!”Nortah greeted him, stridingtowards the bar. “A fineestablishmentyouhavehere.”

“Order ain’t welcome

‘ere,”thebarmansaid.Vaelinnotedthethinsheenofsweaton his top lip. “Ain’t rightyou comin’ in ‘ere. ‘Snotyourplace.”

“Oh don’t fret my finefellow.” Nortah clapped theman on the shoulder. “Wewantnotrouble.Allwewantis our brother. The one whostuckaknifeinyourmaster’seye a few years ago. Be agoodfellowandtelluswhere

heisandwewon’tkillyouoranyofyourcustomers.”

A rumble of anger ranthrough the crowd and thebarman licked his lips, hisbald head now shining withsweat.Forthebriefestsecondhis eyes flicked to his rightbefore snapping back toNortah. “No brothers here,”hesaid.

Nortah gave one of hisbest smiles. “Oh I beg to

differ.Tellme,didyouknowa man can live for severalhours, in agonising pain ofcourse, after his stomach hasbeenslitopen?”

Vaelinfollowedthelineof the barman’s brief glance,seeing little but the shufflingfeetofnervouspatronsandadustyfloor,exceptforacleanpatch near the fireplace, apatchaboutayardsquare.Ashe moved forward to take a

closerlookamanrosefromatable, a muscular man withthe broad knuckles andindented nose common toprizefighters.

“Where’re d’you thinkyou’rego-”

Vaelin punched him inthe throat without breakingstride, leaving him chokingon the dusty floorboards.There was a cacophony ofscraping chairs as other

patrons rose, a murmur ofanger building in the crowd.Vaelin crouched to inspectthe patch of dust freefloorboards which quicklyrevealed itselfasa trapdoor.Well made, he judged, hisfingerstracingthejoins.

“Gotnorighthere!”thebarman was shouting as hestraightened.“Comin’inherehitting customers, makingthreats.Ain’tright.”

Therewasaloudgrowlof assent from the inn’spatrons, most now on theirfeet, many holding a varietyofknivesandcudgels.

“Order bastards,” oneof them spat, brandishing abroad bladed knife.“Ventured where youshouldn’t.Needcuttingdowntosize.”

Nortah’s sword camefreeof itsscabbard inablur,

themanwiththeknifestaringat his severed fingers as thebladeclatteredtothefloor.

“No need for that kindof language, sir,” Nortahcautionedhimsternly.

The rest of the crowddrewbackalittleandsilencestretched,brokenonlyby theknifeman’skeeningoverhismutilated hand and therasping chokes of the prizefighter Vaelin had punched.

They’re afraid, Vaelindecided,scanningthefacesinthe crowd. But not scaredenough to run.Numbersgivethemstrength.

Heputhisfingerstohismouth and whistled, once,sharp and loud. He hadexpected Scratch to use thedoor but the slave-houndapparently saw little obstaclein the window. Shatteredglassexplodedacrosstheinn,

the dark bulk of snarlingmuscle landing in the centreof the room, snappingviciously at any patronsunfortunate enough to becloseby.

The inn emptied in afewsecondssavefor the twoinjured patrons and thebarman, clutching a heftycudgel,hischestheavingwithfear.

“Why’re you still

here?”Dentosaskedhim.“If I run without

fightin’, he’ll kill me,” thebaldmanreplied.

“OneEye’llbedeadbymorning,” Vaelin assuredhim.“Getoutofhere.”

Thebarmangavethema last nervous glance beforedropping his cudgel andrunningforthebackdoor.

“Barkus,” Vaelin said.“Helpmewiththis.”

They jammed theirhunting knives into the joinbetweenthefloorandthetrapdoorandlevereditopen.Thehole it revealedwent straightdown into a dimly lit cellar.Vaelin could see fire lightflickering on the stone floorabout ten feet below. Hestepped back, drawing hisswordandpreparingtojump.Scratch,however,hadpickedupa fresh trail and saw little

reason to linger. He flashedpast Vaelin and disappearedinto the hole.After a secondor two themingled sound ofshock, pain and Scratch’sroaringgrowlslefttheminnodoubt he had found someenemies.

“Think he’ll save anyfor us?” Barkus asked,wincing.

Vaelin jumped into thehole, landing and rolling on

thestonefloor,comingtohisfeet with his sword levelled.His brothers followed him inquick succession. The cellarwaslarge,atleasttwentyfeetacross with torches set intothewallsandatunnelleadingoff to the right. There weretwobodiesinthecellar,bothlarge men with their throatstorn out. Scratch was sittingatop one of them, licking abloodiedmaw.SeeingVaelin

he yelped briefly anddisappearedintothetunnel.

“He’s still got thescent.” Vaelin lifted a torchfrom the wall and chasedaftertheslave-hound.

The tunnel seemed togoonforever,thoughintruthitcouldonlyhavetakenafewminutes of racing afterScratch before they emergedintoa largevaultedchamber.It was clearly an old

structure, finely pointedbrickwork arching up on allsides to meet in an elegantceilinghigh above.A terraceof tiled steps led down to aflat, circular area in whichwasplaceda largeoakwooddining tabledecoratedwithamismatchedvarietyofgoldorsilver ware. There were sixmen seated at the table,playing cards in their handsand a scattering of coins

betweenthem.TheystaredatVaelin and Scratch in starkamazement.

“Who in the name ofthe Faith are you?” one ofthem demanded, a tall manwith a cadaverous face.Vaelin noted the loadedcrossbowrestingonthechairnext to him. The other fivemen all had swords or axeswithineasyreach.

“Whereismybrother?”

Vaelindemanded.The man who had

spoken flicked his eyes fromVaelintoScratch,takingnoteofthebloodonhisjaws,thenblanching visibly as Barkusand the others emerged fromthetunnelbehindVaelin.

“You’re in the wrongplace, brother,” the tall mansaid, Vaelin admiring theeffortheput intokeepingthetremblefromhisvoice.“One

Eyedoesn’ttakekindlyto-”his hand flashed towards thecrossbow.Scratchwasablurof muscle and teeth, leapingthe table and fastening hisjawsonthetallman’s throat,thecrossbowsending itsbolttowardstheceiling.Theotherfive men were on their feet,clutching their weapons,showing fear but no sign offleeing. Vaelin saw littlepointinanyfurthertalk.

The burly man hecharged attempted to feint tothe left and bring his axe upunderVaelin’sguardbutwasfar too slow, the swordpointtakinghimintheneckbeforehe could begin his swing.Impaled on the blade hegoggled, eyes bulging, bloodseeping from his mouth.Vaelin withdrew his blade,letting him collapse to thefloor,twitching.

He turned finding hisbrothers had alreadydispatched the other four.Barkus, grim-faced, waswipinghisswordbladeonthejerkin of the man he hadkilled, a pool of thick bloodspreading over the tiles.Dentoskneltdowntopluckathrowing knife from thesternumofhisenemy,Vaelinthought he may have beenblinking away tears. Nortah

was staring down at themanhehadkilled, blooddrippingfrom his lowered sword, hisface a frozen mask. OnlyCaenis appeared unaffected,flicking the blood from hisswordandkickingthecorpseat his feet to make sure hewas dead. Vaelin knewCaenis had killed before butstill found his brother’scoolness disconcerting. Am Inottheonlytruekilleramong

usafterall?hewondered.Scratch gave the tall

man’s neck a final twist,snapping the spine with aloud crack. Releasing thecorpse he trotted around thechamber, his nose twitchingas he searched for Frentis’sscent.

“This is an interestingstructure,” Caenis observed,movingtooneofthecolumnsthat stretched up to the

vaultedceilingandsmoothinghis palm over the brickwork.“Fine, very fine. You don’tseecraftsmanship like that inthe city these days. This is averyoldplace.”

“Thoughtitwaspartofthe sewers,” Dentos saiddully.Hisbackwasturnedtothemanhehadkilledandhestood with his arms tightlycrossed, shivering as ifchilled.

“Oh no,” Caenisresponded. “This issomethingelse,I’msure.Seethe motif here.” He pointedoutastrangestonecarvingsetinto the brickwork. “A bookand a quill. An ancientemblem of the Faithsignifying theThirdOrder, asigil long out of use. Thisplace dates from the earliestyears of the city, when theFaithwasstillnewborn.”

Vaelin’s attention wasmolsty fixed on Scratch buthe found himself drawn byCaenis’s words. Lookingaround thechamberhenotedthere were seven columnsrising to the ceiling, eachwithacarvedemblemsetintothe base. “Once there wereseven,”hemurmured.

“Of course!” Caenisenthused,moving around thechamber to inspect each of

the columns. “Sevencolumns. This is proof,brother. Once there wereseven.”

“Whatareyouwitteringabout?” Nortah demanded,some colour returning to hischeeks. In contrast toDentoshe appeared unable to lookaway from the body of hisslain enemy, his sword stillbloody.

“Seven columns,”

Caenis replied. “SevenOrders. This is an ancienttemple of the Faith.” Hestopped beside a column topeer at the emblem it bore.“A snake and a goblet. I’dwager this is the emblem oftheSeventhOrder.”

“Seventh Order?”Nortahfinallylookedupfromthe corpse. “There is noSeventhOrder.”

“Not now, no,” Caenis

explained.“Butonce…”“Ataleforanotherday,

brother,”Vaelintoldhim.Heturned to Nortah. “Yourblade’ll rust if you don’tcleanit.”

Barkus was examiningthe riches piled on the table,running his hands over thegold and silver. “Good stuffhere,” he said in admiration.“Would’ve brought a sack ifI’dknown.”

“Wonder where theygot it all,” Dentos said,hefting an ornately engravedsilverplate.

“They stole it,” Vaelinsaid. “Take what you wantbut don’t let it weigh youdown.”

Scratch gave a shortyelp, his nose pointed at asolid section of wall toVaelin’s left. Barkus movedto examine the wall,

thumping his fist against thebricks a few times. “Just awall.”

Scratchscamperedoverandsniffedat thebaseof thewall,hispawschippingawayatthemortar.

“A hidden doorwayperhaps.” Caenis came overto run his hands over thewall’s edges. “Could be acatchoraleversomewhere.”

Vaelin pulled the axe

from the limp hand of themanhehadkilledandwalkedovertosmashitintothewall.He kept hacking until a holeappeared in the brickwork.Scratch yelped again butVaelin didn’t need thehound’s senses to tell himwhatlayontheotherside,hecould smell it plain enoughhimself: sweet, sickening,corrupt.

He exchanged glances

with Caenis, findingsympathyinhisfriendseyes.

Frentis… Wanna be abrother… Wanna be likeyou…

Heredoubledhiseffortswith the axe, bricks andmortar exploding in a cloudof red and grey dust. Hisbrothers joined in with whattools they could find,Barkususingahatchettakenfromanenemy,Dentosabrokenchair

leg.Soon,enoughofthewallwas gone to allow them toenter.

The chamber beyondwaslongandnarrow,torchesset into the walls providedlight enough to illuminate ascenefromanightmare.

“Faith!” Barkusexclaimedinshock.

The corpse hung fromthe roof, its ankles chainedand arms secured with a

leatherstrapacross thechest.It had clearly been hangingforseveraldays,greyingfleshloosened and sagging fromthebones.Thegapingwoundin the neck showed how themanhaddied.Placedbeneathhim was a bowl, black withdried blood. There were fivemore bodies hanging in thechamber, each with theirthroatscutandabowlplacedbeneath. They swayed

slightly in the draft from thedemolished wall. The stenchwas overpowering. Scratchwrinkled his nose at thecorruptionstainingtheairandkept close to thewall, as farfrom the bodies as possible.Dentos found a corner tothrow up in. Vaelin foughtthe desire to follow suit andmoved from body to body,forcinghimselftocheckeachface,findingonlystrangers.

“What is this?” Barkussaid in sick wonderment.“You said this man was justanoutlaw.”

“He appears to be anoutlaw of considerableambition,”Nortahobserved.

“This isn’t aboutthievery,” Caenis said softly,takingacloserlookatoneofthe hanging corpses. “Thisis… something else.” Helooked down at the blood-

black bowl on the floor.“Somethingelseentirely.”

“What would…?”NortahbeganbutVaelinheldupahandtosilencehim.

“Listen!”hehissed.It was faint, an odd

sound, a man’s voice,chanting. The words wereindistinct, alien. Vaelinfollowed the sound to analcove where he found adoor, slightly ajar. Sword

held low he eased the dooropenwiththetoeofhisboot.Beyond was anotherchamber, this one roughlyhewnfromrock,bathedinthered glare of firelight, deepshadows flickering over asight that made him stifle ashoutofshock.

Frentishadbeentiedtoawooden frame in frontofaroaring open fire.Agagwasfirmly secured in his mouth.

He was naked, his torsomarkedbymanycutsforminganstrangepatternontheskin,blood flowing freely downhisbody.Hiseyeswerewideopen,alivewithagony.Atthesight ofVaelin theywidenedfurther.

Next to Frentis was aman with a knife, barechested, his strength evidentin the knotted muscle of hisarms and the hard angular

lines of his face, a facewithonly one eye. The emptysockethadbeen filledwith asmoothblackstone,reflectinga single redpointof firelightasheturnedtoVaelin.“Ah,”hesaid.“Andyoumustbethementor.”

Vaelin had never trulywanted to kill before, neverfeltarealbloodlust.Butnowitragedinhim,asongoffuryblinding his reason. His fist

tightenedonhisswordhiltashe stepped forward into acharge…

He never knew whathappened, never trulyunderstood the paralysis thatseizedhis limbs,onlythathefound himself sprawled onthe floor, his lungs suddenlyempty of air, his swordclatteringfromhisgrasp.Hishands and feet felt like ice.He tried to stand but could

findnopurchaseonthefloor,flailinglikeasenselessdrunkas the one eyed man movedawayfromFrentis,hisknifeabloodstainedyellowtooth inthefire’sglow.

“Ho there!” Barkusshouted, charging alongwiththe others. “Time to dieOneEye!”

The one eyed manraised his hand, an almostcarelessgesture,andacurtain

of fire rose in front ofVaelin’s brothers, sendingthem reeling back. The firewall spanned the chamber,rising from floor to ceiling,an unbroken barrier ofswirlingflame.

“I like fire,” the oneeyed man said, turning hisangular face back to Vaelin.“The way it dances, quitebeautifuldon’tyouthink?”

Vaelin tried to reach

inside his cloak for hishunting knife but found allhishandwoulddowasshakeuncontrollably.

“You’re strong,” theone eyed man observed.“Usually they can’t move atall.” He glanced over atFrentis, wide eyed, bloodstreaming from his cuts, hisnaked form straining againsthis bonds with all hisstrength.

“You came here forhim,” the one eyed mancontinued.“You’retheonehesaid would come to kill me.AlSorna,Blackhawk fighter,assassin killer, Battle Lordspawn. I’ve heard of you.Have you heard of me?” Hegaveamirthlesssmile.

Vaelin found to hissurprise he could still spit. Itlandedontheoneeyedman’sboots.

The smile disappeared.“I see you have. What didyou hear I wonder? That Iwas an outlaw? An overlordof outlaws? True of course,but only in part. No doubtyouhad tokill severalofmyemployees to get this far.Didn’t youwonderwhy theywouldn’trun?Whytheyweremoreafraidofmethanyou?”

The one eyed mancroucheddown,hisfaceclose

to Vaelin’s, hissing, “Youcome here with your swordand your brothers and yourdog,andyouhavenoideaofyourutterinsignificance.”

He turned his face,displaying the black stone inhis eye socket. “You wouldbeforgivenforthinkingthisacurse. But it was a gift, awondrous gift for which Ishould thank your youngbrother. Oh, the power he

gaveme,powerenoughtosetmyself up over all the scumof this city. I have mademyself a king of thieves andcut-throats, I’ve eaten offsilver plate and slaked mylust on the finest whores. Ihave everything aman couldwant, but yet I find there isone thing I can’t forget, onething that troubles mysleep…”He rose andmovedtowardsFrentis.“Thepainof

agutterbornwhelpputtingaknifethroughmyeye.”

Frentis writhed in hisbonds, his gagged faceddistorted with rage and hate.Vaelincouldhearthemuffledobscenities he attempted tospitthroughthegag.

“Hewouldn’t talk, youknow,”theoneeyedmantoldVaelin over his shoulder.“Youshouldbeproudofhim.RefusedtoshareyourOrder’s

secrets, although now you’rehere in person I daresay myquestionswillbeansweredinfull.” He placed the knifeagainst Frentis’s chest,pushingthepointhalfaninchinto the flesh and tracing acut from the breast to theribcage. Frentis’s teeth werewhite on his gag as hescreamed.

Vaelin tried to gatherhis arms under him,

manoeuvring the ice numblimbs beneath his chest, thentrying to heave himselfupright.

“Oh don’t bother,” theone eyed man said, turningback from Frentis, bloodiedknifeinhand.“You’retightlyboundIassureyou.”

Teeth gritted, Vaelinmanaged to push himself offthe stone floor, his entirebodyshakingwiththeeffort.

“Strong indeed!” theone eyed man said. “But Ican’thavethat.”

Thesameicynumbnessseizedhimagain,floodinghisarms and legs spreading intohis chest and groin, forcinghim back to the floor,exhausted.

“You feel my power?”Theoneeyedmanstoodoverhim. “At first it frightenedme, even one such as I can

feel the chill of looking intoanabyss, but fear fades.”HehelduptheknifestainedwithFrentis’s blood. “I have thesecretnow.Theknowledgetomake myself immune to allenemies.”Heplaced a fingerontheknifeblade,drawingabeadofbloodfromthemetaland placing it in his mouth.“Who could have thought itwouldbesosimple?Tobeaking amongst outlaws

requires the spilling ofmuchblood. These past years Ihave bathed in it as I soughtvictims to sate my angeragainst your young brotherhere.AndasIbathedIfoundmy power growing so thatnow, even one as strong asyou cannot stand against mywill. I was told your destinylayelsewh-…”

Caenis leapt throughthe wall of fire, his sword

heldhighinatwofistedgrip.Hebroughtitdownashisfeettouched the floor, the bladecleaving the one eyed manfrom shoulder to sternum.The look one his face as hestood impaled on the swordwas one of completeastonishment.

“Fire without heat,”Caenissaid.“Isn’tfireatall.”

Vaelin’sparalysisfadedastheoneeyedman’scorpse

slipped to the floor, the firewall he had raised vanishingin an instant. Vaelin felthands lifting him, his limbsstill shaking with lingeringnumbness.BarkusandNortahcut Frentis’s bonds and tookthegagfromhismouth.Freeofhistiestheboywentwild,screaming hate-filled cursesat the one eyed man’s inertform,takinguphisknifeandplunging it again and again

intothebody.“Youstinkingbastard!”

hescreamed.“Thinkyoucancutme,youfuckingfilth!”

VaelinwavedtheothersbackandletFrentisabusethecorpse until he collapsedfromtheeffort,slumpedoverthe body, bloody andexhausted.

“Brother,” he said,placing a hand on Frentis’sshoulder.“Yourwoundsneed

attention.”

Chapter8“SisterSherin isstill in

thesouth,”BrotherSellintoldVaelinatthegateoftheFifthOrder, his eyes flicking toFrentis, hanging bloody andunconscious between Barkusand Nortah. “Master Harinhas undertaken her duties.Come brothers.” He openedthe gate wide, beckoningthemtoenter.“Iwilltakeyou

tohim.”MasterHarinspentover

anhourstitchinganddressingthe cuts on Frentis’s body,ordering them from thetreatment room when theirunasked for advice andconstant questions becametoo irksome. Vaelin foundAspect Elera waiting in thecorridor.

“Icanseeyourdayhasbeenhard,brothers,”shesaid.

“There is food waiting foryouinourdininghall.”

They ate in silence,their conversation stilled bythe presence of so manymembers of the Fifth Order.Thehealersstaredatthebluerobed,grimfacedinterlopers,a few familiar faces offeringgreetingstoVaelin,receivingaonlyacurtnodinresponse.Their table was piled highwithfoodbutVaelinfoundhe

had no appetite. His handsretainedaslighttremblefromwhatever the one eyed manhad done to him and thevision of Frentis tied andbleeding was still at theforefrontofhisthoughts.

Aspect Elera joinedthem an hour or so later.“Master Harin tells me yourbrother will recover. Hewillhave to stay with us forseveraldayswhilstheheals.”

“Isheawake,Aspect?”Vaelinaskedher.

“MasterHaringavehimasleepingdraught.Heshouldwake in the morning. Youcanseehimthen.”

“My thanks, Aspect.May I request that word besent to our Order? AspectArlyn will be expecting myreport.”

She sent Brother Sellinto the house of the Sixth

Order andgave thema roomin the east wing. Vaelininsisted on sitting withFrentis and Caenis waitedwith him whilst the othersslept,cleaninghisweaponstopass the time, laying hissword and knives out on thefloor, metal gleaming in thecandle light as he ran clothover each blade withmeticulous care. Scratch hadbeen confined to an empty

peninthestables.Heignoredthe food he had been givenand howled continually, hisplaintive cries reaching themthroughthewalls.

Vaelin studied the longbladed dagger he had takenfrom Frentis, the blade theoneeyedmanhadusedtocutthe web of scars into hisbody.ItwasCaenis’sbyrightbut he had refused to take itwith a grimace of distaste.

Vaelin decided to keep it onimpulse,itwasafinelymadeweaponofunfamiliardesign,the blade well tempered andthe handle elegantlyfashioned with a silverpommel. The guard borewriting with unfamiliarletters. Clearly it was aweapon from across the sea.One Eye had a long reach itseemed.

“The fire was an

illusion,” Vaelin said. Hisvoice sounded listless anddull tohisears, remindingofhimofBrotherMakrilandhisjaded tales of fire andslaughter.

Caenisglancedupfromhisweapons and nodded, hishandscontinuingtoguidetheclothovertheblades.

“The Dark,” Vaelinsaid.“Theblood, itgavehimpower.That’swhatthebodies

werefor.”Caenis’sdidn’tlookup,

but nodded once more, stillcleaninghisblades.

Vaelin felt the tremorreturn tohishands,hisangerflaring at the memory of hishelplessness before the oneeyedman.Ahelplessnessnotshared by Caenis. Caeniscould leap through Darkbornefireandhackdownthemanwho called it forth.You

knowsomuchmorethanyoutell me, brother, Vaelinrealised.It’salwaysbeenthisway. “There are no secretsbetweenus,”hesaid.

Caenis’shandpausedinmid stroke as he worked acloth over his sword blade.HiseyesmetVaelin’sandforthe briefest second therewassomething there, somethingdifferentfromtheaffectionorrespect he normally saw in

his friend’s eyes, somethingalmostresentful.

The door opened andMaster Sollis entered withAspect Elera. “You twoshould be resting,” he saidshortly,moving to thebed tocheck on Frentis, his eyestracingoverthebloodstainedbandages covering his chestand arms. “Will he scar,Aspect?”

“The cuts were deep.

Master Harin is skilledbut…”Shespreadherhands.“There is only so much wecan do. Luckily his musclesare intact. He will be strongagainsoon.”

“Themanwhodid thisisdead?”SollisaskedVaelin.

“Yes, master.” Vaelingestured at Caenis. “Mybrother’sstroke.”

Sollis glanced atCaenis. “The man was

skilled?”“His skills were not

with weapons, master.”CaenisglanceduncertainlyatAspectElera.

“Talk freely,” Sollisinstructedhim.

He told Master Sollisall that had transpired sincetheir departure from theOrderHouse, from theBlackBoar inn to theirconfrontation with the one

eyed man beneath the city.“The man had knowledge ofthe Dark, master. He couldcallupanillusionoffireandhe bound Brother Vaelin byhiswillalone.”

“But not you?” Sollisaskedwitharaisedeyebrow.

“No. I expect Isurprised him by seeingthroughhisillusion.”

“Youmade sure of thekill?”

“He’s dead master,”Vaelinassuredhim.

Master Sollis andAspect Elera shared a briefglance.

“I hear the Aspect hadbeen gracious enough toprovide you with a room,”Sollis said, turning back toFrentis. “She would feelinsulted if you failed to useit.”

Recognising their

dismissal they rose andmoved to the door. “Tell no-one else of this,” MasterSollis ordered before theyleft. “And do something toshutthatbloodydogup!”

In the morning Master

Sollis questioned themcloselyabout theroute to theOne Eye’s chambers and theancient temple to the Faiththey had found. Vaelin

offered to guide him butreceived only a stern refusal.When he was satisfied withtheir directions Sollis toldthem to return to the OrderHouse.

“Brother Frentis…”Vaelinbegan.

“Will heal just as wellwith you at your trainingwhere you belong. The Testof the Sword is but eightweeksawayandnoneofyou

arereadyyet.”They trudged back to

the Order House withoutMaster Sollis who had giventhemanotherwarningtokeepsilent before going off toinvestigate their findings.ScratchhadwhinedinprotestwhentheyledhimawayfromtheHouseof theFifthOrder,needing much reassurancefromVaelinbefore followingtheirsteps.

To Vaelin their towerroom seemed to have shrunkin their absence. A night offearandmysterymadeitfeelsosmall,achild’sroom,eventhough it had been a longtimesincehefeltlikeachild.He stowed his gear and layback on his narrow bed,closing his eyes to see againthe one eyed man’s wall offlame and Frentis's torturedform.IbelievedIhadlearned

so much, he thought. But Iknownothing.

TheboysfromFrentis’s

group came asking questionsbut Vaelin followed MasterSollis’s instructions and toldthemhehadbeenattackedbya mountain lion during histest of the Wild. He wasrecovering in the House ofthe Fifth Order and wouldreturn within a few days.

Sollis himself said nothingabout his investigations onreturn to the Order and theAspect did not request theirpresence. Frentis’s abductionwas another non-event in theOrder’s history. The Orderfights, but often it fights inshadow. As he grew olderVaelin foundevermore truthinMasterSollis’swords.

Frentis himself saidnothingoftheincidentonhis

return, resuming his trainingwithadisturbingvigour,asifrejectingthedamageOneEyehad done to him by ignoringthe pain his exertions costhim. His demeanour hadchangedalso,hewaslessaptto smile and where he hadbeen talkative before nowhewaslargelysilent.Histempertoohadgrownshorterandthemasters had to drag him outof several fights. Even the

other boys in his groupseemed wary of him. Onlywith Scratch and Vaelin didheregainsomevestigeofhisold self, taking an energeticpart in training the nowgrown pups. However, eventhen he continued to saynothing of his ordeal,although Vaelin sometimescaught him running hisfingers over the pattern ofscarscarvedintohisskin,his

face oddly thoughtful as iftrying to decipher theirmeaning.

“Do they hurt?”Vaelinasked him one Eltrianevening.Thepupswere tiredfrom a day spent trackingwithMasterHutril andcouldonly snap lazily at the treatstheytossedintotheirpens.

Frentis quickly pulledhishandawayfromhisshirt.“Alittle.Lessandlessasthe

weeks pass. Aspect Eleragave me a balm for ‘em,helpsabit.”

“Itwasmyfault…”“Forgetit.”“If I had told the

Aspect…”“I said forget it!”

Frentis'sfacewastenseashestared into the pens. Slasher,his favourite pup, sensed hismood and came over to lickat his hand, whining in

concern. “He's dead,” Frentissaid, calmer now. “And I’mnot. So forget it. Can’t killhimtwice.”

They walked back tothe keep together, cloakswrapped against the chillalthough winter was fadingfastandthesurroundingtreeswere quickly taking on theverdanthuesofspring.

“TestoftheSwordnextmonth,” Frentis said.

“Worried?”“Why? Do you think I

shouldbe?”“I’ve already bet my

whole knife collection thatyou finish all three in lessthan two minutes. I meantwhat happens after. They’llsendyouaway,right?”

“Iexpectso.”“Think they’ll let us

serve together when I’mconfirmed?I’dlikethat.”

“So would I. But Idon’t think we get a choice.It’ll be a good while beforewe see one another again,that’sforsure.”

They lingered at thecourtyard, Vaelin sensingFrentis had more to say.“I…”hebegan then stopped,fidgeting uncomfortably.“I’m glad you spoke forme,when I came here,” he saidafter a moment. “I’m glad

I’min theOrder. I feel likeIwasmeanttobehere.Soyoushouldn’t feel bad aboutanything that happens tome,right? Whatever happensfromnowon,youdon’thaveto feel bad and you don’thave to come running whenI’mintrouble.”

“Wouldn’t you comerunningifIwasintrouble?”

“That’sdifferent.”“No, it’s exactly the

same.”HeclappedFrentisonthe shoulder. “Get some rest,brother.”

He had taken a fewsteps when Frentis saidsomething tomakehim stop,his voice barely above awhisper,“Theonewhowaitswilldestroyus.”

He turned to findFrentis hunched in his cloak,arms folded tightly againsthis chest, face wary. He

wouldn’tmeetVaelin’seye.“What?”Vaelinasked.“He told me.” Frentis

winced, as if pained andVaelin knew he was relivinghis torture at One Eye’shands. “Hegot angrywhen Iwouldn’t tell him what hewanted toknow.Keptaskingabout the Tests, the skillswe’re taughthere.Seemed tothink we get taught how topractice the Dark. Stupid

bastard.Wasn’t going to tellhim anything though. So hecut me some more, then hesaid,‘Theonewhowaitswilldestroy your precious Order,boy.’”

The one who waits...“Did he tell you want itmeant?”

“I passed out when hestartedcuttingmeagain.He’donly just managed to bringme round when you turned

up.”“Did you tell the

Aspectofthis?”Frentis shook his head.

“Dunno why. Just felt that Ishouldn’t tell no one exceptyou.”

Vaelin felt a chill thathad nothing to do with thedeepening cold. For amoment he was back in theforest during the Test of theRun,listeningtothemenwho

had killed Mikehl as theydebated the identity of theirvictim.The other one… Youheard what the other onesaid.Gaveme the shivers hedid.

“Don’t tell anyoneelse,” Vaelin said. “One Eyetold you nothing.” Hewatched Frentis shiver in hiscloak and forced a smile.“The man was a loon. Hiswordsmeannothing.But it’s

bestwekeepthisbetweenus.Telling our brothers wouldonlycausefoolishtalk.”

HewatchedFrentisnodandwalkaway,stillclutchinghimselfbeneathhiscloak,hisfingersnodoubtplayingoverhis scars. Will he dreamtonight? Vaelin thought andfelt a pang of mingled guiltand regret. Why couldn’t ithavebeenmewhokilledOneEye?

Chapter9The morning of the

Test of the Sword brought ahardrainthatturnedtheearthto mud and did little tolighten their spirits.TheTestwas held in an arena on theoutskirts of the city, anancient structure of finelyshapedgranite,wornwithageand weathered by theelements. It was known only

as the Circle andVaelin hadnevermet anyonewho couldtell him when or why it hadbeenbuilt.Lookingat itnowhe realised there weresimilaritieswiththetempletothe seven orders they hadfound beneath the city, theway the supporting columnscurved up to the tiers aboveechoed the elegance of theunderground structure. Hereand there he glimpsed

adornmentsinthestonework,carvings of faded intricacythat recalled the betterpreserved motifs of thetemple. He drew Caenis’sattention to them as MasterSollisledthemintotheshadebeneath the columns butreceived only a grunt inresponse.Today evenCaeniswas too preoccupied toindulgeincuriosity.

Vaelin could see the

fear and uncertainty on hisbrothers’ faces but found hewas unable mirror it. Theemotions that made Dentosvomit his breakfast andNortah white-faced andclosed-lippedweresomethinghesimplydidn’tfeel.Hewasunafraid and he didn’tunderstand why. Today hewould face three men inarmedcombat.Hewouldkillthemor theywould kill him.

Theprospectofdeath shouldhave chilled him to the core.Perhaps it was the verysimplicityofthesituationthatrobbedhimofhisfear.Therewere no questions here, nomysteries, no secrets. Hewould live or he would die.But despite his inability tofeartheordealsomethingstillnagged at him, a small,insistent voice at the veryedge of his thoughts,

whispering words he didn’twant to hear: Perhaps youdon’t fear the Test becauseyourelishit.

Unwillingly,herecalledthe Test of Knowledge, theawful truth the Aspects hadforcedfromhim. I cankill. Ican kill without hesitating. Iwas meant to be a warrior.Images of the men he hadkilled cameback to him in arush: the archer in the forest,

the faceless assassins in theHouseof theFifthOrder, theone eyed man’s hireling. Itwas true he had felt nohesitation in killing any ofthem, but had he trulyrelishedit?

“You’ll wait in here.”MasterSollis led them intoachamber set back from themain entrance. The wallswere thick but they couldhear thebayingof the crowd

in theCircle.TheTestof theSword was an ever popularevent in the city but onlythose with sufficient coincould purchase a ticket andtypically it was the Realm’swealthier citizens who cameto watch the three dayspectacle, often wageringhugesumsontheoutcomeofeachcontest.Theprofitsfromthe daywould be donated totheFifthOrdertocareforthe

sick.Vaelincouldn’thelpbutsmileattheironyofit.

“What’s so funny?”Nortahdemanded.

Vaelin shook his headand sat down on a stonebench to wait. There weretwenty brothers in Vaelin’sgroup today. The fifty othersurvivorsofthethreehundredwhohadstartedtheirtrainingtogether as boys of ten oreleven had undergone their

Tests over the preceding twodays. So far ten had beenkilled and another eight sobadly maimed they could nolongerservetheOrder.Manyothers had serious cutsrequiring weeks of healing.The parade of wounded andshocked brothers troopingthrough the gates over thepast two days had addedconsiderable weight to theburden of fear most of them

now carried. Of all of them,only Vaelin and Barkusseemedunaffected.

“Sugar cane?” heoffered Vaelin, taking theplacenexttohis.

“Thank you brother.”The cane was fresh and itssweetnesstingedwithaslightacidity,butstill thesensationwas a welcome distractionfrom the grim mood of theothers.

“Wonder who’ll befirst,” Barkus said after amoment. “Wonder how theychoose.”

“Wedrawlots,”MasterSollis told them from thedoorway.“Nysa.You’refirst.Let’sgo.”

Caenis nodded slowly,faceimmobile,andgottohisfeet.Whenhespokehisvoicewas barely audible.“Brothers…” he began, then

stopped, choked. “I…” Hestammered for a momentbefore Vaelin reached outgrasphisforearm.

“We know,Caenis. I’llseeyoushortly.Weallwill.”

They stood, the five ofthem, grasping hands.Dentos, Barkus, Nortah,Vaelin and Caenis. Vaelinremembered how they hadbeen as boys. Barkus beefyand clumsy. Caenis thin and

fearful. Dentos loud and fullof stories. Nortah sullen andresentful. Now he saw onlyshadowsof thoseboys in thelean, stern faced young menbefore him. They werestrong. They were killers.They were what the Orderhad made them. This is theendofsomething,herealised.Live or die, this is wherethingschange,forever.

“It’sbeenalongroad,”

Barkus said. “Never thoughtI’d get this far. Wouldn’thavebutforyoulot.”

“Wouldn’t change anyof it,” Dentos said. “Everyday I thank the Faith formyplaceintheOrder.”

Nortah’s face wastense, his brows furrowed ashe fought to master his fear.Vaelin thought he wasn’tgoing to speak but after amoment he said, “I… hope

youallmakeitthrough.”“We will.” Vaelin

clasped hands with all ofthem. “We always do. Fightwell,brothers.”

“Nysa,” Master Sollissaid from the door. HesoundedimpatientandVaelinwassurprisedhehadallowedthem this interlude. “Let’sgo.”

Waiting to find out if

your friends were dead,Vaelin discovered, was asingular form of agony thatmade the effects of Joffrilrootfeellikeatasteoflemontea. One by one his brotherswere called out by MasterSollis,therewouldbeashortwaitbeforethecrowderuptedin cheers, the volume ofwhich rose and fell with thefortunes of the fight. After awhile he found he could

gaugethecourseofafight,ifnotthevictor,bythecrowd’sreaction. Some were overquickly, amatter of seconds,Caenis’s fight in particularhad been very short. Vaelinfound he couldn’t decide ifthis was good or bad. Otherfights were longer, Barkusand Nortah both enduringprolonged contests of severalminutes.

Dentos was the last to

be called before Vaelin. Heforced a smile, took a firmgrip on his sword hilt andfollowed Master Sollis fromthe chamber without abackward glance. Judgingfrom the noise of the crowdhis fight was eventful,raucous cheers followed byhushed silence then anexplosion of applause,repeated several times over.Whenthefinalwaveofnoise

washed through the chamberVaelin found he was unableto judge if Dentos hadsurvived.

Lucktoyoubrother,hethought,aloneinthechambernow. Mayhap I’ll join yousoon. His hand ached fromgripping his sword hilt, theknuckleswhiteontheleather.Is this fear now? hewondered. Or just stagefright?

“Sorna.” Master Solliswasinthedoorway,hislevelgaze meeting Vaelin’s eyewith an intensity he hadn'tseenbefore.“It’stime.”

The tunnel leading tothearena seemed long,muchlonger than he could haveimagined.Timeplayed tricksashewalkedthelengthofthetunnel, the journey perhapstaking a minute or an hour.All the time the crowd’s

clamour rose in volume untilhe felt himself bathed insoundasheemergedontothesandyfloorofthearena.

Thecrowdbayeddownathimfromascendingtiersofseatsonallsides,at least tenthousand in all. He wasunable to distinguish a faceamongst the multitude, theywere simply a seething,gesticulating mass. None ofthemseemedtomindtherain

which was still falling inhard, wind driven sheets.Therewasbloodonthesand,raked to stop it pooling anddulled by the rain but still astarkredagainst thegreenishyellow of the arena floor.Three men waited for himthere, each holding a swordoftheAsraelinpattern.

“Two murderers and arapist,” Master Sollis said.Vaelin assumed it was the

noise of the crowd thatseemedtoaddatremortohisvoice. “They deserve theirend. Show them no mercy.Markthetallone,heseemstoknowhowtoholdablade.”

Vaelin’seyesfoundthetallest of the three, a wellbuilt man in his mid-thirtieswithclosecroppedhairandanatural balance in his stance;feetinlinewithhisshoulders,sword held low. Trained¸ he

realised.“Asoldier.”“Soldier or healer, he’s

stillamurderer.”Thebriefestpause.“Lucktoyoubrother.”

“Thankyou,master.”He drew his sword,

handed the scabbard toMaster Sollis and strodeforward into the arena. Thecrowd’s shouts redoubled ashe entered, here and therehecaught a word or two:“Sorna!… Hawk-killer!…

Killthemboy!….”He stopped ten feet or

so from the three men,looking at each of them inturn as the crowd’s noisedwindled to a hush ofanticipation. Two murderersand a rapist. They did notlook like criminals. The oneon the left was simply ascared, unshaven manholding his sword in ashaking hand as rain pelted

him and ten thousand soulsawaited his death. Rapist,Vaelin decided. The man ontherightwasstockierandlessafraid, shifting his weightconstantly from one foot totheother,heeyeslockedontoVaelin’s beneath deeplyglowering brows as hetwirledhis sword inhis righthand, rain water sprayingfrom the blade. He saidsomething, water spouting

from his lips, a curse or achallenge, the words lostamidst therainandthewind.Murderer.Thethirdman,thesoldier, showed no fear andfeltnoneedtotwirlhisswordor voice his aggression. Hesimply waited, his gazeunwavering, his stance thesame sword fighter’s stanceVaelinknewsowell.Akillercertainly.Butamurderer?

The man on the right

attacked first as Vaelinexpected he would, charginginto an easily turned thrust.Vaelin used the momentumoftheparrytobringthebladeround ina slashat theman’sneck. The stocky man wasfast though, dodging awaywith only his cheek layedopen. The man on the leftsought to take advantage ofthe distraction, screaming ashe ran in, pulling his sword

back over his head andhacking down at Vaelin’sshoulder.Heturned,theblademissing by less than an inchtothudintothesand.Vaelin’ssword point took theunshavenmanunderthechin,forcing its way up throughtongue and bone to find thebrain.Hewithdrew thebladequickly and stepped awayknowing the soldier wouldattacknow.

His thrustwas fast andwell placed, a killing stab atthe chest. Vaelin’s bladecaught the tip and forced thesword point up, leaving anopeningtothesoldier’schest.Vaelin’scounterwasfast,fastenoughtohavecaughtanyofhis brothers, but the tallmanparried it without apparentdifficulty.Hemoved back ina slight crouch, sword closetotheground.Hiseyesnever

leavingVaelin.The stocky man was

attemptingtoholdhisslashedcheektogetherwithonehand,his sword waving wildly ashe staggered, spittinginaudible curses at Vaelinwithbloodiedlips.

Vaelin feinted towardsthe tall man, slashing at hislegs to force him back, thenattackingthestockymaninamove so fast there could be

no defence, rolling under awild defensive slash todeliver a killing thrustthrough the back. His swordpoint pierced the stockyman’s heart and emergedfromhischest.Vaelinputhisfoot to thedyingman’sbackandheavedhimoff thebladeintimetoduckunderanotherslash from the tall man. Hefancied he saw a rain dropsliced in half by the blade’s

passage.They drew back from

each other, circling, swordslevelled, eyes lockedtogether. The stocky mantook a few moments to die,strugglingon therainsoddensand between them, spittingcurses until his breath gaveoutandhe sagged, lifeless intherain.

Vaelin was suddenlystruck by the same sense of

wrongness that had assailedhim before; in the forest, inthe Fifth Order House whenSister Henna came to killhim, when he waited forFrentistoreturnfromtheTestof the Wild. There wassomething about hisremaining opponent,something in the strength ofhis gaze and the set of hisbody, something in hisbeingtelling of a terrible, certain

truth: This man is nocriminal. This man is nomurderer! How he knew hecould not tell.But itwas thestrongest such feelinghehadyet experienced and he hadnodoubtofitscertainty.

He stopped, his swordpoint lowering as hestraightened, the tensed, hardlinesofhisfacesoftening.Hecouldfeeltherainforthefirsttime, beating a chill into his

skin. The tall man’s browsknitted in puzzlement asVaelinlosthisfightingstancetostand,hisswordheldathisside, rain washing the bloodfrom theblade.He raisedhisleft hand, fingers open in asignofpeace.

“Whoare-”Thetallmanattackedin

ablur,hisswordasstraightasan arrow, aimed directly atVaelin’sheart.Itwasafaster

move than anything he hadseenfromMasterSollisanditshould have killed him. Butsomehowhemanagedtoturnintimefortheswordpointtopierceonlyhisshirt,theedgeof the blade marking hischest.

The tall man’s headwas resting on Vaelin’sshoulder, the harddetermination gone from hiseyes,hislipspartedinasmall

gasp,hisskinrapidlydrainingofcolour.

“Whoareyou?”Vaelinaskedhiminawhisper.

The tall man staggeredback,Vaelin’s swordmade asickening,rippingsoundasitwas dragged from his chest.He sank to his knees slowly,proppinghimself upwithhisown sword, resting his chinon the pommel. Vaelin sawthathislipsweremovingand

knelt beside him to hear thewords.

“My…wife…” the tallman said. It sounded like anexplanation. His eyes metVaelin’s again and formoment therewas somethingthere,anapology?Aregret?

Vaelincaughthimashefell, feelingthelifegooutofhiminashudder.Heheldthedead soldier as the rain beatdown and the roar of the

crowd crushed him withbloodcrazedadulation.

Vaelin had never been

drunk before.He found it anunpleasant sensation, notunlike the dizzy feeling hegotwhentakingaheftyblowon the head during practice,justmore prolonged.The alewas bitter in his mouth, hisfirst taste making him screwuphisfaceindisgust.

“You’ll get used to it,”Barkushadassuredhim.

Thetavernwasnearthewestern section of the citywall and frequented mainlyby off-duty guardsmen andlocal traders. For the mostpart they seemed content toleave the fivebrothers alone,althoughtherehadbeenafewcalls of congratulation toVaelin.

“BestbetIevermade,”

a cheery faced old mancalled, lifting his tankard insalute. “Made a packet onyou today, brother.Got oddsof ten to onewhen it lookedlikeyou’dgetthechop…”

“Shut up!” Nortah toldthe old man flatly. His leftarm was cradled in a sling,the forearm heavilybandaged,buthisvisageheldsufficientmenacetomaketheoldmanblancheandsitdown

withoutfurthercomment.They found a vacant

table and Barkus bought thedrinks.Hewas limping fromacuttothecalfandspilledafair amount of the ale on thewaybackfromthebar.

“Clumsy sod,” Dentosgrunted. “Let me get themnext time.” He was the onlyone to have got through thetest unscathed, although hisgaze had a bright, frightened

lookandheblinkedrarely,asif scared of what he wouldseewhenheclosedhiseyes.

Caenis sipped his ale,frowning in puzzlement.“FromthewaymenlustafterthissoI’dexpectedittotastebetter.” The line of his jawwasmarkedbyarowofeightstitches.ThebrotherfromtheFifth Order who tended thecuthadassuredhimhewouldcarry the scar for the rest of

hislife.“Well,” Nortah said,

liftinghistankard.“We’reallhere.”

“Yeh.”Dentosliftedhisownmug, clacking it againstNortah’s. “Here’s to… beinghereIs’pose.”

They drank, Vaelinforcingthealedown,draininghistankard.

“Easy brother,” Barkuswarnedhim.

He felt themexchanging uneasy glancesacrossthetableashestaredatthedregsatthebottomofthetankard. There had been anuglyscenewithMasterSollisback at the Circle whenVaelin had demanded toknow the identity of the tallmanandreceivedonlyacurtresponse:“Amurderer.”

“Hewas nomurderer,”Vaelin insisted, a mounting

anger dispelling his normaldeference.Thetallman’sfaceas he slipped into death wasfresh in his mind. “Master,whowasthatman?Whywasit necessary for me to killhim?”

“Every year the CityGuard provides us with aselection of condemnedmen,” Sollis replied, hispatiencenearingitsend.“Wechoosethestrongestandmost

skilled. Who they are is notour concern. Neither is ityours,Sorna.”

“It is today!” Vaelintook a step closer to Sollis,hisfurymounting.

“Vaelin,” Caeniscautioned him, his hand onhisarm.

“I killed an innocentman today,” Vaelin spat atSollis, shaking off Caenis’shand,advancingfurther.“For

what? To show you I couldkill? You knew that already.You chose him didn’t you?Knowing he was the mostskilled. Knowing I’d be theonetofacehim.”

“A test is not a test ifit’seasy,brother.”

“EASY?” A red mistwas staining his vision, hefound his hand had gone tohissword.

“Vaelin!” Dentos and

Nortah stepped betweenthem, Barkus pulling himback and Caenis keeping afirmgriponhisswordhand.

“Get him out of here!”Sollis commanded as theyhustledhim towards the exit,near incoherent with rage.“Taketherestoftheevening.Helpyourbrothercooloff.”

Vaelin wasn’t sure ifalewas the bestway to cooloff.Hisangerhadn’tdimmed

atall,ifanythingthewaytheroomseemedtomovearoundof its own volition wasextremelyaggravating.

“MyUncle Derv coulddrink more ale in a sittingthan any man alive,” Dentossaid after his fourth tankard,hisheadlolling.“They’d’avea contest every shummertidefair. Folk from milesaround’d come t’challenge‘im. Not one of ‘em could

ever beat ‘im. Grand aledrinkingchampion fiveyearsrunning. Woulda’ been sixiffen he ‘adn’t drunk hisselft’death in the winter.” Hepaused to issue anextravagant burp. “Silly oldsod.”

“Aren’twesupposedtobe enjoying this?” Caenisasked, both hands grippingthe table as if scared hewasabouttotipover.

“I’m happy enough,”Barkussaid,grinningmerrily.His shirt was damp with aleand he seemed oblivious totherivuletsthatcourseddownhischineverytimehetookadrink.

“Two brothers…”Nortah was saying. He hadbeen rambling about his testfor over an hour. FromwhatVaelin could gather two ofthe men he had killed were

brothers, both apparentlycondemned outlaws.“Twins…Ithink.Lookedjustthe same, even made thesame sound when theydied…”

Vaelin’s stomach gavean uncomfortable lurch andhe realised he was about tovomit. “Going outside,” hemumbled, rising and makingfor the door on legs thatseemed to have lost the

ability to walk in a straightline.

The air outside chilledhislungsandmadehisnausearecedealittle,buthewasstillobliged to spend a fewminutes heaving into thegutter. Afterwards he restedhis back against the tavernwallandsankslowlyontothecobbles, his breath steamingin thefrigidair.Mywife, thetall man had said.Maybe he

had been calling to her. Orsummoning a final memoryas he struggled to take theimage of her face with himintothebeyond.

“A man with so manyenemies shouldn’t makehimselfsovulnerable.”

Theman standing overhimwasofaverageheightbutwellbuilt,withalean,deeplylined face and a piercingstare.

“Erlin,” Vaelin said,releasingthehiltofhisknife.“You don’t look anydifferent.” He gazed blearilyaroundtheemptystreet.“DidIpassout?Areyouhere?”

“I’m here.” Erlinreached down to offer him ahand. “And I think you’vehadenoughforonenight.”

Vaelin took the handandleveredhimselftohisfeetwith difficulty. To his

surprise he found he was atleast half a foot taller thanErlin.When last theymet hehad barely come up to hisshoulder.

“Thought you’d be atallone,”Erlinsaid.

“Sella?”Vaelinasked.“Sella’s fine, last I saw

her. I know she would wantmetothankyouforwhatyoudidforus.”

I’ll fight but I won’t

murder.Hisboyhood resolvecoming back to him, thepromise he had made tohimself after saving them inthe wild. I’ll kill men whofaceme in battle but Iwon’ttaketheswordtoinnocents.Itfelt sohollownow, sonaïve.HerememberedhisdisgustatBrother Makril’s tales ofmurdered Deniers andwondered if there was trulyany difference between them

now.“I’ve still got her

scarf,”hesaid,tryingtoforcehis thoughts in a morecomfortabledirection.“Couldyoutakeittoher?”Hefishedclumsily inside his shirt forthescarf.

“I’m not sure I couldfindherifIchoseto.Besides,Ithinkshewouldwantyoutokeep it.” He took Vaelin’selbow and guided him away

from the tavern. “Walk withmeforawhile.Itshouldclearyourhead.AndthereismuchIwouldliketotellyou.”

They walked throughthe empty streets of thewestern quarter, tracing aroute through the rows ofworkshops that characterisedthis as the craftsman’sdistrict. By the time theyreachedtheriverVaelinknewfrom theachebuildingat the

back of his skull and theincreased steadiness of hislegs that he was starting tosoberup.Theypausedonthetowpath overlooking theriver, gazing down at themoonlight playing on thecurrents churning the inkblackwater.

“When I first camehere,” Erlin said. “The riverstanksobadyoucouldn’tgonear it. All the waste of this

citywouldflowintoitbeforethey built the sewers. Nowit’s so clean you can drinkfromit.”

“I saw you,” Vaelinsaid. “At the SummertideFair, four years ago. Youwere watching a puppetshow.”

“Yes. I had businessthere.” It was clear from histone he wasn’t about toelaborate on what type of

business.“Youriskmuchcoming

here. It’s likely BrotherMakrilisstillouthuntingyousomewhere. He’s not a mantogiveupahunt.”

“True enough, hecaughtmelastwinter.”

“Thenhow..?”“It’saverylongtale.In

short he cornered me on amountainside inRenfael.Wefought,Ilost,heletmego.”

“Heletyougo?”“Yes. I was fairly

surprisedmyself.”“Didhesaywhy?”“Hedidn’tsaymuchof

anything at all. Left me tiedupthroughthenightwhilsthesat by the fire and drankhimself unconscious. After awhile I passed out from thebeatinghe’dgivenme.WhenI woke in the morning mybondswereuntiedandhewas

gone.”Vaelin remembered the

tearsshininginMakril’seyes.Maybe he was a better manthanIjudgedhimtobe.

“Isawyoufighttoday,”Erlintoldhim.

Vaelin felt the ache atthe base of his skull deepen.“You must be rich to haveaffordedaticket.”

“Hardly.There’sawayintotheCirclefewknowof,a

passage under the walls thataffords a good few of thearena.”

Silence stretchedbetween them.Vaelinhadnowish to discuss his test andwas increasinglypreoccupiedwiththesuspicionthathewasabout to throw up again.“Yousaidyouhadsomethingtotellme,”hesaid,mainlyinhopethatfurtherconversationwould distract him from the

burgeoningnauseainhisgut.“One of the men you

killed,hehadawife.”“I know. He told me.”

He glanced at Erlin, notingthe intense scrutiny in hiseyes.“Youknewhim?”

“Not well. Myacquaintance was with hiswife. She has assisted me inthe past. I count her as afriend.”

“She’saDenier?”

“You would call herthat. She calls herselfQuester.”

“And her husband wasalsopartofthis…belief?”

“Oh no. His namewasUrlian Jurahl. Once he hadbeen called Brother Urlian.Hewaslikeyou,abrotheroftheSixthOrder,buthegaveituptobewithIlliah,hiswife.”

Littlewonderhe foughtso well. “I took him for a

soldier.”“He took the tradeofa

boat builder after leaving theOrder, became highlyregarded, ran his own yardbuildingbarges, the finestontheriversomesay.”

Vaelin shook his headin sorrow. I have served theFaith by killing an innocentbuilder of boats. “What washedoinginthearena?Iknowhewasn’tamurderer.”

“Ithappenedduringtheriots.SomelocalsgotwindofIlliah’s beliefs, quite how Idon’t know,mayhap her sonspoke of it when at play,children can be so trusting.They came for her, ten menwitharope.Urliankilledtwoandwounded threemore, therest ran off, but they cameback with the City Guard.Urlian was overpowered andtaken to the Blackhold, his

wifetoo.”“Theirson?”“He hid at his father’s

bidding as the fight raged.He’s safe now. With friendsofmine.”

“If Urlian wasdefending his wife then itwasn’t murder. Themagistrate would have seenthatsurely.”

“Surely. But themagistrate had somewealthy

friends with an eye for anopportunity. Did you knowthe odds that you wouldsurviveyourTestwerehardlyworthabet?Theoddsagainstwere long indeed. WithUrlian in the arena it wouldbe worth risking some goldon the long chance. Theyoffered him a proposition,confess his crime and bechosen for the Test, an easything to arrange as your

Masters would be quick tospot his skill. Once he hadkilled you he and his wifewouldbefree.”

Vaelin realised he hadsobered completely, thenauseafled in thefaceof thecold, implacable compulsion.“His wife is still in theBlackhold?”

“She is. By now shewill have heard of herhusband’s fate. I fear what

hergriefwillmakeherdo.”“This magistrate and

hiswealthyfriends,youhavetheirnames?”

“Whatwouldyoudo ifIgavethemtoyou?”

Vaelinfixedhimwithacold stare. “Kill them all.Thatisyourintentionisn’tit?To setme on this course forvengeance.Well,you’llgetit.Justgivemethenames.”

“You misunderstand

meVaelin.Ihavenowishforvengeance. In any case youcouldn’t kill them all.Wealthy men from noblefamilies have manyprotectors,manyguards.Youmight kill one, but not all.And Illiah would still bewaiting her fate in theBlackhold once you havebeencutdown.”

“Thenwhy tellme thiswhen I candonothing to set

itright?”“Youcanspeakforher.

Your word will carry muchweight. If you went to yourAspectandexplained…”

“She’s a Denier. Theywon’t help her unless sherenouncesherheresy.”

“Shewon’tdothat.Hersoul is bound to her beliefsmore closely than you couldimagine. I doubt she couldrenounce them even if she

wished to. I know yourAspecttobeacompassionatemanVaelin,hewillspeakforher.”

“Even if he does theBlackhold is no longerguarded by the Sixth Ordersincethelastconclave.Itfallsunder the control of theFourth. I have met AspectTendris and he will not helpan unrepentant Denier.”Vaelin turned back to the

river,frustrationraginginhischest, Urlian’s pale faceasking for his wife over andoveragaininhishead.

“Sothere’snothingyoucan do?” Erlin asked. Hesounded resigned and Vaelinknew his visit and been adesperate act, undertaken atconsiderablerisk.

“You put great trust inme coming here,” Vaelinsaid.“Thankyou.”

“I’velivedlongenoughto judge a man’s heart.” Hestepped back from the river,offering Vaelin his hand.“I’m sorry to have burdenedyouwiththis.I’llleaveyouinpeacenow.”

“As I grow older I’mlearningthatthetruthisnevera burden. It’s a gift.” Vaelinshookhishand. “Tellme thenames.”

“I won’t set you on a

pathtoyourowndeath.”“You won’t. Trust me.

I’ve thought of something Icando.”

Chapter10He chose the gate on

the eastern wall, assuming itwouldbetheleastbusy.Evengiventhelatenessofthehourthe main palace gate wouldbe too well guarded, toomanymouthstospeakofhowVaelinAlSornahadappeareddemanding an audience withtheKing.

“Piss off boy,” the

sergeantat thegate toldhim,notbotheringtoemergefromtheshelteroftheguardhouse.“Gosleepitoff.”

Vaelinrealisedhemustsmell like an ale house. “Myname is Brother Vaelin AlSornaoftheSixthOrder,”hesaid,forcingauthorityintohisvoiceasifhehadeveryrightto be here. “I request anaudiencewithKingJanus.”

“Faith!” the sergeant

sighed in exasperation. HecameouttofixVaelinwithafierce glare. “You know aman could find himselfflogged for giving a falsename to an officer of theKing’sGuard?”

A younger guardsmanappearedbehindthesergeant,staring at Vaelin with adisconcertingly awedexpression.“Uh,Sarge…”

“Butit’slateandI’min

a good mood.” The sergeantwas advancing on Vaelinwith balled fists, his grizzledface tensed with impendingviolence. “So it’ll just be abeating before I send you onyourway.”

“Sarge!” the youngerman said urgently, catchingholdofhisarm.“It’shim.”

The sergeant's gazeswung to the younger manthen back to Vaelin, looking

him up and down. “Yousure?”

“Was on duty at theCirclethismorningwasn’tI?It’sreallyhim.”

The sergeant’s fistsuncurledbuthedidn’tappearany happier. “What’s yourbusinesswiththeKing?”

“For him alone. He’llseeme if he’s told I’m here.And I’m sure he’ll bedispleased if he hears I have

been turned away.” Anaccomplished lie, hecongratulated himself. Intruth he had no certainty thekingwouldseehimatall.

The sergeant thought itover. His scars told of alifetime of hard service andVaelinrealisedhemustresentany intrusion into what wasnodoubtacomfortablebilletinwhichtoawaithispension.“My compliments and

apologiestotheCaptain,”thesergeant told the youngerguardsman. “Wake him andtellhimaboutourvisitor.”

They stood regardingeach other in wary silenceafter the guardsman hadscampered off, hastilyunlocking a small door setinto the huge oakwood gateanddisappearinginside.

“Heard you killed fiveDenier assassins the night of

the Aspect massacre,” thesergeantgruntedeventually.

“Itwasfifty.”Itseemedanagebefore

the door reopened and theyoung guardsman emergedfollowed by a trim youngman, impeccably dressed inthe uniform of a Captain inthe King’s Horse Guard. Hegave Vaelin a brief look ofappraisal before offering hishand. “Brother Vaelin,” he

said in a slight Renfaelinaccent. “Captain NirkaSmolen,atyourservice.”

“Apologies for wakingyou Captain,” Vaelin said,slightly distracted by theneatness of the young man’sattire. Everything from theshine of his boots to theprecisetrimofhismoustachespoke of a remarkableattention to detail. Hecertainlydidn’tappeartobea

manjustwokenfromhisbed.“Not at all.” Captain

Smolen, gestured at theopendoor.“Shallwe?”

Vaelin’s boyhoodmemories of gleamingopulence were not matchedby the interior of the easternwing of the palace. Aftercrossingasmallcourtyardhewas led into a warren ofcorridors crammed with avarietyofdustcoveredchests

andclothwrappedpaintings.“This wing is used

mostly for storage,” CaptainSmolen explained seeing hisbemused expression. “TheKingreceivesmanygifts.”

Hefollowedthecaptainthrough a series of corridorsandchambersuntiltheycameto a large room with achequered floor and severalgrand paintings on the wall.He found his attention

immediately drawn to thepaintings, each was at leastseven feet across anddepicted a battle. The settingchanged with each paintingbutthesamefigurewasatthecentre of every one; ahandsome, flame haired manastrideawhitecharger,swordheld high above his head.KingJanus.ThoughVaelin’smemoryof thekingwasdimhe didn’t remember his jaw

being quite so square or hisshouldersquitesobroad.

“The six battles thatunited the Realm,” CaptainSmolen said. “Painted byMaster Benril Lenial. It tookhimoverthreeyears.”

Vaelin rememberedMaster Benril’s drawings inAspect Elera’s rooms, thefine detail with which eachwas rendered, the way theexposed viscera seemed to

come out of the parchment.He saw none of the sameclaritynow.Thecolourswerebright but not vibrant, thebattling warriors clearlydepictedbutstiltedsomehow,notasiftheywerefightingatall,simplystandinginapose.

“Not his best is it?”Captain Smolen commented.“He was commanded to it,yousee.Isuspecthehadlittleloveforhissubject.Haveyou

ever seen his fresco in theGreat Librarycommemorating the victimsof the Red Hand? It’s quitebreath-taking.”

“I’ve never seen theGreat Library,” Vaelinreplied, thinking CaptainSmolen would probably findmuch in common withCaenis.

“You should, it’s acredit to theRealm. I’ll need

yourweapons.”Vaelin unclipped his

cloak with the four throwingknives secured within itsfolds, unbuckled his sword,unhooked his hunting knifefromhisbeltandremovedthenarrow bladed dagger fromhisleftboot.

“Nice,”CaptainSmolenadmired the dagger.“Alpiran?”

“Idon’tknow,Itookit

fromadeadman.”“These will be waiting

foryouhere.”Smolenlaidhisweapons out on a nearbytable. “No-one will touchthem.”Withthathemovedtoa bare patch of wall andpushed, a section of thewallswinging inwards revealingadark stairwell. “Follow thestairstothetop.”

“He’sinthere?”Vaelinasked.Hehadexpectedtobe

led to a throne room oraudiencechamber.

“He is indeed.Bestnotkeephimwaiting.”

Vaelin nodded histhanks and entered thestairwell. Oil lamps set intothe wall cast a dim light onthe steps, the gloomdeepening when Smolenclosed the door behind him.As instructed he climbed thestairs,thefallofhisbootson

the stone steps loud in theconfined space. The door atthe top was slightly ajar,outlined in bright lamplightfrom the room beyond. Itcreaked loudly when Vaelinpushed it open but the manseatedat thedeskbeforehimdidn’t look up. He satcrouched over a roll ofparchment, his quillscratching over it, leaving aspideryscriptinitswake.The

man was old, in his sixties,butstillbroadintheshoulder,his long hair hung over hisface, once red it was nowgreybutstillhadafainttingeof copper. He wore a plainshirt of white linen, thesleeves stained with ink, hisonlyadornmentagoldsignetringonthethirdfingerofhisright hand, a signet ringbearing the symbol of arearinghorse.

“Highness-” Vaelinbegan,sinkingtooneknee.

TheKingraisedhislefthand, motioning for him torisethenpointingatanearbychair.Hisquilldidn’tstopontheparchment.Vaelinmovedto the chair, finding it piledhigh with books and scrolls.He hesitated then carefullygathered them together andplaced them on the floorbeforesittingdown.

Hewaited.The only sound in the

room came from the scratchof the King’s quill. Vaelinwondered if he should speakagainbutsomethingtoldhimit was best to keep silent.Insteadhesurveyedtheroom.He had thought AspectElera’sroomtohavebeenthemostbookfilledspacehehadeverseenbuttheKing’sroomput it to shame. They lined

thewallsingreatstacksrisingnearly to the ceiling. Inbetween the stacks wereboxesof scrolls, some flakedand withered with age. Theonly decoration in the roomwasalargemapoftheRealmabove the fireplace, itssurface partly covered withshort notations in a spideryscript. Oddly some of thenotationswerewritten in redink and others black. Down

oneedgeofthemapwasalistof some kind, each item hadbeen written in black butcrossedthroughinred.Itwasalonglist.

“Youhaveyourfather’sfacebutyourmother’swayoflookingatthings.”

Vaelin’s gaze snappedbacktotheKing.Hehadlaidhisquillasideandreclinedinhischair.Hisgreeneyeswerebright and shrewd in his

craggy, weathered face.Vaelinfoundhecouldn’tstophis eyes straying to the lividredscarsontheKing’sneck,the legacy of his childhoodbrushwiththeRedHand.

“Highness?” hestammered.

“Yourfatherwascleverin the ways of war but inmost other things I have tosayhewasasdumbasarock.Your mother on the other

hand was clever in almosteverything.Youhadherlookjust now, when you werelookingatmymap.”

“I’m sure she wouldhave been gratified to knowyouheldsuchahighopinionofher,Highness.”

The King raised aneyebrow. “Don’t flatter me,boy. I have servants aplentyfor that. Besides, you’re nogood at it. In that, at least,

youarelikeyourfather.”Vaelin felt himself

flushandbitbackanapology.He’s right, I’m no courtier.“Forgive my intrusion,Highness.Ihavecometoaskforyourhelp.”

“Most people whocome before me do.Although, usually withobscenelyexpensivegiftsandseveral hours worth ofgrovelling. Will you grovel

forme, young brother?” TheKing’smouthhadcurvedinasmall,humourlesssmile.

“No.”Vaelin found histrepidation was quicklydisappearing in the face of acold anger. “No, Highness. Iwillnot.”

“And yet you comehereatthisforsakenhouranddemandfavours.”

“Idemandnothing.”“But you do want

something. What is it, Iwonder?Money?Idoubtit.Itmeant little toyourparents,Idaresayitmeanslittletoyou.Help with a marriageproposal perhaps? Got youreye on some wench but herfather doesn’t want apenniless Order boy for ason-in-law?” The Kingangled his head, studyingVaelin closely. “Oh no,hardly that. So what can it

be?”“Justice,” Vaelin said.

“Justice for amurderedman,justiceforhisfamily.”

“Murdered eh? Bywhom?”

“By me, Highness.Today I killed a man in theTest of the Sword. He wasinnocent, a victim of a falseconviction brought simply tomake him face me in thetest.”

ThehumourfadedfromtheKing’sface,replacedwithsomethingmuchmoreseriousbut otherwise unreadable.“Tellme.”

Vaelintoldhimallofit,Urlian’s arrest, his wife’simprisonment in theBlackhold,thenamesofthoseresponsible: Jentil Al Hilsa,the magistrate who hadcondemned Urlian, andMandril Al Unsa and Haris

Estian, the two wealthy menwhohadsoughttoprofitfromhisdeath.

“Andhowdoyoucomeby this intelligence?” theKing asked when he hadfinished.

“A man came to metonight,amanItrust.”Vaelinpaused,gatheringhiswill forthe risk he knew he had totake. “A man who knowsmuch of the troubles

besetting Deniers in theRealm.”

“Ah. For a member ofanOrderyouchooseunusualfriends.”

“The Faith teaches usthat aman’smind should beopen to truth, wherever hefindsit.”

“It seems you haveyour mother’s way withwords as well.” The Kingpulled a fresh piece of

parchmentfromastackonhisdesk, dipped his quill in abottleofblack inkandwrotea short passage. He thenwiped the quill on his shirtsleeve, dipped it in a pot ofredinkandwrotealistbelowthe black text. He completedthe document with anelaboratesignature,thentooka candle and a block ofsealing wax, touching theflame to the wax to melt a

dropletontothebottomoftheparchment.Heblewsoftlyonthe wax for a moment thenpressedhissignetringintoit.

“Every time I sign mynametooneofthese,”hesaidputtinghisquillaside,“Ihaveto amend my map.” Vaelinturned back to the chart onthewall, lookingagainat thelist, black words crossedthrough with red.Names, herealised.Names of men he’s

killed. Nortah’s father mustbetheresomewhere.

“I’ll execute thesemen,”theKingsaid.“Onthestrength of what you’ve toldme.Therewillbenotrial,theKing’sWordisabovealllaw.Their families will hate meforwhatI’vedone,butsinceIintend to confiscate theirproperty and render thempennilessitmattersnot.”

Vaelin met the King’s

gaze, trying to decide if thiswas some kind of bluff, butsaw no deception. “A familyshould not be punished forthe crimes of but one of itsmembers.”

“It is how it must bewithnobles, leave the familyits wealth and they’ll use itagainst me sooner or later.Besides, I know these menand their families. They’re avile, greedy lotby and large.

Life in the gutter will suitthemwell.”

“Youputmuchstockinmyword,highness.Icouldbelying…”

“You’re not. Thirtyyears a King teaches a manhowtohearlies.”

AKing’sjusticeishardindeed, Vaelin decided.Could he stomach it? Seeingthe certainty in the King’sexpressionherealisedhehad

no choice. The course hadalreadybeensetassoonasheopened his mouth. “And theman’swife?”

“Well there we have aproblem. She’s anunrepentant Denier. AspectTendriswillnodoubtseektohang her from thewalls in acage.Ifshedoesn’tdieunderquestioningfirst,ofcourse.”

“Highness, you are theKing of this Realm and the

ChampionoftheFaith.Theremustbesomeinfluence…”

“Must there?” TheKing's expression was a mixof anger and amusement. “Ihave done what I must thisnight.” He gestured to thedeathwarranthehadwritten.“It is a King’s duty todispensejusticewherehecan.Iwill kill thesemenbecausetheyhavebroken the lawsofthis Realm and deserve their

end. As for their victim’swife, her crimes fall outsidemy jurisdiction. Therefore, itis not a question of what Imustdo,butwhatImaydo,ifit serves my purpose. So,VaelinAlSorna,tellmehowsaving thiswoman’s lifewillserve my purpose. You usedyour name to get in here, doyou have nothing else tosay?”

Mother, forgive me. “I

know your Highness hadplans for me, before myfathersentmetotheOrder.Ifitpleasesyou,Iwillsubmittoyour plans if youwill securethereleaseofUrlian’swife.”

TheKing’s reached foracrystaldecanteronhisdeskand poured ameasure of redwine into a glass.“Cumbraelin, ten years old.One of the benefits ofKingship is a well stocked

cellar.” He offered thedecanter to Vaelin. “Wouldyoucareforsome?”

Vaelin’s head stillached from his binge in theale house. “No thank you,Highness.”

“You father wouldn’tdrink with me either.” TheKingsippedhiswine slowly.“But thenhenever sought tobargain with me. Icommanded and he

followed.”“Loyalty is our

strength.”“Yes.Afinemotto,one

ofmybest.Ichoseitforhim,evenchose thehawkasyourfamilycrest.Itwassomethingofajokeactually.Yourfatherhatedhawking,it’sasportfornobles after all.” He tookanother sip from his wine,wiping the redstain fromhislips with an ink spattered

sleeve.“Doyouknowwhyheleftmyservice?”

“I had heard there wasdiscordbetweenyouoverhiswish tomarry and legitimisemysister.”

“Know about her, eh?That must’ve been a shock.It’strueenoughthatIrefusedyourfather’srequesttomarryandhewasangryoverit.Butin truth I believe he hadresolved to leave my side

when I had to kill my FirstMinister. They were at eachother’s throats for years butwhen Al Sendahl’s thieverycame to light it was yourfather that spoke for himwhennootherwould.Hehadto die of course, although itwas a grievous loss. Fewother men knew finance sowellasArtisAlSendahl.”

“Ihave servedwithhisson since we were boys,

Highness. He could neveraccept his father stole fromyourpurse.”

“Ohhewasn’tathiefofcoin,hewasathiefofpower.It’saterriblyseductivething,Vaelin. But to wield it wellyouhavetohateitasmuchasyou love it.LordArtis neverunderstood that, his actionsbecame driven wholly byambition, endangering thepeaceof theRealm, and so I

killedhim.”“And took his family’s

wealth?”“Of course. Made sure

the wife and daughters weretaken care of though, felt Iowed him that much. TowerLord Al Myrna was kindenough to take them in,gavethe woman some land in theNorthern Reaches, under afalse name of course. Can’thavemy nobles thinking I’m

soft-hearted.”“It would ease my

brother’s mind greatly if Icouldtellhimthis.”

“I’m sure. But youwon’t.”

TheKingputdownhiswine glass and rose, rubbingand groaning at the stiffnessofhis legs,going to themapabove the fireplace. “TheUnified Realm,” he said.“Four Fiefs once divided by

warandhatrednowunitedinloyalty to me. Except, ofcourse, they aren’t. Nilsaelsold itself to me because itwastiredofarmiesrapingitsland for fodder every fewyears. Renfael lost half herknights in battle and LordTheros saw that if he foughtmeanylongerhewouldsoonlose theotherhalf.Cumbraelhates and fears me in equalmeasure, but they fear the

FaithmoreandwillstayloyalaslongasIkeepitfromtheirdoor.ThisistheRealmIspilta sea of blood to build andthrough you I would havestopped it tearing itself apartwhenIdie.

“You are right, I hadmanyplans for you.The sonofaBattleLordandaformerMistress in the Fifth Order,bothcommonersat that.Youwouldbethemeansbywhich

I would bind the commonfolk to my line, not just inAsrael but in all the Fiefs.AndwhenIhadtheheartsofthe commons their noblescould call for war but nonewouldanswer.Ihadplansforyouindeed,younghawk.”Hescanned the map, his sighheavywith regret. “But yourmotherhadplansofherown.When she persuaded AspectArlyn to take you into the

Sixth Order she made you abrother, bound to the Faith,nottome.”

“Highness, if it is yourwishthatIleavetheOrder…”

“It’stoolateforthat.Itwouldbecleartoallthatyouhad left the Faith at mycommand.RobbingtheOrderofitsmostfamoussonwoulddo little to make the peopleloveme.No, the plans I hadforyouarelongdead.”

Vaelin fumbled forsomething to say, someargumenttosecuretheKing’sassistance. The prospect ofleaving Urlian’s wife totorture and slow executionwas unbearable. Wildschemesflickeredthroughhismind as panic gripped him.He would sneak into theBlackholdandrescueher,hisbrothers would help him, hewas sure of it, although it

probably meant death for allofthem…

“Iwasnotthefirst,youknow?” theKing said softly.Vaelinsawhewaslookingatashortlistscribbledatthetopofthemap.“Therehavebeenfive before me.” The Kingtapped a finger to the fivenames on the list. “FiveKings since Varin led ourpeople to this landanddrovethe Seordah into the forests

and the Lonak into themountains. And in fivehundred years no rulingfamilyhasheldtheRealmformorethanageneration.”

“Prince Malcius is agoodman,Highness.”

“My butcher is a goodman,boy!”theKingsnapped,suddenly angry. “So is mystable-master and the manwho sweeps dung from mycourtyard.My son is a good

man it is true, but it takesmore than goodness tomakea king. When he took thethrone youwere to be at hissidetodowhathecouldnot.NowallIcandoismakethisRealmsogreatthatthosewhowould tear it down will fearbeingcrushedbyitsfall.”

Hereturnedtohischair,sittingdownstiffly.“AndsoIwill make a new plan. Andyou,brotherVaelinAlSorna,

willservemypurposeagain.”Hesearchedthroughapileofpapersonhisdesk,extractinga sheaf of documents sealedwith black wax. “AspectTendris keeps me busy withhis loyal guidance andhumble requests for newmeasures to combat thescourge of the unfaithful.Here,” the King selected thetop most document, “hesuggests the Realm Guard

flog any subject who cannotrecite theCatechism of Faithoncommand.”

“Aspect Tendris iszealous in his beliefs,Highness.”

“Aspect Tendris is adeluded fanatic. But even afanatic can be bargainedwith.” The King held upanother document and beganto read: “‘I would mosthumbly remind your

Highness of the regularreports that theunfaithfularegathering in unprecedentednumbers in the Martisheforest. I have heard from themost reliable sources thatthese are adherents of theCumbraelin form of godworship and are mostvehement in their heresy.Theyarewellarmedand,mysources assure me, resolvedto meet any attempt to

dislodge them with theutmost violence. I imploreyour Highness, with thegreatest respect, to heed mycalls to act decisively in thismatter.’”

The King tossed theparchment aside. “What doyoumakeofthis?”

“The Aspect wishesyoutosendtheRealmGuardto the Martishe to root outDeniers.”

“Indeed, as if mysoldiers have little better todothanrunaroundthewoodsfor months with Cumbraelinlongbowmen waiting behindevery tree.Ohno, theRealmGuardwill not gowithin tenmiles of the Martishe. Butyouwill.”

“Me,Highness?”“Yes. I will prevail

uponAspectArlyn to send asmall contingent of brothers

to the Martishe, you will beamongthem.Aswillayoungman named Linden AlHestian. You know thisname?”

“Al Hestian.” Vaelinrecalled the furious manlashing his way through thecrowdat theSummertidefairwhere Nortah’s father hadmet his end. “I once met aLordMarshalofthatname.”

“Lakrhil Al Hestian,

LordMarshalofmyTwenty-Seventh Regiment of Horse.A capable officer and one ofmywealthiernobles.Likemylate First Minister a man ofgreat ambition, particularlywhere his son is concerned.Hiselderson,Linden.”

Vaelin felt a hard ballofdreadforminthepitofhisstomach. “His son,Highness?”

“A fine young man

with many admirablequalities, sadly humility andintelligence are not amongthem. The fellow has awidecircle of friends, in truth agang of admirers andsycophants. Nothing attractsfriends like wealth andarrogance.Heiscurrentlythedarlingofmyesteemedcourt,winning tournaments,beddingladies,fightingduels.It’sarathertediouslyfamiliar

story, I’m afraid. A youngmanachievesgreat fameandsuccess at an early age andbegins to believe his ownlegend, not helped by theindulgence of an ambitiousfather.He is by far themostpopular young man in court,far more popular than myownsonwhohasneverbeengifted in thewaysofartifice.Every day I’m beset withentreatiestogivetheyounger

Al Hestian a commission,something to help him provehisworth,sethimonthepathto glory. And so I will. Hewill bemade a Sword of theRealm and commanded toraisehisownregimentwhichhewilltakeintotheMartisheto root out the Denierscurrentlyinfestingit.Sadly,Ipredictthiswillbealongandarduouscampaignandafter,”theKingpausedtothink,“six

months or so he will,tragically, meet his end in aDenierambush.”

Their eyes met,Vaelin’s stomach churningwith mingled anger anddespair. I am a fool, hedecided. A mouse seekingbargains with an owl.“Urlian’swife,Highness?”hegrated.

“Oh, I daresay AspectTendris will be in a more

amenable frame of mindwhen I tell of him of myplans for a crusade in theMartishe, especially sinceyou will be part of it. He’sfond of you, you know. I’llvouch for the woman, tellhim I’m convinced of herredemption, provided shesays nothing to the contraryshewillbe freeby tomorrowevening.”

“I need assurance she

andher sonwill be providedfor.”Vaelinforcedhimselftokeep his eyes locked on theKing’s. “If I’m to be part ofyourcrusade.”

“I’m sure Tower LordAlMyrna can find room foranother exile or two. Thedistinction between FaithfulandDeniermeanslittleintheNorthernReaches.”TheKingturned back to his desk,lifting his quill and

smoothingablankparchmentout before him. “You willreceive your orders in thenext few days.”He began towrite again, his quillscratching its path across thepage.

It took a moment forVaelin to realisehehadbeendismissed.Hegot tohis feet,findinghimselfslightlydizzy,whetherwithangerorsorrowhe couldn’t tell. “My thanks

for your time, Highness,” heforced the words out andmovedtothedoor.

“Remember, younghawk,” the King said, notlooking up from hisparchment. “This is not thewhole of my plan for you.Merely the beginning. Icommand,youfollow.Thatisthe bargain you made thisnight.” He glanced up,meeting Vaelin’s eyes again.

“Youunderstand?”“Iunderstandperfectly,

Highness.”TheKingheldhisgaze

a moment longer, thenreturnedtohiswriting,sayingnothingasVaelinleft.

Captain Smolen was

waiting for him when heemergedfromthewall.“Yourvisitisconcluded,brother?”

Vaelin nodded and

collected his weapons fromthe table, re-equippinghimselfquickly,possessedbya strong desire to be awayfrom this place. He neededtime alone to think. Theenormity of his bargain withthe king had stirred histhoughts into a confusedjumble. He followed Smolenback along the myriadcorridors linedwithforgottengifts, his mind continually

repeating the King’s finalwords. This is not the wholeof my plan for you. Merelythebeginning.

“You’ll forgiveme if Ileaveyouhere,”Smolensaidat the corner to what Vaelinrecognised as the corridorleading to the east gate. “Ihave pressing dutieselsewhere.”

Vaelin peered at theshadowy end of the corridor

then turned back to Smolenseeing a faint discomfort inthe set of the man’s face.“Pressingduties,captain?”

“Yes.” Smolencoughed.“Verypressing.”Hetook a step backwards,nodded formally then turnedandstrodebackthewaytheyhadcome.

Vaelin took anotherlook at the corridor ahead ofhim, a faint sensation of

wrongness making his heartbeat faster. Ambush, hedecided. The King hasuntrustworthy servants. Heconsidered going after theCaptain and forcing him towalkaheadintowhateverwaswaitingbutfoundhecouldn’tsummonthewill.Ithadbeenaverylongnight.Besideshecould always find him later.He palmed a throwing knifefrom the folds of his cloak

andstartedalongthecorridor.He expected the attack

to come at the darkest point,near the corridor’s end, butnothing happened. No blackcladmenwithcurvedswordsleapingout tochallengehim.Buttherewasafaintscentinthe air, subtle, sweet, likeflowersonahotday…

“I’d heard you werehandsome.”

He pivoted towards the

sound of the voice, the knifehalfoutofhishandbeforehesawher.Agirl,standinghalfin shadow. He managed tomove his hand at the lastinstant, sending the throwwide, theknife thudding intothe wall an inch from herhead.Sheglancedatitbrieflybefore stepping forward intothe light. Vaelin had seenbeautiful women before, hehad always thought Aspect

Elera the most beautifulwomanhewaslikelytomeet,but this girl was different.Everything about her, fromthe flawless porcelain of herskin, the soft curve of herfaceandthelustrousred-goldofherhair,spokeofeffortlessperfection.

“You’re not,” she said,comingcloser,headangledasshe studied him with brightgreeneyes.“Butyour face is

interesting.” She reached up,fingersextendedintoacaress.

Vaelintookastepbackbefore her hand could touchhis face. He dropped to oneknee and bowed low.“Highness.”

“Please get up,” saidPrincess Lyrna Al Nieren.“We can’t talk properly ifyour face is constantlypointedatthefloor.”

Vaelin rose. Waiting

andtryingnottostare.“I’msorryifIsurprised

you,”thePrincessapologised.“Captain Smolen was kindenough to informmeofyourvisit. I thought we shouldtalk.”

Vaelinsaidnothing,hissense of wrongness hadn’tfaded. Something about thisencounterwasdangerous.Heknew he should make anexcuse and leave but found

himself unable to find thewords.Hewantedher to talktohim,hewanted tobenearher. Itwasacompulsion thatprovoked a sudden and deepresentment.

“I had intended towatch you fight today,” thePrincesswenton.“Myfatherwouldn’t letme, of course. Iwastolditwasaverystirringcontest.”

Hersmilewasdazzling,

performed with a preciseaffectation of sincerity thatput Nortah to shame. She’sexpectsmetobeflattered,herealised. “Is there somethingyou wish of me, Highness?Like Captain Smolen I havepressingbusinesselsewhere.”

“Oh don’t be angrywith the Captain. He’snormally so correct in hisduties. I’m afraid I may becorrupting him terribly.” She

turned and went to the wallwherehisthrowingknifewasembedded, working it loosewith difficulty. “I liketrinkets,”shesaid,examiningthe blade, running herdelicate fingers over themetal.“Youngmengivethemto me all the time. None ofthem have yet given me aweaponthough.”

“Keep it,” Vaelin toldher. “If you’ll excuse me,

Highness.” He bowed andturnedtogo.

“I won’t,” she saidflatly. “We haven’t finishedour talk. Come,” shebeckoned to him with theknife,movingaway from thewall. “We will talk togetherbeneaththestars,youandI.Itwill be as if we are in asong.”

I could just leave, herealised. She couldn’t stop

me…couldshe?Afterbrieflyconsidering the prospect offighting off hordes ofguardsmen summoned toprevent him leaving hefollowed her back along thecorridor. She led him to adoor in an unobtrusivealcove, pushing it open andgesturing for him to enter.Thegardenbeyondwassmallbut even in moonlight thebeauty on display in its

flower beds was remarkable.There seemed to be anendlessvarietyofblooms,farmore than in Aspect Elera’sgarden.

“It should really beseen in daylight,” PrincessLyrna said, closing the doorand stepping past him,pausing to examine a rosebush.“Andit’salittlelateintheyear,manyofmydarlingsare already shrinking in the

cold.”She walked to a low

stone bench in the centre ofthegarden,hergownswayinggracefully. Vaelin distractedhimself by searching theflower beds for somethingvaguely familiar, to hissurprise he found it in theshape of a yellow budsnestling beneath a smallmapletree.“Winterblooms.”

“You know flowers?”

The princess soundedsurprised.“Iwastoldbrothersof the Sixth Order knewnothing beyond the arts ofwar.”

“We are taught manythings.”

She sat on the benchand raised her hands,gesturing at the flower beds.“Well, do you like mygarden?”

“It’s very beautiful,

Highness.”“When I was little my

father asked me what Iwanted as a Winterfall gift.Growing up in the palacemeant I was never alone,there were always guards ormaids or tutors, so I said Iwanted somewhere to bealone.Hebroughtmehere.Itwas just an old emptycourtyard then, I made it agarden. No one else is

allowedhereandIhavenevershown this place to anyone,before now.” She wasstudying him intently,gauginghisreaction.

“I am… honoured,Highness.”

“I’mglad.So,asIhavehonoured you with aconfidence, perhaps you willhonourmewithoneinreturn.What business did you havewithmyfather?”

Hewas tempted to saynothingbutknewhecouldn’tsimply ignore her. Variouslies flicked through hismindbut he had a sense that theprincess had her father’s earfor untruth. “I don’t thinkKingJanuswouldwishmetodiscuss it,” he said after amoment.

“Really? Then I amforced to guess. Please tellmeifIguesswell.Youfound

outoneofthemenyoukilledtoday had been forced intothe fight. You came hereasking my father for justice.AmIcorrect?”

“You know much,Highness.”

“Yes. But sadly, I findthat I never know enough.Did my father grant yourrequest?”

“He was graciousenoughtodispensejustice.”

“Oh.”Therewasafaintnote of pity in her voice.“Poor Lord Al Unsa. Healways used to make melaughat theWarding’sNightball, the way he wouldstumble about the dancefloor.”

“I’m sure your fondmemories will be a greatcomfort to him on thegallows,Highness.”

Her smile faded. “You

thinkmecold?PerhapsIam.I’ve known many lords overthe years. Smiling, friendlymen who gave me candiesandpresentsandtoldmehowprettyIam,allseekingtowinmy father’s favour. Some hesent away, some he allowedto remain in his service andsomehekilled.”

He realised his ownfathermusthavebeenamongthe many lords she had met

and wondered if she hadaroused as much uncertaintyin him. “Did my father giveyoupresents?”

“All your father evergave me was a hard stare.Though not as hard as thestare your mother gave me.Myfather’splanforusmadethemwaryofmeIsuppose.”

“Us,Highness?”She raised an eyebrow.

“We were to be married.

Didn’tyouknow?”Married?Itwasabsurd,

ridiculous. Married to aprincess. Married to her. Herecalled the rude little girlfromhisboyhoodvisit to thepalace.I’mnotmarryingyou,you’re dirty. Was this reallyhowthekingintendedtobindhimtohisline?

“No, I never liked theidea much either,” PrincessLyrna said, reading his face.

“ButnowIcanappreciatetheelegance of it. My father’sdesigns often take yearsbeforetheirintentisrevealed.In this case he intended toplaceyouatmybrother’ssideand enhance my standing.Togetherwewouldguidemybrotherinhisrule.”

“Perhaps your brotherwillneednoguidance.”

She raised her perfectface to the sky, studying the

spectacular array of stars.“Timewilltell.Ishouldcomehereatnightmoreoften.Theview is really quite lovely.”She turned to him, her faceserious now. “What does itfeel like when you take alife?”

Her tone was one ofsimple curiosity. Either shedidn’t know her questionmightcauseoffenceordidn’tcare. Oddly, he found he

wasn’t offended. It wassomething no one had everaskedhim.Althoughheknewtheansweralltoowell.

“It feels like your soulhasbeensoiled,”hesaid.

“And yet you continuetodoit.”

“Until today it hasalwaysbeen…necessary.”

“And so you come tomy father seeking to assuageyourguilt.Whatpricedidhe

extractIwonder?Iexpecthetook you into his service. Aspy within the Sixth Orderwouldbeanassetindeed.”

Aspy?Ifonlythatwereall. “Did you lead me heresimply to ask questions towhich you already know theanswer,Highness?”

To his surprise shelaughed, it sounded rich,genuine. “How refreshingyou are. You offer me no

flattery,yousingmenosongsand quote me no sonnets.You are singularly withoutcharm or calculation.” Shelooked down at the throwingknife in her hand. “And youaretheonlymanI’vemetthathas succeeded inmakingmeafraid. As ever I am amazedatmyfather’sforesight.”Hergaze was uncomfortablydirect and he had to forcehimself to meet it, keeping

silent.“What I have to say to

you is simple,” she toldhim.“Leave the Order, serve myfather at court and inwar, intime you will become aSword of theRealm, andwemayfulfiltheplanhelaidforus.”

He searched her facefor some sign ofmockery ordeceitbut foundonly seriousintent. “You wish us to

marry,Highness?”“I wish to honour my

father.”“Your father believes

hisplanformedead.Leavingthe Order would be of novalue to him now. If Ifollowed your command Iwould be acting against hiswishes.”

“Iwillspeaktohim.Helistenstomycounsel inmostthings, he will hear the

wisdom of my course.” Hesawitthen,thefaintglimmerin her eyes. The wrongnessdeepened as he realised hehad seen it before, in SisterHenna’s eyes when she triedto kill him. It wasn’t maliceexactly, more calculationmixedwithdesire.ButwhereSister Henna had desired hisdeath the princess wantedmore, and he doubted it wasthe delightful prospect of

beinghiswife.“You honour me

greatly, Highness,” he said,histoneasformalashecouldmake it. “But I’m sure youwill understand that I havegivenmylifeinservicetotheFaith. I am a brother of theSixthOrder and thismeetingisunseemly. Iwouldbeverygrateful if you would permitmetowithdraw.”

She looked down, a

small wry smile on her lips.“Of course, brother. Pleaseforgive my discourtesy indelayingyou.”

Hebowedandturnedtoleave, reaching the doorbeforeshestoppedhim.

“I have much to do,Vaelin.”Hertonewasdevoidof humour or affectation,entirely serious and sincere.Hertruevoice,hethought.

He paused at the door

anddidn’tturn.Waiting.“What I have to do

would have been easier withyouatmysidebutIwilldoitnevertheless. And I willtolerate no obstacle. Believemewhen I say I should hateustobeenemies.”

Heglancedbackather.“Thank you for showing meyourgarden,Highness.”

She inclined her headand turned her gaze back to

the sky. He was dismissed.Themostbeautifulwomanhehad ever seen, bathed inmoonlight. It was a trulycaptivating sight, one hefound himself ferventlywishingheneversawagain.

PartIIIIt pleases me to report

the excellent progress madeby Lord Al Hestian’scommand in recent months.Many Deniers have paid theappropriate price for theirheresy or fled the forest infearof their lives.Thespiritsof the men are high, rarelyhave I encountered soldierssoenthusedbytheircause.

Brother Yallin Heltis,FourthOrder,lettertoAspectTendris Al Forne during theMartishe forest campaign.FourthOrderArchives.

Verniers’AccountHe had fallen silent as

myquillcontinueditsfeveredtrack across the parchment.AboutmelaythetenscrollsIhad filled with his story.Outside night had descendedand our only illuminationcame from a single lanternswaying from a deck beamabove our heads. My wristached from hours of writing

and my back was strainedwithhunchingoverthebarrelonwhichIhadchosentorestmypapers.Iscarcelynoticed.

“Well?”Iprompted.Hisfacewassombrein

the dim glow of the lantern,his expression distant. I hadto speak again before herousedhimself.

“I’m thirsty,” he said,reaching for the flask thecaptain had allowed him to

fill from the water barrel.“Haven’t said more than afew words a day for fiveyears.Mythroathurts.”

Iputmyquilldownandrestedmyachingspineonthehull. “Did you see heragain?” I asked. “Theprincess.”

“No. I expect she hadnouse formesinceIrefusedherplan.”He lifted the flaskto his mouth, drinking deep.

“Buther famegrewover theyears, the legend of herbeauty and her kindnessspread far and wide. Oftenshe was seen in the poorerquarters of the city and thewider Realm, giving alms totheneedy,providingfundsfornew schools and FifthOrdersick houses. Many noblescourted her but she refusedthemall. Therewas talk thattheKingwas angrywith her

for failing to wed aconveniently powerfulhusband but she defied hiswill, though it pained hergreatly.”

“You think she stillwaits for you?” The tragedyof it stirredmywriter’s soul.“That she mends her brokenheart with good deeds,knowing that only this willwinyourapproval.Although,for all she knows you have

been dead these past fiveyears.”

The look he gave mewas one of amusedincredulity. After a momenthebegan to laugh.Hehadadeep,richlaugh.Alaughthatwas both loud and, on thisoccasion,verylengthy.

“Oneday,mylord,”hesaid when his mirth hadsubsided.“Ifyourgodscurseyou, you may get to meet

Princess Lyrna. If you do,takemy advice and run veryfast in theoppositedirection.Yourheart,Ithink,shewouldfindfartooeasytocrush.”

He tossed the waterflask to me. I drank quickly,hopingitdisguisedmyanger.Everything he had told meabout theprincess bespokeawoman of intelligence andduty,awomanwhowishedtohonour her father and serve

her people. I suspected Icould find much to discusswithsuchawoman.

“She hasn’t wedbecause a husbandwould beashackle forher,”VaelinAlSorna told me. “She doesgood deeds to curry favourwith the common folk. Wintheir hearts and she winspower.Ifshehasaheartthenit’s power that stirs it, notpassion.”

Silently I resolved tomakemyownresearchesintothe life of Princess Lyrna.Themore thisNorthman toldme the greater mycompulsion to travel to hishomeland. Although Isuspected he had littleappreciation for the artistryand learning evident in theculturehedescribed, I lustedfor it. I wanted to read thebooks in the Great Library

and view Master BenrilLenial’s frescos of the RedHand. I wanted to see theancient stones of the Circlewhere he had spilled theblood of three men. We hadthought the people of theUnified Realm little morethanilliteratesavages,andintruth,many of theirwarriorshadbeenjust that.ButnowIcould see there was more totheir story than simple

barbarismandwar lust. InafewshorthoursIhadlearnedmoreofhis realm than inallthe years of study for myhistory of the war. He hadkindled something inme, thedesire to write anotherhistory, greater and richerthanallmypreviouswork.Ahistoryofhisrealm.

“Did theKing keep hispromise?” I asked. “Did heimpose his justice and save

the woman in theBlackhold?”

“ThemenInamedwereexecuted the next day. Thewoman and her son werepacked off to the NorthernReacheswithintheweek.”Hepaused, he face heavy withsorrow. “I went to see herbefore she left, Erlinarranged the meeting. Ibegged her for forgiveness.Shespatatmeandcalledme

amurderer.”I took up my quill and

wrotedownhiswords,takingthe liberty of exchanging“spatatme”with“cursedmewith all the power of herDeniergods.”I like toaddalittlecolourwhereIcan.

“And your part of thebargain?” I continued. “Didyou do what the King hadcommanded? Did you killLindenAlHestian?”

He looked down at hishands resting on his knees,flexing the fingers, the veinsand sinews standing outclearly amidst the scars.Killer’s hands, I thoughtknowingtheycouldchokethelifefrommeinafewseconds.

“Yes,”hesaid.“Ikilledhim.”

Chapter1ACumbraelin longbow

wasover fivefeet longwhenunstrung and fashioned fromtheheart-woodofayewtree.Itcouldpropelanarrowovertwo hundred paces, almostthree hundred in skilledhands, andwasquitecapableof piercing plate armour atclose range. The one Vaelinheldwasslightlythickerthan

most, the smoothness of thestave evidence of theextensive use it had seen. Itsowner had a keen eye,sendinghissteeltippedarrowclean through the armouredchestofoneMartilAlJelnek,anaffableyoungnoblewithafondness for poetry and asomewhat tiresomeinclination to talk constantlyabout his betrothed who heclaimed to be the fairest and

kindestmaidinallofAsrael,if not the world. Sadly, hewould never see her again.His eyes were open but hadlost all vestige of life. Hismouthwasstainedwithbloodand vomit, the signs of apainful death; Cumbraelinarchers tended to coat theirarrowheads in a mixture ofjoffril root and adder venom.The bow’s owner lay a fewyards away with Vaelin’s

shaft in his arm, his neckbroken by the fall from thebirchinwhichhehadhidden.

“Nothing,”Barkussaid,trudging through the snow,flanked by Caenis andDentos. “Looks like he wasthe only one.”Hekicked thedeadarcher’shead,makingitswivel on a twisted spine,before kneeling to divest thecorpseofanyvaluables.

“Where’d all the

soldiersgo?”Dentosasked.“Scattered,” Vaelin

said. “Probably find most ofthem in the camp when wegetback.”

“Bloody cowards.”DentospeereddownatMartilAl Jelnek. “Didn’t they likehim? Thought he was a niceenough fellow,meself. For ahighborn.”

“These supposedsoldiers are the sweepings of

the Varinshold dungeons,brother,” Caenis told him.“Theyhavenoloyaltytoanymansavethemselves.”

“Did you find hishorse?” Vaelin asked. Hedidn’t relish the prospect ofcarrying the dead noble backtothecamp.

“Nortah’s bringing it,”Barkus said, straighteningfrom the archer, jingling thefewcoppershehadfound.He

tossed the Cumbraelin’squiver toVaelin. The arrowsitheldwerestainedashblackand fletched with raven’sfeathers. Their enemies likedto sign their work. “Youkeeping that?” He nodded atthe bow. “I could get tensilvers for it when we getbacktothecity.”

Vaelinkeptholdof theweapon.“ThoughtI’dseeifIcouldmasterit.”

“Good luck. Thesebuggers train for a lifetimefromwhat I hear. Their FiefLord makes them practiceevery day.”He looked downat the meagre collection ofcoppersinhishand.“Doesn’tseem keen on paying themmuchthough.”

“This lot fight for theirgod not their Lord,” Caenissaid. “Money holds littleinterestforthem.”

They stripped thearmour from Al Jelnek andheaved him onto the back ofhis horse, Nortah slappingBarkus’s hand away when itstrayed to the dead man’spurse.

“Hewon’t need it,willhe?”

“We left the Housesevenmonthsago,forFaith’ssake!”Nortahsnapped.“Youdon’tneedtostealanymore.”

Barkus shrugged. “It’sahabit.”

Seven months, Vaelinthought as they made theirway back to camp. Sevenmonths of huntingCumbraelin Deniers in theMartishe forest aided, in theloosest sense, by Linden AlHestian and his newly raisedregiment of infantry. LindenAl Hestian who wasconspicuously alive a full

month longer than the Kinghad ordained. With everypassing day Valein felt theburdenofhisbargainweighalittlemoreheavily.

His mood was notlightened by hissurroundings. The MartishewasnottheUrlish,beingbothdarker and denser, the treessoclosetoeachotherinsomeplaces that it was practicallyimpassable. Added to this

was the broken nature of theground, dotted with hollowsand gullies thatmade perfectambushsitesandforcedthemtoabandontheirhorses.Theywalked everywhere withbows ready and arrowsnotched. Only the noblesamongst their contingentcontinued to ride, makingthemselves easy targets forthe Cumbraelin archers thathaunted the trees. Of the

fifteenyoungnobleswhohadaccompanied Linden AlHestian to the Martishe fourwere dead and another threewounded so badly they hadhad to be carried out. Theirmen had suffered worse, sixhundred had been enlisted orpressed into the regimentbutoverathirdweregone,killedorlostamidstthetrees,someundoubtedly deserting whenthe chance arose. Often they

would find men who hadbeen missing for weeks,frozeninthesnowortiedtoatree and tormented to death.Theirenemieshadnouseforcaptives.

Despite the losses theirsmall Order contingent hadwonafewvictories.Amonthago Caenis led them intracking a group of overtwenty Cumbraelins as theymovedalongacreek,aclever

move but of little value ifCaenis was on their trail.Theyfollowedforhoursuntiltheir enemies paused to rest,hard faced men in buckskinand sable pelts, theirlongbows on their backs, notexpecting trouble. The firstvolleycutdownhalf,therestturning and fleeing backalong the creek bed. Thebrothers drew their swordsandhunted themdown, none

had escaped and none hadaskedforquarter.Caeniswasright,theirenemiesfoughtfortheir god and displayed littlereluctanceindyingforhim.

The camp came intoview a few miles later, intruth itwasa stockade ratherthan an encampment. Whenthey first arrived they hadtriedmountingasentrypicketwhich had simply providedtheir enemies with an

opportunity for some nighttimearcherypractice.LindenAlHestianhadbeenforcedtoorder trees felled to providetimber fora stockade,agrimcircleofspiked trunkssittinginoneofthefewclearingstobe found in the Martishe.VaelinandmostoftheOrdercontingent hated the dampoppression of the place andspentmostoftheirtimeintheforest, patrolling in small

groups, making their owncamps which they movedevery day, playing theirdeadly game of chase withthe Cumbraelins whilst AlHestian’ssoldiersshelteredintheir stockade. The sortie bythe unfortunate Martil AlJelnek had been the first forweeks, even then themenheledhad tobe threatenedwitha floggingbefore theywouldmarch. In the event it had

taken a single arrow to setthemtoflight.

A stocky brother withbushy, frost adornedeyebrowsandafierceglowerwaswaitingatthegatetothestockade. At his side was avery large mongrel with agrey flecked coat and a gazethat couldmatch itsmaster’sforfierceness.

“Brother Makril,”Vaelin greeted him with a

short bow. Makril wasn’tmuch for formalities but ascommander of theircontingent he deserved ashowofrespect,especiallyinfrontofAlHestian’ssoldiery,someofwhomwereloiteringnear the gate, fearful eyestracking from Al Jelnek’scorpsetothedarkwalloftheforest as if a Cumbraelinarrowmight come hissing atthemfromtheshadowsatany

moment.Vaelin hadmanaged to

hide his surprise when theAspect had called him to hisroom and he found Makrilwaiting, staring at the reddiamond shaped cloth in hishand, a bemused expressiononhisbluntfeatures.

“You two areacquainted, I believe,” theAspectsaid

“We met during my

TestoftheWild,Aspect.”“Brother Makril has

been appointed commanderof our expedition to theMartishe forest,” the Aspecttold him. “You will followhisorderswithoutquestion.”

Apparently few menknewtheMartisheaswellasMakril,saveforMasterHutrilwho couldn’t be spared fromhisdutiesattheOrderHouse.Their contingent numbered

only thirty brothers, mostlyexperienced men from thenorthern border who seemedto shareVaelin’swarinessofMakril,buthequicklyprovedhimself an adept tactician,albeitwithasomewhatabruptstyleofleadership.

“Onefuckinghour,”hegrowled. “You weresupposed to sweep to thesouthfortwodays.”

“Lord Al Jelnek’s men

ran away,” Nortah said.“Didn’t seem much pointstayingoutthere.”

“Was I asking you,snot-boy?”Makrildemanded.He had taken an instantdislike to all of them, butreservedmost of his bile forNortah. Beside him hismongrel,Snout,gaveagrowlof agreement. Where hefound the animal Vaelin hadno idea, apparently Makril

hadgivenuponslave-houndsafter his experience withScratch and opted for thelargest andmost ill-temperedhunting dog he could find,regardless of breeding.SeveralsoldiersborescarsasevidenceofSnout’sdislikeofpettingoreyecontact.

Nortah stared back atMakrilwithfullyreciprocateddislike. Vaelin worriedcontinually what would

happen if the two were leftalonetogether.

“We thought it best toreturn with the body,brother,” Vaelin said. “Wewill patrol ourselves thisevening.”

Makril turned hisglower on Vaelin. “Some ofthe men made it back. Saidthere had been at least fiftyscum out there.” Makrilalways referred to the

Cumbraelins as scum. “Howmanydidyouget?”

Vaelin hefted thelongbowinhishand.“One.”

Makril’s bushyeyebrows knitted together.“Oneoutoffifty?”

“One out of one,brother.”

Makril sighed heavily.“We better report to hislordship. He’s got anotherlettertowrite.”

LordLindenAlHestianwas tall and handsome withan easy smile and a livelysense of humour. He wascourageous in battle andskilledwithswordand lance.Contrary to the King’sdescriptionhealsoturnedoutto posses a quick mind andhis apparent arrogance wasmerely the swagger of ayoungmanwhohadachievedmuchinhisshortlifeandsaw

little reason to hide his selfsatisfaction. Vaelin, much tohis regret, found himselfliking the young noble,althoughhe had to admit theman made a terrible leader,his nature simply lacked thenecessary ruthlessness. Hehad threatened the men withfloggingmany times but hadyet to inflict any punishmentat all despite obviouscowardice,drunkennessanda

camp that was a disgrace tosoldierlyconduct.

“Brothers!” he greetedthem with a broad smile asthey approached his tent, thesmile fading as he saw thebody slung over the horse.Clearly none of the fleeingmenhadbothered to tellhimthenews.

“My condolences, myLord,”Vaelin said.He knewthetwomenhadbeenfriends

sincechildhood.Linden Al Hestian

movedtothecorpse,hisfacestrickenwithgrief,andgentlytouched his dead friend’shair. “Did he go downfighting?” he asked after amoment, voice thick withemotion.

VaelinsawNortahopenhismouth to replyandcut inquickly. Nortah had atendency to indulge his cruel

streakwhereLordAlHestianwas concerned, voicingbarely concealed insults andcriticism without hesitation.“He was very brave, myLord.”

Martil Al Jelnek hadwept like a child with thearrow buried in his gut, hishands clutched at Vaelin inbrief,desperatespasmsasthelight of life faded from hiseyes and effluent spouted

fromhismouth.Hehadtriedto say something at the end,Vaelin was sure of it, hismouth stumbling over atorrent of bile chokedgibberish. Perhaps somemessage for his beloved.Theywouldneverknow.

“Brave,” Al Hestianrepeated with a faint smile.“Yes,hewasalwaysthat.”

“His men ran,” Nortahsaid. “One arrow and they

ran.Thisregimentofyoursisno more than a rabble ofcriminalscum.”

“Enough!” BrotherMakrilbarked.

Sergeant Krelnikapproached,snappingasmartsaluteatAlHestian.Hewasastocky man nearing hisfiftieth year with a heavilyscarred face and a fearsomedisposition towards the men.One of the few experienced

soldiers to enlist in theregiment, having served inthe Realm Guard since theageofsixteen,AlHestianhadwisely made him MasterSergeant, responsible fordiscipline. But despite hisbest efforts Nortah’sdescription was accurate, theregimentremainedarabble.

“I’ll order the pyrebuilt, my lord,” SergeantKrelnik said. “We should

give him to the flamestonight.”

Al Hestian nodded,stepping back from thecorpse. “Yes. Thank yousergeant. And you brothers,for bringing him back.” Hemoved back to his tent.“Brother Makril, BrotherVaelin, may I have amoment?”

Al Hestian’s tent wasfree of the luxuries found in

the quarters of the othernobles, the available spacetaken up with his weaponsandarmourwhichhecleanedandmaintainedhimself.Mostof the other nobles hadbrought along a servant ortwo but apparently Lord AlHestianwascapableofseeingtohisownneeds.

“Please brothers.” Hegestured for them to take aseat and moved to the small

portable desk where he dealtwith the numerousadministrativetasksthatbesetregimental commanders. “ARoyal missive,” he said,lifting an opened envelopefrom thedesk.Vaelin’sheartbegantobeata littlefasteratthesightoftheKing’sseal.

“‘To Lord Linden AlHestian, commander of theThirty-Fifth Regiment ofFoot, from his Highness

JanusAlNeiren,’”AlHestianread.“‘Mylord,pleaseacceptmy congratulations forkeeping a regiment in thefield for such a protractedperiod. Lesser commanderswould no doubt have optedfor the more obvious courseof concluding the Realm’sbusiness in the Martisheforest with the utmostdispatch. You, however,clearly have a more subtle

stratagem in mind, so subtlein fact that I am unable todiscern its substance fromthis distance.Youwill recallAspect Arlyn’s graciousprovision of a contingentfrom the Sixth Order,brothersforwhomtheAspectis keen to find otheremployment. I hear myformer Battle Lord’s son isamong them and I feel surehe has inherited his father’s

appreciation for urgency incarrying out his King’scommands. Perhaps youshould discuss your planswiththesebrothers,whomaybe of sufficiently generousdisposition to offer someadvice.’”

Vaelin was appalled tofind his hands trembling andhid them in his cloak hopingthey assumed he was feelingthechill.

“So brothers,” AlHestian said, regarding themwith an expression of honestdespair. “I must seek yourcounsel,itseems.”

“I’ve given you mycounsel several times, mylord,” Makril said. “Flogsome men, force the laziestand most cowardly throughthe gates without weaponsandallowSergeantKrelnikafreehandindiscipline.”

Al Hestian massagedhistemples,fatigueevidentinhis brows. “Such measureswould hardly win the men’shearts,brother.”

“Bugger their hearts.It’s a rare commander thatcanwin the love of hismen.Mostrulebyfear.Makethemfear you and they’ll respectyou. Then perhaps they’llstart killing someCumbraelins.”

“Isuspectfromthetoneof his Highness’s letter wemay have little more than afew weeks to concludemattershere.And,despitetheKing’s assumption, I confessI have no stratagem forbringing down Black Arrowand his cohorts. Even if Iadopt the measures yourecommend itwill takemoretime than we have to winvictory in this blighted

forest.”Black Arrow. They got

the name from the onlyprisoner they had taken inseven months, an archerbrought down byNortah.Helivedlongenoughtospithateand defiance at them, callingonhis god to accept his souland begging forgiveness forhis failure. He laughed attheir questions; there werefew threats that could be

made to a dyingman. In theendVaelinhadsenttheothersaway, sitting down to offerthemanhiswaterbottle.

“Drink?”The man’s eyes were

bright with defiance but themaddening thirst as his lifebloodseepedawaymadehimbite back a refusal. “I’ll tellyounothing.”

“I know.” Vaelin heldthebottletotheman’slipsas

he drank. “Do you think hewillforgiveyou?Yourgod.”

“The World Father isgreat in His compassion.”The dying man spokefiercely, spitting the words.“He will know myweaknesses andmystrengthsandlovemeforboth.”

Vaelinwatchedthemanclutchatthearrowinhisside,asmallwhimperescapinghislips.

“Whydoyouhateus?”he asked. “Why do you killus?”

The man’s whimper ofpain turned into a raspinglaugh of bitterness. “Why doyoukillus,brother?”

“You came here indefianceoftreaty.YourLordagreed you would not bringwordofyourgodtotheotherfiefs…”

“His words cannot be

boundbyborders,norby theservants of a false faith.BlackArrowbroughtushereto defend those you wouldslaughter in service to yourheresy. He knew the peacebetween uswas a betrayal, avileblasphemy…”Hechokedoff, coughing uncontrollably.Vaelinhadtriedtocoaxmoreinformationfromhimbuttheman would only ramble onabout his god, his words

becominglesscoherentashislife ebbed away. He soonslipped intounconsciousness,his breathing faltering tostillness within a fewminutes. For some reasonVaelinfoundhimselfwishinghehadaskedhisname.

“And you brotherVaelin?” Al Hestian’squestionbroughthimbacktothepresentwitha start. “OurKing seems to have faith in

your judgement. Can youadvise amethod for bringingthiscampaigntoaclose?”

Call an end to thewhole bloody farce and gohome. He left the thoughtunsaid. Al Hestian couldn’tleave the forest withoutvictory,orat leastaclaim tovictory. And the King doesnot wish him to leave theforest at all, he remindedhimself.You have a bargain

to keep. Who’s to say hisHighness cannot undo whathehasdone?

“Your men are huntedby Black Arrow’s archerswhenever they leave thecamp,” he said. “But mybrothersandIarenot,wearethe hunters in this forest andtheCumbraelinsfearus.Yourmen must become huntersalso,atleastthosethatcanbetaught.”

Makril snorted. “Thislot couldn’t be taught to pissstraightnevermindhunt.”

“There must be somemenherewhocanbetrained,the Faith teaches us there isworth even in the mostwretched. Isuggestweselecta few, thirty or so. We willtrain them, they will answertous.Wewillorganisearaid,find one of Black Arrow’sencampments and destroy it.

When they have their firstsuccess against theCumbraelins the rest of themen will be inspired.” Hepaused,gatheringthewillforwhathehad todo.“Itwouldfurtherinspirethemenifyouwere to lead the raidpersonally, my lord. Soldierswill respect a leader whoshares their dangers.” Andmuch can happen in theconfusionofaraid,anarrow

caneasilygoastray…Al Hestian stroked the

sparse stubble on his chin.“Brother Makril, you agreewiththiscourseofaction?”

Makril gave Vaelin asidelong glance, his heavybrowscreasedwithsuspicion.He knows something isn’tright,Vaelinrealised.Hecansmellit,likeahoundcatchinganunfamiliarscent.

“It’s worth a try,”

Makril said after a moment.“Finding their encampmentthough. That’ll be a prettytrick. The scum cover theirtrackswell.”

“Brothers of the Sixthare considered the finestwoodsman in theRealm,”AlHestiansaid.“Ifthecampcanbefoundyouwillfindit,I’msure.” He slapped his knee,enlivened by the prospect ofsome resolution to his

dilemma. “Thank you,brothers. This plan will doverywell.”Herose,sweepinga wolf-fur from the back ofhischairandfasteningitoverhisshoulders.“Let’sbeaboutit.Wehavemuchtodo!”

None of the soldiers

seemed to have a familyname. They were knownmostly by the criminalappellations of their past:

Dipper, Red Knife, FastHands and so on. They hadchosen the thirty trainees bythe simple expedient ofmaking the whole regimentrun around the stockade andpicking those that droppedlast.Theystoodinthreeranksof ten, staring balefully atMakrilashesetout therulesthatwould govern their livesfromhereon.

“Anyman founddrunk

without permission will beflogged. Those found drunkmore than once will bedismissed from the regiment.Any of you shit headsthinking that means a freepassage home should knowthatdismissedmenwillhaveto walk out of the Martisheontheirowntwofeetwithnoweapons.” Makril paused amoment to let the import ofhiswordssinkin.Aloneman

walkingthroughtheMartishewithnomeansofdefencewaslikely to find himself lashedto a tree and disembowelledinshortorder.

“Understand this youmiserable bunch of thievingscum,” Makril growled.“Lord Al Hestian has giventheSixthOrderleavetotrainyouasweseefit.Youbelongtousnow.”

“Didn’t sign up for

this,” a sallow faced man inthe front row mutteredsullenly.“’SposedtobeintheKing’sserv-”

Makril’s fist smashedinto the man’s jaw, fellinghim instantly. “BrotherBarkus!” he barked, steppingover the prostate soldier.“Ten lashes for thisman.Norumforaweek.”Heglaredatthe remaining trainees.“Anyoneelsewanttodiscuss

theirtermsofservice?”Caenis and Dentos

slipped into the forest thenext day with instructions tofind the Cumbraelins’ campwhilst the men were trained.The combined threat offlogginganddeathprovedanexcellent stimulus to bothdisciplineandexertion.Theirtrainees scrambled to obeyeveryorder,runningformiles

through the snow, enduringbruising lessons inswordsmanship or unarmedcombat, listening inrespectful silence as Makrilattempted to teach them thebasics of woodcraft. Ifanything they seemed toorespectful,toocowedbyfear,and Vaelin knew fearfulsoldiersmadebadsoldiers.

“Don’t fret it,” Makriltoldhim.“Aslongas they’re

more scared of us than theyare of the scum they’ll dofine.”

Vaelin took charge ofthe sword lessons whilstBarkusmadehimselfafigureof dread with his rough andtumble approach to unarmedcombat. Nortah quicklyabandoned attempts to teachthe men the bow, none ofthem had the muscle or theskill for it, and concentrated

instead on the crossbow, aweapon even the clumsiestoaf could master in a fewdays. By the end of the firstweek their small companycould run five miles withoutcomplaint, had lost their fearof sleeping outside thestockade, andmost could hitamarkattwentypaceswithacrossbow. Their sword skillsand basic fighting abilitywere still lacking but Vaelin

felt they had at least learnedenough to survive an initialencounter with BlackArrow’smen.

As usual Vaelin’slegendhadprecededhimandthemen regardedhimwith amixture of awe and fear.They would occasionallyexchangeawordor twowithNortah and Barkus butmaintained a rigid silence inVaelin’s presence, as if one

wrong word could earn aswift death. Their fear wasdeepened by Vaelin’s blackmood, making him shorttempered and prone todishingoutpainfulslapswiththewoodenstaveheusedforsword practice. At times hefound himself sounding likeMaster Sollis. It did nothingtolightenhismood.

Al Hestian had chosentotrainwiththemen,running

with them and sharing theirbruisesinpractice.Heprovedaskilledswordsmanandwassufficiently tall and strong toat least competewithBarkusin unarmed combat. All thewhile he strove to encouragethemen,draggingslackerstotheir feet and pulling themalong during the runs,applauding their meagreprogress with the sword.Vaelin noticed their growing

regard for the young noble,where before he had been“that snot nosed lackwit”behind his back now he wassimply “his lordship”. Themood of the men was stillsullen, they had no affectionfor Vaelin and his brothers,butAlHestianhadbecomeafigure worthy of theirsolidarity. Watching him ashe sparred with some of themen Vaelin felt his

depressiondeepenyetfurther.Murderer.

Thevoicehadbeguntoplague him the day theybegan the training, a soft,knowingmurmur at the backof his thoughts, whisperingawfultruths.Assassin.You’reno better than the scumwhokilled Mikehl. The king hasmadeyouhiscreature…

“What do you think,brother?” Al Hestian was

striding towards him throughthe snow, face flushed withexertion but also bright withoptimism.“Willtheydo?”

“At least another tendays, my lord,” Vaelinreplied. “They still havemuchtolearn.”

“But they haveimproved greatly wouldn’tyousay?Atleastnowwecancallthemsoldiers.”

Fodder more like. A

maskforyourdeceit,baitforyourtrap.“Indeed,mylord.”

“Pity Brother Yallindidn’t live to see this, eh?”Brother Yallin had been theFourth Order’s addition totheir expedition. Nominallyresponsibleforreportingtheirprogress to Aspect Tendris,he had spent the first weeksin the forest claiming hecouldn’t venture outside thestockadebecausehisattempts

to teach the men theCatechism of Devotion wereofprimary importance.Sadlyhe soon succumbed to avirulentboutofdysenteryanddied shortly after. Itwas fairto sayhehadn’tbeengreatlymissed.

“It seems odd thatAspect Tendris didn’t send areplacement for BrotherYallin,”Vaelincommented.

Al Hestian shrugged.

“Perhaps he thought thejourneytooperilous.”

“Perhaps. Or he couldbe in complete ignorance ofBrother Yallin’s death. Onemight almost think someonehas been sending AspectTendris regular reports inBrotherYallin’sname.”

“Suchathingwouldbeunthinkable, brother,” AlHestianlaughedandwentoffto shout encouragement at a

group of men grapplingnearby. Why couldn’t youhave been hateful? Vaelinwondered.Why couldn’t youhavemademytaskeasy?Thevoice’s response wasimmediate, implacable:Shouldmurdereverbeeasy?

Chapter2“Aboutseventymenall

told,” Dentos said around amouthful of salt beef. “Tenmileswestofhere.It’sawellchosen site, a gully to theeast, rocksto thesouthandasteep slope to the north andwest.Hardtotakeunawares.”

They had returned onthe fourteenth day of thetraining, Caenis bearing a

sketched map showing thelayout of the Cumbraelins’camp. They huddled aroundthecampfirewithAlHestianandMakriltoplantheattack.

“Seventy’s a lot forthese lads to face, brother,”Barkus advised Makril.“Even with our brothersthey’ll still have numbers intheirfavour.”

“Each brother’s worthat least three of theirs,”

Makril replied. “Besides, asurprised man is usuallydefeated before he evendrawshis sword.”Hepausedto ponder Caenis’s map,tracing a stubby finger overthe gully leading to thecamp’s eastern edge. “Howwelldotheyguardthis?”

“Three men during inthe day,” Caenis replied.“Five at night. Black Arrowis a cautious man it seems,

knows we’re most likely tocome for him in darkness.There is a route in.” Hepointedtotheclusterofrockscovering thecamp’ssouthernborder.“Igotcloseenoughtosmell their pipe smoke. Butit’s a path for oneman only.Anymorewouldbeseen.”

“Fivemenguardingthebestwayinandonlyonemanto open the door,” Makrilmused. “That’s if he can get

acrossthecampunseen.”“We’ve kept some of

their clothing and weapons,”Vaelinsaid.“Inthedarktheymighttakemeforoneoftheirown.”

“You mean mebrother,”Caenissaid.

“Fivemenatonce…”“As brother Makril

says,surprisedmenareeasierto kill.Besides, I’m the onlyonewhoknowstheway.”

“He’s right,” Makrilsaid. “I’ll take our brothersthrough the gully. My lord,”he glanced at Al Hestian, “Isuggest you take yourcompany to the southernapproach,waituntilyouheartheclamourofourattackthenchargestraightin.We’llhavedrawn most of their strengthto us so you should catchthemontheirblindside.”

Al Hestian nodded. “A

goodplan,brother.”“I shouldgowithLord

Al Hestian,” Vaelin said.“The men may be lessinclinedtotarryinthechargeifoneofusiswiththem.”

He could tell fromMakril’s narrowed eyes thathis suspicion still lingered.Heknows,thevoicehissedinhis mind. The others wouldnever suspect but he knows,hesmellsitonyoulikeblood.

“It’d be better ifSendahlandJeshuawentwithhislordship,”Makrilsaid,hisnarrow gaze still fixed onVaelin. “Your sword will bemuchneededwhenwebreachthecamp.”

“They’remoreafraidofVaelin than they are any ofus,”Barkuscommented.“Lotless likely to run ifhe’swiththem.”

“And I would be

honoured to fight at brotherVaelin’s side!” Al Hestianenthused.“Ibelieveit’safineidea.”

Makril slowly returnedhisgazeto themap.“Asyouwish,mylord.”Hepointedatthe slope north of the camp.“If thisgoesright they’llfleedown the hill towards theriver. The perfect place totrap them. If the Departedfavourusweshouldgetthem

all.” He looked up, hisexpression suddenly fierce.“Evensothis’llbeahardandbloodyfight.Thescumdon’taskforquarterandwon’tgiveany.Tellthementogetclose,use their swords, don’t givethem a chance to get theirbows into play. Make surethey know defeat will meandeathforallofus.There’snoretreatfromthisplace,wekillthemall or they’ll be sure to

killus.”Herolledthemapintoa

scroll got to his feet. “Fivehours sleep then we moveout.We’llmarch in the darkso their scouts won’t see us.Tenmilesisalotofgroundtocover in the snow so we’llhave to press hard.Anymanwhotalkswithoutpermissionorfallsoutonthemarchwillhave his throat slit. No rumration until this is done.”He

tossed the map to Caenis.“Brother, you’ll lead theway.”

The march was hard,

taxingthementotheextremebut the promise of death foranytooexhaustedtocontinuewas sufficient to keep themmoving.TheOrderwasatthehead of the column, arrowsnotched to their bowstrings,eyespeeringintothedarkfor

any sign of Cumbraelinscouts. Although BlackArrow’s men sometimescame to harass the camp atnight with a fire arrowlaunched over the stockadetheir visits had trailed offwhenCaenis andMakril hadtaken to hunting after sundown,collectingfourbowsinas many nights. Now theCumbraelins rarely venturedcloseatnightandtheirmarch

wasnotinterrupted.It took eight hours of

hard going before they cameto the edge of a clearingwhereasmallslopeleduptothe mound of rocks behindwhich the Cumbraelins hadmade their camp. Off to theright they could glimpse thedark shadow of the gullywhereMakrilwould lead theOrder contingent. There waslittle preamble, Makril made

thesignofgoodluckandledthe eighteen brothers offacross theclearing ina looseskirmishformation.

Need anything? VaelinsignedtoCaenis.

His brother shook hishead, pulling a cord tight onhis sablepelted jerkin. Inhiscaptured garments he fittedhis role well, the disguisecompleted by exchanging hisstrong bow for a long bow

andhitchingahatchetintohisbelt. He opted to keep hissword strapped to his back,their enemies had capturedmany Asraelin blades fromAl Hestian’s soldiers so itwas unlikely to look out ofplace.

Luck to you brother,Vaelin signed, touching hisshoulder. Caenis grinnedbriefly and was gone,covering the distance to the

rocks in adead run.He’llbefine, Vaelin reassuredhimself. Their time in theMartishe had given him anew appreciation of Caenis’sskills,theslightboywhohadshivered in fear at MasterGrealin’s tall tales ofmonstrous rats was now alithe, deadly warrior whoseemed to fear nothing andkilledwithouthesitation.

There was a crunch of

snowasAlHestiancrouchedbeside him. “How long doyou think, brother?” hewhispered.

Vaelin fought down asurge of guilt at the sight ofthe young noble’s earnestface. You hope he won’trealise it was you, his everpresentwatchertoldhim.Youhopehe’llgointothebeyondbelievingtheliethatyouwerefriends…

“An hour or so, mylord,” he whispered back.“Perhapsless.”

“It’ll give the men achance to rest at least.” Hemoved away to check on hissoldiers, murmuringreassurance andencouragement. Vaelin triednottolistenandconcentratedon the dim silhouette of therocks.The skywas still darkbut had taken on the blue

tinge heralding the onset ofdaylight.Makrilhadfavoureda dawn attack when theguards at the mouth of thegully would be tiring at theendoftheirshift.

Vaelin steadied hisbreathing, counting thepassing seconds, gauging theright moment to set hisscheme into motion, forcingaway any thought that mightdeflect him from his course.

His hand ached as his griptightened on his bow. Whenhe was sure at least a halfhourhadpassedhemovedtoAl Hestian, crouching towhisperinhisear.

“There’s sure to beguards in therocks,”hesaid.“My brother will have letthem be to avoid raising thealarm. Although there won’tbeenoughofthemtostopourattacktheirbowsarelikelyto

thinourranks.”Heheftedhisbow. “I’ll go ahead now,when the attack starts I’llmake sure they don’t troubleus.”

Al Hestian rose. “I’llcomewithyou.”

Vaelin restrained himwith a firm grasp on hisforearm. “Youmust lead themen,mylord.”

AlHestiancastaglanceround at the tense, drawn

faces of hismen and noddedreluctantly.“Ofcourse.”

Vaelin forced a smile.“We’ll share breakfast inBlackArrow’stent.”Liar!

“Luck go with youbrother.”

He found he couldn’tmeet Al Hestian’s eye,nodding and setting off forthe rocks at a run, coveringthe ground in what seemedlike a few heartbeats,

sheltering amidst the hugeboulders that rose out of thesnow like slumberingmonsters.Hecastaquickeyearound for any sentries butsaw nothing. From the campcame the faint scent ofwoodsmoke but no sound ofany alarm.Caenis had yet tomove against the guards atthe gully.Vaelin reached forhis quiver and extracted acloth wrapped arrow,

discarding the covering torevealanashblackshaftandravenfletching,aCumbraelinarrow taken from the archerwho had slain poor Lord AlJelnek, his instrument ofmurder.Asinglearrowwouldclaim Lord Al Hestian’s lifeas he heroically led his meninachargeagainstanenemyencampment. A fine endindeed, the voice said. Hisfatherwillbeproud,I’msure.

Remember your words?Rememberyourvow?I’llkillbutIwon’tmurder…

Leave me be! Vaelinspat back. I do what I must.There is no choice in this. Icannot break a contractwiththeKing.

His hands shook as henotched the arrow to thestring, his heart a boomingdrum in his chest. Enough!He flexed his hands, forcing

the tremoraway. Idowhat Imust.I’vekilledbefore.Whatisonemoredeath?

Frombehind him camea faint clash of metal onmetalfollowedbythesnapofbowstrings and a suddenclamour of alarmed voices.The sounds of battle weresoon echoing across theclearing and Vaelin saw AlHestian’s command emergefromthetreesandbegintheir

charge.Theyoungnoblewaseasy to pick out, leading hismen by a good few strides,longsword held high, hiscloak trailing. Vaelin couldhear his calls to the men,urgingthemforward.Hewasstrangely gratified to see thewholecompanyhadfollowedAl Hestian, having expectedmanytoflee.

He dragged in a deepdraught of air, the chill

burning his lungs, and raisedhis bow, drawing he stringback to his lips, the raven'sfeathersintheshaftcaressinghischeck,thebeadcentredonAl Hestian’s rapidlyapproaching form.Murder iseasy, he realised, the stringslippingoverhisfingers.Likesnuffingoutacandle.

Something growled inthe darkness. Somethingshifteditsweightandscraped

atthesnow.Somethingmadethe hairs on the back of hisheadprickle.

The familiar sense ofwrongness built within himlike a fire, the tremorreturning to his hands as heloweredthebowandturned.

The wolf’s teeth werebared in a snarl, its eyesbright in the gloom, raisedhackles like spikes of silver.As their eyes met its growl

subsided and it raised itselffromtheaggressivecrouch ithad assumed, regarding himwith thesamesilent intensityherememberedfromtheTestof the Run all those yearsago.

Themomentseemed tostretch, Vaelin captured bythe animal’s gaze, unable tomove, a thought singing inhismind:WhatamIdoing?Iamnomurderer!

The wolf blinked andturned, sprintingawayacrossthesnow,ablurofsilverandfrost,goneinaheartbeat.

TheapproachingshoutsofAlHestian’schargingmenbrought him back to hissenses, turning to see theywerealmostattherocks.Lessthan twenty feet away afigurerose,garbedinsable,adrawn long bow aiming ashaft straight at Al Hestian’s

chest.Vaelin’sarrowtookthearcherinthebelly.Hewasonhim in seconds, his long-bladeddagger stabbingdowntomakesureofthekill.

“My thanks, brother!”Al Hestian called, leapingpasttochargeontothecamp.Vaelin surged after him,tossing his bow aside anddrawinghissword.

The camp was a chaosof death and flame. The

Cumbraelins could equal theOrder’s bow skills but atclose quarters they werehopelessly outmatched,bodies littered the snowamidst burning tents. Awounded Cumbraelinstumbledoutof the smoke,abloodiedarmhanginguselessat his side, his good limbswinging a hatchetwildlyAlHestian. The noble easilyside-stepped the blow and

hacked the man down withhis longsword.Anothercameat Vaelin, eyes wide withpanic and fear, jabbing along-bladed boar spear at hischest. Vaelin ducked undertheweapon,graspingthehaftbelow the blade and pullingitsownerontohissword.Oneof Al Hestian’s soldierschargedforwardandrammedhis sword into theCumbraelin’s chest, his

scream of exultant furymerging with the shouts ofthe other men as theyfollowedAlHestianonwards,killingalltheycouldfind.

Vaelin saw Al Hestianchargeoffintothesmokeandfollowed, seeing him cutdown two men in quicksuccession.Athirdleaptontohis back, wrapping his legsaround the noble’s chest,dagger raised high. Vaelin’s

throwing knife took theCumbraelin in the back, AlHestian shrugginghimoffashe convulsed in pain, thelongsword slashing down tocleavehischest.Heraisedhissword in a silent gesture ofthanksandranon.

The bloodshed becamefrenzied as the companykilled their way through thecamp, hacking down the fewCumbraelinsstillabletooffer

resistance or knifing thosefound lyingwounded.Vaelinran past a series ofnightmarish tableaux; asoldier raising the severedhead of a Cumbraelin to letthebloodbathehisface,threementakingturnstoslashatamanwrithing on the ground,men laughing at aCumbraelin as he tried tostuff his guts back into theholeinhisbelly.Hehadseen

men drunk before but neveron blood. After months offear andmiseryAlHestian’ssoldiers were taking fullmeasure of retribution fromtheirtormentors.

He caught up with AlHestian, finding the noblestanding uncertainly over thekneeling figure of a youngCumbraelin,aboyofnomorethan fifteen years. His eyeswere closed, his lipsmoving

in a murmured prayer. Hisweapons lay at his side andhis hands were clasped infrontofhischest.

Vaelinpaused,catchinghis breath and wiping bloodfrom his sword. From thedirectionoftheriverhecouldhear the clamour ofweaponsand shouts of combat as hisbrothers finished the last ofBlack Arrow’s men. Dawnwasrisingfastnow,revealing

the horrid spectacle of thecamp. Bodies lay all around,some still twitching orwrithing in pain, streaks ofblood discolouring the snowbetween theblazing tents.AlHestian’s men wanderedthrough the destruction,lootingthedeadandfinishingoffthewounded.

“What should we dowith him?” Al Hestian said.He face was streaked with

sweatandash,hisexpressiongrim. The bloodlust evidentin his men has not reachedhim, he did not relish thekilling.Vaelinwasverygladhehadabandonedhisbargainwiththeking.

He will be angry, hiswatchertoldhim.

I’llanswertotheKing,he replied. He can have mylife if he wants it.At least Iwon’tdieamurderer.

Vaelin glanced at theboy. He seemed oblivious totheir words or the sounds ofdeath around him, intent onhis prayer. He spoke alanguageVaelindidn’tknow,the prayer flowing from hislips in a soft, almostmelodious tone. Was heasking his god to accept hissoul or deliver him fromimpendingdeath?

“It seems we have our

first prisoner, my lord.” Henudgedtheboywithhisboot.“Stand up! And stopyammering.”

The boy ignored him.His expression unchanged ashecontinuedtopray.

“I said get up!” Vaelinreached down to grab theboy’s pelt. There was a rushon air on his neck assomethingflickedpasthisearfollowing by the hard smack

ofanarrowfindingflesh.Helooked up to see Al Hestianstaring at the black shaftburied in his shoulder, hiseyebrows raised in a faintexpression of surprise.“Faith,” he breathed andcollapsedheavilytothesnow.His limbs already twitchingas the poison mingled withhisblood.

Vaelin whirled,catching a blur of powdered

snow in a nearby cluster oftrees. Rage filled him then,sprinting in pursuit of thearcherwithredmistcloudinghis vision. “You there!” hecalled to a group of soldiers.“See to his Lordship, heneedsahealer!”

Heranfullpeltintothetrees, all senses alive to thesong of the forest, searching,hunting. There was a faintcrunchofsnowofftotheleft

and he sprinted after it, hisnostrils finding the scent offear-bornsweat.Hehadneverbeen so alive to the song ofthe forest before, never sopossessed by the desire tokill. His mouth was floodedwith drool and his minddevoid of all thought but theneed forblood.How longhehunted would always be lostto him, it was a dream ofblurred trees and half-

remembered scents as hisquarryledhimdeeperintotheforest. He ran tirelessly,immune to any strain. Heknew only the hunt and theprey.

The song of the forestchangedasheenteredasmallclearing. The birdsonggreetingthedawnwasmutedhere,stilledbyanunwelcomepresence. He stopped,fighting to control his

heavingchest,searchingwithall his senses, straining forthefaintestsign.Theclearingwaswelllitbytherisingsun,the sunlight playing over anoddly shaped stone in itscentre. Something about thestone drew his attention,lesseninghisconcentrationonthe forest’s song. It stoodaboutfourfeetinheightwithanarrowbaserisingtoawideflat top in a roughly

mushroomed shape, partovergrown with creepers.Looking closer he realised itwasnotanaturalfeatureatallbut fashioned, chiselled fromone of the many graniteboulders that littered theMartishe.

If his senses hadn’tbeen so alive he would havemissed the faint creak of thebowstring. He ducked, thearrow passing over his head

in a black streak. The archerleaptfromthebushes,hatchetraisedhigh,hiswarcryshrilland savage. Vaelin’s swordslashed into theman’s wrist,his hatchet spinning awayalongwiththehandthatheldit, the back-swing laying histhroat open as he staggeredback in shock. He took onlysecondstobleedtodeath.

Vaelin sagged as hisbodywoke to the end of the

hunt, the ache of the battleandthechaseseepingintohislimbs,hispulse raging inhisears as he fought for breath.He stumbled away, slumpingagainst the stone, sinking tothe ground, wanting nothingmore than sleep. His eyeswere drawn to the archer’scorpse. The lines andweathering in his slackfeatures betrayed him as aman with more years than

most of their enemies.BlackArrow?Vaelinwondered butfound he was too tired tosearch the body for anyevidence of the man’sidentity.

The song of the forestreturnedashelaythere,headsagging to his chest, the birdsong louder now. A suddenwarmth in his limbs rousedhimandhelookeduptofindthe clearing bathed in bright

sunlight. Oddly the sun wasnow high overhead and herealised he must havesurrendered to sleep. Fool!He climbed to his feet,making to brush the snowfromhiscloak…Excepttherewas none. No snow on hiscloak or his boots. No snowon the ground or the trees.Instead the ground wascovered in lush green grassand the trees were liberally

adorned with leaves. The airhad lost the sharp chill ofwinterand through the forestcanopy the sky was a deepshade of blue. Summer... It’ssummer!

He looked aroundwildly. Black Arrow’s body,ifitwasindeedhis,wasgone.The stone structure that haddrawnhisgazewhenhe firstentered theclearingwasnowbare of foliage, revealing a

finely carved plinth of greygranite, its top perfectly flatsaveforacircularindentationin the centre. He movedcloser,reachingouttotraceafingeralongthesurface.

“You shouldn’t touchthat.”

He whirled, levellinghisswordatthesourceofthevoice. The woman was ofmediumheightanddressedina simple robe of loosely

woven fabric, the design ofwhich was completelyunfamiliar. Her hair wasblackandlong,tumblingoverhershouldersandframinganangular pale skinned face.Butitwashereyesthatfixedhim,orratherthefactthatshehad no eyes. They were amilky pink in colour, devoidof pupils. As she neared hesaw they were shot throughwithafinewebofveins,like

two orbs of red marbleregarding him above a faintsmile.Blind?But how couldshebe?Hecouldtellshewasseeinghim,shehadseenhimreach out to the stone.Something about the set ofher features triggered amemory from a few yearsago,agrave,hawk-facedmanshaking his head sadly andspeakinginalanguageVaelindidn’tknow.

“Seordah,” he said.“You’reoftheSeordahSil.”

Her smile widened alittle. “Yes. And you areBeralShakUroftheMarelimSil.” She raised her arms,encompassing the clearing.“And this is the place andtimeofourmeeting.”

“My… name is VaelinAl Sorna,” he said,mystification making himstumble over the words. “I

am a Brother of the SixthOrder.”

“Really?What’sthat?”He stared at her. The

Seordah were renowned fortheir insularity but then howcould sheknowhis languagebutnotknowoftheOrder.

“I am a warrior inservice to the Faith,” heexplained.

“Oh, you’re still doingthat.” She came closer, her

browsfurrowed,headangled,red marble eyes regardinghim for a moment ofunblinkingscrutiny.“Ah,stillso young. I always assumedyouwouldbeolderwhenwemet.Thereisstillsomuchforyou to do, Beral Shak Ur. IwishIcouldtellyouitwillbeaneasyroad.”

“You speak riddles,lady.” He glanced around atthe impossible summer day.

“This is a dream, a phantominmymind.”

“Therearenodreamsinthis place.” She moved pasthim,reachingouttothestoneplinth, her hand hoveringover the circular indentationin the centre. “Here there isonly time and memory,trappedinthisstoneuntil theagesturnittodust.”

“Who are you?” hedemanded. “What do you

want of me? Did you bringmehere?”

“You broughtyourself.” She withdrew herhandandturnedbacktohim.“As forwho I am,my nameisNersus SilNin and Iwantmany things, none of whichyoucangiveme.”

Herealisedhewasstillholding his sword andsheathed it, feeling faintlyfoolish. “The man I killed,

whereishe?”“You killed a man

here?” She closed her eyesand a note of sadnesscoloured her voice. “Howweakhavewebecome?Ihadhoped I was wrong, that mysight had failed me. But ifbloodcanbespilledherethenit has all happened.” Sheopened her eyes again. “Mypeople are scattered are theynot?Theyhide in the forests

whilst you hunt them toextinction?”

“You do not know ofyourownpeople?”

“Please.Tellme.”“TheSeordahSildwell

in theGreatNorthernForest.My people do not go there.Wedo not hunt theSeordah.It is said they are greatlyfeared. Even more than theLonak.”

“Lonak? So they

survived the coming of yourkind. I should have knowntheHighPriestesswouldfindaway.”Sheturnedherblankgaze on him once more, theimpression of scrutiny wasoverpowering, his sense ofwrongnessflaringwithit.Butthe sensation was differentthis time, not so much awarning of danger, more afeelingofdisorientation,asifhe had climbed a cliff and

found himself awed by thesightofthegroundfarbelow.

“So,” said Nersus SilNin,herheadtilted.“Youcanhearthesongofyourblood.”

“Myblood?”“The feeling you just

experienced.Youhave felt itbefore,yes?”

“Several times. Mostlyin times of danger. It has…savedmeinthepast.”

“Thenyouarefortunate

tobesogifted.”“Gifted?”Hedidn’tlike

the tone she used whenspeaking theword, therewasagravity to it thatmadehimuncomfortable. “It is simplyan instinct for survival. AllmenhaveitI’msure.”

“Allmendo,butnotallcan hear it as clearly as youcan. And the blood-song hasmoretoitsmusicthansimplyawarning of danger. In time

you’ll learn its tune wellenough.”

Blood-song? “You’resaying I’m afflicted with theDark,somehow?”

Her mouth twitched infaintamusement.“TheDark?Ahyes,thenameyourpeoplewill give to what they fearandrefusetounderstand.Theblood-songcanbedark,BeralShakUr,butitcanalsoshineverybrightlyindeed.”

Beral Shak Ur…“Whydoyoucallmethat?Ihaveanameofmyown.”

“Men such as yourselftend to collect names liketrophies. Not all the namesyou’llearnwillbesokind.”

“Whatdoesitmean?”“Mypeoplebelieve the

raven to be a harbinger ofchange. When the raven’sshadow sweeps across yourheart your life will change,

for good or ill, there is noway to know. Our word forraven is Beral and our wordforshadowisShak.Andyou,Vaelin Al Sorna, warrior inservice to the Faith, are theShadowoftheRaven.”

The sensation, theblood-song she called it,wasstill singing in him. It wasstrongernow,thefeelingwasnotunpleasantbutitdidmakehimwary.“Andyourname?”

“I am the Song of theWind.”

“Mypeoplebelievethatthewindcancarrythevoicesof the Departed from theBeyond.”

“Then your peopleknowmore than I gave themcreditfor.”

“This,”Vaelingesturedaround him at the clearing.“Thisisthepastisn’tit?”

“In a way. It is my

memoryofthisplacetrappedinthestone.Itrappedittherebecause I knew one day youwould come and touch thestone,andwewouldmeet.”

“Howlongagoisthis?”“Many,many summers

before your time. This landbelongs to the Seordah Siland the Lonak. Soon yourpeople, the Marelim Sil, thechildrenofthesea,willcometo our shores and take it all

from us, and back to theforestwewillgo.Ihaveseenit,theblood-songisyourgiftbutmine is thesight thatcanpierce time.Onlywhen Iusemygiftcanmyeyessee,itisthepriceIpay.”

“You’reusingyourgiftnow?Iam…”hefumbledfortherightword.“…avision?”

“In a way. It wasnecessary thatwemeet.Andnow we have.” She turned

andbegantowalkbacktothetrees.

“Wait!”Hereachedoutto her but his hand graspednothing, passing through herrobelikemist.Hestaredatitinbewilderment.

“This is my memory,not yours,” Nersus Sil Nintold him without pausing.“Youhavenopowerhere.”

“Why was it necessaryfor us to meet?” The blood-

songhadraiseditspitchnow,forcingthequestionsfromhislips.“Whatwasyourpurposeincallingmehere?”

Shewalked to theedgeoftheclearingandturned,herexpression sombre but notunkind.“Youneededtoknowyourname.”

“VAELIN!”He blinked and it was

all gone, the sun, the lush

grass beneath his boots,Nersus Sil Nin and hermaddening riddles. Gone.The air felt shockingly coldafter the warmth of thatsummer’s day uncountableyears ago, the whiteness ofthe snow making him shieldhiseyes.

“Vaelin?” It wasNortah, standing over him,his face a mixture ofbemusementandworry.“Are

youhurt?”He was still slumped

against the plinth, now onceagaincovered inweeds. “I…needed to rest.” He acceptedNortah’s hand and hauledhimself upright. NearbyBarkuswasriflingthecorpseof the old archer Vaelin hadkilled.

“Youtrackedmehere?”heaskedNortah.

“Itwasn’t easywithout

Caenis. You don’t leavemuchofatrail.”

“Caenisishurt?”“He took a cut on the

armwhenhetookcareofthesentries. It’s not too bad buthe’slaidupforawhile.”

“Thebattle?”“It’s over.We counted

sixty-fiveCumbraelinbodies.BrotherSonrillostaneyeandfiveofAlHestian’smenhavegone to join the Departed.”

Nortah’s eyes showed thesame haunted look that hadclouded them when he firstkilledamanduringtheirhuntforFrentis.UnlikeCaenisandthe others, Nortah did notappear to be growingaccustomed to killing. Hegave a mirthless laugh. “Avictory,brother.”

Vaelin recalled thesoundof thearrowas it flewpast his ear and embedded

itselfinLindenAlHestian.Avictory…Itfeelsliketheworstofdefeats.

“Did he linger forlong?”

Nortahfrowned.“Who?“Lord Al Hestian. Did

hesuffer?”“He suffers still, poor

bastard.Thearrowdidn’tkillhim. Brother Makril doesn’tknow if he’ll live.He’s beenaskingforyou.”

Vaelin fought down ashudder of guilt-riddendespair.Seekingadistraction,he moved to where Barkuswas busily stripping thearcher’s corpse of anyvaluables. “Anything to saywhohewas?”

“Not much.” Barkusquicklypocketedafewsilvercoinsandextractedasheafofpapers fromthesmall leathersatchel slung over the man’s

shoulder. “Found someletters. Might tell yousomething.”

Nortah took thepapers,hiseyebrowsrisingashereadthefirstfewlines.

“What is it?” Vaelinasked.

Nortah carefully foldedthepapers away. “Somethingfor the Aspect’s eyes. But Ithink this little war of oursmaybeabouttogrowbeyond

thisforest.”LordLindenAlHestian

lay on a bed of wolf fur,dragging air into his lungswithlongraspingbreaths,hisskin grey and moist withsweat. Brother Makril hadextracted the arrow from hisshoulder and dressed thewoundwithaherbpoulticetodraw out the poison, but thiswas only to ease the noble’s

mind, there was no savinghim. They had forcedredflower on him despite hisobjections, taking the edgefrom his pain but still hesufferedasthepoisonworkeditswaythroughhisveins.Themen had erected a tent forhim,thestenchinsidestirringVaelin’s memory of hisagonised recovery from theJoffrilroot.

“Mylord?”Vaelinsaid,

sittingdownnexttohim.“Brother.”Therewas a

ghostofasmileontheyoungnoble’s pale lips. “They toldme you went after BlackArrow.Didyougethim?”

“He’s… with his godnow,”Vaelin replied, thoughin truth he still didn’t knowfor certain who the man hadbeen.

“Thenwecangohome,eh? I think the king will be

satisfied,don’tyou?”Vaelin looked into Al

Hestian’s eyes, seeing thepain and the fear there, theknowledge that there wouldbe no home-coming for him,hewould soon be gone fromthis world. “He will besatisfied.”

Al Hestian slumpedback into the furs. “Theykilled the boy, you know. Itoldthemtoleavehimbebut

they cut him to pieces. Hedidn’tevencryout.”

“The men were angry.They respect you greatly.AsdoI.”

“To think my fatherwarnedmeagainstyou.”

“Mylord?”“My father and I have

many differences, manyarguments. Truth to tell Iconfess I likehimnot, fatheror no. Sometimes I think he

hatesmefornotmatchinghisambition with my own. Andmenofambitionseeenemieseverywhere, especially atcourtwhereintrigueabounds.BeforeIlefthewarnedmeofrumours, tales of a hiddenhand moving against me,although he refrained fromtellingmewho’shand.ButhesaidIshouldmindyouwell.”

Rumours of a hiddenhand…Theprincesshasbeen

busyitseems.“Why you would seek

tohurtmeIcannotimagine,”Al Hestian went on in hispained rasp. “You’ll tell himforme,won’tyou?You’lltellhimwewerefriends.”

“You’ll tell himyourself.”

AlHestian’s laughwasfaint. “Humour me not,brother. There is a letter inmy tent, back at the camp. I

wrote it before we left. Iwould be grateful if youwould see to its delivery.It’s… for lady of myacquaintance.”

“Alady,mylord?”“Yes, Princess Lyrna.”

Hepaused,sighinginsorrow.“Coming here was to be themeans by which I wouldfinallywintheKing’sfavour.Ourunionwouldhavehadhisblessing.”

Vaelin gritted his teethtoforestallacurseathisownstupidity. He had knownsincemeetingAlHestianthattheKing’sdescriptionofhimhad been fanciful at best buthadn’trealisedthetruereasonfor hismission here.Hewasto rid the Princess of anunsuitablematch.

“The princess musthaveregrettedseeingyourideintodanger,”hesaid.

“She is a lady of greatfortitude. She said lovemustriskallorperish.”

IhavemuchtodoandIwill tolerate noobstacle…Vaelin felt a waveof self-loathing coursethrough him. Princess,between us we have killed averygoodman.

“I have a youngerbrother,Alucius,”AlHestianwassaying.“Iwouldlikehim

tohavemysword.Tellhim…tellhimitwouldbebestifheleaves it sheathed. I findwaris not much to my liking…”He paused, face tensed as atremorofpainswept throughhim.“Lyrna...Don’ttellheritwaslikethi-”Hechokedoff,convulsed in pain, bloodstaining his chin. Vaelinreached for him but couldonly watch helplessly as AlHestian writhed in his furs.

Unable to bear it he fled thetent, finding Brother Makrilby the fire, his flask in hishand, gulping Brother’sFriend.

“Is there no hope?”Vaelinpleaded.“Nothingyoucando?”

Makril barely glancedat him. “He’s had all theredflowerwecangivehim.Ifwe move him he dies. Ahealer from the Fifth Order

could ease his passing buteventheycouldn’thaltit.”

Vaelin winced as ashout of pain came from thetentbehindhim.

“Here,”Makrilheldouthis flask. “It’ll dull yourhearing.”

“Wecan’t leavehimtosufferlikethis.”

Makril looked up,meeting his eyes. Thesuspicion was still there, his

instinctive knowledge ofVaelin’s guilt. After amoment he looked away andstarted to rise. “I’ll take careofit.”

“No.” Vaelin turnedback to the tent. “No… it’smyduty.”

“The jugular. It’s thequickest way. I doubt he’llevenfeelthecut.”

He nodded, walkingbacktothetentonnumblegs.

So the king has made me amurdererafterall…

AlHestian’s eyeswereglazed and unfocused asVaelinkneltbesidehim,onlycoming back to life whenthey caught the glimmer ofthedagger’sblade.Therewasamomentoffear,thenasigh,whether of sorrow or reliefVaelinwouldneverknow.HemetVaelin’seye, smiledandnodded. Vaelin held him,

cradling his head in his arm,laying the blade against hisneck.

Al Hestian spoke,forcingthewordsoutthrougha fresh grimace of pain.“I’m… glad it was you…brother.”

Chapter3“And these letterswere

found on the body of thisBlackArrow?”

The Aspect’s handswere splayed on the lettersbefore him like two palespiders,hislongfaceintentashe stared up at Vaelin andMakril.Vaelinsupposedtheymust look dreadful, grimyandwornfromthetwelveday

trek back from theMartishe,but the Aspect seemedindifferent to theirappearance.Afterlisteningtotheir report he demanded theletters, his eyes scanningthemquickly.

“We believe the manmayhavebeenBlackArrow,Aspect,” Vaelin replied.“Thereisnowaytoknowforsure.”

“Yes. Perhaps you

shouldn’tbesoquickwiththekilling blow next time,brother.”

“I was remiss. Myapologies,Aspect.”

The Aspect dismissedthe admission with a barelyperceptibleshakeofhishead.“You understand the importoftheseletters?”

“Sendahl read them tous,”Makrilsaid.

“Didanyoneoutsidethe

Orderhearhim?”“We gaveAlHestian’s

menadouble rumration thatnight.Idoubttheycouldhearanything.”

“Good. Pass the wordtoyourbrothers: theyarenotto discuss this with anyone,including each other.” Hegathered the letters togetherand placed them in a solidwooden chest on his desk,shutting it firmly and

securing a heavy lock on thelatch. “You must be tired,brothers. On behalf of theOrder I thank you for yourservice in the Martishe.Brother Makril you areconfirmed as a BrotherCommander.Youwill residewith us here for the timebeing. Master Sollis iscurrently commanding acompany on the southernshore,thelocalsmugglersare

becoming excessivelyviolentin resisting theKing’sexcisemen. You will take over hislessons. You still rememberenoughof thesword to teachit,I’msure.”

“Ofcourse,Aspect.”“Brother Vaelin, report

to the stables at the eighthhouronthemorrow.Youwillaccompanymetothepalace.”

“Congratulations,

brother,” Vaelin offered astheymade theirway towardsthepracticegroundwhereAlHestian’s regiment wasencamped. There were nobarracksavailableforthemsothe Aspect had grantedpermission to remain at theOrder House. Vaelinsuspected no provision hadbeen made for them in thecity because the King hadn’texpectedanytoreturn.

Makril paused,regarding him with silentscrutiny.

“A Commander and aMaster,” Vaelin went on,discomfited by the tracker’ssilence. “An impressiveachievement.”

Makrilsteppedclose tohim, his nostrils flared,drawing the air in. Vaelinresisted the impulse to reachforhishuntingknife.

“Never did like yourscent, brother,” Markil said.“Something not quite naturalabout it. And now you stinkof guilt. Why is that?”Without waiting for a replyhe turned and walked off, astocky figure in the gloom.Hegaveabrief,shrillwhistleand his hound emerged fromtheshadowstopadalongsideas he made his way to thekeep.

Thetowerroomhehadsharedwith the others for somany years was nowoccupiedby a freshgroupofstudents so they had beenobliged to camp with thereigment. He found hisbrothers clustered around thefire, regaling Frentis withtales of their time in theMartishe.

“…went straightthrough two men,” Dentos

was saying. “A single arrow,I swear. Never seen nothinglikeit.”

Vaelin took a seat nextto Frentis. Scratch, who hadbeen curled up at his feet,rose and came to him,nuzzlinghishandinsearchofpetting. Vaelin scratched hisears, realising he hadmissedtheslavedoggreatlybuthadno regrets about leaving himbehind. The Martishe would

have been a fine playgroundforhimbutVaelinfelthehadtasted enough human bloodalready.

“The Aspect thanks usforourservice,”hetoldthem,stretchinghishandsouttothefire.“Theletterswefoundarenottobediscussed.”

“What letters?” Frentisasked. Barkus threw a half-eatenchickenlegathim.

“Did he say where we

going next?” Dentos asked,passinghimacupofwine.

Vaelin shook his head.“I’mtoaccompanyhimtothepalacetomorrow.”

Nortah snorted andgulped a mouthful of wine.“Youdon’t need theDark tosee the future for us.” Hiswordswere loudandslurred,chin stained red with spilleddrink.“On toCumbrael!”Hegottohisfeet,raisinghiscup

to the air. “First the forestthentheFief.We’llbringtheFaith to them all, the Denierbastards.Whethertheylikeitornot!”

“Nortah-” Caenisreachedup topull himdownbutNortahshruggedhimoff.

“It’s not as if we’veslaughtered enoughCumbraelins already, is it?Only killed ten of themmyself in that bloody forest.

Howaboutyou,brother?”Heswayed towardsCaenis. “Betyoucanbeatthat,eh?Atleasttwice as many, I’d say.” Heswung towards Frentis.“Should’ve been there,m’boy. We bathed in moreblood than your friend OneEyeeverdid.”

Frentis’s face darkenedand Vaelin gripped hisshoulder as he tensed. “Haveanother drink, brother,” he

told Nortah. “It’ll help yousleep.”

“Sleep?” Nortahslumped back to the ground.“Haven’t done much of thatrecently.”HehelduphiscupforCaenistopourmorewine,staringmoroselyintothefire.

They sat inuncomfortable silence for awhile,Vaelingrateful for thedistractionprovidedbyoneofthesoldiersataneighbouring

fire. The man had found amandolin somewhere,probably looted from aCumbraelin corpse in theforest, and played it withconsiderable skill, the tunemelodious but sombre, thewhole camp falling quiet tolisten.Soontheplayerhadanaudience clustered aroundhimandbegan tosinga tuneVaelin recognised as theWarrior’sLament:

“A warrior’s song is a

lonelytuneFull of fire and gone

toosoonWarriors sing of fallen

friendsLostbattlesandbloody

ends…”The men applauded

loudly when he finished,callingformore.Vaelinmade

his way through the smallcrowd.Theplayerwasa thinfaced man of about twentyyears.Vaelin recognised himas one of the thirty chosenmen who had taken part intheirfinalbattleintheforest,the stitched cut on hisforehead testified thathehaddone some fighting. Vaelinstruggled to remember hisnamebutrealisedwithshamethat he hadn’t bothered to

learnthenamesofanyofthemen they had trained.Perhaps, like the king, hehadn’texpectedanytolive.

“You play very well,”hesaid.

The man gave anervous smile. The soldiershad never lost their fear ofVaelin and few made anyeffort to speak to him, mosttaking care to avoid catchinghiseye.

“Iwasapprenticed toaminstrel, brother,” the mansaid. His accent differed tothat of his comrades, thewords precisely spoken, thetonealmostcultured.

“Then why are you asoldier?”

The man shrugged.“Mymasterhadadaughter.”

The gathered menlaughedknowingly.

“I think he taught you

well, in any case,” Vaelinsaid.“What’syourname?”

“Janril, brother. JanrilNorin.”

Vaelin spied SergeantKrelnik in the crowd. “Winefor these men, sergeant.Brother Frentiswill take youto Master Grealin in thevaults.Tell him I’llmeet theexpense, and make sure hegivesyouthegoodstuff.”

There was an

appreciativemurmurfromthemen. Vaelin fished in hispurse and dropped a fewsilvers into Janril’s hand.“Keep playing, Janril Norin.Something lively. Somethingfitforacelebration.”

Janril frowned. “Whatarewecelebrating,brother?”

Vaelin clapped him onthe shoulder. “Being aliveman!” He raised his cup,turningtotheassembledmen.

“Let’sdrinktobeingalive!”TheKingconvenedhis

Council of Ministers in alargechamberwithapolishedmarble floor and ornateceilingdecorated ingold leafand intricately mouldedplaster, the walls adornedwith fine paintings andtapestries. Immaculatelyturned out soldiers of thePalace Guard stood to

attention in a wide circlearound the long rectangulartable where the Council sat.King Janus himself wasmarkedly different from theink spattered old man withwhom Vaelin had made hisbargain, seated at the centreof the table, an ermine linedcloakabouthisshouldersanda band of gold on his brow.Hisministerswere seated oneither side, ten men dressed

in varying degrees of finery,all staring intently at Vaelinashefinishedhis reportwithAspectArlynathisside.Atasmaller table nearby twoscribes sat writing downeverywordspoken.TheKinginsisted on precise recordingof every meeting and eachcouncil member had beenrequiredtostatehisnameandappointed role before sittingdown.

“And the man whocarried these letters,” theKing said. “His identityremainsunknown?”

“There were nocaptives to name him,Highness,” Vaelin replied.“BlackArrow’smenwerenotgiventosurrender.”

“Lord Molnar,” theKing handed the letters to aportly man on his left whohadstatedhisnameasLartek

Molnar,Minister of Finance.“You know Fief LordMustor’s hand as well as I.Doyouseeasimilarity?”

Lord Molnar examinedthe letters closely for a fewmoments. “Regretfully,Highness, the hand thatpenned thesemissives seemsso similar to the Fief Lord’sthat I can discern nodifference between the two.More than that the way the

letter is phrased. Evenwithout a signature I wouldknow it as thework of LordMustor.”

“Butwhy?”askedFleetLord Al Junril, a largebearded man on the King’sright.“FaithknowsI’vescantlove for the Fief Lord ofCumbrael, but the man’s nofool. Why sign his name toletters of free passage for afanatic intent on fracturing

ourRealm?”“Brother Vaelin,” Lord

Molnar said. “You foughtthese heretics for severalmonths, would you say theywerewellfed?”

“They did not seemweakened by hunger, mylord.”

“And theirweapons,ofgoodqualitywouldyousay?”

“They had finelycrafted bows and well

tempered steel, althoughsome of their weapons weretaken from our fallensoldiers.”

“So,well equippedandwellfed,andthis in thedeadof winter when game wouldbe scarce in the Martishe. Isubmit, Highness, that thisBlack Arrow must have hadconsiderablesupport.”

“And now we knowfrom where,” said a third

minister, Kelden Al Telnar,MinisterofRoyalWorksand,next to the King, the mostfinely dressed man at thetable. “Fief LordMustor hascondemned himself. Longhave I warned that hisobservance of the peace wasbut a mask for futuretreachery. Let us not forgetthe Cumbraelins were forcedintothisRealmonlyafterthebloodiest of defeats. They

haveneverstoppedhatingus,orourbelovedFaith.NowtheDeparted have guided braveBrother Vaelin to the truth.Highness, I implore you toact…”

TheKingraisedahand,silencing the man. “Lord AlGenril,” he turned to a grey-bearded man seated at hisrighthand.“YouaremyLordofJusticeandChiefJudgeofmy courts, and perhaps the

wisest head at this council.Are these papers evidenceenough for trial or merelyinvestigation?”

The Lord of Justicestroked his silver-grey beardthoughtfully. “Ifwe considerthis as only a matter of law,Highness, I would say theletters require question andanychargeswoulddependonthe answers. If a man camebefore me charged with

treason based solely on thisevidenceIcouldnotsendhimtothegallows.”

Lord Al Telnar startedto speak again but the Kingwavedhim to silence. “Whatquestions,mylord?”

LordAlGenril tookupthe letters and scanned thembriefly. “I note that theseletters grant the bearer freepassageacross thebordersofCumbrael and require any

soldier or official of the Fiefto renderwhatever assistancethe bearer may require. Andindeed, if the signature andseal are genuine, they havebeensignedby theFiefLordhimself. But they are notaddressed to any individual.Indeedwedonotevenknowthe name of the man whocarried them to his death. IftheywerepennedbytheFiefLord did he intend them for

use by BlackArrow or werethey perhaps stolen and usedforadifferentpurpose?”

“Sothen,”LordMolnarsaid.“Youwouldhaveusputthe Fief Lord to thequestion?”

The Chief Judge tookseveral seconds to reply andVaelin could see from thetension in his face that herecognised the grave importof his words. “I believe

questioniswarranted,yes.”The door to the

chamberopenedabruptlyandCaptain Smolen entered,comingtoattentionbeforetheKingandsalutingsmartly.

“Foundhimhaveyou?”theKingasked.

“IhaveHighness.”“Whorehouse or

redflowerpalace?”Captain Smolen’s only

sign of discomfort was to

blink twice. “The former,Highness.”

“Is he in a fit state totalk?”

“Hehasmadeeffortstosoberhimself,Highness.”

The King sighed andrubbed his forehead wearily.“Verywell.Bringhimin.”

CaptainSmolensalutedand strode from the room,returning a few seconds laterwith a man dressed in

expensive but soiled clothes.He walked with the precisegait of one who worries hemight tip over at anymoment, the redness of hiseyes and sallowness of hisstubbledcomplexionbespokeseveral hours of excess. HelookedtobeinhisfortiesbutVaelin guessed him to beyounger, a man aged byindulgence.HehaltednexttoAspect Arlyn, greeted him

with a cursory nod, thenbowed extravagantly, butunsteadily, to the King.“Highness. As ever I amhonouredbyyoursummons.”Vaelin noted the man’saccent:Cumbraelin.

TheKing turned to hisscribes.“Let therecordshowthat hisHonour, Lord SentesMustor, heir to the Fiefdomof Cumbrael and appointedrepresentative of Cumbraelin

intereststotheCourtofKingJanus, isnow inattendance.”HeturnedalevelgazeontheCumbraelin. “Lord Mustor.And how are you thismorning?”

Lord Al Telnar gave amutedsnortofamusement.

“Very well, Highness,”Lord Mustor replied. “Yourcity has always been verykindtome.”

“I am glad. Aspect

Arlyn you know of course.This young man is BrotherVaelin Al Sorna, recentlyreturned from the Martisheforest.”

LordMustor’sgazewasguarded as he turned toVaelin, nodding a formalgreeting, but his toneremained cheerful, if forced.“Ah, the blade that won meten golds at the Test of theSword.Wellmetyoungsir.”

Vaelinnoddedbackbutsaid nothing.Mention of theTest of the Sword tended todarkenhismood.

“Brother Vaelin hasbroughtussomedocuments.”The King took the lettersfrom Lord Al Genril.“Documents that raisequestions. I believe youropinion of their contentwould be valuable indiscerning their intent.”

Vaelin took note of LordMustor’s momentaryhesitation before steppingforward to take the papersfromtheKing’shand.

“These are letters offree passage,” he said afterscanningthepages.

“And they are signedbyyourfather,aretheynot?”theKingasked.

“That… would appeartobethecase,Highness.”

“Then perhaps you canexplain how Brother Vaelincame to find them on thebodyofaCumbraelinhereticintheMartisheforest.”

Lord Mustor’s gazeswung to Vaelin, hisreddened eyes suddenlyfearful,thenbacktotheKing.“Highness, my father wouldnever place documents ofsuchimportinthehandsofarebel.Icanonlyimaginethey

were stolen somehow. Orperhapsforged…”

“Perhaps your fathercould provide a moreabsoluteexplanation.”

“I-I have no doubt hecouldHighness.Ifyouwouldcaretowritetohim…”

“I would not. He willcomehere.”

Lord Mustor took aninvoluntary step backwards,fearnowobvious inhis face.

Vaelincouldtellthesituationdwarfed him, he was beingtested and found wanting.“Highness…” he stammered.“My father… it is notright…”

TheKingletoutalongsigh of exasperation. “LordMustor, I fought two warsagainst your grandfather andfound him an enemy ofconsiderable courage andcunning. I never liked him

but I did respect him greatlyand I feel he would begrateful he is no longer hereto see his grandson gabblelike thewhoringdrunkardheiswhenhisfiefstandsonthebrinkofwar.”

TheKingraisedahandto beckon Captain Smolenover. “Lord Mustor will beour guest in the palace untilfurthernotice,” theKing toldhim. “Please escort him to

suitable quarters and ensureheisuntroubledbyunwantedvisitors.”

“You know my fatherwill not come here,” LordMustorstatedflatly.“Hewillnot be put to the question.Imprisonmehereifyoumustbut it will make nodifference. A man doesn’tplacehis favoured son in thehandsofhisenemy.”

The King paused,

regarding the Cumbraelinlord with a narrow gaze.Surprised you, Vaelinrealised.Didn’t think he hadthestomachtospeakup.

“We’ll see what yourfather does,” the King said.HenoddedtoCaptainSmolenand Lord Mustor was ledfrom the room, two guardsfollowingclosebehind.

TheKingturnedtooneof his scribes. “Draft a letter

to theFiefLordofCumbraelcommanding his presenceherewithin threeweeks.”Hepushedhischairbackandgotto his feet. “This meeting isover. Aspect Arlyn, BrotherVaelin, please joinme inmyrooms.”

Everything in the

King’s quarters gave anoverwhelming impression oforder, from the angle of the

finely woven carpets on thetiled marble floor to thepapers on the large oakendesk.Vaelinfoundnothingtocompare to the cramped,hidden room of books andscrolls he had been led toeight months before. Thatwas where he worked, herealised. This is where hewants people to think heworks.

“Sit, please brothers,”

the King gestured at twochairsashesettledbehindhisdesk. “I can send forrefreshmentifyouwish.”

“We are content,Highness,” Aspect Arlynreplied in a neutral tone. Heremained standing, obligingVaelintofollowsuit.

The King’s gazelingered on the Aspect for amoment before he turned toVaelin, his lips forming a

smile beneath his beard.“Note the tone, my boy. Norespectbutnodefianceeither.You’d do well to learn it. Isuspect yourAspect is angrywith me. Why can that be Iwonder?”

Vaelin looked at theAspect who stoodexpressionless, offering noreply.

“Well?” the Kingpressed. “Tell me, brother.

Whatcouldhavearoused theangerofyourAspect?”

“I cannot speak formyAspect,Highness.TheAspectspeaksforme.”

The King snorted alaugh and smacked his palmon the desk. “You hear it,Arlyn? His mother’s voice.Clear as a bell. Don’t youfinditchillingattimes?”

Aspect Arlyn’s tonewas unchanged. “No,

Highness.”“No.” The King shook

his head, chuckling slightlyand reaching for a winedecanter on his desk. “No, Idon’t suppose you do.” Hepoured himself a glass ofwineandsettledbackintohischair.“YourAspect,”hetoldVaelin, “is angry because hebelievesIhavesettheRealmon the road to war. Hebelieves, with some

justification Imightadd, thatthe Fief Lord of Cumbraelwill happily let me hack hisdrunken son’s head from hisshoulders before setting footoutsidehisownborders.Thisin turnwill forceme to sendtheRealmGuardintohisfiefto root him out. Battles andbloodshed will result, townsand cities will burn, manywilldie.Despitehisvocationas a warrior, and therefore a

practitionerofdeath inall itsmany forms, the Aspectbelieves this to be aregrettableaction.Andyethewill not tell me so. It hasalwaysbeenhisway.”

Silence reigned as thetwo men matched stares andVaelin experienced a suddenrevelation: They hate eachother. The King and theAspect of the Sixth Orderdetest the sight of one

another.“Tell me, brother,” the

King went on, addressingVaelin but keeping his eyesontheAspect.“Whatdoyouthink the Fief Lord will dowhen he hears I have takenhis son and commanded hispresence?”

“I do not know theman,Highness…”

“He’snotacomplicatedfellow,Vaelin.Reckonitout.

I daresay you’ve enough ofyourmother’switforthat.”

Vaelin found himselfdisliking the way the King’stongue twisted around themention of his mother butforced out a reply “He willbe…angry.Hewill seeyouractionasa threat.Hewillbeput on guard, gathering hisforces and watching hisborders.”

“Good. What else will

hedo?”“It seems he has but

two choices, to follow yourcommand or ignore it andfacewar.”

“Wrong, he has a thirdchoice. He can attack. Withallhismight.Doyouthinkhewilldothat?”

“I doubt Cumbraelwould have the strength toface the Realm Guard,Highness.”

“And you would becorrect. Cumbrael has noactual army beyond a fewhundred guardsmen loyal tothe Fief Lord. What it doeshave is thousands of peasantbowmen it can call upon intime of need. A formidableforce, having ridden throughanarrowstormor two inmytime, I would know. But nocavalry, no heavy infantry.No chance, in fact, of

attacking Asrael or matchingthe Realm Guard in openfield. The Fief Lord ofCumbraelisfarfrombeinganadmirable character but hedoes have enough of hisfather’s brains to heed areminderofhisweakness.”

TheKingsmiledagain,turningawayfromtheAspectand waving a hand inplacation. “Oh don’t worryArlyn.Inafortnightorsothe

Fief Lord will send hismessenger with a suitablygrovelling apology for notattending in person and aplausible, if not veryconvincing, explanation forthe letters, probably attachedto a chest full of gold. Iwillbepersuadedbymywiseandpeace-lovingsontowithdrawmycommandandrelease thedrunkard. Thereafter, I doubtthe Fief Lord will be giving

any more letters of freepassage to denier fanatics.More importantly he’ll haveremembered his place in thisRealm.”

“Am I to take it,Highness,” the Aspect said,“that you are convinced theFiefLordis theauthorof theletters?”

“Convinced?No.Butitseems likely. The man maynotbeafanaticlikethefools

Brother Vaelin dispatched intheMartishebuthedoeshavea weakness for his god.Probably fretting over hisplace in the Eternal Fieldsnow he’s passed his fiftiethyear.Inanycase,whetherhewrotethelettersornotmakeslittle difference, the problemlies in the mere fact of theirexistence.Once theycame tolightIhadlittlechoicebuttoact.AtleastthiswaytheFief

Lord will feel a debt to myson when he ascends thethrone.”

The King quicklydowned the rest of his wineand rose from his desk.“Enough state-craft, I haveother business with youbrothers. Come.” Hebeckonedthemintoasmalleradjoining room no lessornately decorated, but inplace of paintings or

tapestries the walls wereadorned with swords, ahundred or more gleamingblades. A few were of theAsraelin pattern but thereweremanyothersthestyleofwhichVaelinhadneverseen.Great two handed broadswords nearly six feet inlength. Sickle-like sabreswith blades that curvedalmost inasemi-circle.Longneedle like rapiers with no

edgeandbowlshapedguards.Swordswithbladesfashionedof gold or silver despite thefactthatsuchmetalsweretoosoft to ever make usefulweapons.

“Pretty aren’t they?”the King commented. “Beencollecting them for years.Some are gifts, some are thespoils ofwar, some I boughtsimply because I liked thelookofthem.EverysooftenI

giveone away,”he turned toVaelin, smiling again, “to ayoungmanlikeyou,brother.”

Vaelin experienced asudden resurgence of theunease that had gripped himduring his first meeting withthe King. The unsettlingknowledge that he was asmall part of a larger unseendesign. Thewrongness,whatNersusSilNinhadcalledtheblood-song, was singing

faintly at the back of hismind. If he gives me asword…

“I am a brother of theSixth Order, Highness,” hesaid, trying to match theAspect’sneutraltone.“Royalhonoursarenotforonsuchasme.”

“Royal honours arepreciselyforonesuchasyou,young hawk,” the Kingreplied. “Sadly, I’m usually

obliged to hand them out tothe undeserving. Today willbe a welcome change.” Hegestured expansively at thecollection of swords aroundthem.“Choose.”

Vaelin turned to theAspectseekingguidance.

Aspect Arlyn’s eyeshadnarrowedslightlybuthisexpression was otherwiseunchanged. He remainedsilentforamomentandwhen

he spoke his tone was thesame as before, void of bothdeferenceanddefiance. “TheKinghonoursyou,brother.Inso doing he honours theOrder.Youwillaccept.”

“But can it be right,Aspect?Canamanbebothabrother and a Sword of theRealm?”

“It has happenedbefore.Manyyearsago.”TheAspect’s gaze shifted from

the King to Vaelin andsoftened somewhat but hisvoice held no room forfurther discussion. “Youwillaccept the King’s honour,brotherVaelin.”

I don’t want it! hethoughtfiercely.It’spayment,payment for a murder. Thisscheming old man wishes tobindmetohimevenmore.

But he could see noescape. The Aspect had

commanded him. The Kinghadhonouredhim.Hehadtotakethesword.

Swallowing a sigh offrustration he scanned thewalls, eyes flicking fromoneblade to another. He toyedwiththeideaofchoosingoneofthegoldenblades,hecouldalways sell it later, butdecided a weapon of somepractical use would be thewisest choice. He saw little

point in taking an Asraelinsword, it could hardly bebetterthanhisownstar-silverblade, and the more exoticweapons seemed toounwieldytohiseye.Hisgazefinally fellonabroadbladedshort sword with a simpleplain bronze guard andwoodenhilt.Hetookitdownfromthewallandtriedafewexperimental swings, findingit well balanced with a

comfortableweight.Theedgewaskeen,thesteelbrightandunscarred.

“Volarian,” the Kingsaid. “Not very pretty but asolid weapon, useful in thepress of battle when a mancan’t raise his arm. A goodchoice.”Heheldouthishandand Vaelin passed him thesword. “Normally therewouldbeaceremony, lotsofoathsandkneelingbutIthink

we can dispense with that.Vaelin Al Sorna I name youSwordof theRealm.Doyoupledge your sword in servicetotheUnifiedRealm?”

“Ido,Highness.”“Thenuseitwell.”The

King handed him the sword.“Now,asSwordoftheRealmI must find you acommission. I name youcommander of the Thirty-FifthRegimentofFoot.Since

theAspecthasbeengraciousenoughtoallowtheuseoftheOrderhouse to accommodatemy regiment I think it onlyproper that the Order retaincommandofit.Youwilltrainthe soldiers and commandthem in war, when the timecomes.”

Vaelin looked to theAspect for some reaction butsaw nothing but the samerigidlackofexpression.

“Forgive me Highness,butiftheregimentistocomeunder Order control thenBrotherMakrilwouldseemabetterchoice…”

“The famous denierhunter?Oh, I don’t think so.Could hardly give him asword could I? Only oneennobled by the Crown cancommand a regiment of theRealm Guard. How longbefore they’re ready do you

think?”“Our losses in the

Martishe were heavy,Highness.Themenarewearyand haven’t been paid forweeks.”

“Really?” The Kinglooked at the Aspect withraisedeyebrows.

“The Order will meetthecost,”theAspectsaid.“Itwould only be right if theregiment is to be ours to

command.”“Very generous,Arlyn.

As for the losses you canhave your choice from thedungeons plus any men youcan recruit from the streets. Idaresaymorethanafewboyswillcomeseekingserviceinaregiment commanded by thefamous Brother Vaelin.” Hechuckled ruefully. “War isalways an adventure to thosewho’veneverseenit.”

Chapter4“No rapists, no

murderers, no redflowerfiends.” Sergeant Krelnikhanded the Chief Gaoler theKing’s order with thesmallest of bows. “Noweaklingseither.Gottomakesoldiersoutofthislot.”

“Life in a dungeondoesn’t domuch for aman’sfitness,” the Chief Gaoler

replied, checking the seal onthe King’s order and brieflyreadingthecontents.“Butwealways endeavour to do thebest for his Highness,especially since he’s sent theRealm’s most famouswarrior.” He gave Vaelin asmile which was eitherintended as ingratiating orironic, it was difficult to tellunder the grime. He hadinitially taken the Chief

Gaolerasaprisonerfromthemeannessofhisgarband thedirtthatcoveredhisflesh,butthewidthofhisgirthandtheextensivesetofkeysjanglingathisbeltbespokehisrank.

The Royal Dungeonswere a set of old, inter-connected forts near theharbour that would havefallen into disuse with theconstructionof thecitywallstwo centuries ago. However,

succeeding rulers had foundtheir cavernous vaults anideal storage space for thecity’s criminal element. Theexact number of prisonerswas apparently unknowable.“Theydiesooften,youcan’tkeepcount,”theChiefGaolerexplained. “Biggest andmeanest last the longest, canfightforthefood,y’see.”

Vaelin peered into thedarkness beyond the solid

iron grate secured over theentrance to the vaults,resisting the urge to hide hisface in his cloak against thealmost overpowering stench.“Do you give many to theRealmGuard?”heasked.

“Depends on howtroubled the times are.Whenthe Meldenean war was ontheplacewasalmostempty.”The Chief Gaoler’s keysjangledashemoved forward

tounlock thegrate,gesturingat the four burly guardsnearbytofollow.“Well, let’sseehowrichthepickingsaretoday.”

The pickings consistedof a little under a hundredmen, all in varying stages ofemaciation, dressed in ragsand soiled with a thick layerof dirt, blood and filth.Theyblinked in the sunlight,casting wary glances at the

guardsonthewallsabovethemain courtyard, each aimingaloadedcrossbowattheknotofprisoners.

“This really the bestyou could do?” SergeantKrelnik asked the ChiefGaolersceptically.

“Hanging dayyesterday,” the man repliedwith shrug. “Can’t keep ‘emforever.”

SergeantKrelnik shook

his head in stoic disgust andstartedwhippingthemenintoline. “Let’s have some orderhere, scum! No use to theRealm Guard if you can’tstand up straight.” Hecontinuedtoabusethemuntilthey were arrayed in twouneven lines then turned toVaelin,snappingoffasalute.“Recruitsforyourinspection,mylord.”

My lord. The title still

sounded strange to his ears.He didn’t feel like a lord, hefeltand looked likeabrotheroftheSixthOrder.Hehadnolands, no servants, nowealthand yet the King hadproclaimedhima lord. It feltlikealie,oneofmany.

He nodded to SergeantKrelnikandwalkedalongtheline, finding it hard to meetthemanyfrightenedeyesthattracked his progress. Some

men stood straighter thanothers, some were cleaner,some so thin and wasted itwas remarkable they couldstill stand upright. And theyall stank, a thick cloyingstench he knew so well.Thesemenstankoftheirowndeath.

Hecontinueddown theline until something madehim pause, one set of eyesthat didn’t follow him but

remainedfixedontheground.Hestoppedandmovedclosertotheman.Hewastallerthanmostoftheprisoners,broadertoo, the sagging flesh on hischest indicating a oncemuscular torso weakened byalongperiodofmalnutrition.Just visible under the filthcoveringhis forearmwas thedeep indentation of a badlyhealedscar.

“Still climbing?”

Vaelinaskedhim.Gallis looked up,

reluctantly meeting his eyes.“Onoccasion,brother.”

“Whatwasitthistime?Anothersackfulofspice?”

There was a faint tickof amusement in Gallis’shaggard face. “Silver. Fromone of the big houses.Would’ve made it too if mylook-outhadkepthishead.”

“How long have you

beenhere?”“Month or two. Can’t

really keep track of time inthevaults.Wass’posedtogethung yesterday but the cartwasfull.”

Vaelin nodded at hisscarred arm. “Does that giveyouanytrouble?”

“Aches a little in thewintermonths.ButIcanstillscale a wall better than anyman.Don’tyouworry.”

“Good.Icanfindausefor a climber.”Vaelin tookastepcloser,holdingtheman’sgaze. “But you should knowI’mstillunhappyatwhatyoutriedtodotoSisterSherin,soifyourun…”

“Wouldn’t think of it,brother. Imay be a thief butmy word is iron.” Gallismade an effort to looksoldierly, puffing out hischest and pulling his

shouldersback.“Why,it’dbeanhonourtomarchwith…”

“All right.” Vaelinwaved him to silence andmovedback, liftinghisvoiceso they could all hear. “Myname is Vaelin Al Sorna,Brother of the Sixth Orderand Commander by theKing’s word of the Thirty-FifthRegimentofFoot.KingJanus has graciouslyconsented to commute your

sentence to the privilege ofserving in the Realm Guard.In returnyouwillmarch andfightathisword for thenextten years. You will be fed,youwillbepaidandyouwillfollow my orders withoutquestion. Any man guilty ofindiscipline or drunkennesswill be flogged. Any manwho deserts will beexecuted.”

He scanned their faces

for some reaction to hiswords but saw mostly dumbrelief.Eventhehardshipsofasoldier’s life were preferableto another hour in thedungeons. “SergeantKrelnik.”

“Mylord!”“Get them back to the

OrderHouse.Ihavebusinessinthecity.”

The seat of the noble

house of Al Hestian was inthe northern quarter, thecity’s richest district. It wasan impressive red sandstonemanseofmanywindowsandextensivegroundssurroundedby a solid wall topped withwicked iron spikes. Theimpeccably attired servant atthe gate listened to Vaelin’senquiry with practiseddisinterest before asking himto wait and going inside for

instructions.Hereturnedafterafewminutes.

“Young master AlHestianisinthegardenattherearofthehouse,mylord.Hebids you welcome and asksthatyoujoinhimpresently.”

“And the LordMarshal?”

“Lord Al Hestian wascalled to the palace thismorning. He is not expecteduntilthisevening.”

Vaelin gave an inwardsigh of relief. The ordealaheadwould have been evenmoreonerousifhehadhadtoface the father aswell as thebrother.

Once through the gatehe found a squad of PalaceGuardsmen loitering on thelawn,oneholdingthereinsofa handsome white mare. Hisrelief evaporated as hesurmisedthemeaningoftheir

presence. The guardsmengavehimaformalbowashepassed.Itseemedwordofhisnewrankhadspreadquickly.He returned the bow andhurried on, anxious to bedone with this and return tothe Order house where hecould busy himself withtraining his regiment. Myregiment, hewonderedat thefact of it. Barely in hisnineteenth year and theKing

had given him a regimentand, although Caenis hadbeenquicktoreeloffalistoffamous warriors who hadrisen tocommandatanearlyage, toVaelin it still seemedabsurd. He had sought anexplanation from the Aspectas they travelled back to theOrder House after themeeting at the palace but hisquestions were met with asimple instruction to follow

his orders. But thepreoccupied frown on theAspect’s brow told him theKing’s actions had left himmuchtoconsider.

The gardens were aprotractedmazeofhedgerowsand flower beds blossomingin the onset of spring. Hefound them sheltering fromthe sun under a maple tree.Theprincesswasaslovelyasever, smiling radiantly and

tossing her red-gold hair asshe listened to the earnestyouthonthebenchbesideherreading aloud from a smallbook. Vaelin saw only thefaintest resemblance to hisbrotherinAluciusAlHestian,a thinboyof fifteenyearsorso, his youthful featuresdelicate, almost feminine,topped by a main of blackcurls that cascaded over hisshoulders. He wore black in

mourning.Vaelintookafirmgrip on the scabbard of thelong-sword he carried, drewin a deep draught of air andstrode forward with all theconfidence he could muster.As he drew nearer he couldhear the lilting refrain of theboy’s words: “I pray youweepnomoremylove,letnotears fall for my demise, liftyour face to the sky above,and let the sun dry your

eyes…”He fell silent as

Vaelin’s shadow fell uponthem.

“My Lord Al Sorna!”Alucius rose to greet him,offering his hand withoutregard to the lordlyformalities Vaelin wasfinding so irksome. “This isindeed an honour. Mybrother’s letters spoke sohighlyofyou.”

Vaelin’s confidencewithered and drifted awaywith thewind.“Yourbrotherwas an overly generous manat times, sir.” He shook theboy’s hand, and offered ashort bow to Princess Lyrna.“Highness.”

She inclined her head.“Apleasuretoseeyouagain,brother.Ordoyouprefer‘mylord’thesedays?”

He met her gaze, a

mounting rage threatening tospill unwise words from hislips. “Whatever pleases you,Highness.”

She made a show ofcontemplation, stroking herchin, her nails were paintedpale blue and adorned withinlaid jewels that glittered inthe sun. “I think I’ll keepcallingyou‘brother’.Itseemsmore…seemly.”

There was a barely

perceptibleedgetohervoice.He couldn’t tell if she wasangry, still smarting over hisrejection, or simply mockingaman she thought a fool forpassing up the chance toshare in the power shecraved.

“A fine verse, sir,” heturned to Alucius, seekingescape.“Oneoftheclassics?”

“Hardly.” The boyseemed a little embarrassed

and quickly put aside thesmall book he was holding.“Merelyatrifle.”

“Oh don’t be somodest, Alucius,” theprincesschidedhim.“BrotherVaelin, you are honoured towitness a reading by one ofthe Realm’s most promisingpoets. I’m sure it will be aproud boast in years tocome.”

Alucius gave sheepish

shrug. “Lyrna flatters me.”His gaze fell on the long-sword in Vaelin’s hand,sorrow clouding his face inrecognition.“Isthatforme?”

“Your brother wantedyou to have it.” Vaelin heldthe sword out to him. “Heasked that you leave itsheathed.”

Theboytooktheswordafter a moment’s hesitation,gripping the hilt tightly, his

expression suddenly fierce.“He was always moreforgiving than I. Those whokilledhimwillpay.Ivowit.”

Boy’s words, Vaelinthought feeling very old.Words from a story, or apoem. “The man who killedyour brother is dead, sir.There is no vengeance toseek.”

“The Cumbraelins senttheir warriors into the

Martishe did they not? Evennowtheyplotagainstus.Myfather has heard word of it.The Cumbraelin Fief Lordsent the heretics who slewLinden.”

Wordfliesfastfromthepalaceindeed.“ThematterisintheKing’shands.I’msurehewillsteertheRealmonthecorrectcourse.”

“The course to war istheonlycourseIwillfollow.”

The boy’s sincerity wasintense, tearsgleaming inhiseyes.

“Alucius,” PrincessLyrna laid a gentle hand onhis shoulder, her tonesoothing. “I know Lindenwould never have wantedyour heart to be burdenedwithhatred.ListentoBrotherVaelin’s words; there is novengeancetobehad.CherishLinden’s memory and leave

his sword in its sheath,ashewished.”

HerconcernsoundedsogenuineVaelin almost forgothisanger,butthevividimageofLinden’smarblewhitefaceas he pressed the knifeagainsthisneckdispelledanyregard. However, her wordsseemed to have a calmingeffect on the boy, the angerdraining from his face,althoughhistearscontinued.

“Ibegyourforgiveness,my lord,” he stammered. “Imust be alone now. Ishould… I should like tospeaktoyouagain,aboutmybrother and your time withhim.”

“YoucanfindmeattheHouseoftheSixthOrder,sir.Iwouldbegladtoansweranyquestionsyouhave.”

Alucius nodded, turnedto press a brief kiss against

the princess’s cheek andwalked back to the house,stillweeping.

“Poor Alucius,” theprincesssighed.“Hedoesfeelthingsso,eversincewewerechildren. You realise heintends to ask for acommission in yourregiment?”

Vaelin turned to her,finding her smile gone, herflawless face serious and

intent.“Ihadnot.”“There are rumours of

war. He has visions offollowing you to theCumbraelin capital wheretogetheryouwillvisit justiceupon the Fief Lord. Itwouldpleasemegreatlyifyouwereto refuse him. He is just aboy, and even as a man Idoubthewouldeverbemuchof a soldier, just a prettycorpse.”

“There are no prettycorpses. If he asks I willrefusehim.”

Her face softened,rosebudlipscurvinginasoftsmile.“Thankyou.”

“I couldn’t accept if Iwanted to. My Aspect hasdecidedall theofficers in theregiment will be brothers oftheOrder.”

“I see.” Her smilebecame rueful,

acknowledging his refusal toengage with her game offavours. “Will there be wardo you think? With theCumbraelins?”

“TheKingthinksnot.”“What do you think,

brother?”“Ithinkweshouldtrust

the King’s judgement.” Hebowed stiffly and turned togo.

“Recently I had the

goodfortunetomeetafriendof yours,” she went on,making him pause. “SisterSherin is it not? She runs ahealing house for the FifthOrder inWarnsclave. I wentto make a gift of alms onbehalf my father. Sweet girl,though terribly dedicated. Imentioned that we hadbecomefriendsandsheaskedto be remembered to you.Although, she seemed to

thinkyoumayhaveforgottenher.”

Say nothing, he toldhimself. Tell her nothing.Knowledgeisherweapon.

“Do you have no replyfor her?” she pressed. “Icould have the King’sMessenger carry it. I do sohate to see friendships endneedlessly.”

Her smile was brightnow, the same smile he

rememberedfromtheirtalkinher private garden, the smilethat told of an unassailableconfidenceandknowledgefarbeyond her years. The smilethat toldhimshe thoughtsheknewhismind.

“I’m glad fate hasbrought us together oncemore,” she continued whenhe didn’t answer. “I’ve beenthinkingrecently,ponderingaproblem which may interest

you.”He said nothing,

meetinghergazeandrefusingto play whatever game shehadinmind.

“Puzzlesareahobbyofmine,” she went on, “I oncesolved a mathematical riddlewhich had confounded theThird Order for over acentury. I never told anyoneof course, it doesn’t do for aprincess to outshine brilliant

men.”Hervoicehadchangedagain,takingonabitteredge.

“Your keenness ofmind does you credit,Highness,”hesaid.

She inclined her head,apparently deaf to theemptinessofthecompliment.“But what has puzzled melately is an event in whichyou were closely involved;the Aspect massacre,although why it’s called that

whenonlytwoofthemdiedIcan’timagine.”

“Why should such anunpleasant event concernyou,Highness?”

“It’s the mystery ofcourse. The enigma. WhywouldtheassassinsattacktheAspects on that particularnight, a night when novicebrothersfromtheSixthOrderare present in three of theOrder Houses? It seems a

singularlypoorstrategy.”Despite himself his

interest was piqued. She hassomething to share. Why?What advantage does shegain by this? “And whatconclusions have you drawn,Highness?”

“There’s an Alpirangame called Keschet, whichmeans cunning in ourlanguage. It’s highlycomplex, twenty-five

different pieces played on aboardofonehundredsquares.The Alpirans have a greatlove of strategy, in businessandinwar.SomethingIhopemyfatherremembersintimestocome.”

“Highness?”Shewavedahand.“No

matter.GamesofKeschetcanlast for days and wise menhave been known to devotetheirwholelivestomastering

itsintricacies.”“AtaskI’msureyou’ve

already accomplished,Highness.”

She shrugged. “Itwasn’t sohard, it’s all in theopening.Thereareonlyabouttwo hundred variations, themost successful being theLiar’s Attack, a series ofmoves designed to appearessentially defensive butwhich in fact conceal an

offensive sequence bringingvictory in only tenmoves, ifdoneright.Thesuccessoftheattack is dependent on fixingtheopponent’sattentiononaseparate overt move inanother region of the board.The key is in the narrowfocusofthehiddenoffensive,it has but one objective, toremove the Scholar, not themost powerful piece on theboard but crucial to a

successful defence. Theopponent, however, has beenconvinced that he’s facing avaried attack on a broadfront.”

“Attacking all theAspectswas a diversion,” hesaid. “They only intended tokilloneofthem.”

“Perhaps, or perhapstwo. In fact if you apply thetheory more widely it couldbethatyouweretheintended

victim and the Aspectsmerelyincidental.”

“Is that yourconclusion?”

She shook her head.“All theories require anassumption, in this case Iassume that whoeverorchestrated this attack wasseekingtodamagetheOrdersand the Faith. Simply killingthe Aspects would of coursemeet this end, but new

Aspects can be appointed toreplace them, like AspectTendrisAlForne,anditisnotunreasonabletoconcludethathis ascension has driven awedge between the Orders.Damagehasbeendone.”

“You’re saying thewhole attack was aimed atelevatingAl Forne toAspectoftheFourthOrder?”

She raised her face tothe sky, closing her eyes as

the sun warmed her skin. “Iam.”

“You speak dangerouswords,Highness.”

She smiled, her eyesstillclosed.“Onlytoyou,andI do wish you’d call meLyrna.”

The promise of powerwasn’t enough, he thought.So now she tempts me withknowledge.“WhatdidLindencallyou?”

There was only thesmallest pause before sheturned away from the sun tomeethisgaze.“HecalledmeLyrna, when we were alone.We had been friends sincechildhood.He sentmemanyletters from the forest so Iknow howmuch he admiredyou. My heart ached tohear…”

“Love must risk all orperish.” He was aware that

hisvoicewashardwithangerand his face set in a fierceglower. He was also awarethat shehad stoppedsmiling.“Isn’t that what you toldhim?”

It was only for amoment, but he was suresomething like regret passedacross her face, and for thefirst time there wasuncertaintyinhervoice.“Didhesuffer?”

“The poison in hisveins made him scream inagony and sweat blood. Hesaidhelovedyou.Hesaidhehad gone to the Martishe towinyourfather’sapprovalsoyou could wed. Before I slithisthroatheaskedmetogiveyou a letter. When we gavehimtothefireIburntit.”

Sheclosedhereyes fora second, a picture of beautyand grief, but when she

opened them again it wasgone and there was noemotion in her answer: “Ifollowmy father’s wishes inall things, brother. As doyou.”

Thetruthofitlashedathim. They were complicit.Murder entangled themboth.Hemayhaveresistedloosingthe bowstring but he hadplaced Linden in the path ofthe fatal arrow, just as she

hadsethimontheroadtotheMartishe. It occurred to himthis may have been theKing’s plan all along, sordidmurderbindingthemtogetheringuilt.

He knew now hisenmity for her was a deceit,an attempt to avoid his ownshare of blame, but even sofound himself holding to it.She is cold, she is scheming,she is untrustworthy. But

more than that, he hated thelingering hold she had overhim, her effortless ability toengagehisinterest.

There was the faintestglimmerofsomethingbehindher eyes then as he realisedthe intensity of the gaze hehad turned on her. Fear, hedecided. The only man whocanmakeherafraid.

He bowed again, guiltmingling with satisfaction in

his breast. “By your leave,Highness.”

SisterGilmawasplump

and friendly with a quicksmile and bright blue eyesthat seemed to sparklecontinually with mirth. “Inthe name of the Faith, cheerup brother!” she had saidwhentheyfirstmet,tweakingVaelin’s chin with a mockpunch.“You’dthinkthecares

of the Realm were on yourshoulders. Brother sour-facetheycallyou.”

“Are you really sureyouwantahealerattachedtothe regiment?” Nortah hadasked.

Sister Gilma laughed.“Oh I see I’m going to likeyou!” she said in her thickNilsaelin brogue, giving aNortah a punch on the armthatwaslessplayful.

Vaelin had concealedhis disappointment thatAspect Elera hadn’t seen fitto appoint Sister Sherin inanswer to his request,although he was hardlysurprised. “Whatever yourequire will be provided,sister.”

“It better be.” Shelaughed. In the month sincehe noticed she tended tolaugh when she was being

serious, employing ahumourless tone whenindulging her weakness forgentlebuteffectivemockery.

“Another two brokenarms today,” she told himwithachuckleandwryshakeofherheadasheentered thelarge tent that served as hertreatment room. Four menwere lying abed, bandagedand sleeping. Another twowere being tended by the

assistants shehad insistedonrecruiting from the ranks.ToVaelin’s surprise she hadchosen two of the pressedmen from the dungeons,slight fellows with quickmindsandcarefulhandswhowould probably have madepoorsoldiersinanycase.

“Keep driving thesemen so hard and there’ll befew left to face a battle amonth from now.” She was

smilingherbrightsmile,blueeyestwinkling.

“Battle is a hardbusiness, sister. Soft trainingwill make for soft soldierswhowill in turnbecomesoftcorpses.”

Hersmilefadedalittle.“Battleiscomingthen?Therewillbeawar?”War. The question was oneveryone’s lips. It had beenfour weeks since the King

hadsummoned theFiefLordof Cumbrael and no answerhad come.TheRealmGuardhadbeenconfinedtobarracksandleavecancelled.Rumoursflew with alarming speed.Cumbraelinsweremassingonthe border. Cumbraelinarchers had been seen in theUrlish. Hidden Denier sectswere plotting all manner ofhideousDarkfuelledvillainy.Everywhere theairwas thick

with expectation anduncertainty, making Vaelindrive the men as hard as hedared.Ifthestormbroketheyhadtobeready.

“I know no more thanyou, sister,” he assured her.“Anymorepoxcases?”

“Not since my visit totheladies’encampment.”

An outbreak of poxamongst the men had beentraced to a camp of

enterprising whores recentlyestablished in the woods ascant two miles away.Fearing theAspect’s reactionto the news of a nest ofwhores so close to theOrderHouse he ordered SergeantKrelnik to put together asquadofthemoretrustworthymen to evict the women andsend them back to the city.However, theold soldier hadsurprised him by hesitating.

“Areyousureabout this,mylord?”

“I’ve got twenty mentoo poxed to train, sergeant.This regiment is under thecommandof theOrder, can’thave the men sneaking offto…indulge their lust in thisway.”

The Sergeant blinked,his grizzled, scarred faceimpassivebutVaelinfeltsurehe was suppressing a grin.

There were times whentalkingtothesergeanthefelthimself a child giving orderstohisgrandfather.“Erm,withrespect, my lord. Theregiment may belong to theOrder but the men don’t.They ain’t brothers, they’resoldiers, and soldiers expectto be shown a woman nowandagain.Takeawaytheir…indulgenceandtherecouldbetrouble. Not saying the men

don’t respect you, my lord,they surely do, never seen abunch as terrified of theircommander as this lot, butthesefellowsain’texactlythecream of the Realm andwe’ve been working thempretty hard. They get toohacked off they could starttaking to theirheels,hangingorno.”

“Whataboutthepox?”“Oh the Fifth Order’s

gotremediesaplentyforthat.SisterGilma’llsortit,gethertopayavisittothesewomen,sort them in no time shewill.”

So they had gone toSister Gilma and Vaelin hadstammered out a requestwhilst she regardedhimwithanicyvisage.

“You want me to gointoacampfullofwhores tocure them of the pox?” she

saidcoldly.“Underguardofcourse,

sister.”She looked away,

closinghereyeswhilstVaelinfoughtthedesiretoflee.

“Five years training atthe Order House,” she saidsoftly. “Four more on thenorthern border assailed bysavages and ice storms. Andwhat is my reward? To liveamongst the dregs of the

Realm and tend to theirdoxies.”She shookherhead.“Truly the Departed havecursedme.”

“Sister, I meant nooffence..!”

“Oh good!” She said,beaming suddenly. “I’ll getmy bag. The guardwon’t benecessary, though I’ll needsomeone to show me theway.”ShearchedaneyebrowatVaelin.“Youdon’tknowit

doyou,brother?”He grimaced at the

memory of his stutteringdenial. Sergeant Krelnik hadbeen right, the incidents ofpoxfellawayquicklyandthemen stayed content, or ascontentastheycouldbeafterweeks of training under hisbrothers’ bruising tutelage.HeoptedtoforgettoappraisetheAspectoftheincidentandtherewasatacitagreementit

was not discussed amongstthebrothers.

“Is there anything youneed?” he asked Gilma. “IcansendacarttoyourOrderHouseforsupplies.”

“My stocks aresufficient for now. MasterSmentil’s herb garden hasbeenagreathelp.He’ssuchadear. Been teaching me tosign,look.”Shemadeaseriesof signs with her plump but

nimble hands that roughlytranslated as: I am abothersome sow. “It means‘MynameisGilma.’”

Vaelinnodded,hisfaceexpressionless. “MasterSmentilisagiftedteacher.”

He left her with thewounded and went outside.Everywhere men weretraining, clustered incompanies around brothersstruggling to impart skills

learnedovera lifetime in thespaceofafewmonths.Itwasanoftenfrustratingtask,theirrecruits seemed so slow andclumsy, ignorant of themostbasic tenets of combat. Somuchsothathisbrothershadcomplained bitterly whenVaelin forbade use of thecane. “Can’t train a dog ifyou can’t whip it,” Dentoshadpointedout.

“They’re not dogs,”

Vaelin replied. “Not boyseither,mostof themanyway.Punish them with extratraining ormenial duties, cuttheirrumrationifyouthinkitappropriate.Butnobeatings.”

The regiment was nowat full strength, numbersswelled by the pressed menfrom the dungeons and asteady flow of new recruitswho, true to the king’sprediction,hadbeendrawnto

a soldier’s life by Vaelin’slegend,somehavingtravelledgreatdistancestoenlist.

“More times than notit’s the rumble in a man’sbelly makes him enlist,”Sergeant Krelnik observed.“This lot seem hungry onlyforthegloryofservingundertheYoungHawk.”

As the weeks passedthe training began to takehold,themengrowingvisibly

stronger, aided by a healthydiet which many had neverknown before. They stoodstraighter and moved faster,handling their weapons withgreater skill, although theystillhadmuchtolearn.Gallisthe climber soon recoveredmuch of his physique, hisspiritsbrightenedbyrepeatedvisits to the whores’ camp.He became one of theregiment’s characters, ever-

ready with a cynical quip todraw laughter from hiscomrades, although he waswise enough to curb histongue during the trainingsessions. The brothers mayhavebeenforbiddenthecanebut they knew a thousandways to hurt a man in thetumble of a sparring match.Most gratifying for Vaelinwas their discipline, theyrarely fought amongst

themselves, never questionedan order and there had beenno attempts at desertion. Hewasyettoorderafloggingora hanging and lived in dreadof the day when he had nooption.War will be the test,he decided, recalling themiserable months in theMartishe and the many menwho had chosen to riskescape through theCumbraelin infested forest

rather than face another dayinthestockade.

He found Nortahteaching the bow to a groupof their more burly recruits.All newly enlisted soldiershad been tested at the buttsandmost foundwanting, themore keen–eyed collectedinto a company ofcrossbowmen, but a few hadshown sufficient skill andstrength to warrant further

tuition. They numbered onlythirtyor so,butevena smallnumber of skilled bowmenwould be a valuable asset tothe regiment. Nortah againprovedanableteacher;allhischarges could now sink ashaft into the centre of thebuttfromfortypacesandoneor two could repeat the featwiththerapidityonlyusuallydisplayed by brothers of theOrder.

“Don’t kiss the string,”Nortah told a student, abrawny fellow Vaelinrecalled from his trip to thedungeons. His name wasBrak or Brax, a renownedpoacher before the King’swardens had caught himquartering a freshly felleddeer in the Urlish. “Get thearrow back behind your earforeveryloosing.”

BrakorBraxforcedthe

extra effort into his musclesand let fly, the shaft strikinghome a few inches higherthanthebullseye.“Notbad,”Nortah toldhim.“Butyou’restill letting the stave swingout after you loose.Rememberthisisawarbow,you’renothuntinggamewithit. Get that string back asquickasyoucan.”HenoticedVaelin’s approach andclapped his hands to get the

attention of his company.“All right. Move the buttsback another ten paces. Firstman to hit the bull gets anextrainchofrumtonight.”

He turned to giveVaelinanextravagantbowashis men went to move thebutts.“Greetings,mylord.”

“Don’tdo that.”Vaelinglanced at the men, jokingand laughing as theyworkedtheir shafts from the butts.

“They’reingoodhumour.”“With good reason.

Plentyoffood,rumeverydayand cheap harlots a shortwalkthroughtheforest.Morethanmostofthemcouldeverhopefor.”

Vaelin took a closelookathisbrother,seeingthefamiliarhauntedlookthathadcontinued to cloud his eyesever since their time in theMartishe. He seemed tired

and distant when off duty,takinganexcessiveinterestinthe various rum-basedconcoctions the men wouldbrew of an evening. Not forthe first time Vaelin foundhimselfonthevergeoftellinghimthefateofhisfamilybutas ever the King’s orderstilled his tongue. He seemsso aged, Vaelin thought.Notyettwentyandhehastheeyesofanoldman.

“Where’s Barkus?”Vaelin asked him. “He’ssupposed to be teaching thepole-axe.”

“In the smithy, again.Hardly away from the placethesedays.”

Since their return fromtheMartisheBarkus had losthis reluctance toworkmetal,presenting himself to MasterJestin and spendingmany anhour in thesmithyhelping to

fashion the new weaponsneeded by the regiment.Master Grealin’s armourywas extensive but even theracksofweaponsinthevaultswereinsufficienttoarmeveryman and still provide for theOrder’sneeds.VaelindidnotobjecttoBarkustakingupthehammer once again,especially since it seemed tomake him so happy, butfound it irksome that it took

him away from his dutieswith the regiment.Hewouldhave to speak to him, as hehadtospeaktoNortah.

“How much did youhavelastnight?”

Nortah shrugged.“Stopped counting after mysixthcup.Sleptwellthough.”

“I’ll bet.” He sighed,hatingthenecessityofsayingwhat he had to say. “I don’tbegrudge a man a drink,

brother,butyouareanofficerin this regiment. If youmustgetdrunk,pleasedosooutofsightofthemen.”

“But themen likeme,”Nortah protested with mocksincerity. “‘Come sup withus,brother,’theysay.‘You’renot like the Young Hawk.We’re not scared shitless ofyou, oh no.’ They eveninvited me to come rogersome whores with them. I

was touched.”He laughed atVaelin’s appalled expression.“Don’t worry, I’ve not quitesunk that far. Besides, fromwhatIhearavisittothecampwillmost likely leave amanwith a fire raging in hisbritches.”

Vaelin decided it bestnot to enlighten Nortah withthe news that the poxoutbreak was now undercontrol. He nodded at the

bowmen. “How long tillthey’reready?”

“In about seven yearsthey’llbeasgoodasweare.Think the Cumbraelins willgiveusthatlong?”

“I can only hope so. Imeant will they stand? Willtheyfight?”

Nortah looked at hismen,hishauntedeyesdistant,no doubt picturing them inbattle, hacked and bloodied.

“They’ll fight,” he saideventually. “Poor bastards.They’llfightallright.”

Chapter5Hewasdreamingofthe

Martishe when Frentis cameto wake him, back in theclearing listening to themaddeningenigmawovenbyNersus Sil Nin. But now theredmarblepatternofhereyeswas jet black, like the stonethatsatintheemptysocketoftheone-eyedman.Thewarmsummer sun that had bathed

theclearinginhisvisionwasgone now, the ground thickwith snow, the air cuttingwithitschill.Andherwords,whilst still mysterious, werecruel.

“You will kill and killagain, Beral Shak Ur,” shetold him with a sickeningsmile, small points of lightgleamingintheblackorbsofher eyes. “You will witnessthe harvest of death under a

blood-red sun.You’llkill foryourfaith,foryourKingandfor the Queen of Fire whenshe arises. Your legend willcovertheworldanditwillbeasongofblood.”

Hewaskneeling in thesnow, his hands entwined onthe hilt of his dagger, theblade slick with blood thatshoneblackinthemoonlight.Behind him there was acorpse, he could feel its heat

seeping away into the snow.He knew the face of thecorpse, he knew it wassomeone he loved. And heknew he had killed them. “Ididn’t ask for this,” he said.“Ineverwantedit.”

“Want is nothing.Destiny is everything. Yourare a plaything of fate,BeralShakUr.”

“I’ll choose my ownfate,” he said, but the words

were faint, empty, a child’sdefiance to an indifferentparent.

Her laugh was amockingcackle.“Choice isalie.Thegreatestoflies.”

Herspite-filledfeaturesfaded as a hand shook hisshoulder.“Brother!”Hecameawake with a start, Frentis’spale,worried face swimminginto clarity through cloudedeyes. “There’s a messenger

here,”hisbrothersaid.“Fromthepalace.TheAspectwantsyou.”

He dressed quickly,forcing the lingeringnightmare from his mind ashemadehiswaytothekeep.He found the Aspect in hisrooms reading from a scrollbearingtheKing’sseal.“TheFief Lord of Cumbrael isdead,” the Aspect told himwithoutpreamble.“Itappears

his son, his second son, hasmurdered him and claimedLordshipoftheFief.Hecallsforall loyalCumbraelinsandtrue servants of their god torallytohimandthrowoffthehated oppressor and hereticKing Janus. He orders alladherentsoftheFaithtoleavethe Fief or face righteousexecution. Reportedly someare already burning in theirbonfires.” He paused,

watching Vaelin’s faceclosely.“Youknowwhatthismeans,Vaelin?”

The conclusion wasobvious if chilling. “Therewillbewar.”

“Indeed. Battles andbloodshed, towns and citieswill burn.” The Aspect’svoicewas bitter as he tossedthe King’s message onto hisdesk. “His Highness hasordered the Realm Guard to

muster.Ourregimentistobeat the north gate by noontomorrow.”

“I’llseetoit,Aspect.”“Aretheyready?”Vaelin recalled

Nortah’s words and his ownassessmentoftheirdiscipline.“They will fight, Aspect. Ifwehadmoretimetheywouldfight better, but they willfight.”

“Very well. Brother

Makrilwillcommandascouttroop of thirty brothers toaccompany the regiment andprovide reconnaissance. Iwould have liked a moresizeable contingent but ourcommandsarescatteredaboutthe Realm and there is notime to recall sufficientnumbers.”

The Aspect camecloser, his face as serious asVaelin had ever seen it.

“Remember this above all.The regiment is under theKing’s word but is a part ofthis Order and this Order isthe sword of the Faith. Thesword of theFaith cannot bestained with innocent blood.In Cumbrael you will seemany things, many terriblethings.TheyareapeoplewhodenytheFaithandindulgeinthe falsehoodofgod-worshipbut they are still subjects of

this Realm. There will begreat temptation to indulgeyourrage, toallowyourmento abuse the people you findthere. You must resist it.Rapists and thieves and anywho abuse the people are tobe flogged and hanged. Youwill show every kindness tothe common folk ofCumbrael. You will showthem the Faith is notvengeful.”

“Iwill,Aspect.”TheAspectmovedback

to his desk, sitting downheavily, his long fingersclasped together in his lap,histhinfacedrawnandtired,eyesmournful.“IhadhopedIwould not see this Realmonceagainrentbywarinmylifetime,” the Aspect saideventually. “ It was why wejoinedhim,yousee?Whywewedded the Faith to the

crown. For peace and…” afaint smile curled his narrowlips,“forunity.”

“I… doubt the Kingwished this crisis to end inwar,Aspect,”Vaelinoffered.

The Aspect turned tohim sharply and the sorrowwas gone in an instant,replaced by the immobilecertainty Vaelin had knownsince his boyhood. “TheKing’s wishes are not for us

to know. Do not forget myinstructions, Vaelin. Keep tothe Faith and may theDepartedguideyourhand.”

The regiment marched

under a slate grey sky, thelate summer sunhiddenbyabank of angry cloud thatmatchedthegrimmoodofthemen. It had taken longer toget them assembled andmarching than Vaelin had

likedandhefoundhistemperflaringcontinuallyduring themarchtothecity.

“Pick it up, lack-wit!”he snarledatoneunfortunatesoldierwhodroppedhispole-axe. “It’s worth more thanyouare.Sergeant,norumforthismantonight.”

“Aye, my lord!”SergeantKrelnikwas alwaysat his side, eyeing him withwary respect. Vaelin

suspected the sergeant mightnot always be punctilious inenforcing his punishments,somethinghechosetoignore,although today he feltmarkedly less inclined to doso.

They arrived at thenorth gate an hour beforenoon, themen falling out onthe side of the road, somegrumbling at the lack of reston the march, but not too

loudly.“Where are they all?”

Barkus asked, looking at theemptyplain.“Isn’t thewholeRealmGuard supposed to behere?”

“Maybe they’re late,”Dentos suggested. “We beatthem here cos we marchfaster.”

“Brother CommanderMakril may have someanswers,” Caenis nodded at

the gate where Makril hadappeared, leading his smallcompany of mounted scoutsatthegallop.

“The Realm Guard ismustering on the WesternRoad,” the BrotherCommander told them as hereined in, scattering dustbeforehim.“TheBattleLordordersustowaithere.”

“Battle Lord?” Vaelinasked. There hadn’t been a

Battle Lord in the RealmsincehisfatherlefttheKing’sservice.

“Lord Marshal AlHestianhasbeenhonouredbytheKing.HeleadstheRealmGuard to Cumbrael withorderstotakethecapitalwithalldispatch.”

Al Hestian…The Kinghas put the Realm Guard inthe hands of Linden’s father.Vaelin wished now he had

met with the Lord Marshalwhen he delivered his swordto Linden’s brother. Hewould have given much togauge the man’s temper, toknow if he lusted forvengeance.IfsotheAspect’sfears for the innocent peopleof Cumbrael would be wellfounded.

He turned to SergeantKrelnik. “Makesure themengo easy on the water. No

fires. We don’t know howlongwe’llbehere.”

“Ayemylord.”They waited under the

threatening sky, the menclustering together to playdice or toss board, theOrdergame having beenenthusiastically adopted bytheregiment.AsintheOrderthrowing knives had becomeaformofcurrencyandasignofstatusamongstthesoldiers,

although Vaelin had beenkeen to ensure other Ordertraditions, such as thieveryand frequent mealtimebrawling, did not cross overintotheranks.

“Faith,Barkus!Whatisthat?”

Dentos was staring atthe object Barkus hadunfurledfromhissaddlebag.Itwasaboutayardlongwitha spiralled iron haft and a

double headed blade thatseemed to shine unnaturallyin the meagre daylight.“Battle-axe,” Barkus replied.“Master Jestin helped meforgeit.”

Looking at the weaponVaelinexperiencedamurmurof disquiet from the blood-song,hisuneasedeepenedbywhat he knew of Barkus’sDarkaffinityformetal.

“Star silver in the

blade?”Nortahaskedas theygathered round to inspect theweapon.

“Ofcourse,onlytheontheedges though.Thehaft ishollow to keep it light.” Hetossed the axe into the airwhere it turnedendover endbefore landing in his palm.“See? Could bring down asparrow in flight with this.Tryit.”

He handed the weapon

toNortahwho gave it a fewpracticeswings,hiseyebrowsraisingatthefluidpassageofthe blade through the air.“Sounds like it’s singing.Listen.” He swung the axeagain and there was a faint,almostmusicalnoteintheair.Vaelin felt the pitch of theblood-song deepen at thesound and found himselfedging away involuntarily, adull nausea building in his

gut.“Want to try, brother?”

Nortahofferedhimtheaxe.Vaelin’s gaze was

drawn to the axe blade, itsgleamingstarsilveredgeandthe broad centre of the bladeindented with an inscription.“You gave it a name?” heasked Barkus, not taking theaxe.

“Bendra. For my… AwomanIusedtoknow.”

Nortah peered closelyat the blade. “Can’t read it.Whatlanguageisthis?”

“Master Jestin said itwas old Volarian. It’s asmith’s tradition to use itwhen inscribing blades.Dunnowhy.”

“Volarian smiths arecounted the best in theworld,”Caenissaid.“It’ssaidthey were the first race tosmelt iron. Most of the

secretsofthesmithyoriginatewiththem.”

“Enough play,brothers,”Vaelin said, seizedby a desire to be away fromthe weapon. “See to yourcompanies. Make sure theyhaven’t contrived to loseanyheavygearonthemarch.”

It was an hour beforeanother party came throughthe gate, twenty men of themountedPalaceGuardledby

a tall red-haired young manon an impressive blackstallion. Vaelin recognisedtheimpeccablyneatfigureofCaptain Smolen riding at hisside.

“Get them into ranks!”Vaelin barked at SergeantKrelnik. “Make it tidy. Wehavearoyalvisitor.”

He strode forward togreet the prince as theregiment quickly formed

companies and stood toattention, raising a thickcloud of dust in the process.The prince’s party reined inas Vaelin sank to one knee,headbowed.“Highness.”

“Get up, brother,”PrinceMalciustoldhim.“Wehavescanttimeforceremony.Here.” He tossed Vaelin ascrollbearingtheKing’sseal.“Your orders. This regimentisatmydisposaluntilfurther

notice.” He glanced over hisshoulder and Vaelin’s gazewas drawn to the hunchedfigure mounted in the frontrank of the guards, a sallowfaced man with red rimmedeyes and heavy browsdenoting an extended periodof over-indulgence. “You’vemet Lord Mustor before Ibelieve,”PrinceMalciussaid.

“I have. Mycondolences on your father’s

passing,my lord.” If theheirtoCumbraelnoticedhisofferofcommiserationhegavenosign, squirminguncomfortably in his saddleandyawning.

“Lord Mustor will beaccompanyingus,”theprinceinformed him. He glancedaroundat theneatlyarrangedranks. “Are they ready tomarch?”

“At your command,

Highness.”“Then let’s not dally.

We will take the northernroadandbeatthebridgeovertheBrinewashbynightfall.”

Vaelin did a roughcalculation of the distance.Nearly twenty miles, and onthenorthernroad,awayfromtheRealmGuard’s route.Hepushed the torrent ofquestions to the back of hismindandgavea formalnod.

“Verywell,Highness.”“I will proceed ahead

andmake camp.”The princefavoured him with a briefsmile.“We’lltalktonight.Nodoubt you’ll wish anexplanationforallthis.”Hespurredhishorseandrodeoff at the gallop followedclosely by the company ofguardsmen.AstheyrodepastVaelin picked out anotherfamiliar face amongst the

riders, a thin youthful faceframed by a mane of blackcurls. His eyes met Vaelin’sbriefly, anearnest expressionseeking recognition,approval.AluciusAlHestian.So he will ride to war afterall. Vaelin turned away andbeganshoutingorders.

Night was already

drawinginwhentheregimentreached the timber bridge

over the broad torrent of theBrinewash river. Vaelinordered the camp raised andpickets posted. “No rumration until this is over,” hetold Sergeant Krelnik,dismounting from Spit andrubbing the ache inhisback.“I expect several more daysofhardmarching.Don’twantthe men’s feet slowed byliquor. Any man whocomplainscantakeitupwith

mepersonally.”“There’ll be no

complaints,mylord,”Krelnikassured him before stridingoff,hisharshgravelledvoicecasting forth a torrent oforders.

LeavingSpitinthecareof a brother in Makril’scommand he found thePrince’spartyencampedneara willow tree close to thebridge. “Lord Vaelin,”

Captain Smolen greeted himformally, snapping off aprecise salute. “Good to seeyouagain.”

“Captain.” Vaelin wasstill cautious of the Captainafter his part in placing himinPrincessLyrna’scompany.Still, it seemed churlish tohold it against him, he couldunderstandhowamanwouldfind it all too easy to accedetoherpersuasion.

“Must say I’m glad ofthe chance to be a soldieragain.” Captain Smoleninclined his head at thecampfire where a huddled,cloakedfigurestared into theflames,takingoccasionalsipsfrom a wine bottle. “I feel Ihave been nurse-maiding thenewFiefLordlongenough.”

“He is a demandingchargethen?”

“Hardly. My duties

consist mainly of keepinghim supplied with wine andrefusing to procure him awhore. If he’s not asking foreither he rarely saysanything.” The Captaingestured at the tent pitchednearby.“HisHighnesssaidtobidyou enter as soon as youarrive.”

He found the princehunchedoveratable,hisgazefixed on the map spread out

before him. Seated in thecornerof the tentAluciusAlHestian looked up from thescroll on which he had beenwriting.

“Brother,” the princegreeted him warmly, comingforward to take his hand.“Yourmenmadegoodtime.Ididn’texpectyouforanotherhourortwo.”

“The regimentmarcheswell,Highness.”

“I’m very glad to hearit. They’ll have many moremiles to cover before we’redone.”Hemovedbacktothetable, glancing at Alucius.“Some wine for BrotherVaelin,Alucius.”

“Thank you, Highness,butIwouldpreferwater.”

“Asyouwish.”Theyoungpoetpoured

agobletofwaterfromaflaskand handed it to Vaelin, his

expression was guarded butstill eager foracknowledgement.“Iamgladtoseeyouagain,mylord.”

“And I you, sir.” Histonewasneutralbut,fromtheway Alucius drew back, heknew his face must havebetrayedhisthoughts.

“Check on the horseswillyou,Alucius?”theprinceasked. “Ranger gets feistywhen he’s not groomed

properly.”“I will, Highness.”

Alucius bowed and departed,casting another guarded lookin Vaelin’s direction beforethe tent flap closed behindhim.

“He begged me,”PrinceMalciussaid.“Saidhewould follow us even if Icommanded him not to. Imade him my squire, whatelsecouldIdo?”

“Squire,Highness?”“A Renfaelin custom.

Younger nobles areapprenticed to seasonedknights to learn their trade.”He paused, noting Vaelin’sexpression. “I see you sharemysister’sdisapproval.”

“His brother didn’twant this for him. It was hisdyingwish.”

“ThenIamsorry.Butamanmustmakehisownpath

inlife.”“A man yes. But he is

still a boy. All he knows ofwarcomesfromabook.”

“I had barely fourteenyears when I accompaniedour fleet to the MeldeneanIslands.Ithoughtofwarasagrand escapade. I soonlearned Iwaswrong.And sowillAlucius. It is the lessonswe learn thatchangeus fromboystomen.”

“Hashebeentrainedatleast?”

“Hisfatherattemptedtohave him tutored in thesword, but apparently hemade a poor student. I’veaskedCaptainSmolentogivehimsomeinstruction.”

“Captain Smolenappears a fine officer,Highness, but I wouldconsideritafavourifIcouldbepermittedtotraintheboy.”

Prince Malciusconsidered a moment. “So,friendship with one brotherextendstotheother?”

“Morelikeobligation.”“Obligation. I know a

little about that. Very well,train the boy if you wish.Thoughwhereyou’llfindthetime I can’t imagine. Lookhere.” He turned back to themap. “Ourmission is like toprovearduous.”

Themapwasadetaileddepiction of the borderbetween Cumbrael andAsrael, from the southerncoast to the mountainsforming the northernboundary with Nilsael. “Wearecurrentlyencampedhere.”The prince pointed to thecrossing at the westernbranch of the Brinewash.“Whilst Battle Lord AlHestian leads the Realm

Guard along the WesternRoad to the fordnorthof theMartishe. From there hewillmake for the Cumbraelincapital, no doubt spreadingfire and terror in his wake.Most likelyhewill reach thecapital in twenty days,perhaps twenty-five if theCumbraelins mustersufficient force to meet himin the field. Have no doubt,whenhegetstothecityitwill

burn, and many innocentsouls will burn with it.”Prince Malcius met Vaelin’seyes,hisgazeunblinkingandintent. “Would theOrders ofour Faith rejoice or weep atsuchanoutcome,brother?Somany Deniers given to thefiretotroubleusnomore.”

“The truly Faithfulcould never rejoice at thespilling of innocent blood,Highness.Denierornot.”

“Thenyouwouldagreethat we should seize anychance we have to halt suchslaughterbeforeitbegins?”

“Ofcourse.”“Good!” The Prince’s

fist thumped the tableandhemoved to the tent flap. “FiefLord Mustor! Your attentionplease.”

It tooktheFiefLordofCumbraelseveralmomentstoanswer the summons, his

unshaven visage even moredrawn and wasted thanVaelinremembered.Themanwas clearly still drunk andVaelin was surprised at thesteadinessofhisvoice.

“Brother Vaelin. Iunderstand congratulationsareinorder.”

“Congratulations, mylord?”

“YouaremadeaSwordof theRealm are you not? It

seems your elevationcoincideswithmyown.”Hislaughwasloadedwithirony.

“I was acquaintingbrother Vaelin with ourdesign,LordMustor,” PrinceMalcius informed him. “Heagrees with the intent of ourmission.”

“I’m so glad. Reallywouldrathernotinheritafiefcomposed mostly of ash andcorpses.”

“Quite,” the princemuttered,movingbacktothemap. “Fief Lord Mustor hasbeen gracious enough toprovide us with what hebelieves to be soundintelligence regarding thedispositions of his usurpingbrother. Although the BattleLordwill no doubt expect tofind him at the Cumbraelincapital, Lord Mustor iscertain we will in fact find

him here.” His finger tappedat a point to the north, anarrowpassintheGreypeaks,the mountain range formingthe natural border betweenCumbrealandAsrael.

Vaelinpeeredcloselyatthe map. “There’s nothingthere,Highness.”

Fief Lord Mustorsnortedashortlaugh.“Won’tfind it on any map, brother.Myfatherandallhisfather’s

fathersmadesureofthat.It’scalled the High Keep, withgoodreasonIassureyou.Themost impregnablefortification in the fief, ifnotthe Realm. Granite walls ahundred feet high andcommanding views over allapproaches. It’s never beentaken.Mypoordeluded littlebrother will be there, nodoubt surrounded by a fewhundred loyal fanatics.

Probably spending their timequoting theTenBooksat thetop of their lungs andwhipping each other forimpiousthoughts.”Hepausedto look hopefully around thetent.“Doyouperchancehaveanything to drink, PrinceMalcius? I find myself quiteparched.”

Vaelin saw the princebitebackanirritatedretortashe pointed at thewine bottle

on a small table. “Ah, mostkind.”

“Forgiveme,my lord,”Vaelinsaid.“Butif thiskeepisimpregnable,howarewetogainaccesstotheusurper?”

“By means of myfamily’s most cherishedsecret, brother.” Fief LordMustorsmackedhislipsashetastedageneroussipofwine.“Ah, a fine red from theWerlishe Valley. My

compliments on your cellar,Highness.” He took another,moregeneroussip.

“Secret, my lord?”Vaelinprompted.

The Fief Lord’s browsknitted in momentarypuzzlement. “Oh, the keep.Yes, the family secret, onlyentrustedtothefirstbornson.The keep’s only weakness.Many years ago when thekeepwasthemainseatofour

house, one of my forebearsbecame somewhat fearful ofhis own subjects andconvinced himself theHouseGuards were in league withplotters to bring about hisdownfall. In need of anescape route in a time ofcrisis he had a tunnel hewnthrough the mountain and,havinghadalltheminerswhodid the hewing quietlypoisoned,entrustedthesecret

ofitslocationtohisfirstbornson. Ironically, it appears hisconstant fear of plotters wasmerely a symptom of theblackpox,whichcaneffectaman’s mind as much as hismember, and from which heexpired a fewmonths later.”He drained his wine glass.“This really is a ratherexcellentvintage.”

“So you see,” PrinceMalcius said. “TheFiefLord

will lead us to the tunnel,yourmenwillstormthekeepand theusurperwillbe takeninto custody to face theKing’sjustice.”

“Hardly likely,Highness,”LordMustorsaid,reaching for the bottle again.“I’m sure my brother willmake every effort to martyrhimself in service to theWorldFather.Still, IdaresayBrother Vaelin and his band

of cut-throats are more thanuptothetask.”

“I am puzzled, LordMustor,” Vaelin said. “Yourbrother has murdered yourfather in order to claim thefief as his own, yet hesecludes himself in a remotecastlewhilsttheRealmGuardmarchesonhiscapital.”

“MybrotherHentesisafanatic,”LordMustor repliedwith a shrug. “When it

became clear my father wasgoing to bend the knee toKingJanushecalledhimtoasecret meeting and stuck hisswordinhisheartasaserviceto the World Father. Nodoubt the more vehementpriests and followers wouldhave approved but Cumbraelis not a land that couldtolerate a Fief Lord whoascendsby themurderofhisown father. Whatever the

thoughts of the commoners,thevassalswho followedmyfather would not followHentes. They’ll fight yourarmy, they have little choiceafter all, but only in defenceofthefief.Mybrotherwillbeat the Keep, he can gonowhereelse.”

“And once the usurperis… dislodged?” VaelinaskedPrinceMalcius.

“The reason for this

war will have disappeared.But it all depends on time.”He turned his attention backto themap,his finger tracingtheroutefromtheBrinewashbridge to the pass where theHigh Keep waited. “Bestguess, the pass is twohundred miles distant. If wearetoaccomplishourgoalwemust get there in sufficienttime to allow word to betakentotheBattleLord.”He

reached for a sealedparchmenton the table. “TheKing has already set down acommand for the RealmGuard to return to Asrael intheeventwearesuccessful.”

Vaelin quicklycalculated the distancebetween the pass and theCumbraelin capital.Nearly ahundredmiles, twodays rideforafasthorse.Nortahcoulddo it, maybe Dentos too.

Getting to the keep in time,that’s the hard part. Theregimentwillhavetocoveratleasttwentymilesaday.

“Can it be done,brother?”thePrinceasked.

Vaelin’s gaze turned tothe Cumbraelin villages laidout on the map in precise,neat lines.Hewonderedhowmanypeopleinthosehamletsalong theWestern Road hadany notion of the storm that

would soon descend. Whenthis war was done perhapsanothermapwouldhavetobedrawn. InCumbrael youwillsee many things. Manyterrible things. “It will bedone,Highness,”hesaidwithflat certainty. I’ll whip themallthewaythereifIhaveto.

And so they marched,fourhoursatastretch,twelvehours a day. They marched.

On through the grass landsnorth of the Brinewash, intothe hills and valleys beyondand the foothills thatsignalled entry into bordercountry.Menwhofelloutonthe march were kicked totheir feet and hounded intomovement, those whocollapsedgivenhalfadayonthe wagon then put back onthe road.Vaelin had decreedthe only men left behind

would be ready to join theDeparted and counted ontheirfearofhimtokeepthemmoving.Sofarithadworked.They were sullen, weigheddown by weapons andprovisions,theirmoodsouredby his order cancelling therum ration until furthernotice, but they were stillafraid,andtheystillmarched.

Every night Vaelinwould seek out Alucius Al

Hestian for two hours oftraining.Theboywasinitiallydelighted by the attention.“You honour me, my lord,”hesaidgravely,standingwithhis long-sword held out infront of him as if he wereholding a mop. Vaelinslasheditfromhisgripwithaflickofhiswrist.

“Don’tbehonoured,beattentive.Pickthatup.”

An hour later it had

become obvious that as aswordsman Alucius made afine poet. “Get up,” Vaelintold him, having sent himsprawling with a flat bladedblow to the legs. He hadrepeated the samemove fourtimes and the boy had failedtonoticethepattern.

“I,um,needsomemorepractice…” Alucius began,his face flushed, tears ofhumiliation shining in his

eyes.“Sir, you have no gift

for this,” Vaelin said. “Youareslow,clumsyandhavenoappetite for the fight. I begyou, ask Prince Malcius toreleaseyouandgohome.”

“She put you up tothis.”Forthefirst time, therewas some hostility inAlucius’s tone. “Lyrna.Trying to protectme.Well Iwon’t be protected, my lord.

My brother’s death demandsa reckoning, and I will haveit. If I have to walk all theway to the usurper’s keepmyself.”

More boy’s words. Butthere was a strength to themnonetheless, a conviction.“Your courage does youcredit, sir. But proceedingwith this will only result inyourdeath…”

“Thenteachme.”

“I’vetried…”“Youhavenot!You’ve

triedtomakemeleave,that’sall. Teach me properly, thentherewillbenoblame.”

It was true of course.He had thought an hour ortwo of humiliation would beenoughtoconvincetheboytogo home. Could he reallytrainhiminthetimeleft?Helooked at the way Aluciusheldhissword,howheheldit

close to his body to balancethe weight of it. “Yourbrother’s sword,” he said,recognising the bluestonepommel.

“Yes.Ithoughtitwouldhonour him if I carried it towar.”

“Hewastallerthanyou,stronger too.”He thought fora moment then went to histent, returning with theVolarian short sword King

Janushadgivenhim.“Here,”he tossed the weapon toAlucius. “A royal gift. Let’sseeifyoufareanybetterwithit.”

He was still clumsy,still too easily fooled, but atleast had gained somequickness, parrying a coupleofthrustsandevenmanagingacounterstrokeortwo.

“That’s enough fornow,”Vaelinsaid,notingthe

sweat on his brow and hisheaving chest. “Best if youstrapyourbrother’s sword toyour saddle from now on. Inthe morning, rise early andpractice the moves I showedyou for an hour. We’ll trainagaintomorrowevening.”

For nine more nightsthey trained,afteranarduousday’s march, Vaelin wouldtry to turn a poet into aswordsman.

“You don’t block theblade, you turn it,” he toldAlucius,annoyedhesoundedso much like Master Sollis.“Deflect the force of theblow,don’tabsorbit.”

He feinted a thrust attheboy’sbellythensweptthebladeupandaround,slashingat the legs. Alucius steppedback, the blade missing byinches, and countered with alunge of his own, it was

clumsy, unbalanced andeasily parried, but it wasquick. Despite his continualmisgivings, he wasimpressed.

“All right. That’ll dofor now. Sharpen your edgeandgetsomerest.”

“Thatwasbetterwasn’tit?” Alucius asked. “I amgettingbetter?”

Vaelin sheathed hissword and gave the boy and

patontheshoulder.“Itseemsthere’s awarrior inyouafterall.”

Onthetenthdayoneof

Brother Makril’s scoutsreported the pass less thanhalf a day’s march distant.Vaelin ordered the regimenttocampand rodeaheadwithPrince Malcius and LordMustor to locate the tunnelentrance, Makril’s command

riding as escort. The greenhills soon gave way toboulder strewn slopes onwhich the horses could findscant purchase. Spit grewfractious,tossinghisheadandsnortingloudly.

“Foul tempered animalyou have there, brother,”PrinceMalciusobserved.

“He doesn’t like theground.” Vaelin dismounted,taking his bow and quiver

fromthesaddle.“We’llleavethe horses here with one ofBrother Makril’s men,proceedonfoot.”

“Must we?” LordMustor asked. “It’s milesyet.” His sagging featuresshowed the signs of yetanother night’s indulgenceand Vaelin was surprised hehadmanagedtoremaininthesaddle for thedurationof themarch.

“Then we had best notlinger,mylord.”

They struggled upwardfor another hour or so, thedark majesty of theGreypeaks an oppressive,dominating presence above.The summits seemed evershrouded in mist, hiding thesun, the muted light makingthelandscapeuniformlygrey.Although itwas late summertheairwaschilled,possessed

of a cloying dampness thatseepedintotheirclothes.

“By the Father I hatethis place,” Lord Mustorgaspedwhentheyhadpausedforarest.Heslumpedagainsta rocky outcrop and slid tothe ground, unstoppering aflask. “Water,” he said,noting the prince’sdisapprovingglare.“Truthbetold, I had hoped I’d neverseeCumbraelagainatall.”

“YouaretheheirtotheLordshipofthisland,”Vaelinpointed out. “It seems anunlikely ambition never toreturntoit.”

“Oh,Iwasnevermeantto sit on the Chair. Thathonour would have beenafforded Hentes, mymurderoussibling,whommyfather loved dearly. Must’vebrokentheoldbastard’sheartwhen he lost him to the

priests. He was always thefavoured son, you see. Bestwith the bow, best with thesword, quick of wit, tall andhandsome. Sired threebastards of his own by histwenty-fifthyear.”

“He doesn’t sound likethe most devout of men,”PrinceMalciusobserved.

“He wasn’t.” LordMustortookalonggulpfromhis flask causing Vaelin to

suspect it contained morethan water. “But that wasbeforehetookanarrowintheface during a skirmish withsome outlaws. My father’ssurgeon removed thearrowhead but my brothertook a fever and lay neardeathforseveraldays,atonepoint it’s said his heartstopped beating. But theFather saw fit to spare him,andonce recoveredhewas a

changedman.The handsomecarousing, wench-chasingwarrior became a scarred,pious devotee of the tenbooks. Hentes True-bladethey called him. He cuthimself off from his oldfriends, shunned his manylovers, sought out thecompany of the most ardentand radical priests.Hebegantopreach,passionatesermonsdescribing thevisionshehad

seen as he lay dying. HeclaimedtheWorldFatherhadspokentohim,shownhimtheglorious path to redemption.Much of which apparentlyinvolves converting youforeign heathens to theteachingsofthetenbooks,atswordpoint ifnecessary.Myfatherhad littlechoicebut tosend him away, along withhis ever growing band offollowers.”

“And you say hebelievesyourgodtoldhimtoassassinate your father?” thePrinceasked.

“My brother’s beliefsare not always easilyunderstood, even by hisdisciples.ButtheverynotionoftheFiefLordofCumbraelabasinghimselftoKingJanuswould have been anathema,especially since it resultedfromwhatheseesasBrother

Vaelin’s persecution of theholywarriorsintheMartishe.So he invitedmy father to ameeting, under the pretenceof seeking a return fromexile, and there, with noguards to protect him, hekilledhim.”

He paused to drinkagain, his gaze lingering onVaelin. “My sources writethat your name is known inCumbrael now, brother.

Hentes may be the True-blade, but you are theDarkblade.It’sfromtheFifthBook, theBookofProphecy.Centuriesagoaseerspokeofa near-invincible hereticswordsman: ‘He will smitethe holy and strike downthose who labour in theservice of the World Father.Knowhimbyhisbladefor itwas forged in an unnaturalfire and guided by the voice

oftheDark.’”Darkblade? Vaelin

thoughtoftheblood-songandwhatNersusSilNinhad toldhim of its origins. Perhapsthey have it right.He got tohis feet. “We’d best presson.”

“Well that’s a lot of

fucking use!” BrotherCommander Makril spat onthe ground near Lord

Mustor’sfeet.The Fief Lord drew

back,aglimmeroffearinhiseyes. “It was open ten yearsago,” he said, a faint whinecolouringinhisvoice.

Vaelin peered into thetunnel entrance, a narrowcrack in a windswept cliff-face they would have barelynoticedifLordMustorhadn’tpointeditout.Inthegloomofthe tunnel entrance he could

just make out the source ofMakril’sanger;apileofhugeboulders sealed the passagefrom floor to ceiling. Themass of rock was far tooheavy to move with theirsmallforce.Makrilwasright,thetunnelwasuseless.

“I don’t understand it,”Lord Mustor was saying. “Itwas as well built as it couldbe. No-one save my fatherandIknewofitsexistence.”

Vaelin moved into thetunnel, running a hand overthe surface of one of theboulders, feeling how it wassmooth in one place andrough in another, his fingersfindingthehardedgesleftbyachisel.“Thisstonehasbeenworked loose. Recently, ifI’manyjudge.”

“It appears yourgreatest secret has beenbetrayed, my lord,” Prince

Malciusobserved.“If,asyousay, your father favouredyour brother over you, hemayhavefeltitappropriatetosharethesecretwithhim.”

“What are we to do?”Lord Mustor askedplaintively.“ThereisnootherwayintotheHighKeep.”

“Except by siege,” theprince said. “And we havenot the time,men or enginesforthat.”

Vaelin emerged fromthetunnel.“Isthereavantagepoint nearby where we canview the keep without beingseen?”

Itwas a perilous climbupanarrow,rockstrewnpathbut they made good time,despite Lord Mustor’sconstant grumbling about hisblisteredfeet.Eventuallytheycametoaledgeshieldedfromthewindbyalargeoutcropof

rock.“Best stay low,” Lord

Mustoradvised.“Idoubtanysentry will have eyes keenenough to see us, but weshouldn’ttrusttochance.”Hecrept to the shoulder of theoutcrop and pointed. “There,hardly the most elegant ofarchitectureisit?”

The High Keep washard to miss, its walls rosefrom the mountain like a

blunted spear-point thrust upthrough the rock. LordMustor was right in notingthe building’s lack ofelegance. It was devoid ofanydecoration,unadornedbystatuary or minarets, thesmooth plane of the wallsbrokenonlybyascatteringofarrow slits. A single bannerbearing the holywhite flameof the Cumbraelin godsnapped atop a tall lance on

the bastion above the gate.The only approach to thekeep was a single narrowroad rising steeply from thefloor of the pass. They werelevelwith the topof thewalland Vaelin could see theblack specks of sentries atopthebattlements.

“You see, LordVaelin?” Mustor said. “It’sunassailable.”

Vaelin edged closer,

peering down at the base ofthe keep; irregular rockgiving way to smooth walls.The rocks aren’t a problem,but the wall? “How tall didyou say the walls are, mylord?”

“Are you sure you can

dothis?”Gallistheclimberlifted

thecoilofropeoverhishead,settling the weight on his

shoulders and glanced up atthe towering keep above. “Idolikeachallenge,milord.”

Vaelin pushed hisdoubts to the recess of hismind and handed the man adagger.“DothisformeandImight forget I’m angry withyou.”

“I’ll settle for thatflagon ofwine you promisedme.” Gallis grinned, pushingthe dagger into his boot and

turning to the rock face, hishands exploring the granitefor holds, dextrous fingerstracing over the irregularsurface with intuitiveprecision. After a fewseconds he took hold andbegan to climb, his bodymoving fluidlyover thecliff,his hands and feet findingpurchase seemingly of theirown volition. Ten feet or sooff the ground he paused to

lookdownatVaelin, smilingbroadly. “Easier than amerchant’shousebyfar.”

Vaelin watched himascend from the cliff to thewall, growing smaller thehigher he climbed until heseemedlikeanantstrugglingon the trunk of a great tree.He never faltered, neverslipped. Satisfied he wasn’tactually going to fall Vaelinturned to the brothers and

soldiers crouched in thedarkness about him. Theywere a mixture of Nortah’sbest archers and brothersfrom Makril’s command,twenty men in all. It wasscant force against thenumbersguardingtheusurperbut anymorewould increasetheriskofdetection.Therestof the regiment was waitingat the foot of the long uphillroad to the keep’s gate,

Brother Makril had thecommand and would lead amounted charge with PrinceMalcius when the gate wasopened.Caeniswould followwith the main body on foot.Vaelinhadenduredstrenuousobjectionsagainstleadingtheassault on the gate, Caenisstating flatly that his placewaswiththemen.

“I was sent for theusurper,” Vaelin replied. “I

intend to get him, alive ifpossible.Besides,I’dlikethechance to talk to him. I’msure he has many interestingthingstosay.”

“Youmeanyouwanttotest his sword,” Makril said.“His Lordship’s tales madeyou wonder, did they?Wantto know if he’s as good asyou.”

Is that it? Vaelinwondered. In truth he felt no

hunger for matching steelwith the True-blade. In facthe harboured no doubts thathecoulddefeatthemanwhenhe found him. But he didwanttoconfronthim,hearhisvoice. Lord Mustor’s storyhadindeedmadehimcurious.The usurper believed he wasdoing the work of his god,like the Cumbraelin he hadwatched die in theMartishe.What drives them to this?

What makes a man murderfor his god? But there wassomething more, ever sincehe had first glimpsed theHighKeep,theblood-song.Itwasfaintatfirst,butgrewinpowerasnightfell.Itwasnota note of warning exactly,more an urgency, a need todiscoverwhatwaitedinside.

He beckoned Nortahand Dentos closer, hiswhispered words misting the

airinthedarkmountainchill.“Nortah,takeyourmenalongthe battlements. Kill thesentries and cover thecourtyard. Dentos, take thebrotherstothegatehouse,getthe gate raised and hold ituntiltheregimentarrives.”

“And you brother?”Nortah asked with a raisedeyebrow.

“I have business in thekeep.” He glanced up at

Gallis’s shrinking form.“Nortah, tellyourmennot toscream if they fall. TheDeparted won’t accept acoward into the Beyond.Lucktoyou,brothers.”

He was first to follow

Gallisuptherope,thewindahowling, unseen monsterthreatening to tear him fromthewall at anymoment. Hisarms were burning with the

effort and his hands grippedthe rope with ice numbfingers by the time he cameupon Gallis. The one-timethief was perched just belowthe lip of the battlement, hisfingertips clamped on theedgeofthestone,legsbracedagainsthewall.Vaelincouldonlymarvelat the strength itmusthave taken to remain insuch a position for so long.Gallis nodded as Vaelin

dragged himself level withtheirongrapplelodgedonthebattlement, his “Milord” ofgreeting lost to the wind.Vaelintookaonehandedgriponthegrappleandflexedthefingers of his right hand toregain some feeling. Heturned to Gallis with aquestioningglance.

“One,”Gallismouthed,inclining his head at thebattlement.“Looksbored.”

Vaelin inched himselfupforaquickglanceoverthewall. The guard was a fewyards away, huddled in hiscloakintheshelterofasmallalcove in the battlements, aflaming torch guttered in thewind above his head,scattering sparks into theblackvoid.Thesentry’sspearand bow were proppedagainst thewallasherubbedhis hands vigorously, breath

steaming in the air. Vaelinreached over his shoulder todraw his sword, breatheddeeply then hauled himselfoverthewallinasinglefluidmotion. He had counted onsurprise to prevent the guardcallingout thealarmbutwassurprised himself when theman failed even to reach forhisweapons,simplystandingin shocked immobility as thestar-silver blade took him in

thethroat.Vaelin lowered the body tothe rampart floor andbeckoned Gallis over thewall. “Here,” he whispered,stripping the blood-soddencloak from the corpse andtossingittotheclimber.“Putthisonandwalkaroundabit.Try to look Cumbraelin. Ifanyoftheotherguardstalktoyou,killthem.”

Gallis grimaced at the

blooddrippingfromthecloakbut pulled it about hisshoulders without complaint,tugging the hood over hishead so his face wasconcealed in shadow. Hestrolled slowly out of theshelter of the small alcoveand moved along thebattlements, rubbing hishands beneath his cloak,giving every impression ofbeing nothing more than a

bored sentry walking a wallonacoldnight.

Vaelin moved to thegrapple and tugged hard onthe rope, once then twice. Ittook an age before Nortah’sheadappearedabovethewalland even longer before themen followed him. Dentoswas the last, struggling overthe battlement and sinkingslowly to the floor, thetrembleinhishandsnotonly

asymptomofthecold,hehadneverlikedheights.

Vaelin did a headcount,gruntinginsatisfactionthattherehadbeennofallers.“Notimeforrest,brother,”hewhispered toDentos, tugginghim to his feet. “You knowwhattodo.Keepitasquietasyoucan.”

The two partiesseparated to pursue theirmissions, Nortah leading his

bowmen along thebattlementstotheleft,arrowsnotched, Dentos taking thebrothers in the oppositedirection towards the gatehouse. Soon there came thehard snap of bowstrings asNortah’s men dealt with thesentries. There were a fewstifledshoutsofalarmbutnoscreams and no answeringclamour from the keep.Vaelin found the steps to the

courtyard and hurrieddownwards. Lord Mustor’sdescription of the keep hadbeen vague, the man’smemory for detail wassomewhat dulled, but he hadbeen clear on one thing: hisbrother would be in theLord’s Chamber, the hub ofthe High Keep which couldbe reached by the doordirectly opposite the maingate.

Vaelin moved quickly,the blood-song louder now,anedgeofwarningcolouringthe tune: find him. Heencountered two men uponopening the door, burlyfellows leaning close to oneanother as they shared acandle flame, pipe smokebillowing. They were seatedatasmall table,ahalf-emptybottle of brandy and anopened book between them.

Thefirstdiedashesurgedtohis feet, the sword sweepingacross his chest, slicingthrough flesh and bone in asilver blur. The secondmanaged togetahand to thedagger in his belt beforeVaelin cut him down with aslash to the neck. It was anuntidy blow and the manlingered for a moment, ascreamrisingfromhisruinedthroat. Vaelin clamped his

handovertheman’smouthtosmother the sound, bloodgouting through his fingers,punching the sword bladehard into theman’s guts.Heheld him down as hetwitched, watching the lifefadefromhiseyes.

He wiped his bloodiedhandontheman’sjerkinandtook stock of hissurroundings. A small roomwithapassageleadingdeeper

into the keep and a stairwayoff to the left. Lord Mustorhad told him the Lord’sChamberwasatgroundlevelso he took the passage,moving slower now, eachshadowed corner a potentialthreat.Soonhefoundhimselfbefore a large oaken door,slightly ajar, outlined by thetorch-litchamberbeyond.

Howmanyguardswithhim? he wondered, his hand

already reaching out to pushthedooropen.Thisisfoolish.Ishouldwaitfortheothers…But the blood-song was soloud now, forcing himforward.FINDHIM!

There were no guards,just a large stone chamber,thewallsshroudedinshadowbeyond the six stone pillarsthat supported the ceiling.The man seated on a dais atthe far end of the chamber

was tall and broad-shouldered, his handsomefacemarredbyadeepscaronhisleftcheek.Anakedswordlay across his knees, a plain,narrowbladedweaponVaelinrecognisedasRenfaelin fromthe absence of a guard;Cumbraelins were renownedbowsmiths but reputedlyknew little of forging steel.The man said nothing asVaelin entered, remaining

seated and regarding himwith silent intent, his eyesemptyoffear.

Now he stoodconfronted by his quarry theblood-song lost its shrillness,diminishing to a soft butsteadymurmuratthebackofhismind.AmIwhereitwantsme to be? he thought. OrwhereIneed tobe? Ineithercase, he saw little reason forpreamble.

“Hentes Mustor!” hesaid, striding forward. “YouarecalledbytheKing’sWordto answer charges of treasonand murder. Give up yoursword and stand ready to beshackled.”

Hentes Mustorremained seated as Vaelinapproached, neither speakingnor reaching for hisweapon.It was only when Vaelincame within the last few

yards that he noticed a chaincoiled around his left wristand traced the dark links ofiron from his hand to theshadows between the pillars.Mustor’s hand jerked in aquick, skilful motion, thechain snapping like a whip,striking sparks from theflagstones as a figure wasdragged from thedarkness, aslender figure, gagged withwristsshackled.Shestumbled

to her knees before Mustorand Vaelin had time to notethe grey robe she wore andthe dark tumble of her hairbeforetheusurperwasonhisfeet with his sword at herthroat.

“Brother,” he said in asoft, almost sorrowful voice.“I believe this youngwomanisknowntoyou.”

Her eyes were bright,fearful, pleading. Her shouts

stopped by the gag but themeaning was clear in theemphatic,franticshakeofherhead. Her eyes locked ontohis andhe read themclearly.Do not sacrifice yourself forme!Thegagand thepassageof years meant nothing. Hewould have known heranywhere.Sherin!

Chapter6“Your sword, brother,”

HentesMustorsaidinhissoftvoice.

Thereshouldhavebeenrage, desperate, bloody ragesendingathrowingknifeintoMustor’s arm and a swordcleaving deep into his neck.But something choked it offas it rose in his breast. Itwasn’t just caution, although

the man was quick, farquicker than Gallis theclimber had been all thoseyears ago, it was somethingmore. For a second he waslostinconfusionthenitcametohim:theblood-song’stunehadn’t changed. The samesoft,steadymurmurstillsangin his head, devoid of thewarning or wrongness heknewsowell.

His sword landed with

a clatter atMustor’s feet, thesoundminglingwithSherin’smuffledsobofdespair.

“And so,” Mustorkicked the sword away intothe shadows, his tone heavywith reverence. “The truthofHis word is shown again.”His eyes fixed on Vaelin.“Your other weapons, throwthemaway.Slowly.”

Vaelin did as he wasbid,hisknivesandthedagger

in his boot tossed into theshadows. “Now I amdisarmed,” he said. “Is thereany reason to threaten mysisterso?”

Mustor glanced atSherin’s reddened face, as ifremembering she was there.“Your sister. He told methat’s not how you think ofher. She is your love, is shenot? The key by which yourfaithcanbeunlocked.”

“My faith cannot beunlocked,mylord.I’vegivenyoumysword,that’sall.”

“Yes.” Mustor nodded,his voice flat with certainty.“AsHesaidyouwould.”

Is he mad? Vaelinwondered. The man was apatent fanatic but did thatmakehiminsane?HerecalledSentes Mustor’s story of hisbrother’s conversion. Heclaimed the World Father

had spoken to him… “Yourgod? He told you I wouldcomehere?”

“He is notmy god!Heis the World Father whocreated all and knows all inHis love, even heretics likeyou.AndIamblessedbyHisvoice.Hewarnedmeofyourcoming and that your Darkskill with the blade wouldundome,thoughinmysinfulpride I longed to face you

without this trickery. Heguided me to the missionwhere this woman could befound. And it was all as Heforetold.”

“Did he foretell thatyouwouldkillyourfather?”

“My father…” ThecertaintyfadedfromMustor’seyes and he blinked, hisexpression guarded. “Myfatherlosthisway.HeturnedawayfromtheWorldFather's

love.”“He didn’t turn away

from you. He gave you thiskeep did he not? Gave youletters of safe passage toensure you could travel hereunmolested.Heeventoldyouthe most cherished secret ofyour family: the passagethroughthemountain.Hedidall this to ensure you wouldbesafe.Youaretobeenviedto have been so loved. And

you repaid him with a bladeinhisheart.”

“He strayed from thelaw of the Ten Books. Histoleration of your hereticdominion couldnot beborneforever.Ihadnochoicebuttoact…”

“A strange god thatlovesyou somuchhemakesyoumurderyourownfather.”

“SHUT UP!” Mustorscreamed in a voice that

almost sobbed with sorrow,flinging Sherin away as headvanced on Vaelin, swordlevelled.“Shutyourmouth!Iknow what you are. Don’tthinkHedidnottellme.YouareapractitioneroftheDark.You shun the Father’s love.Youknownothing.”

Still the blood-song’stunefailedtochange,evenasthe usurper’s blade camewithinahand’sbreadthofhis

chest. “Are you ready?”Mustorasked.“Areyoureadytodie,Darkblade?”

Vaelin noted the wayMustor’s sword-tip trembled,themoist rednessofhis eyesand the hard clench of hisjaw. “Are you ready to killme?”

“IwilldowhatImust.”His voice was grating now,forced out through clenchedteeth. His whole body

appearedtotremble,hischestheaving, seeming to Vaelinlike a man at war withhimself. The sword tipwavered but did not move,neitherforwardnorback.

“Forgiveme,my lord,”he said. “But I doubt youhaveanykillingleftinyou.”

“Just one more,”Mustor whispered. “Just onemore, He told me. Then atlast I could rest. The Eternal

Fields would finally beopened to me where I wasdeniedbefore.”

From beyond the doorcame the first sounds ofbattle, many voices raised inalarm soon drowned in theclatter of iron-shod hoovesand thehard ringof clashingsteel.

“What?” Mustorseemed bewildered, his gazeflicking continually between

Vaelinandthedoor.“Whatisthis?Do you seek to distractmewithsomeDarkillusion?”

Vaelin shook his head.“My men are storming thekeep.”

“Your men?” His facetookonanexpressionofdeepconfusion. “But you camealone. He said you wouldcome alone.” His sword fellto his side as he stumbledback a few steps, his gaze

distant, unfocused. “He saidyouwouldcomealone…”

Kill him now! A voiceshouted in Vaelin’s mind, avoice he had thought lost inthe Martishe, the voice thathad endlessly mocked hispreparations forAlHestian’smurder. He’s within reach,take his sword away andbreakhisneck!

The voice was right, itwould be an easy kill.

Whatever madness ordisturbancecloudedMustor’sthoughts had left himdefenceless. But the blood-song’stunewasunchanged…Andhiswordsraisedsomanyquestions.

“You have beendeceived, my lord,” VaelintoldMustorsoftly.“Whatevervoicespeaksinyourmindhasplayedyoufalse.Icameherewith a full regiment of foot

and a company of mountedbrothers. And I doubt mydeath, or any death, wouldbuy you a place in theBeyond.”

Mustor staggered,almostfallingtothefloor.Hefroze,onlyforamoment,butitwasamomentofcompletestillness,standingasifcarvedfrom ice. When he movedagain the depth of confusionmarring his features had

vanished,replacedbythefaceofamaninfullpossessionofhis faculties, one eyebrowraised in amusedconsternation, but the eyescold with hatred. A voiceVaelin had heard beforeissuedfromMustor’slipsinatone of calm certainty. “Youdo continue to surprise me,brother. But this endsnothing.”

Then it was gone,

Mustor’s face once again themask of confusion from asecondbefore.ItwascleartoVaelin that Mustor had noknowledge of what had justtranspired.Something lives inhis mind, he realised.Something that can speakwithhisvoice.Andhedoesn’tknow.

“Hentes Mustor,” hesaid. “You are called by theKing’s word to answer

charges of treason andmurder.” He held out hishand.“Yoursword,mylord.”Mustor looked down at theswordinhishand,turningtheblade so it gleamed in thetorch light. “I washed it andwashed it. Ground the bladeon the stone for hours.But Icanstillseeit,theblood…”

“Yoursword,mylord,”Vaelin repeated, steppingcloser,handoutstretched.

“Yes…” Mustor saidfaintly.“Yes.Bestifyoutakeit…”Hereversedhisholdonthe hilt and lifted the swordtowardsVaelin’shand.

Therewasa sound likethebeatingofahawk’swing,a soft rushofaironVaelin’scheek and a blur of spinningsteel.The blood-song roared,full of wrong and warning,making him stagger with theforce of it.He foundhimself

instinctively reaching for theempty scabbard on his backand felt and instant ofcomplete and utterhelplessness as HentesMustor took the axe full inthe chest. The impact liftedhim off his feet, laying himarms outstretched on thechamberfloor.

“Got the bastard!”Barkus exclaimed, advancingfrom the shadows. “A fine

throw,ifIsayso-”Vaelin’s blow caught

himonthejaw,spinninghimto the floor. “He was givingup!” Anger boiled in him,stoked by the blood-song,makinghishands itchforhisweapons. “He wassurrendering, you stupidbloodyoaf!”

“Thought-” Barkuscoughedredspitonthefloor.“Thoughthewasgoingtokill

you… Had a sword, youdidn’t…Saw the sister lyingthere. I didn’t know.” Heseemedmorebewilderedthanangry.

Thecertain,awfultruththatVaelin had been entirelywilling to kill Barkus in thatmoment shocked the angerfrom him.He reached down,offeringhishand.“Here.”

Barkusstaredupathimfor amoment, a red swelling

already forming on hisjawline. “That really hurt,youknow.”

“I’msorry.”Barkus took his hand,

hauling himself upright.Vaelin looked over atMustor’s body and the darkpoolnowspreadingout fromit.“Seetooursister,”hetoldBarkus, moving to the body,Barkus’s hateful axe stillburiedinhischest.Isthiswhy

I couldn’t touch it? Did thesong know this is what itwouldbeusedfor?

He had hoped therewouldbesomevestigeoflifelingering in Mustor’s breast,enough breath to impart afinalanswertothemysteryofhis murderous and deceitfulgod.ButtherewasnolightinMustor’s eyes, nomovementinhisslackfeatures.Barkus’saxehaddoneitsworkall too

well.He knelt next to the

body recalling the man’sfevered words: the EternalFields would finally beopened to me where I wasdenied before. He laid hishand on Mustor’s chest,reciting softly, “What isdeath?Deathisbutagatewayto the Beyond. It is bothendingandbeginning.Fearitandwelcomeit.”

“I hardly think that’sappropriate.” Sentes Mustor,undisputed Fief Lord ofCumbrael,was lookingdownat his brother’s body with amixtureofangeranddistaste.A naked, untarnished sworddangledfromhishandandhischest heaved withunaccustomed exertion.Vaelinwas impressedhehadmade his way here soquickly,apparentlybyfailing

to trouble himself with anypart of the battle. “Hewouldwant the Prayer of Leavingfrom the Tenth Book,” LordMustor said. “The words ofWorldFather…”

“Agodisalie,”Vaelinquoted harshly. He rose,offering the Fief Lord themost cursory of bows. “Ithink your brother knewthat.”

“Howmany?”“Eighty-nine in all.”

Caenis nodded at the bodieslaid out in the courtyardbelow.“Noquarteraskedandnone given. Just like theMartishe.”He turnedback toVaelin, his expressionsombre. “We lost nine men.Another ten injured. SisterGilma’sseeingtothem.”

“Impressive,” PrinceMalcius commented. He had

his fur trimmed cloak tightabout his shoulders, his redhairflutteredinthechillwindsweeping the battlements.“To lose so few against somany.”

“Betweenourpole-axesandBrotherNortah’s archerson the walls…” Caenisshrugged. “They had littlechance,Highness.”

“Does the Fief Lordhave any instructions

regarding the Cumbraelindead?” Vaelin asked theprince.LordMustorhadbeennotably absent since theconclusion of the battle,apparently busying himselfwithacloseinspectionofthekeep’swinecellar.

“Burn them or throwthem from thewalls. I doubthe’s sober enough to caremucheitherway.”Therewasa hard edge to the prince’s

voice this morning. Vaelinknew he had been at theforefront of the chargethrough the gate, Alucius AlHestian close behind him.There had been a brief butfrenzied defence of thecourtyard by twenty or so ofthe usurper’s followers,Alucius tumbling from hishorseanddisappearingunderthe crush.After the battle hewas pulled from beneath a

pile of bodies, alive butunconscious, his short sworddark with dried blood and alarge lump on his head. Hewas in Sister Gilma’s carenowandstillhadn’twoken.

Make him play with asword for tendaysand lie tohim that he’s a warrior,Vaelin thought heavily.Better if I’d tied him to hissaddleonthefirstdayandsetthehorseontheroadbackto

the city. Vaelin pushed theguilt away and turned toCaenis.

“Doyouknowanythingabout how the Cumbraelinstreattheirdead?”

“Burial, usually.Sinnersaredismemberedandleftintheopentorot.”

“Sounds fair,” PrinceMalciusgrunted.

“Form a party,”VaelintoldCaenis.“Cartthemtothe

base of the mountain andhave them buried. The mapshows a village fivemiles tothe southof thepass.Sendarider for the local priest. Hecan say the appropriatewords.”

Caeniscastanuncertainglance at the prince. “Theusurpertoo?”

“Himtoo.”“The men won’t like

it…”

“I could give a dog’sfart for what they like!”Vaelinflushed,fightingdowntheangerheknewcamefromhis guilt over Alucius. “Askfor volunteers,” he toldCaenis with a sigh. “Doublerumrationandasilverforthefirst twenty to step forward.”Hebowed toPrinceMalcius.“With your permission,Highness. I have otherbusiness…”

“You dispatched yourbest riders I take it?” theprinceasked.

“Brother Nortah andBrother Dentos. With a fairwind the King’s commandwill be in the Battle Lord’shandswithintwodays.”

“Good. I should hateforallofthistobehavebeenfornothing.”

Vaelin thought ofAlucius’s earnest face, red

from exertion after anotherclumsy hour attempting tomaster the blade. “And IHighness.”

Hisskinwaspallidand

clammy to the touch, blackhair clinging to his sweat-damp scalp. The regular,untroubledriseandfallofhischest did nothing to assuageVaelin’sguilt.

“He will be well again

soon enough.” Sister Sherinplaced a hand on Alucius’sforehead. “The fever brokequickly,thelumponhisheadis already diminished andsee.” She gestured at hisclosed eyes and Vaelin sawthe impression of his pupilsmovingbeneaththelids.

“Whatdoesitmean?”“He’s dreaming, so his

brain is likely undamaged.He’ll wake in a few hours,

feeling awful. But he willwake.”Shemethiseyes,hersmile bright and warm. “It’svery good to see you again,Vaelin.”

“Andyou,sister.”“It seems ever your

cursetobemyrescuer.”“If not for me you

would never have been indanger.” He glanced aroundthe meal hall Sister Gilmahadconvertedtoatemporary

hospital. She was by thefireplace laughing heartily atJanril Norin, the one-timeapprentice minstrel, stitchinga wound on his arm as heregaled her with one of hismore ribald pieces ofdoggerel.

“Can we talk?” VaelinaskedSherin. “Iwouldknowmore of your time as acaptive.”

Hersmilefadedalittle,

butshenodded.“Ofcourse.”He led her to the

battlements, away fromcuriousears. In thecourtyardbelowmenwerebusyloadingthe Cumbraelin bodies ontocarts, exchanging forced butlively humour amidst thedrying blood and stiffeninglimbs.Fromtheuncertaingaitof some he surmised Caenishadbeensomewhatfreewiththeextrarumrationalready.

“You’re buryingthem?”Sherinasked.Hewassurprised at the absence ofshockordisgust inhervoicebut realised life as a healermade her no stranger to thesightofdeath.

“Itseemedright.”“Idoubteventheirown

people would do that. Theyare sinners against their god,aretheynot?”

“They didn’t think so.”

He shrugged. “Besides, it’snot for them. News of whathappened here will spreadacross the fief. ManyCumbraelin fanatics will bequicktocall itamassacre.Ifit becomes known that weshowed respect for theircustomsincaringforthedeadit may dull the hatred theywishtostir.”

“YoualmostsoundlikeanAspect.”Hersmilewasso

bright, so open, stirring anold,familiaracheinhischest.She was different; theguarded, severe girl he hadmet near five years ago wasnow a confident youngwoman. But the core of herremained, he had seen it theway she laid her hand onAlucius’s forehead and herfrantic pleading behind thegagwhenshethoughthewasgiving up his life for her.

Compassion,itburnedinher.“Wealwaysseemtobe

at different ends of theRealm,” she went on. “I hadthe fortune to meet PrincessLyrnalastyear.Shesaidyouwere friends, I asked her tosendmyregards.”

Friends. The womanlies like others breath. “Shedidthat.”Itwasclearthatshedidn’t know, Aspect Elerahad never told her why they

were always so far apart.Abruptly he decided shewouldneverknow.

“Did he hurt you?” heasked.“Mustor.Didhe...?”

“A bruise here andthere when I was captured.”Sheshowedhimthemarksofthe shackles on her wrists.“But otherwise I amunharmed.”

“When did he takeyou?”

“Seven, eight weeksago. Maybe longer. I’ve losttrackoftimewithinthewallsof this keep. I had finallybeencalledbacktotheOrderHouse from Warnsclave,looking forward to taking upmyoldpostbutAspectEleraput me to work onresearching new curatives.It’sadeadlydulltask,Vaelin.Endlessgrindingofherbsandmixing concoctions, most of

which smell quiteappallingly. I evencomplainedtotheAspectbutshetoldmeIneededtogainabroadergraspoftheworkingsof the Order. In any case Iwas actually glad when amessenger arrived from myformermissionwithword ofanoutbreakoftheRedHand.I had been working on acompound which may offersome hope of a cure, or at

least relief from thesymptoms. So the localmastersentforme.”

The Red Hand. Theplaguethathadsweptthroughthe four fiefsbefore thekingforged the Realm, claimingthe lives of thousands in thetwohellishyearsof itsreign.No family had escapeduntouched and no othersickness was more feared.Butthesicknesshadnotbeen

seen in the Realm for nearlyfiftyyears.

“Itwasatrap,”hesaid.She nodded. “I went

alone for fear the sicknesshadtakenhold.Buttherewasno sickness, only death. Themission was quiet, empty Ithought. Inside there wereonlycorpses,butnottakenbythe Red Hand. Hacked andslashed,eventhesickintheirbeds. Mustor’s followers

were waiting, and they hadspared no one. I tried to runbuttheycaughtmeofcourse.I was shackled and takenhere.”

“I’msorry.”“There is no blame for

you in this. Itwouldhurtmetothinkthatyouthoughtso.”

Their eyes met againand the ache in his chestlurched once more. “DidMustor say anything to you?

Anything that might explainhisactions?”

“Hewouldcometomycell most days. At first heseemed concerned for mywelfare, making sure I hadsufficient food and water,even bringing me books andparchmentwhenIasked.Butalways he would talk, as ifdriven to it, but his wordsrarely made sense. Herambled on about his god,

quotingwhole passages fromthe ten books theCumbraelins revere somuch.I thought at first he wastrying to convert me but Icametorealisethathewasn’treallytalkingtome,hecarednothing for my opinion. Hemerely needed to speakwords he couldn’t speak tohisfollowers.”

“Whatwords?”“Words of doubt.

Hentes Mustor doubted hisgod.Not its existence but itsreasoning, its intention. Ididn’t know then that hehadmurdered his father,apparently at his god’sbehest. Perhaps the guilt haddrivenhimmad.Itoldhimasmuch.Itoldhimifhethoughthe could use me to kill youthenhewas trulymad. I toldhimyouwouldkillhiminaninstant. It appears I was

wrong.” She looked at himintently. “Was he mad,Vaelin? Is that what drovehim? Or was it… somethingelse? I senseyouknowmorethanyoutell.”

He wanted to tell her,thecompulsionburned inhisbreast,theneedtoshareitallwith someone. The wolf inthe Urlish and the Martishe,his meeting with Nersus SilNin, the one who waits, and

the voice, the same voice hehad heard from the lips oftwodeadmen.Butsomethingheld it back. It wasn’t theblood-song this time, it wassomething more easilyunderstood. Such knowledgeis dangerous. And she hasseen enough danger on myaccount.

“Iambutabrotherwitha sword, sister,” he told her.“As theyearspass I realise I

knowverylittle.”“You knew enough to

save my life. You knewMustorhadnomorestomachforkilling. Iwassosureyouwould cut him down whenyou saw he hadme… I wasproud of you, proud youdidn’t.Mad or not,murdereror not, I could sense no evilinhim.Onlygrief,andguilt.”

From below came thesound of a commotion.

Vaelin glanced down to seeFief LordMustor upbraidingCaenis, thebottle inhishandsloshing wine onto thecobbled courtyard. The FiefLord was dishevelled,unshaven and, judging fromthe slur of his words,considerablymoredrunkthanusual. “Let them rot! Youhear me, brother! Sinnershare not buried in Cumbrael,oh no! Hack off their heads

and leave them for thecrowsh-”Hestaggeredontoapatch of still slick blood andslipped heavily to thecobbles, dousing himself inwine. He sworeextravagantly, slappingCaenis’shelpinghandsaway.“Let those sinners rot, I say!This is my keep. PrinceMalsiush?LordVaelin?Thisismykeep!”

“Who is that man?”

Sherin asked. “He seems…troubled.”

“The Cumbraelins’rightfulFiefLord,Faith helpthem.”Hegaveherasmileofapology. “I should go. Myregiment will remain hereawaiting orders from theking. I’ll have BrotherCommander Makril provideanescort to takeyouback toyourOrder.”

“Iwouldprefer towait

hereforawhile.IthinkSisterGilma would be glad of thehelp. Besides, we’ve barelyhadtimetoexchangenews.Ihavemuchtoshare.”

The same open smile,the same ache in his chest.Send her away, his innervoicecommanded.Onlypaincan result if you keep herhere.

“Lord Vaelin!” FiefLord Mustor’s cry dragged

his attention back to thecourtyard. “Where are you?Shtopthesemen!”

“I have much to sharealso,” he said before turningaway.

At first Fief Lord

Mustor raged at Vaelin’srefusal to stop the burial ofthe bodies, loudly restatinghisownershipofthekeepandthe primacy of his authority

in his own lands. WhenVaelin replied simply thathewasaservantoftheFaithandthereforenotbound thewordof a Fief Lord, Mustor’smood degenerated into abalefulsulk.AfterhisappealstoPrinceMalciusearnedonlyasternlookofdisapprovalhetook himself off to his deadbrother’s quarters where hehad amassed a largeproportionofthekeep’swine

cellar.They remained at the

High Keep for another eightdays, anxiously awaitingwordofthewar’send.Vaelinoccupied the men withconstant training and patrolsintothemountains.Therewaslittle grumbling, morale washigh,boostedbytriumphandthe shared spoils of the keepand the dead which, thoughmeagre, fulfilled a basic

soldierly desire for loot.“Give ‘em victory, gold intheir pockets and a womanevery now and again,”Sergeant Krelnik told Vaelinone evening, “and they’llfollowyouforever.”

As Sister Sherin hadpromisedAluciusAlHestianrecoveredquickly,wakingonthe thirddayandpassing thebasic tests that showed hisbrain was not permanently

damaged, although he couldremember nothing of thebattleorhowhecamebyhiswound.

“So he’s dead?” heasked Vaelin. They were inthe courtyard, watching themen at evening drill. “TheUsurper.”

“Yes.”“Do you think he gave

Black Arrow the letters offreepassage?”

“I can’t see how elsetheycouldhavefallenintohishands. It seems the old FiefLordwent togreat lengths toprotecthisson.”

Alucius wrapped hiscloak tightly around hisshoulders, his hollowed eyesmakinghimseemanoldmanpeering out from behind ayoung man’s face. “All ofthisbloodspiltoveracoupleofletters.”Heshookhishead.

“Linden would have wept toseeit.”Hereachedinsidehiscloak and unhitchedVaelin’sshort sword from his belt.“Here,” he said, offering thehilt. “I won’t need thisanymore.”

“Keep it. A gift fromme. You should have asouvenir of your time as asoldier.”

“Ican’t.TheKinggaveyouthis…”

“AndnowI’mgivingittoyou”

“I don’t… It shouldn’tbegiventoonesuchasI.”

Seeingthewaytheboygripped the sword-hilt, thetrembleofhisfingers,Vaelinrecalled the red slick thatcovered the blade when hehadbeenpulledfrombeneaththe pile of corpses near thegate. The face of battle isalways most ugly when seen

forthefirsttime.“Whobettertogiveitto?”hesaid,puttinghis handover the hilt, gentlypushing it away. “Put it onyour wall when you gethome. Leave it there. I willnottakeitback.”

The boy seemed aboutto say more but restrainedhimself, returning the swordtohisbelt.“Asyouwish,mylord.”

“Will you write about

this? Is it worth a poem, doyouthink?”

“It’s worth a hundred,I’msure,butIdoubtI’llwriteany of them. Since myawakening,wordsdon’tseemto come to me as they oncedid. I’ve tried, I sitwith penand parchment but nothingcomes.”

“It takes a while for amantoreturntohimselfaftera wound. Rest and eat well.

I’m sure your talent willreturn.”

“I hope so.” The boygave a faint smile. “PerhapsI’llwritetoLyrna.I’msureIcanfindsomewordsforher.”

Vaelin,whohadplentyof words of his own for theprincess, nodded and turnedback to the drill, venting hissudden anger at a man whoheld his pole-axe too high inthe defensive formation.

“Lower it, lackwit! How areyou supposed to gut a horsewithyourweaponstuckupinthe air? Sergeant, an extrahour’sdrillforthisman.”

Eacheveningwasspentin Sherin’s company. Theywould sit in the lord’schamber exchanging storiesabout their experiences overthe last few years. Hediscovered she had travelledfar more widely than he,

visiting Fifth Order missionsinallfourfiefsoftheRealm,even taking a ship to theenclave in the NorthernReaches where Tower LordVanosAlMyrna ruled in theKing’sname.

“Alivelyplace,despitethecold,”shetoldhim.“Andhome to so many differentpeople. Most of the farmingfolk are in fact exiles fromthe southernAlpiranEmpire.

Tall, handsome people withblack skin. Apparently theyangered theemperorandhadto take ship or faceextermination, fetching up inthe Northern Reaches morethan fifty years hence. MostoftheTowerLord’sGuardismade up of exiles, they haveafearsomereputation.”

“Imet the Tower Lordonce, and his daughter. Idon’t think she liked me

much.”“The famous Lonak

foundling? She was absentwhen I visited, away in theforestwiththeSeordah.Theyseem to revere her and herfather greatly. Something todo with the great battleagainsttheIceHorde.”

He told her of hismonths in the Martishe,sharing the painful memoryof Al Hestian’s passing,

feeling like a coward and aliar for leaving out hismurderousscheming.

“It was a mercy,Vaelin,” she said, taking hishand, reading the guilt in hisface. “Leaving him to sufferwould have been wrong,againsttheFaith.”

“I have done much inthe name of the Faith.” Helookedat thescarredfleshofhis hand next to the pale

smoothness of her own.Killer’s hands, healer’shands. Faith, why does shefeelsowarm?

“All any of us can askofourselves ishavewedonewrong in the name of theFaith,” Sherin said. “HaveyouVaelin?”

“I’vekilledmen,menIdidn’t know. Some werecriminals, some assassins,scum really. But some, like

the deluded fanatics whodwelt here, were men whosimply followed anotherbelief. Men who may havebeenmy friends if we’dmetinadifferenttimeorplace.”

“The men who dwelthere were murderers. Theyslaughtered an entiremissionof my Order merely to takeme captive. Could you everdothesame?”

She doesn’t see it, he

realised. Doesn’t see thekiller in me. “No,” he said,forsomereasonagainfeelinglikealiar.“No.Icouldn’t.”

As the days passed he

begantoindulgeinthedreamthat the King and the Ordermight allow them to remainhere,apermanentgarrison inCumbraelin lands. He wouldbe master of the keep, areminder to any Cumbraelin

fanatics of the price ofrebellion. Sherin couldestablish a mission toadminister to the sick in thisremote and bitter land andtheycouldservetheFaithandtheRealm in happy isolationfor years. Although herecognised its impossibilitythe dream lingered in hismind, a bright and enticinghope that grew with everydeluded imagining. Caenis

would take over the keep’slibrary, establisha school forlocal children, teaching themletters and the truth of theFaith. Barkus would occupythe smithy, Nortah thestables, Dentos wouldbecome Huntmaster. Hewould bring Scratch andFrentisfromtheOrderHousetojointhem.Heknewitwasa delusion, a lie he toldhimself after every evening

spent in Sherin’s company.Because he didn’t want it toend, because he wanted thepeace he felt in her presencetolastforaslongashecouldmake it. He even began tocomposeaformalproposaltoAspect Arlyn in his head,rephrasing it over and overbut putting off the momentwhenhewouldaskCaenistopen it for him. Speaking italoud would reveal the

absurdity of it, and hepreferredthedream.

The scale of hisdelusion became apparent onthemorningoftheninthday.He had woken early, brieflyinspected the guard on thegateandwastakinga tourofthe sentries on thebattlements before going tofind some breakfast. Thesentries were chilled butcheerfulenough,makinghim

suspect they had beenindulging in a tot or two ofBrother’s Friend whilst onduty. He paused for amomentbeforedescendingtothe courtyard, taking in thebroodingmajestyoftheview.A forbidding place to serveouttherestofyourdays.Butquiet,blessedlyquiet.

For years to come hewould remember it clearly,thebrightnessofthemorning

sun shimmering blue-silveron the fresh snowfall thatcovered the surroundingmountain tops, the clear blueofthesky,thesharpwindonhis face. He never forgot it,themomentbeforeeverythingchanged.

He was about to turnaway when his gaze wasdrawn to the long narrowroad ascending from thevalley floor: a rider, making

haste.Evenfromthisdistancehecouldseethebrightplumeof the horse’s breath as itlaboured up the road at thegallop.Dentos,he realisedastheriderdrewnearer.DentoswithoutNortah.

Dentos’s facewas greywithfatigueashedismountedinthecourtyard,alividbruisediscolouring his cheek.“Brother,” he greeted Vaelininavoiceheavywithsorrow

and exhaustion. “I must talktoyou.”He staggered a littleand Vaelin reached out tosteadyhim.

“What it is?” Vaelindemanded. “Where’sNortah?”

Dentosgaveanentirelyhumourless grin. “Manymiles away I reckon.” Hisface clouded and he lookeddown, as if fearing to meetVaelin’s eye. “Our brother

tried to kill the Battle Lord.He’s a fugitive with half theRealmGuardonhistail.”

“There was a battle,”

Dentossaid,acupofbrandy-laced warmmilk clutched inhishandsashesatbythefirein the meal hall. Vaelin hadcalled Barkus and Caenis tohear his story along withPrince Malcius and SisterSherin who had applied a

balm to his bruise. “TheCumbraelins had gottentogether about five thousandmen to oppose the RealmGuard at Greenwater Ford.Notmuch’veaforcetostandagainst so many but I guesstheywere trying to buy timefor their city to muster itsdefences.Could’ve cut downmany guardsmen as theyfordedtheriverbuttheBattleLord was too wily for ’em.

Drewupallhiscavalryonthesouth bank to fix their sightand sent half his infantrydownstream to ford in deepwaterintheearlyhoursofthemorning,lostfiftymentothecurrent doing it but they gotacross. Fell on theCumbraelinrightflankwhilstthey were still unwrappingtheir arrows. It was all butover by the time me andNortah got there, place

looked like a charnel house,theriverwasredwithit.”

Dentos paused to sipsome milk, his face moresombre thanVaelin had everseen it. “They’d captured afew hundred in the finalrout,”hewenton.“Wefoundthe Battle Lord readingsentence of death over them.Don’tthinkhewaspleasedtohearournews.”

“You gave him the

King’s signed order?” PrinceMalciusasked.

“Thatwedid,Highness.He looked at the seal thencalled us into his tent.Whenhereadithewantedtoknowif we’d seen the usurper’sbodyourselves,washisdeathcertain and such. Nortahassured him it was but theBattleLordcuthimoff.‘Thewordsofatraitor’ssonmeannomorethanpigshittome,’

hesaid.”“Nortah tried to kill

himforthat?”Barkusasked.Dentos shook his head.

“Nortah was angry rightenough, looked ready to killthebastardrightthere,buthedidn’t. Just gritted his teethand said ‘I’m no-one’s son,mylord.TheKing’sWordisgiven to you that this war isover.Will youabideby it?’”Dentos fell silent, his eyes

distant.“Brother?” Caenis

prompted.“Whatisit?”“The Battle Lord said

he needed no advice in howto serve the King. Before hemarched the Realm Guardhome across this Faithlessland he had justice toadminister to those who hadrisen in arms against thecrown.”

“He meant to continue

with the execution of theprisoners,” Vaelin said. Herecalled Nortah after theirreturn from theMartishe, theweary despair in his eyes ashe drank to dull the pain inhis heart. We’ll bring theFaith to themall, theDenierbastards.

“Yeh,” Dentos sighed.“Nortahtoldhimhecouldn’t.Told him it was against theKing’sword.TheBattleLord

laughed and said the King’smessage said nothing abouthow best to deal withcaptured Denier scum. ToldNortah to takehimself off orhe’dsendhim to theBeyondalong with his traitor father,brotherornot.”

Vaelin closed his eyes,forcinghimself toask. “Howbadly was the Battle Lordinjured?”

“Well,” said Dentos.

“He’ll have to wipe his arsewith his left hand from nowon.”

“Faith!” breathedCaenis.

“Shit!”saidBarkus.“Why didn’t he finish

him?”Vaelinasked.“Stopped him, didn’t

I?”Dentosreplied.“Managedtoblockhisnextswing.Iwaspleading with him, begginghim to give up his sword. I

don’tthinkheevenheardme.Nortahwasoutofhismind,Icouldseeitinhiseyes,likeadog gone rabid, desperate toget at the Battle Lord. Thatbuggerwasonhisknees,juststaringatthestumpwherehishandusedtobe,watchingtheblood spurt. Nortah and mefought.” He rubbed at thebruise on his cheek. “I lost.LuckyfortheBattleLordhisguards came in to see about

theruckus.Nortahkilled twoand wounded the others.Morecamerunning.Hekilledacouplemoreandranforhishorse. Managed to ridethrough the whole of theRealm Guard encampment,afterallwho’dthinkabrotherhadjusthackedofftheBattleLord’s hand? I snuck off inthe confusion. Didn’t thinkI’d be too popular when thedustsettled.Spentadayorso

hiding in woodland thenstruck out for the keep. Iheard rumours on the roadabout the mad brother, howhalf the Realm Guard washunting him. Last seenheadingwest,sotheysaid.”

“Which means he’llreally be heading anywhereelse,” Barkus said. “They’llnevercatchhim.”

“Thisisabadbusiness,brother,”PrinceMalcius said

to Vaelin, his face grave.“The Order affords greatprotection to its brothers butthis…” He shook his head.“The King will have nochoice but to issue a deathwarrant.”

“Then let’s hope ourbrotherfindshiswayquicklyto safer lands,” Caenis said.“He’spossiblythefinestriderin the Order, and has greatskillinthewild.Hewon’tbe

easily caught by the RealmGuard…”

“Hewon’tbecaughtbythe Realm Guard at all,”Vaelin said. He went to thetable where his sword restedand buckled it on quickly,tuggingthestrapstightbeforepulling his cloak over hisshoulders. He could feelSherin’s eyes following himbut found himself unable tolook at her. “Brother Caenis,

the regiment is yours. Youwill send a messenger toAspectArlyninforminghimIam in pursuit of BrotherNortah andwill bringhim tojustice. The regiment willwaithere fororders from theKing.”

“You’re going afterhim?” Barkus seemedastonished. “You heard theprince.Ifyoubringhimbackthey’ll hang him. He’s our

brother…”“He’s a fugitive from

the King’s justice and adisgrace to the Order. And Idoubt he’ll give me thechance to bring him back.”He forced himself to look atSherin, searching for somewordsoffarewellbutnothingcame. Her eyes were brightand he could tell she wasclose to tears. I’m sorry, hewanted to say, but couldn’t,

theweightofwhathehad todopresseddowntooheavily.

“Whatmakesyouthinkyou could hunt him downanyway?” Barkus demanded.“He’s a better rider than youbyfar,betterinthewildtoo.”

He doesn’t have ablood-song to guide him. Ithadbegunas soonasDentosbegan his story, a flat toneflaring whenever Vaelin’sthoughts turned to the north.

“I’llfindhim.”Heturnedandbowedto

Prince Malcius. “By yourleave,Highness.”

“You’re not goingalone?”thePrinceasked.

“I’mafraidImustinsiston it.” He looked in turn athis brothers. Barkus angry,Caenis confused, Dentossorrowful, and wondered iftheywouldever forgivehim.“Take care of the men,” he

said and walked from thechamber.

Chapter7The Renfaelin city of

Cardurin had been built onone of the foothills to thenorthern mountains.Approaching the walls withSpit at a sedate walk Vaelinwasstruckbythecomplexityof its construction, everycobbled street slopingupwards in what seemedtighter and ever steeper

curves. Tall rectangularsandstone buildings toppedby clay-tiled roofs rose oneach side. The town was aninterconnected whole, eachblock joined to another by awalk-way, high archescurvingelegantlybetweenthewalls. It felt as if he werestaringupataforestofstone.

He was waved throughthe gate by a spearman whofavoured him with a

respectfulnod.TheOrderhadalways been held in highesteem in Renfael, a regardwhich had remainedundiminished despite thewars of unification when theAspectshadtakentheKing’spart. People in the streetsbeyond the gate gave him afewcuriousglancesbuttherewasnoneof theopen staringor recognition he dreadedwhentraversingthestreetsof

Varinshold.He left Spit with a

stableman near the gate whogave him directions to theSixth Order mission. “It’s abit of a climb, brother,” theman said, taking hold ofSpit’s reins and making togive him a scratch on thenose.

“Don’t!” Vaelin pulledthe man’s hand away, Spit’steethchompingonemptyair.

“He’sgotatemperandwe’veridden a long way this pasttwoweeks.”

“Oh.” The stablemanmoved back a little, grinningat Vaelin. “Bet you’re theonlyonecanhandlehimeh?”

“No,hebitesmetoo.”The Sixth Order

mission house was near thesummit of the city and thestablemanhadn’texaggeratedthe climb, his legs were

achingwith the effort by thetime he jangled the bellsuspended next to the door.The brother who opened itwas broad and heavilybearded, staring at Vaelinwith shrewd blue eyesbeneathhisbushybrows.

“Brother Vaelin?” heasked.

Vaelin frowned insurprise. “I am expected,brother?”

“A galloper arrivedfrom the capital two daysago. The Aspect gave noticeof your mission and orderedmetogiveanyassistanceyourequireshouldyoucallhere.Iexpect similar missives weresent to missions throughoutthe Realm. Unfortunatebusiness.” He stepped aside,“Please, you must behungry.”

Vaelinwas led along a

dimly lit corridor and up aflight of stairs, then anotherflight, and another after that.“Brother Commander Artin,”the bearded man introducedhimself as they climbed.“Sorry about the stairs.Renfaelins call Cardurin thecity of many bridges. Reallyshould call it the city ofcountlessstairs.”

“May I ask why youhave no guard on the door,

brother?”Vaelinenquired.“Don’tneedone.Safest

city I’ve ever been to. Nooutlaws in the wilds either,Lonakwon’ttoleratethem.”

“But don’t the Lonakthemselvesposeadanger?”

“Oh they never comehere. Don’t like the stink ofthe town apparently, badsmellmeans bad luck.Whenthey raid, they go for thesmaller settlements near the

border.Everycoupleofyearsone of the War Chiefs willget a few thousand of themworkedupenoughforalargescaleraid,buteventhentheyrarely come close to the citywalls. Not much for siegecraft,theLonak.”

He was led to a largeroom which served as themission’smealhallandateaplate of stew Brother Artinhad brought up from the

kitchens. After the meal theBrotherCommanderunfurledalargemaponthetable.“Themost recent effort from ourbrother map-makers in theThird Order,” he explained.“A detailed rendering of theborderlands. Here,” hepointed to a pictogram of awalled city. “Cardurin.Directly north will take youto the Skellan Pass, fortifiedand permanently manned by

three companies of brothers.A truly unassailable barrierfor any fugitive. The Lonakgaveuponitdecadesago.”

“How do they maketheir way south?” Vaelinasked.

“The foothills to thewest and east. It’s a longjourney and makes themvulnerable to pursuit butthey’ve little choice if theywant to keep raiding. How

canyoube sureyourbrotherwill venture into Lonaklands?”

He’s my brother nolonger,Vaelinwanted to saybutheldhistongue.Hefeltaprofound anger whenever hethought of Nortah and itwoulddonogoodtovoiceit.“Is there a safe way in?” heasked the BrotherCommander, avoiding hisquestion. “A way a man

travelling alone wouldn’t beseen?”

BrotherArtinshookhishead. “The Lonak knowwhenever we venture intotheir lands, alone in thedeadofwinterorinafullcompanyofbrothersinhighsummer,itmakes no difference. Theyalways know. SomethingDarkaboutit,Ireckon.Makeno mistake, brother, if youfollow him in there you’ll

meetthem,soonerorlater.”Vaelin scanned the

map, from the solid mass ofjagged peaks that formed thenorthern mountains and theheart of Lonak lands to theSkellan pass, fortified acentury ago when theRenfaelin Lord decided theLonak were a real threatrather than a continualnuisance. It was when heturned his attention to the

western foothills that theblood-song flared.His fingerpickedoutasmall,unfamiliarpictogram on the map.“What’sthis?”

“The fallen city? Hewon’t go there. Even theLonakdon’tgothere.”

“Why?”“It’s a bad place,

brother. All ruins and barerock.Onlyeverseenitfromadistance and it gave me the

frights. Something in theair…” He shook his head.“Just feels bad. The Lonakcall it Maars Nir-Uhlin Sol,the Place of Stolen Souls.They have plenty of storiesaboutpeoplegoing thereandnever coming back. Therewas a party of brothers fromtheFourthOrderaboutayearago, come in search ofdeniers fleeing north. It wasafter theappointmentoftheir

new Aspect and our Order’srefusaltoassistanylongerinthe Fourth’s denier hunting.Theyinsistedongoingtothefallen city, claimed they hadintelligence leading themthere, although from wheretheywouldn’tsay.Theyweredeaf to my warnings,‘Servants of the Faith needfear no savage superstition,’theysaid.Weonlyeverfoundoneofthem,orratherpartof

him,frozensolidinthesnowthreemonthslater.Somethinghad been at him. Somethinghungry.”

“Perhaps they simplygotlostandfrozetodeath.Awolf or a bear could havecomeuponthebody.”

“The man’s face wasfrozen, brother, in a scream.Never seen such a look onany man, alive or dead. Hewaseatenalive,bysomething

bigger and far meaner thanany wolf. And bears don’tleavemarkslikethese.”

Vaelin turned back tothe map. “How many day’sridetothefallencity?”

Brother Artin’s shrewdeyesregardedVaelinclosely.“Youreallythinkhe’sthere?”

I know he’s there.“Howmanyday’sride?”

“Three, if you pushhard. I’ll send a bird to the

wallforapartytoaccompanyyou. May take a few days.Youcanresthere…”

“I’llbetravellingalone,brother.Inthemorning.”

“Alone into Lonaklands?Brother, to say that isunwise is a grossunderstatement.”

“Did the Aspect’smissive contain anyinjunction against metravellingalone?”

“No. It merely orderedthat you be given everyassistance.”

“Well,” Vaelin movedback from the table andclappedBrotherArtin on theshoulder, “a good night’ssleep, provisions for thejourney and you will haveassistedmeverywell.”

“If you go in therealone, youwill die,” BrotherArtinstatedflatly.

“Then let’s hope IcompletemymissionbeforeIdo.”

The western foothills

were rocky and barren,broken by a seeminglyunending series of gulliesthrough which Vaelin wasobliged to navigate his waynorth.Winterwascomingonquickly andahard, chill rainswept the hills with dreary

regularity. Spit was morefractious than ever, tossinghis head and snorting everytimeVaelinmountedhim,hismood unleavened a regularsupply of candies from themission house stores. Hecovered barely fifteen milesthe first day andmade campbeneathanoverhangof rock,huddling in his cloak andresisting the urge to ignoreBrotherArtin’ssternwarning

against lighting a fire. Sleep,when it came,was fitful andtroubled by dreams he couldbarelyrecallonwakingtothedull glimmer of dawn. Theblood-song was more mutednow but still clear, stillleading him on to the fallencity where he knew Nortahwouldbewaiting.

Nortah… The angerreturned, fierce andimplacable.Howcouldhedo

this? HOW COULD HE? Ithad been building ever sinceDentos related the tale, eversincethesickeningrealisationthat he would have to huntdownandkillhisbrother.Hefound himself unable tomuster much regret overBattle Lord Al Hestian’ssevered hand, it was hard topity a man intent on ventinghisgriefonhelplesscaptives.But Nortah…He’ll fight, he

knew with a dread certainty.He’llfight,andI’llkillhim.

He ate a breakfast ofdriedbeefandsetoffthrougha light morning drizzle,leading Spit on foot as theground was too rocky forriding. He had gone only afew miles when the Lonakattacked.

Theboy leapt from therocksabove inan impressivedisplay of acrobatics, turning

over in mid air and landingnimblyonhisfeet infrontofVaelin,war-club inonehandandalongcurvedknifeintheother. He was bare-chestedand lean as a greyhound,Vaelin guessing his age atsomewhere between fourteenand sixteen. His head wasshaven with an ornate tattooabovehisleftear.Hissmoothangular face tensed inanticipation of combat as he

voicedaharshchallenge inatongue Vaelin had neverheard.

“I’m sorry,” Vaelinsaid. “I don’t know yourlanguage.”

The Lonak boyevidently took this as aneither insultoranacceptanceof his challenge since heattacked without furtherdelay, leaping in the air,warclubabovehishead,hisknife

handdrawnback for a slash.It was a practised moveperformed with elegantprecision.Vaelinside-steppedthe club as it came down,caughttheknifehandinmid-slash and knocked the boyunconscious with an open-handedblowtothetemple.

His hand went to hissword as he looked aroundfor further enemies, eyesscanning the rocks above.

Where there’s one, there’smore, Brother Artin hadwarned him. There’s alwaysmore.Therewas nothing, nosound or scent on the wind,nothing to disturb the faintpatter of rain on rock. Spitclearly sensed nothing eitheras he began to nibble at theunconscious boy’s leather-cladfeet.

Vaelin pulled himaway, earning a near-miss

kick from a fore hoof, andcrouchedtocheckontheboy.Hisbreathingwasregularandthere was no blood comingfromhisearsornose.Vaelinpositioned him so hewouldn’tchokeonhistongueandtuggedSpitonwards.

After another hour thegullies gave way to whatBrother Artin had called theAnvil of Stone. It was thestrangestandmostunfamiliar

landscape he had seen, abroadexpanseofmostlybarerock, pocked by small poolsof rain water and rocky torsrising from the undulatingsurface like great deformedmushrooms. He could onlymarvelatwhateverdesignofnature had produced such ascene. The Cumbraelinsclaimed their god had madethe earth and all it held in ablinkingofhiseye,butseeing

the weather fashionedchannels in the tors risingaboveheknewthisplacehadtakenmanycenturiestoreachsuch a state of profoundstrangeness.

He remounted Spit andheaded north at a walk,covering another ten milesbefore nightfall. He campedintheshelterofthelargesttorhe could find,his cloakonceagain tight around him as he

sought sleep. His eyelidswere drooping when theLonakboyattackedagain.

The boy raged in his

unfathomable language asVaelin tied the rope aroundhis chest, his hands alreadybound behind his back. Alividbruisemarredhistempleand another was formingbeneath his nose whereVaelin’s forenuckles had

foundthenerveclusterwhichsenthimsenseless.

“Nisha ulniss neSerantim!” the boy screamedat Vaelin, his bruised facerigid with hate. “Herin!Garnin!”

“Oh shut up,” Vaelinsaid tiredly, pushing a ragintotheboy’smouth.

He lefthimwrithing inhis bonds and led Spitonwards, careful of his

footing in the dark althoughthe half-moon was brightenough to make his waywithout misstep. He keptgoinguntil theboy’smuffledcries were no longer audibleand found shelter next to alargeboulder,layingdowntoletsleepclaimhim.

The next day brought

his first glimpse of sunlight,intermittent rays breaking

through the clouds to playacross the frozen rock of theAnvil,drawinghugeshadowsfromthetors,theirweatheredsurfacesseemingtoshimmer.Beautiful,hethought,wishinghe had come here on adifferent mission. His heavyheart seemed to forbidenjoymentofsimplethings.

The Anvil stretched onfor another five miles,eventually giving way to a

seriesoflowhillsdottedwiththe stunted pine whichseemed to proliferate in thenorth. Spit spurred into anunbidden gallop as soon ashishooves touched thegrass,snorting his relief at leavingthe unyielding rock of theAnvil. Vaelin gave him hishead and let him run. Spitwas ever a mean spiritedanimalanditwasanoveltytofeelthejoyinhimasheraced

up and down the hills,churning sod in their wake.By nightfall they were insight of the broad plateauwhere the fallen city waited.Vaelinfoundacampsiteatopthelastof thehills,affordinga good view of theapproaches and cover from acluster of pine near thesummit.

He tethered Spit to alow hanging branch and

gathered wood, arranging itwithin a circle of rocks,adding pine shavings forkindling. He struck his flintandblewsoftlyontheflamesuntil the fire built, sittingcross-legged, his sword stillon his back and his bowwithin reach, an arrowalready notched, waiting. Hehad become aware of beingfollowedintheearlyeveningsothereseemedlittlepointin

observing Artin’s strictureagainstlightingafire.

Nightcameonquickly,the clouded sky making thedarkness deep andimpenetrable beyond thefirelight. It was another hourbefore the soft scrape ofhooves on sod told of avisitor.Themanwhowalkedinto the camp stood at leastsix and a half feet tall withbroad shoulders and thickly

muscled arms, his chestconfined within a bearskinvest which reached to hiswaistwhereawarclubandasteel-bladed hatchet hung onhis belt. He wore deerskintrews and leather boots.Likethe boy who had attackedVaelin earlier his head wasshaved and tattooed, anintricate maze-like designwhich circled his head fromtemple to temple. More

tattoos covered his arms,strange whirls and barb-likeshapes stretching fromshoulder to wrist. His facewasleanandangular,makinghim difficult to age, but hiseyes,darkandhostilebeneatha heavy frown, spoke ofmany years and, if Vaelinwas any judge,many battles.Hewasleadingasturdyponywhich bore something slungacross its back, something

bound in ropewhichwrithedandmoaned.

The Lonak pulled thehatchetandwarclubfromhisbelt in a quick and skilfulmovement Vaelin almostdidn’t catch.Hewatched theman whirl the weaponsexpertly for a secondor two,feeling the rush of displacedair and resisting the impulseto reach for his sword. Theman’s eyes never left his,

studying, calculating.After amoment he grunted inapparent satisfaction and laidboth weapons on the groundnear the fire. Taking a stepbackwards, hands raised, hisexpressionnolesshostile.

Vaelin unbuckled hissword from his back andplaced it before him, alsoraisinghis hands.TheLonakgruntedagainandwenttothepony, pulling the bound boy

from its back and dumpinghimunceremoniously next tothefire.

“Thisisyours,”hetoldVaelin, his words thicklyaccentedbutclearlyspoken.

Vaelin glanced at theboy, his mouth securelygagged with a leather strap,eyes dimwith exhaustion. “Idon’t want it,” he told theLonak.

The big man regarded

him in silence for a momentthen moved to the oppositesideof thefire,spreadinghishandstothewarmth.“Amongmy people, when a mancomestoyourfireinpeaceitis custom to offer him meatand something to slake histhirst.”

Vaelin reached for hissaddle bags and extractedsome dried beef and a waterskin, tossing them to the

Lonak across the fire. Hetook a small knife from hisboot and cut a strip from thebeef, chewing andswallowingquickly.Drinkingfrom thewater skin howevermadehimgrimaceandspitonthe ground. “Where is thewineyouMerimHer lovesomuch?”hedemanded.

“I rarely drink wine.”Vaelin glanced again at theboy.“Aren’tyougoingtolet

himeattoo?”“Whether he eats is

your choice. He belongs toyou.”

“Because I defeatedhim?”

“If you defeat a manand don’t deign to kill him,heisyours.”

“And if I don’t takehim?”

“He will lay here untilhestarvesor thebeastscome

toclaimhim.”“I could just cut his

bonds,sethimfree.”The Lonak barked a

harsh laugh. “There is nofreedom for him. He isvarnish, defeated, destroyed,worth nomore than dog shitto my people.” The man’sgaze was fixed on the boynow, a fierce implacableglower.“Afittingpunishmentfor one who disobeys Her

word, who allows hismisplaced pride to blind himto his obeisance. Cut hisbonds and he will wanderhere, weaponless, friendless,mypeoplewillshunhimandhewillfindnoshelter.”

HisgazeswungbacktoVaelinandhesawsomethingmorethanangerthere,afaintflicker of something hidden,told in the tensionofhis jawand the set of his lips.

Concern. He fears for theboy.

“If he’s mine,” Vaelinsaid,“thenImaydowithhimasIwish?”

The Lonak’s eyesflickedbacktotheboyforaninstant.Henodded.

“Then I give him toyou. A gift of thanks forallowing me to cross yourlands.”

The Lonak’s face

remained impassive butVaelincouldreadthereliefinhiseyes.“YouMerimHeraresoft,”hesneered.“Weakandcraven. Only your numbersgive you strength, and thatwillnotlastforever.Onedaywe will sweep you back tothe sea and the waves willturnredwithyourblood.”Herose and went to the boy,using the boot knife to severhis bonds. “I’ll take your

worthless gift, since it’s allyouhavetooffer.”

“You’rewelcome.”Free of the ropes the

boy was listless, sagging astheLonakdraggedhimtohisfeet, whimpering as the bigmanslappedhimawakewithachorusofcursesinhisownlanguage. Once roused theboy’s gaze swung to Vaelin,thesamehatredandbloodlustcolouring his features once

again. He bridled, tensinghimself for another attack.The big Lonak struck him, ahardback-handedcuff acrossthe face,drawingblood fromhis lip, then pushed himroughly to the waiting pony,hoistinghimontoitsbackandpointing sternly back downthe hill. The boy favouredVaelin with a last glare ofnaked animosity beforespurring away into the

darkness.The Lonak returned to

the fire and reached for thedriedbeefoncemore,hisfacesombreasheate.

“A good father suffersmuch for his son,” Vaelinobserved.

The Lonak’s eyesflashed at him, the hostilityshining once again. “Do notthink there is adebtbetweenus. Do not think you have

bought passage through ourlandswithmyson’slife.YoulivebecauseShewishesit.”

“She?”The Lonak shook his

head in disgust. “You havefought us for centuries andyouknowso littleofus.Sheis our guide and ourprotection.Sheisourwisdomandoursoul.Sherulesusandservesus.”

Vaelin recalled his

dream-meeting with NersusSilNinintheMartishe.WhathadshesaidabouttheLonak?IshouldhaveknowntheHighPriestess would find a way.“The High Priestess. Sheleadsyou?”

“High Priestess,” theLonak spoke the words as iftasting unfamiliar fare. “Asgood a name as any. Yourbastard tongue does not fiteasilywithourways.”

“Youspeakmybastardtongue very well.Where didyoulearnit?”

The Lonak shrugged.“When we raid we takecaptives, although they havelittle uses. The men are tooweak to work the seams formore than a season withoutperishingandthewomenbearsickly children. But once wetook a man in a grey robe.Called himself Brother

Kellin.He could heal and hecould learn. Came to speakour tongue like his own intime,soImadehimteachmehis.”

“Whereishenow?”“Sickened last winter.

He was old, we left him outinthesnow.”

Vaelin was starting tounderstand why the Lonakweresowidelydespised.“Soyour High Priestess told you

toletmepass?”“Word came from the

Mountain.One of theMerimHer would come alone intoour lands, their greatestwarrior seeking the blood ofhis brother. No harm willcometohim.”

The blood of hisbrother…The High Priestessseesmuchitseems.“Why?”

“She does not explain.WordsfromtheMountainare

nottobequestioned.”“Andyetyoursontried

tokillme.”“Boys seek renown in

forbidden deeds. He hadvisions of defeating you andwinning glory, the keenestsword of the Merim Hertakenbyhisknife.HowcouldI have angered the gods sothat theyvisitmewitha foolfor a son?” He hawked andspatintothefire,glancingup

at Vaelin. “Why did yousparehim?”

“There was no need tokillhim.KillingwithoutneedisagainsttheFaith.”

“Brother Kellin spokeoften of your faith, endlesslies. How can a man have acreed but no god to punishhimifhebreaksit?”

“A god is a lie, and amancannotbepunishedbyalie.”

The Lonak chewedsome more beef and shookhis head, he seemed almostsorrowful. “I have heard thevoiceofthefiregod,Nishak,deepinthedarkplacesunderthesmokingmountain.Therewasnolieinit.”

Fire god? Obviouslythe man had confused anechoing cavern for the voiceofoneofhisgods.“Whatdidhetellyou?”

“Many things.None ofthem for your ears, MerimHer.”He tossed thebeefandwater skin back to Vaelin.“It’sillluckforamantoseekthedeathofhisbrother.Whydoyoudoit?”

Vaelin was tempted toignore thequestionandsit insilence until the Lonak left,thereseemedlittlelefttotalkabout and he certainly didn’tcherish the man’s company,

but something made himvoicethefeelingsthatpainedhim so much. Easier tounburden yourself to astranger. “He’s not mybrother in blood, but in theFaith. We are of the sameOrderandhehascommittedagreatoffence.”

“And so you will killhim?”

“Iwillhaveto.Hewillnot let me take him back to

facejudgement.DidtheHighPriestess tell you to let himpassalso?”

The Lonak nodded.“The yellow hair rodethrough seven days ago,making for the Maars Nir-Uhlin Sol. You intend tofollowhimthere?”

“Ihaveto.”“Then you’ll most

likely find a yellow hairedcorpsewaitingforyou.There

isonlydeathinthoseruins.”“I’ve heard. Do you

know what it is that dealsdeathinthefallencity?”

The Lonak's facetwitched in annoyance. Fearwas clearly a touchy subject.“Our people do not go there,haven’t for more than fivewinters, even before thenwedidn’tliketheplace,there’saweight to the air that bearsdown on aman’s soul. Then

the bodies started appearing.Seasoned hunters andwarriors torn and rent bysomethingunseen,theirfacesfrozen in fear. A shamefulend to be taken by a beast,even a beast of magic.” Heglanced up at Vaelin. “Yougo there you’ll soon be asdeadasyourbrother.”

“My brother isn’tdead.” He knew it, felt it inthe constant note of the

blood-song. Nortah was stillalive.Waiting.

Abruptly the Lonakreached for his weapons androsetohisfeet,fixingVaelinwith a hostile glare. “We’vetalked long enough, MerimHer.I’llsoilmyselfnolongerwithyourcompany.”

“Vaelin Al Sorna,”Vaelinsaid.

The Lonak squinted athimsuspiciously.“What?”

“My name. Do youhaveone?”

The Lonak regardedhiminsilenceforalongtime,the hostility fading from hisgaze.Eventuallyheshookhishead. “That is not yourname.”

Thenhewasgone, intotheblacknessbeyond thefirewithoutasound.

The tower must have

stood over two hundred feethigh and Vaelin could onlyimagine how impressive itonce looked;anarrowof redmarble and grey granitepointing straight to theheavens.Nowitwasabrokenand cracked road of weeddottedrockleadinghimtotheheart of the fallen city.Lookingcloserhenoticedtherubblewasadornedwithfinerelief carvings showing a

myriad collection of beastsandfrolickingnakedhumans.The stone friezes whichdecorated the older buildingsofthecapitalwereallmartialincharacter,warriorsfightingforgotten battleswith archaicweaponry.But therewerenobattles here, the carvingsseemed joyous, often carnal,butneverviolent.

The morning sun haddawned behind a thick layer

of cloud bringing flurries ofsnow driven by a stiff windhe knew would only gain instrength as the day wore on.He closed his cloak againstthe chill and urged Spitonwards. Although lessfractiousthanusualtherewasa tension in the animal hehadn’tsensedbefore,hiseyeswere wide and he nickerednervously at the slightestsound. It was the city, he

knew.TheLonakandBrotherArtin hadn’t exaggerated theoppression in the air. Itthickenedashedrewclosertothejaggedoutlineoftheruinsahead,adullachebuildingatthe base of his skull. Theblood-songwasdifferent too,lessconstantinitstone,moreurgentinitswarning.

Hebegan to guideSpittowards a central archwayneartowherethefallentower

appearedtohavehaditsbase.They had only gone a fewpaces when Spit began totremble, his eyes wideningfurther, rearing and castinghisheadaboutinalarm.

“Easy!” Vaelin tried tocalmhimwithasoftstroketothe neck but the horse wasuncontrollable with fear,giving a shrill whinny andtippingVaelin from his backwith a sudden lurch then

thundering away beforeVaelincouldgrabatthereins.

“Come back youbloody nag!” he raged. Theonly answer was the distantdrum of hooves. “Should’vecut his throat years ago,”Vaelinmuttered.

“Don’tmove,brother.”Nortah stood beneath

the part collapsed archway.His blonde hair was longer,reaching nearly to his

shoulders,andthebeginningsof a youthful beard showedon his chin. Instead of hisbrother’s garb he wore a setof buckskin trews and aleatherjerkin.Apartfromthehunting knife in his belt hewas unarmed. Vaelin hadexpected defiance, plus amodicum of the usual scornand mockery, so wassurprised that Nortah’sexpression was one of grave

concern.“Brother,”headdressed

Nortah formally, “AspectArlyn commands yourimmediatereturn…”

Nortah barely seemedto hear him, edging closerwith his hands raised, andVaelin noticed how his eyeskept flicking to the side,focusingon something to therear…

Vealin whirled, his

sword coming free from thescabbardinablur.

“DON’T!” Nortah’sshout coming too late assomething large andimmensely strong slammedinto Vaelin’s side, the forceof the charge jarring hissword from his grip andsending him into the air tolandagoodtenfeetaway,hisbreath forced from his lungsbytheimpact.

He scrabbled for thedagger in his boot, draggingairintohislungsandtryingtoignore the sharp pain in hischest which told of at leastone broken rib. He pushedhimself upright, shoutingwith pain, and promptly fellagain as a wave of nauseablurred his vision and tippedthe ground beneath his feet.More than just a broken rib.He struggled, waving his

dagger wildly, trying to riseand finding Nortah standingover him. Vaelin drew backexpectinganattack,reversinghis hold on the dagger toparryathrust…

Nortah had his back tohim, standingwith his handsraisedabovehishead,wavingfrantically. “NO! No! Leavehim!”

Therewasasound,likea snarl mixed with a growl.

But it was not a sound anydogwouldevermake.

Vaelin had seen wildcats in the Urlish and theMartishe but the beast thatconfronted him now was sodifferentinsizeandshapehealmostconcludeditwasfromanother species altogether. Itstoodoverfourfeettallattheshoulder, its lean, powerfulframecovered in snowwhitefur shot through with dark

black stripes. Massive pawsscraped at the ground withclaws more than two incheslong, and its eyes, brightgreen and shining out fromthe complex striped mask ofitsface,seemedtoglowwithmalevolent intent. Meetinghis gaze it hissed, bearingfangslikeivorydaggers.

“NO!” Nortah yelled,placing himself between thecatandVaelin.“No!”

The cat snarled again,raisingapaw to slash theairin annoyance then shifted tothe left, seeking to edge pastNortah. Vaelin was amazed.Doesitfearhim?

A hand clap sounded,loud and sharp in the chilledmountain air. Vaelin tore hisgazefromthesnarlingcatandsawayoungwomanstandinga short distance away, aslender young woman with

auburnhairandafamiliarandveryprettyovalface.

“Sella?” he said,wincing as a fresh wave ofpain swept through him, hisvision swimming. When itclearedhefoundherstandingover him, smiling warmly,the cat was at her side now,nuzzlingherlegassheplayedahandthroughitsfur.Behindherhecouldseeotherfiguresemerging from the ruins,

dozens of people, young andold,menandwomen.

“Brother?” Nortah waskneelingnexttohim,hisfacepale with concern. “Are youhurt?”

“I…”MeetingNortah’sgaze and seeing theworry inhis eyes he felt a great swellofshameinhisbreast.Icamehere to kill you, my friend.WhatkindofmanamI?“I’mfine,” he said, pushing

himselfupright andpromptlypassing out from the savageflareofagonyinhischest.

Chapter8He was woken by

voices, softly spoken buttensewithconflict.

“…adangertousall,”aman was whisperingheatedly.

“No more than I,”answeredafamiliarvoice.

“You are us much afugitive as we are, brother.He is a member of an order

thatkillsourkind.”“Thisman is undermy

protection. No harm willcometohim.”

“I’m not talking aboutharminghim.Thereareotherways, we can keep himsleeping…”

“A bit late for that,”Vaelinsaid,openinghiseyes.

Helayonabedoffursin a large bare room, thewalls and the ceiling richly

decorated with fadedpaintings of animals andstrange sea creatures hecouldn’tname.Thefloorwascovered in an elaboratemosaic showing a pear treeladen with fruit surroundedby unfamiliar symbols andintricate swirling patterns.Nortah stood near the dooraccompanied by a slightlybuilt man with greying hairandwaryeyes.

“Brother,” Nortah saidwithasmile.“Youarewell?”

Vaelin felt at his side,expecting to find it tender tothe touch but there was nopain.Pullingdownthefurshesaw the livid bruise heexpectedwasabsent,hisfleshsmooth and unmarked. “Itappears so. Thought thatbeast had broken a rib atleast.”

“She did more than

that,” the slightly built mansaid. “Weaver had to spendhalf the night on you.Snowdance is not a easyanimal to control, even forSella.”

“Snowdance?”“The cat,” Nortah

explained. “A war cat leftbehind by the Ice Horde. Itseemssomeofthemmadethemistake of wandering intoLonak lands after the Tower

Lordsentthempacking.Sellafound her when she was akitten. Apparently she’s notyetfullygrown.”

“Grown large andferocious enough to keep ussafe,” the other man said,giving Vaelin a cold look.“Untilnow.”

“This is Harlick,”Nortah said. “He’s scared ofyou.Mostofthemare.”

“Them?”

“The people who livehere, and a very strangebunchtheyaretoo.”Hewentto a corner where Vaelin’sclothes and weapons wereneatly arranged and tossedhimashirt.“GetdressedandI’ll give you a tour of thefallencity.”

Outside the sun wasbrightandhigh,warming theair and banishing shadowsfromtheruins.Theyemerged

from what appeared to havebeen an official building ofsome kind, its size and theclusterofsymbolscarvedintothe lintel above the entrancemarked it out as a place ofimportance.

“Harlickthinksitwasalibrary,” Nortah said. “Heshould know, used to be aman of importance in theGrandLibrary inVarinshold.What became of all the

books, however.” Heshrugged.

“Gonetodustagespast,most like,” Vaelin said.Looking around he wasstruck by an impression ofbeauty despoiled. Theelegance of the buildings,evident in every line andcarving, had been displacedand disfigured by the city’sfall. His eyes picked outmarks in the stonework and

thebrokenstatues,notcracksofagebutscarshewnintothestone.Elsewherehenotedtheway all the taller buildingshad fallen in differentdirections, as if pulled downat random. There was aviolence to the destructionthat spoke of more than thedeprivations of passing yearsand harshness of theelements.

“This place was

attacked,” he murmured.“Torndowncenturiesago.”

“Sella said the samething.”Nortah’sfacecloudeda little. “She has dreamssometimes. Bad dreams,aboutwhathappenedhere.”

Vaelin turned to facehim, searching his face forsigns of wrongness. Nortahwas certainly different, thewearinessthatdulledhiseyessince their time in the

Martishe was gone, replacedby something Vaelin took amoment to recognise. He’shappy.

“Brother,” he said. “Imust know.Has she touchedyou?”

Nortah’s expressionwas both amused andguarded.“Myfatheroncetoldme there are some things atrue nobleman does notdiscuss.”

Vaelin wasmomentarily undecidedwhether to be jealous orangry that Nortah couldthrowoffhisvows so easily.He surprised himself byfinding he was neither. “Imeant…”

There was a rapidscrapeof clawson stone andVaelin fought to contain hisalarm as the war-catSnowdance bounded toward

them,leapingafallencolumnand nearly knocking Nortahfrom his feet as she pressedher great head against him,purringloudly.

“Hello you viscousbeast,” Nortah greeted her,tickling her behind the ears,for the all theworld as if hewas petting a kitten. Vaelincouldn’t stop himself edgingaway. The obvious power oftheanimalmadeevenScratch

lookweakincomparison.“She won’t hurt you,”

Nortah assured him,scratchingthecat’sjawassheangledherhead.“Sellawon’tlether.”

Nortahledhimthroughthe ruins to a cluster ofbuildingswhichseemedmoreintact than the others. Therewere people there, aboutthirty in all of varying ages,with a few children running

about. Most of the adultsregarded Vaelin with amixtureoffearandsuspicion,a few were openly hostile.OddlytheyshowednofearofSnowdance, a couple ofchildrenevenrunningovertopether.

“Why didn’t you takehissword?”atallmanwithablack beard demanded ofNortah. He was clutching aheavyquarterstaffandalittle

girl was peering out frombehind his legs, eyes widewithfearandcuriosity.

“It’s notmine to take,”Nortah replied in a placidtone.“AndI’dadviseyounottotry,Rannil.”

Vaelin was struck bythe way the people avoidedhis gaze as they movedthrough the camp, a coupleeven covered their facesalthough he knew none of

them. There was also amurmurfromtheblood-song,atonehehadn’theardbefore,itfeltalmostlikerecognition.

Nortahpausednexttoaheavilybuiltyoungmanwho,unlike the others, paid themno attention at all. He satsurroundedbypilesofrushes,hishandsmovingdeftlyasheworked them together,interlacing the long stemswith unconscious skill. A

number of completed conicalbaskets lay nearby, each oneseeminglyidentical.

“This is Weaver,”Nortah told Vaelin. “Youhave him to thank for yourunbrokenribs.”

“Youareahealer,sir?”Vaelinaskedtheyoungman.

Weaver stared up atVaelinwithblankeyesandavague smile on his broadface. After a moment he

blinked, as if recognisingVaelinforthefirsttime.“Allbroken up inside,” he said ina rapid tumble of wordsVaelin almost didn’t catch.“Bones and veins andmuscles and organs. Neededfixing.Longtimefixing.”

“You fixed me?”Vaelinasked.

“Fixed,” Weaverrepeated. He blinked againand returned to his task, his

fingers resuming their expertwork without further pause.He didn’t look up as NortahdrewVaelinaway.

“He’s slow of mind?”Vaelinasked.

“No-one’s quite sure.He sits weaving his basketsall day, rarely speaks. Theonlytimehe’snotweavingiswhenhe’shealing.”

“How can he havelearnedthehealingarts?”

Nortah paused androlled up the shirt sleeve onhisleftarm.Therewasathinscar running along theforearm, faded and barelynoticeable. “When I cut myway out of the Battle Lord’stentoneofhisCrowscaughtmewith a lance. I stitched itbestIcouldbutI’mnohealer.BythetimeImadeitintothemountains the gangrene hadsetin,theflesharoundthecut

wasblackandstinking.WhenI found myself among thesepeopleWeaver put down hisrushes,cameoverandputhishands on my arm. It felt…warm, almost like burning.Whenhetookhishandsawaythewoundlookedlikethis.”

Vaelin looked back atWeaversittingsurroundedbyhis rushes and baskets andfelt the blood-song murmuragain. “The Dark,” he said.

Glancing around at the waryfaces of the others themeaning of the song’s newtone became clear. “They allhaveit.”

Nortah leaned close,speaking softly. “So do you,brother. How else could youfind me?” He grinned at theshockonVaelin’sface.“Youhiditsowell,alltheseyears.Noneofushadanyidea.Butyoucouldn’thideitfromher.

Shetoldmewhatyoudidforher, for which I thank youmosthumbly.Afterall,we’dneverhavemetifyouhadn’t.Comeon,she’swaiting.”

They found Sellaencamped in a large plaza inthe centre of the city, smokerising fromacampfireabovewhichasteamingpotofstewwas suspended. She wasn’talone, Spit snorting happilyas she ran a hand over his

flanks.His snorts turned to afamiliar whinny of irritationasVaelinapproached,asifheresentedtheintrusion.

Sella’s embrace waswarm and her smile wide,although he noted she woregloves and avoided contactwith his skin. Her handsmovedwiththecleanfluencyheremembered.You’retaller,shesaid.

“And you.”He nodded

atSpit,nownuzzlingagorsebush with studiedindifference to his master.“He likes you. Usually hehateseveryoneonsight.”

Not hate, her handssaid. Anger. His memory islong for a horse. Heremembers the plains wherehe grew up. Endless grass,boundless skies. Hungers toreturn.

She paused to press a

kiss to Nortah’s lips as hepulled her close with easyfamiliarity, provoking amoment of unease. So, shehastouchedhim.

Spit gave an abruptwhinny of alarm whenSnowdance came boundinginto view and would havefled if Sella hadn’t calmedhimwithahand-stroketohisneck. She turned her gaze tothe war-cat, halting her in

mid-stride. Vaelin felt awhisper of theblood-song asSella’s gaze remained lockedon the cat. After the briefestpause Snowdance blinked,shaking her head inconfusion, then bounded offin another direction, quicklydisappearingintotheruins.

Wantstoplaywithyourhorse, Sella said. She’ll stayaway from him now. Shemovedtothecampfire,lifting

thestewpotfromitstripod.“Will you eat with us,

brother?”Nortahasked.Vaelin realised he was

fiercelyhungry.“Gladly.”Thestewwasgoatmeat

seasoned with thyme andsage which apparently grewin abundance amidst theruins. Vaelin wolfed down abowlwithhiscustomarylackof manners, noting Nortah’swince of apology in Sella’s

direction.Shejustsmiledandshookherhead.

“How’s Dentos?”Nortahasked.

“Bruised, you nearlybrokehischeekbone.”

“He damn near brokemine. The Crows didn’t gethimthen?”

“HemadeitsafelybacktotheHighKeep.”

“I’m glad. He and theothers,weretheyangry?”

“Notheywereworried.Iwasangry.”

Nortah’s smile wastight, almost wary. “Did youcome here to kill me,brother?”

Vaelin met his gazesquarely. “I knew youwouldn’t let me take youback.”

“You were right. Andnow?”

Vaelin pointed to the

medallion chain aroundNortah’s neck and gesturedfor him to hand it over.Nortah hesitated briefly thentookout thesmallmetal iconof theblindwarrior, hookingthe chain over his head andtossingitintoVaelin’spalm.

“Nowthereisnoneed,”Vaelinsaid,puttingthechainaround his own neck. “SinceyouunwiselyfledintoLonakterritory weakened by your

wound. Having fought offseveral Lonak attacks yousadly fell victim to anunnamed but famouslysavage beast known to dwellnear the fallen city.” Hetouched a hand to themedallion. “I could scarcelyrecognise your remains butforthis.”

Will they believe you?Sellaasked.

Vaelinshrugged.“They

believed what I told themabout you. Besides, it’s theKing’s belief that matters,and I suspect he will chooseto take my word withoutfurtherinvestigation.”

“So you do have theKing’s ear,” Nortah mused.“We always suspected. DidtheBattleLordlive?”

“So it seems. TheRealm Guard have returnedtoAsraelandLordMustor is

now installedasFiefLord intheCumbraelincapital.”

“And the Cumbraelinprisoners?”

Vaelin hesitated. Hehad heard the story fromBrotherArtinandwasn’tsurehow Nortah would react tothe news, but decided hedeserved to hear the truth.“The Battle Lord is popularwiththeCrows,asyouknow.After what you did to him

they rioted, the prisonerswereslaughteredtoaman.”

Nortah’s face saggedwithsorrow.“Allfornothingthen.”

Sella reached over toclasphishandbriefly.Notfornothing, her hands told him.Youfoundme.

Nortah forced a smileandgot tohis feet. “I shouldhunt.” He planted a kiss onhercheekandshoulderinghis

bow and quiver. “We’rerunning short of meat, and Isuspect you both have muchtodiscuss.”

Vaelin watched himwalkofftowardsthenorthernedge of the city. After amomentSnowdance emergedtopadalongsidehim.

I know what you’rethinking, Sella said when heturnedback.

“You touched him,”

Vaelinreplied.Not how you think, her

hands insisted. You havesomethingofmine.

Vaelin nodded, fishinginside his collar for the silkscarf she had given him. Heuntied it from his neck andhandedittoher,feelingoddlyreluctant. It had been histalisman for so long itsabsence felt strange,unnerving.

Sella smiled sadly asshe laid the scarf out on herknees, her fingers tracingover the delicate gold threadpattern.Motherwore this allherlife,shesigned.Whenshepassed it came to me. Itsmessage is precious to thosewho believe as we do. See.She pointed at sigil woveninto the silk, a crescentencircled by a ring of stars.The moon, the sign of calm

reflection,fromwherereasonand balance are derived.Here.Shepointedtoagoldencircle ringedwith flame.Thesun, source of passion, love,anger. Her finger traced tothe tree in the centre of thescarf.Weexist here,betweenthe two. Grown from theearth, warmed by the sun,cooled by the moonlit night.Your brother’s heart hadbeen pulled too far into the

realm of the sun, fired withangerandregret.Nowhehascooled and he looks to themoonforguidance.

“By his own choice orbyyourtouch?”

Hersmilebecameshy.Ifeared him when Snowdancecalledtomewithnewsofhiscoming.We found him fallenfrom his horse, raving withfever from his wound. TheotherswantedtokillhimbutI

wouldn’t let them. I knewwhat hewas, amanwithhisskillsmayhavebeenusefultous,andsoItouchedhim.Shepaused, looking down at hergloved hands. Nothinghappened. For the first time,norushofpower,nosenseofcontrol.Aslowflushcreptuphercheeks.Icantouchhim.

Something for whichI’m sure he’s very grateful,Vaelin thought fighting a

pang of envy. “He does notdo your bidding? He isnot…” he fumbled for therightwords,“enslaved?”

Mothertoldmeitwouldbethisway.OnedayIwouldmeet someone who would beimmune tomy touch, andwewouldbeboundtogether.Itisalwaysthiswayforthosewithour gift. Your brother is asfreeasheeverwas.Hersmilefaded, sympathy colouring

hereyes.Morefreethanyou,Ithink.

Vaelin looked away.“HetoldmewhatWeaverdidfor him,” he said, desiring achange of subject. “All thepeople here are touched bytheDarkaretheynot?”

Her hands twitched inannoyance and a frowncreasedherbrow.TheDarkisaword for the ignorant. Thepeople here are Gifted.

Different powers, differentabilities.ButGifted.Likeyou.

He nodded. “That’swhatyousawinme,allthoseyearsago.YouknewitbeforeIdid.”

Your gift is rare andprecious.MymothercalledittheHunter’sCall.Inthedaysof the Four Fiefs it wasknown as the Battle Sight.TheSeordah…

“Blood-song,”hesaid.

Shenodded. It’s grownsince our lastmeeting. I canfeel it. You have honed it,learnt its music well. Butthereisstillsomuchtolearn.

“You can teach me?”Hewassurprisedat thehopeevidentinhisvoice.

She shook her head.No, but there are others,olderandwiserwiththesamegift.Theycanguideyou.

“HowdoIfindthem?”

Your song links you tothem. It will find them. Allyou must do is follow.Remember, it is a rare giftyou hold. It may be yearsbefore you find onewho canguideyou.

Vaelin hesitated beforeasking his next question, hehadkept thesecret so long itwas a habit he foundhard tobreak. “There is something Ineed toknow.Howcan itbe

that I have faced two men,now dead, who both spokewiththesamevoice?”

Her face was suddenlyguardedanditwasamomentbeforeherhandsspokeagain.They wished you ill, thesemen?

He thought of theassassin in the House of theFourth Order and themurderous desperation ofHentes Mustor. “Yes, they

wishedmeill.”Sella’s hands now

moved with a strangehesitancy he hadn’t seenbefore. There are storiesamong the Gifted… Oldstories… Myths… Of Giftedwhocouldreturn…

He frowned. “Returnfromwhere?”

From the place whereall journeys end… From theBeyond… From death. They

take the bodies of the living,wear them like a cloak.Whether such a thing cantruly be done I don’t know.Yourwordsare…troubling.

“Once there wereseven. You know what thismeans?”

There were once sevenorders of your faith. An oldstory.

“Atruestory?”She shrugged. Your

faithisnotmine,Iknowlittleofitshistory.

He glanced back at thecamp and its fearfulinhabitants.“Thesepeopleallfollowyourbeliefs?”

Shegavea small laughand shook her head. Only IfollowthepathoftheSunandthe Moon here. Amongst usare Questers, Ascendants,followers of the Cumbraelingodandevensomeadherents

of your faith. Belief does notbindus,ourgiftsdothat.

“Erlin guided all thesepeoplehere?”

Some. There was onlyHarlick and a few otherswhen he first brought mehere. Others came later,fleeing the fears and hatredsour kind attracts, called bytheir gifts. This place. Shegestured at the surroundingruins. Once there was great

power here. TheGiftedwereprotectedinthiscity,vauntedeven.Theechoofthattimeisstillstrongenoughtocallus.Youcanfeelit,can’tyou?

He nodded, theatmosphere seemed lessoppressive now he knew itsmeaning. “Nortah said youhavebaddreamsof this city.Ofwhathappenedhere.”

Not all bad. SometimesIseeithowitwasbeforethe

fall. There were manywonders here; a city ofartists, poets, singers,sculptors.Theyhadmasteredso much, learned so much,they felt themselvesinvulnerable, thinking theGifted among them all theprotection they needed. Theyhad lived in peace forgenerations and had nowarriors, so when the stormcametheywerenakedbefore

it.“Storm?”Many centuries ago,

beforeourkindcametotheseshores,beforeeventheLonakand the Seordah, there weremanycitieslikethis,thislandwas rich in people andbeauty. Then the storm cameandtoreitalldown.Astormof steel and twisted power.They swept aside the Giftedwho fought them and vented

all theirhateonthiscity, thecity they hated most of all.She paused, a shuddermaking her pull her shawlaround her shoulders. Rapeandmassacre, theburningofchildren,menatethefleshofother men. Every horrorimaginablewasvisitedhere.

“Who were they? Themenwhodidthis?”

She shook her headvaguely. The dreams tell me

nothing of who they were orfromwheretheycame.Ithinkit’s because the people wholivedheredidn’tknoweither.The dreams are the echo oftheirlives,theyonlyshowmewhattheyknew.

Sheclosedhereyes fora moment, clearing her headof the memory, then deftlyfolded the scarfonherkneesandhelditouttohim.

“I can’t,” he said. “It

wasyourmother’s.”He gloved hands took

hisandpressed thescarf intothem.A gift. I havemuch tothankyouforandonlythistoshowit.

In the evening they

shared a brace of rabbitsNortah had brought backfrom his hunt, regaling Sellawiththemorehumoroustalesof their days in the Order.

Strangely, the stories feltdated,asiftheyweretwooldmen spinning yarns of longago. It occurred to him thatforNortahtheOrderwasnowpart of his past, he hadprogressed, Vaelin and hisbrothers were no longer hisfamily. He had Sella now,Sella and the other Gifted,huddlingintheirruin.

“Youknowit’snotsafeto stay here,” he told Sella.

“The Lonak will not tolerateyour war cat forever. Andsooner or later AspectTendris is bound to send astronger expedition to solvethemysteryofthisplace.”

She nodded, handsmoving in the firelight. Wewillhavetoleavesoon.Thereare other refuges we canseek.

“Come with us,”Nortah suggested. “You do

have more right to join thisodd company than I, afterall.”

Vaelin shook his head.“I belong with the Order,brother.Youknowthat.”

“Iknowthere’snothingbut war and killing in yourfuture if you staywith them.Andwhatdoyouthinkthey’lldo when they find out yoursecret?”

Vaelin shrugged to

mask his discomfort. Nortahwas right of course, but hisconviction was unshaken.Despite the burden of manysecrets and the blood he hadspilled, despite his ache forSherinandthesisterhewouldnever know, he knew hebelongedwiththeOrder.

He hesitated beforesayingwhat he knew he hadto say next, the secret hadbeen kept too long and the

guiltweighed heavily. “Yourmotherandyoursistersareinthe Northern Reaches,” hetoldNortah.“TheKingfounda place for them there afteryourfather’sexecution.”

Nortah’s face wasunreadable. “How long haveyouknownthis?”

“Since the Test of theSword.Ishouldhavetoldyoubefore. I’m sorry. I hearTower Lord Al Myrna is

tolerantofotherfaithswithinhis lands. You may findrefugethere.”

Nortah stared into thefire, his face tense. Sella putherarmaroundhis shouldersandlaidherheadonhischest.His face softened as hestroked her hair. “Yes, youshouldhavetoldme,”hesaidtoVaelin.“Butthankyoufortellingmenow.”

Some children came

running out of the darkness,laughing and clusteringaroundNortah. “Story!” theychanted.“Story!Story!”

Nortah tried to placatethem,sayinghewastootiredbut they pestered him evenmoreuntilherelented.“Whatkindofstory?”

“Battles!” a little boycried as they sat around thefire.

“No battles,” insisted a

littlegirlVaelinrecognisedasthe fearful, wide eyed childfrom the camp. “Battles areboring. Scary story!” Sheclimbed into Sella’s lap andsettledintoherarms.

Theotherchildrentookup thecryandNortahwavedthem to silence, his facetaking on a mock seriouscountenance. “Scary story itis.But,” he held up a finger,“this is not a story for the

faint at heart or the weak ofbladder. This is the mostterrible and frightful of talesandwhenIamdoneyoumaycurse my name for everhaving voiced it.” His voicedropped toawhisperand thechildren leaned closer tocatch hiswords. “This is thetaleoftheWitch’sBastard.”

It was an old taleVaelin knew well; a Darkafflicted witch from a

Renfaelin village snared thelocal blacksmith into lyingwithher andof theirunionavilecreatureintheshapeofahuman boy was born,destined to bring about theruin of the village and thedeath of his father. Hethought it an odd choice ofstoryforthesechildren,givenas it was often used to warnof thedangersofdabbling inthe Dark, but they listened

avidly, eyes wide as Nortahset the scene. “In the darkestpart of the darkest woods inold Renfael, before the timeof the Realm, there stood avillage. And in this villagethere dwelt a witch, comelyto the eye but with a heartblacker than the blackestnight…”

Vaelin rose quietly andmade his way through thedarkened ruins to the main

camp where suspicious eyesstared at him frommakeshiftshelters. There were a fewguarded nods of greeting butnone of the Gifted spoke tohim.TheymustknowI’moneof them, he thought.But stilltheyfearme.Hecontinuedonto the buildingwhere he hadawoken that morning, theplaceNortahcalleda library.The was a faint glow offirelight in the doorway and

helingeredoutsideamomentto ensure there were novoices. He wanted a privateconversation with Harlick,theone-timelibrarian.

He found the manreadingbyhisfire,thesmokeescapingthroughaholeintheceiling.Lookingcloserat thefire Vaelin noted it had anunusualfuel.Insteadofwoodthe flames licked at curled,blackenedpagesandblistered

leather bindings. Hissuspicions were confirmedwhen Harlick turned the lastpage of his book, closed itandtosseditintotheflames.

“Iwasoncetoldtoburnabookisaheinouscrime,”heobserved,recallingoneofhismother’s many lectures ontheimportanceoflearning.

Harlick jerked to hisfeet in fright, taking a fewwary backward steps. “What

doyouwant?”hedemanded,the quaver in his voicedraining any threat from thewords.

“To talk.” Vaelinentered and crouched next tothe fire, warming his handsandwatchingthebooksburn.Harlicksaidnothing,crossinghisarmsandrefusingtomeethisgaze.

“You are Gifted,”Vaelincontinued. “Youmust

beoryouwouldn’tbehere.”Harlick’s eyes flashed

at him. “Don’t you meanafflicted,brother?”

“You have no need tofear me. I have questions,questions a man of learningmight be able to answer.Especiallyamanwithagift.”

“And if I can’tanswer?”

Vaelin shrugged. “Ishall seek answers

elsewhere.”Henoddedat thefire. “For a librarian youseemtohavelittlerespectforbooks.”

Harlick bridled, angerovercoming his fear. “I havegivenmylifetotheserviceofknowledge. I will not justifymyself toonewhodoes littlebut litter the Realm withcorpses.”

Vaelin inclined hishead.“Asyouwish,sir.ButI

shouldstillliketoaskyoumyquestions. You may answeror no, the choice is yourown.”

Harlick pondered insilence for a moment thenmoved back to the furcovered stool beside the fire,resuming his seat andcautiously meeting Vaelin’seye.“Askthen.”

“Is the Seventh OrderoftheFaithtrulyextinct?”

The man’s gazedropped immediately, fearoncemore clouding his face.He didn’t speak for a longtime and when he did hiswordswereawhisper.“Haveyoucomeheretokillme?”

“Iamnothere foryou.Youknowthat.”

“But you are in searchoftheSeventhOrder.”

“Mysearchisinserviceto the Faith and the Realm.”

He frowned, realising theimport of what Harlick hadsaid.“Youareof theSeventhOrder?”

Harlick seemedshocked. “You mean to sayyou do not know?Why elsewouldyoubehere?”

Vaelin was undecidedwhether to laugh or cuff themaninfrustration.“Icameinsearch of my fugitivebrother,” he told Harlick

patiently.“NotknowingwhatI would find. I know a littleof the Seventh Order andwish to know more. That isall.”

Harlick’s face becamerigid, as if he feared anydisplay of emotion couldbetray him. “Would youreveal the secrets of yourOrder,brother?”

“Ofcoursenot.”“Thendonotexpectme

todivulgethesecretsofmine.You can tortureme, I know.ButI’lltellyounothing.”

Vaelin saw how theman’s hands trembled in hislap and couldn’t helpadmiringhiscourage.Hehadthought theSeventhOrder, ifitstillexisted,amaligngroupofDarkafflictedconspirators,but this frightened man andhis simple courage spoke ofsomethingdifferent.

“DidtheSeventhOrderorchestrate the killing ofAspects Sentis andMorvin?”he demanded, more harshlythan intended. “Did they tryto assassinate me during theTest of the Run? Did theydeceive Hentes Mustor intomurderinghisfather?”

Harlick flinched,gasping out a noise that washalf a sob and half a laugh.“The Seventh Order guards

the Mysteries,” he said, thewords sounding like aquotation.“Itpracticesitsartsin serviceof theFaith. Ithasalwaysbeenthus.”

“There was a war,centuries ago. Between theOrders, a war begun by theSeventhOrder.”

Harlickshookhishead.“The Seventh went to warwith itself. It was sunderedfromwithin, theotherOrders

were drawn into the conflict.The war was long andterrible, thousands died.WhenitwasoverthoseoftheSeventh who remained werefeared beyond reason by thepeople and the nobility.ConclavedecidedtheSeventhwould disappear from thefiefsandbeseennomorebythe people. Its house wasdestroyed,itsbooksburnt,itsbrothers and sisters scattered

and hidden. But the FaithrequirestheretobeaSeventhOrder,visibleorno.”

“YoumeantheSeventhwasnever trulydestroyed? Itworksinsecret?”

“I’ve told you toomuch.Askmenomore.”

“Do the Aspectsknow?”

Harlick shut his eyestightandsaidnothing.

Suddenly furious

Vaelin grabbed the man,lifting him clear of the stool,forcing him against thewall.“DO THE ASPECTSKNOW?”

Harlick shrank fromhim, quailing in his grasp,wordsbubbling fromhis lipsamidst panicked spittle. “Ofcoursetheyknow.Theyknoweverything.”

Memories came in aflood as Harlick’s words

struck home. The shift inMasterSollis’seyeswhenhefirst said ‘Once there wereseven’,AspectElera’sinstantoffearatthesamewords,theway Sollis had exchangedglances with her after theytold the tale of One Eye’sDark abilities. And theknowledge behind AspectArlyn’seyes.AmIafool?hewondered. For not seeingthis? The Aspects have been

lying to the Faithful forcenturies.

HereleasedHarlickandwent back to the fire. Thebooks were little more thanashnow, the leatherbindingscurled and charred blackamidsttheembers.“TheotherGifted, they don’t know, dothey?” he asked, glancingback atHarlick. “They don’tknowwhatyouare.”

Harlickshookhishead.

“You have a missionhere?”

“I cannot tell youanything further, brother.”Harlick’s voice was strainedbut determined. “Please donotaskme.”

“Asyouwish,brother.”He went to the doorway,gazing out at the moonlitruins. “Iwould be grateful ifyou would omit mention ofBrother Nortah’s survival in

any report youmake to yourAspect.”

Harlick shrugged.“Brother Nortah is not myconcern.”

“Thankyou.”He wandered the ruins

for hours, memories playingthough hismind in a torrent.Theyknew,allthistime.Theyknew. He couldn’t decide ifhis confusion was born of

betrayalorsomethingdeeper.The Aspects embody thevirtuesof theFaith.TheyaretheFaith.Iftheyhavelied…

“I really wish you’dcomewithus.”HelookedupfindingNortahperchedatopamassive piece of fallenstatuary. It took Vaelin amomenttorecogniseitasthemarble head of a beardedman, his carved expressionone of deep contemplation.

Surely one of the city’sluminaries commemorated instone. Was he a philosopheror a king? A god perhaps.Vaelin leant against thestatue’s forehead, running ahand over the deep lines inhis brows. Whoever orwhatever he had been wasforgottennow.Nomore thanagreatstoneheadwaitingfortheagestoturnhimtodustina citywhere no onewas left

torememberhisname.“I… can’t,” he told

Nortaheventually.“You don’t sound so

certainnow.”“PerhapsI’mnot.Even

so, there is much I need toknow. I’ll only find answersintheOrder.”

“Answerstowhat?”There’s something

growing. A threat, a danger,something that threatens us

all.I’vefeltitforalongtime,although it’s only now Irealise it. Vaelin left itunsaid. Nortah had a newpath now, a new family.Sharing would only burdenhim. “We’re all looking foranswers, brother,” he said.“Though you appear to havefoundyours.”

“That I have.” Nortahleapt down from the statueandheldouthissword.“You

shouldtakethisaswellasthetalisman. It’ll add to yourproof.”

“You may need it, theroadtotheNorthernReacheswill be long and hazardous.These people will need yourprotection.”

“There are other formsof protection. I’ve spilledenough blood with this. Iintend to live the rest of mydays without taking another

life.”Vaelin took the sword.

“Whenwillyouleave?”“There’s no point

waiting for winter.Convincingtheothersmaybedifficult though. Some ofthem have been here foryears.” He paused, hisexpressionoddlysheepish.“Ididn’tkillthebear.”

“What?”“During theTestof the

Wild. I didn’t kill it. TheshelterIbuiltcollapsedinthewind. I was desperate,freezing, wandering in thesnow. I found a cave andthought the Departed hadguided me to shelter.Unfortunately, the bear wholived there didn’t appreciatevisitors. It chased me formiles,allthewaytotheedgeof a cliff. Imanaged to grabon to a branch, the bear

wasn’tsolucky.Keptmefedforawhilethough.”

Vaelin laughed, thesoundwasstrangeamidst theruins, out of place. “Youbloodyliar.”

Nortah grinned. “Nextto the bow it was my majortalent.”His smile faded. “I’llmiss you, and the others.Can’tsayI’msorryabouttheBattleLordthough.”

They walked back to

thecamp,fedthewaningfireand talked of the Order andtheir brothers for hours.WhenNortah finallywent tothe shelter he shared withSella,Vaelin settled down inhiscloakknowing that in themorninghewouldwakeearlyand leavewithout a farewell.The reason came to himbeforehe tumbled intosleep:Iwanttostay.

PartIVInaddition tohismany

lies regarding the supposedperfidyofAlpiraninterlopers,King Janus had need of alegaldevicetosupplementhispremiseforwar.Accordingly,extensive digging into theroyal archive unearthed anobscure treaty dating backsome four hundred years.Whatwasinfactalapsedand

fairly standard tradeagreement on tariffs betweenthe Lord of Asrael and thethen independent city statesof Untesh and Marbellisenabled the king’s Lord ofJustice to seize on a minorclause formalisingarrangementstocooperateinsuppressing Meldeneanpirates.Throughamixtureofinventivetranslationfromtheoriginal Alpiran text and

basic sophistry this clausewastwistedintoaninvitationto assume sovereignty. Thuswastheliefabricatedthattheinvasionwassimplyaseizureof property which alreadybelongedtotheking.

The invasion fleetarrived off the Alpiran coaston the 96th day of EmperorAluran’sreign(allpraisehiswisdom and benevolence).Although the recent

deterioration in relationsbetween our empire (may itlive forever) and the UnifiedRealm had caused someimperialadviserstowarnofapossible invasion, thecomparative smallness ofKingJanus’fleetledmanytodiscount their fears. Theimperial mathematicianRerien Alturs calculated thatto deposit the Realm Guardonourcoastwouldrequirea

fleet of at least fifteenhundredshipsand theRealmpossessedbarelyfivehundredof which only half werewarships.Sadly,nowordhadreached our ears of thetreacherous actions of theMeldenean pirate nation(may the ocean rise toswallow their islands) inagreeing to ferry the RealmforcesacrosstheErineansea.Sourcesdisagreeontheprice

paidbyJanusforthisservice,opinion ranging fromno lessthanthreemilliongoldpiecestotheofferofhisdaughterinmarriage to a Meldenean ofsuitable rank, but the costmust have been high indeedfor the pirates to set asidetheir hatred of theNorthmenborn of the destruction oftheircitytwentyyearsearlier.

It was the greatestmisfortunethattheHopewas

at thatverymomentengagedin a ceremonial visit to theTempleoftheGoddessMuisilin Untesh, accompanied byone hundred men of theImperial Horse Guard. Hewas therefore only ten milesfrom the landing sitewhen aterrified fisherman arrivedwith news of a Meldeneanraiding party of previouslyunseen size. The Hopeimmediately mobilised the

local garrison, some threethousand horse and fivethousand spears, setting outin the dead of night toconfront the invaders andsweepthembackintothesea.It took several hours toassembletheforceandmarchto the coast. If his force hadmoved only fractionallyquickertheHopewouldhavehad a chance to deal aserious,possiblyfatalblowto

the forcesstillassemblingonthe beach.However, the firstRealm Guard regiment toland had already formedranks to defend the narrowtrack through the dunesleadingtothebeach.Attheirhead was the most fanaticaland ferocious warrior priestoftheUnifiedRealm’shereticfaith: Valin il Sorna (cursehisnameforalltheages).

Verniers Alishe

Someren, The Great War ofSalvation, vol. 1 (unrevisedtext). Alpiran ImperialArchives.

Verniers’Account“It must have pained

you,” I said, “finding yourbrother’s body. Seeing himso...mutilated.”

The Northman got tohis feet, rubbing at thestiffness in his legs andgroaning as he stretched hisback.“Not themostpleasantsight,” he agreed. “I gavewhatwaslefttothefire,took

his sword and his medallionback to the Order. The Kingand Aspect Arlyn acceptedmy word without question.The Battle Lord,understandably, was lesstrusting,namingmea traitorand a liar. I think he wouldhavechallengedmetooiftheKing hadn’t ordered him tosilence.”

“And the mysteriousbeast that killed Nortah,” I

said. “Did you ever discoverwhat manner of creature itwas?”

“They saywolves growlarge in the north. In theeastern crags there areferocious apes twice the sizeof a man with faces likedogs.” He shrugged. “Therearemanydangersinnature.”

He moved to the stairsleadingtothedeckandbegantoascend.“I feel theneedof

somefreshair.”I followed him out into

the night. The sky wascloudless and the moonbright, painting the ship’srigging a pale blue as itswayedinthestiffseabreeze.TheonlycrewmenIcouldseewere the helmsman and thedim shape of a boy perchedhigh on the main-mast.“Captain told you to stay inthe hold,” the helmsman

growled.“Then go and wake

him,” I suggested beforejoining Al Sorna. He stoodresting his forearms on therail, staring out at themoonlit sea, his expressiondistant.

“TheTeethofMoesis,”he said, pointing to a clusterof white specks in thedistance where waves werebreaking on a series of

jagged rocks. “Moesis is theMeldeneangodofthehunt,agreat serpent who foughtMargentis,thegiantorcagodfor a day and a night. Sogreat was their struggle theymade theseaboiland forcedthe continents apart.When itwas over andMoesis floateddead in the surf his bodyrottedawaybuthisteethwereleft to mark his passing. Hisspirit joinedwiththeseaand

when theMeldeneansrose tohunt thewaves itwas to himthey looked for guidance, forhis teeth mark the way totheir homeland. We’re inMeldenean waters now.Where I believe your shipsneverventure.”

“Meldeneansarepiratescum,”Isaidsimply.“Anyofour ships would make avaluableprize.”

“And yet the lady

Emeren’s vessel was takenhere.”

I said nothing. I hadunsettling questions of myown on this matter but wasreluctanttodiscussthemwithhim.

“I understand the shipandcrewwereallowedtosailon their way,” he went on.“Onlytheladywastaken.”

Icoughed.“Thepiratesno doubt recognised her

valueforransom.”“Except they asked for

no ransom. Only for me tocome and fight theirchampion.” His mouthtwitchedandIrealisedIwasbeingbaited.

I recalled Emeren’sbitter audience with theEmperor after theNorthman’s trial where shehad begged for his sentenceto be changed. “A death

demands a death,” she hadrailed, her fine featurescontorted with rage. “Thegods demand it. The peopledemand it.My fatherless sondemands it.And Idemand it,Sire, as widow to themurdered Hope of thisEmpire.”

In the chill silence thatfollowed her tirade theEmperor sat silent andunmoving on his throne, the

attending guards andcourtiers shocked and stiffwith trepidation, their eyesfixed firmly on the floor.When the Emperor finallyspoke his voice was tonelessand devoid of anger as hedecreedtheLadyEmerenhadoffended his person and wasbanished from court untilfurther notice. As far as Iknew they hadn’t exchangedasinglewordsince.

“Suspect what youwish,” I told Al Sorna. “Butknow the Emperor does notscheme, he would neverindulgeinrevenge.Hiseveryaction is in service to theEmpire.”

He laughed. “Youremperor has sent me to theislandstodie,mylord.SotheMeldeneans can have theirrevengeonmyfatherandtheladycanwitness thedeathof

the man who killed herhusband. I wonder if it washerideaortheirs.”

I couldn’t fault hisreasoning.Hewas,ofcourse,expected to die. The HopeKiller’s end would be thefinalactinthetraumaofourwar with his people, theepilogue to the epic ofconflict. Whether this hadbeen in the Emperor’s mindwhen he agreed to the

Meldeneans’ offer I trulydon’t know. In any case AlSornaseemedfreeoffearandresigned to his fate. Iwondered if he actuallyexpected to survive his duelwith theShield,reputedly thefinest swordsman ever towield a blade. The HopeKiller’s story had left me inlittle doubt as to his owndeadlyabilitiesbuttheyweresure to have been dulled by

hisyearsofcaptivity.Evenifhe did prevail theMeldeneans were unlikely tosimply allow the son of theCity Burner to sail awayunmolested. He was a mangoing tohisdoom. I knew it,andso,apparently,didhe.

“When did King JanustellyouofhisplanstoattacktheEmpire?”Iasked,keentoextract as much of his storyas possible before we made

landfall.“About a year before

the Realm Guard embarkedforAlpiran shores.For threeyears the regiment hadroamed the Realm puttingdown rebels and outlaws.Smugglers on the southernshore,bandsofcut-throatsinNilsael,evermorefanaticsinCumbrael.Wespentawinterin the north fighting theLonak when they decided it

wastimeforanotherroundofraiding. The regiment grewlarger,addingtwocompaniesto the roster. After ourCumbraelin adventure theKing had given us a bannerof our own, a wolf runningabovetheHighKeep.Andsothe men began callingthemselvestheWolfrunners.Ialways thought it soundedsillybuttheyseemedtolikeit.For some reason young men

flockedtoourbanner,notallof them poor either and wehad no further reason torecruitfromthedungeons.Somany turnedupat theOrderHouse theAspectwas forcedto instigate a series of tests,mainly tests of strength andspeed, but tests in the Faithas well. Only those with thesoundest Faith and thestrongest bodies were taken.Bythetimewecametoboard

thefleetfortheinvasionIhadcommand of twelve hundredmen, probably the besttrainedandmostexperiencedsoldiers in the Realm.” Helookeddownattheblue-whitefroth of the ocean as itcollided with the hull, hisexpression sombre. “Whenthe war ended less than twothirds were left. For theRealm Guard it was evenworse,maybeonemaninten

madeitbacktotheRealm.”Deservedly so, I

thoughtbutdidn’tsay.“Whatdid he tell you?” I askedinstead. “What reason didJanusgivefortheinvasion?”

He lifted his head,staringat theteethofMoesisas they faded toward thedimhorizon. “Bluestone, spicesand silk,” he said, his tonefaintly bitter. “Bluestone,spicesandsilk.”

Chapter1The bluestone sat in

Vaelin’s palm, a king’s gift,the dim light from thecrescent moon gleaming onitssmoothsurface,athinveinof silver-grey marking theotherwise flawless blue. Itwasthelargestbluestoneeverfound,mostwerelittlebiggerthanagrape,andBarkushadinformed him, with barely

concealedgreed,thatitwouldfetch enough gold to buymostofRenfael.

“Can you hear that?”Dentos’s voice was steadybut Vaelin saw the twitchbelowhiseye.Ithadbegunayearago,whentheycorneredalargeLonakraidingpartyinaboxcanyoninthenorth.AsevertheLonakhadrefusedtosurrender and chargedstraight for their line,

screamingdeathsongs.Ithadbeen a brief but ugly fight,Dentos in the thick of it,emerging unscathed but forthe twitch. It tended to flareup just before a battle.“Sounds like thunder.” Hegrinned,stilltwitching.

Vaelin pocketed thebluestoneandlookedoutoverthe broad plain stretchingaway from the beach, sparsegrassandscrubbarelyvisible

in the gloom. It seemed thenorthern coast of theAlpiranempire was not overlyblessed with vegetation.Behind him the din ofthousands of Realm Guardassembling on the beachmingled with the roar of thesurf and the creek ofcountlessoarsastheirfleetofMeldenean hirelings ferriedever more to the shoreline.Despite the noise he could

hear it clearly; distantthunder,outinthedarkness.

“Didn’t take themlong,” Barkus observed.“Maybe they knew we werecoming.”

“Meldenean bastards,”Dentos hawked and spat onthesand.“Nevertrust‘em.”

“Perhaps they simplysawthefleetcoming,”Caenissuggested. “Eight hundredshipswould be hard tomiss.

It’s barely a couple of hoursridefromheretothegarrisonatUntesh.”

“It scarcely mattershowtheyknow,”Vaelinsaid.“Whatmattersisthattheydoand we have a busy nightaheadofus.Brothers,toyourcompanies.DentosIwantthearchers on that rise.” Heturned to Janril Norin, onetime failedminstrel and nowregimental bugler and

standard bearer. “Form ranksbycompany.”

Janril nodded, bringingthe bugle to his lips andsounding the urgent call toarms. The men respondedinstantly, rising from theirresting places amidst thedunesandhurrying into theirranks, twelve hundred menforming into neat ranks inbarelyfiveminutes, therapidunconscious actions of

professional soldiers. Therewas little talk and no panic.Most had done this manytimes before and the newrecruits took their lead fromtheveterans.

Vaelin waited until themen had assembled thenwalked the length of theregiment, checking for gaps,nodding encouragement orberating those he foundwithloosemailorpoorlystrapped

helmets. The Wolfrunnerswere the least armouredsoldiers in theRealmGuard,eschewing the usual steelbreastplate and wide-brimmedhelmformailshirtsandcapsofleatherlinedwithiron plates. The light armourbefitted a force usuallyemployed to pursue smallbands of Lonak raiders oroutlawsacross roughcountryorthickforest.

Vaelin’sinspectionwasreally Sergeant Krelnik’s jobbuthadbecomesomethingofa pre-battle ritual, giving themen a chance to see theircommander before the chaosstarted,adistractionfromtheimpending bloodshed, and itspared him the chore ofmaking a rousing speech asother commanders were aptto do. He knew the men’sloyalty to him was mostly

born of fear and a waryrespect for his ever growingreputation. They didn’t lovehim, but he never doubtedthey would follow him,speechornot.

Hepausedbeforeamanonce known as Gallis theClimber,nowSergeantGallisoftheThirdCompany.Gallisgreeted him with a smartsalute.“Milord!”

“You need a shave,

sergeant.”Gallis grinned. It was

anoldjoke,healwaysneededashave.“Prepareforcavalry,milord?”

Vaelinglancedoverhisshoulder, darkness stillshrouded the landscape butthethundergreweverlouder.“Indeed,sergeant.”

“Hope they’re easier tokillthantheLonak.”

“We’ll find out soon

enough.”He moved to the rear

where Janril Norin waswaitingwithSpit,holdinghisreinswithnervoushandsandkeeping as far away aspossible from his infamouslyvicious teeth. Spit snorted asVaelin approached, allowinghim to mount without theusual shudder of annoyance.He was always like thisbefore a fight, for some

reason the impendingviolenceseemedtocalmhim.Whatever his faults as a anobedient mount the last fouryearshadshownSpit tobeaformidable war horse.“Bloody nag,” Vaelin said,patting his neck. Spit gave aloud whinny and dragged ahoof along the sandy soil.The confinement anddiscomfort of the voyageacross the Erinean had been

hardforhimandheappearedtorejoiceinthespaceandthepromiseofbattle.

Reined in nearby werefifty mounted men of thescout troop, at their head amuscular young brother withlean, handsome features andbright blue eyes. SeeingVaelin, Frentis gave a tightsmile and raised a hand ingreeting.Vaelinnoddedback,pushingaway rushofguilt. I

should have contrived tosparehimthis.But therehadbeen no way to keep Frentisin the Realm, a newlyconfirmed brother withalreadyrenownedskillsmadetoo fine an addition to theregiment.

Janril Noren quicklymounted his own horse andreined in alongside. “Signalprepare for cavalry,” Vaelintold him. The call quickly

rangout,threeshortblastsofthe bugle followed by onelongpeel.Therewasaripplein the ranks as the menfumbled for thecaltrops theywore at their belts. It hadbeen Caenis’s idea, backwhen theLonakhad taken tocharging the regiment’spatrolsontheirsturdyponies.The caltrops had workedremarkably well, so well theLonakabandonedtheirtactic,

but would it work nowagainsttheseAlpirans?

Out in the gloom thethunderstopped.Vaelincouldsee them now, barely visiblein the pre-dawn light, a longlineofmountedmen,horse’sbreath steaming in the coolairamidsttheflickerofbaredsabres and lance points. Aquick calculation of theirnumbers did little to lightenhismood.

“Must be well over athousand, my lord,” Janrilsaid, his strong melodiousvoice showing the strain ofthe wait. He had provedhimself abrave soldiermanytimes in the past four years,butthewaitbeforethekillingcould unnerve the strongestheart.

“Closertotwo,”Vaelingrunted.“Andthat’sjustwhatwecansee.”Twothousandor

more trained cavalry againsttwelve hundred infantry.Theodds were not good. Vaelinglanced over his shoulder atthe dunes, hoping the spear-points of the Realm Guardwould suddenly rise abovethe sand. The riders he hadsent to the Battle Lord musthave reached him by now,althoughhehaddoubtsaboutAlHestian’skeennesstosendaid. The man’s enmity

remainedundimmed,hiseyesgleamed with it every timeVaelin had themisfortune tobe inhispresence,asdid thebarbed steel spike the BattleLordnowworeinplaceofhishand.Willhe loseawar justtoseemedead?

The line of Alpiranhorsemen paused,shimmering in the gloom asthey dressed their ranks inpreparation for the charge.A

lone voice could be heardshouting orders orencouragement, answered bythe horsemen as they roaredout a single word in unison:“SHALMASH!”

“It means victory, mylord,” Janril said, sweatshining on his upper lip.“Shalmash. Met a fewAlpiransinmytime.”

“Good to know,sergeant.”

The Alpirans weremoving now, at the trot atfirst then increasing the pacetoacanter,threelinescomingon in good order, each mangarbed in chain-mail, spikedhelmsandwhitecloaks.Theirdisciplinewasimpressive,nota rider was out of place andtheirlinesmovedforwardataprecisely observed pace.Vaelinhadrarelyseenitdonebetter, even the King’s

Mounted Guard would havebeenpressedtomatchthefeatawayfromtheparadeground.When they had closed towithin two hundred paces afresh tumult of shouts andbugle calls sounded and theysurgedintothecharge,lanceslevelled, each rider hunchedforward, spurring theirmountsonward,theprecisionof their lines fragmenting,becoming a mass of horse

flesh and steel, thunderingtowards the regiment like agiantmailedfist.

There was no need forfurther orders, theWolfrunners had done thisbefore, although never onsuch a scale. The first rankstepped forward and threwtheir caltrops as far as theycould,kneelingasthesecondrankrepeatedthemanoeuvre,then the third, the ground

directly in frontof themnowseededwith spikedmetal theoncoming horsemen couldnot avoid. The first horsewentdownwithin fiftyyardsof their lines, bringing downanother as it fell shrieking,bloodonitshooves,theridersbehind having to rein in orfall themselves.AllalongtheAlpiran line the chargefaltered as horses fell orreared in pain, the forward

movement slowing, althoughthe momentum of so manyhorsesatthegallopkeptthemcoming.

On the dunes behind,Dentos judged the time rightand unleashed his archers.Over the years the companyofbowmenhadgrowntotwohundred men, slow-loadingcrossbows long sinceabandoned for the Order’sstrongbow. Skilled and

practiced veterans, they tookdownatleastfiftyriderswiththe first volley beforecommencing their arrow-storm,drawingandloosingasfast as they could. TheAlpiran’s charge stalled andthen stopped under therelentless rain of arrows, thethree proud lines now aconfused jumble ofwaveringlancesandrearingriders.

Vaelinnodded toJanril

once more and the buglersounded the three longblaststhat signalled the charge ofthe whole regiment. A shoutrose from the ranks and allfour companies surgedforward at the run, pole-axesraised to stab at the riders,manydroppingtheirlancestodraw sabres in the press ofthe fight, clashing steeladdingtothedinofthebattle.Vaelin could see Barkus in

the thick of the struggle, hishateful two-bladed axe risingand falling amidst the chaos,cuttingdownmenandhorsesalike.OverontheleftCaenishad led his company in anoblique charge against theedge of the Alpiran line,hedging them in andpreventing a manoeuvrearoundtheregiment’sflank.

Vaelin watched with apracticedeyeasthetwosides

thrashed at each other,waiting for the inevitablemoment of crisis when thetide of battle would turn infavour of friend or foe. Hehad seen it happen manytimesnow,menwould assaileach other with seeminglyboundless ferocity thenabruptly turn and flee, as ifsome primal instinct warnedthem of impending defeat.Seeing the way the white-

cloaked Alpiran cavalrycontinued to hack at theWolfrunners despite theirmounting losses and thecontinual rain of arrows, heknew instinctively therewould be no sudden routhere. These men weredetermined, disciplined and,ifhewasanyjudge,resolvedto fight to the death ifnecessary. The regiment hadkilled many but they

remained outnumbered, andthe Alpirans were beginningtobuildupontherightflank,where Brother Inish’scompany had started to bowunder the pressure, ridersforcing their mounts throughthecrushtoslashdownatthehard-pressed infantry. Thebarrage from Dentos’sarchers continued unabatedbut soon their arrows wouldbe exhausted whilst the

Alpirans still had plenty ofmen.

Vaelin glanced behindhim once more, seeing nosign of reinforcementscresting the dunes. I mightkill Lord Al Hestian if I livethrough this. Drawing hissword he scanned the fieldonce more, seeing a tallpennantwaving in the centreof the Alpiran throng, bluesilkemblazonedwithasilver

wheel. He waved to getFrentis’s attention andpointed his sword at thepennant. Frentis nodded anddrewhisownsword,barkinga command at his men tofollowsuit.

“Stay close,” Vaelintold Janril then spurred Spitinto a gallop, Frentis and hisscouttroopfollowing.Heledthem around Brother Inish’swaveringcompany,keepinga

good distance from the fightso as not to be drawn in toosoon, then turned sharplytowards the naked Alpiranflank.Fiftyhorseagainsttwothousand. Still, anadder cankill an ox if it finds the rightvein.

The first Alpiran hekilled was a well-built manwith ebony-dark skin and aneatly groomed beardshowing beneath the chin-

guardofhishelm.Hewasanexcellent rider and a fineswordsman, nimbly bringinghismountaroundandraisinghis sabre in an impeccableparry as Vaelin closed. Thestar-silverblade tookhisarmoff above the elbow. SpitrearedandbitattheAlpiran’smount, trampling the riderashe slipped from the saddle,dark blood jetting from thestump of his arm. Vaelin

spurred on, cutting down asecondrider,slashingthroughhis leg then hacking at hisface until he fell, his jawhanging loose fromhis skull,his scream a silent gush ofblood.A third ridercame forhim at the gallop, lancelevelled, face livid with rageand blood-lust.Vaelin reinedSpit to a halt, twisted in thesaddle to let the lance-pointmiss himby inches, bringing

his sword up and down tocleave into the neck of thecharging horse. The animalwent down in a welter ofblood,theridertumblingfreeof the saddle to surge to hisfeet,sabredrawn.Spitrearedagain,hishoovessendingtheAlpiran reeling, his helmflying.

Vaelinpaused togaugethe impact of the charge.Nearby Frentis was running

his sword through adismounted Alpiran whilstthe rest of the scout troopwere cutting their waythrough the throng, althoughhe could see three bluecloaked bodies lying amidstthe carnage. Looking over atBrother Inish’s company hesaw the ranks had stiffened,the line straightening as theAlpiran advance lostmomentum.

A warning shout fromFrentis dragged his attentionback to the battle. AnotherAlpiran was charging, sabreoutstretched, then abruptlypitching from the saddleasawell aimed arrow from theregiment’s archers on thedunes punched through hischest. However, the man’shorsekeptcoming,eyeswidewith panic and fear,ploughing into Spit’s flank,

the force of the impactsending them both sprawlingtotheground.

Spit was up quickly,snorting in rage, kicking andbiting at the offending horsethenchasingaftertheterrifiedanimal as it fled. Vaelinfound himself dodgingdeterminedsabrethrustsfromanAlpiranmountedonagreystallion, parrying desperatelyuntil Frentis spurred between

them to cut the man down.“Wait there brother!” hecalled above the din, reiningin to dismount. “Take myhorse.”

“Stay in your saddle!”Vaelinshoutedback,pointingagainatthetallpennantinthecentre of the Alpiran host.“Keepcutting!”

“Butbrother-”“GO!” Hearing the

implacable note of his

command, the young brotherhesitated before reluctantlyriding away, quicklyswallowed by the swirl ofbattle.

Glancing round he sawJanril was also dismounted,his horse lying dead nearby.The minstrel’s leg wasgashed and he supportedhimself with the regimentalstandard,slashingclumsilyatanyAlpiranwhocameclose.

Vaelin sprinted to his side,dodging lances, casting athrowingknifeatthefaceofarider who raised his sabre tohack down the minstrel, themanwheeling awaywith thesteel dart embedded in hischeek.

“Janril!”He caught themanbeforehefell,notingthebleach-white of his skin, thepainedsagofhisfeatures.

“Apologies my lord,”

Janril said. “Not so fast ariderasyou…”

Vaelin jerked him toone side as an Alpiran boredown, his lance-pointgouging the earth. Vaelinhacked the lance in two thenhalf-severed the rider’s legwith the back-swing,grabbinghismount’sreinstobring the animal to a halt asits owner collapsedscreaming. He calmed the

panicked horse as best hecould thenhauled Janrilontoitsback.“Backtothebeach,”he commanded. “Find SisterGilma.”Heslappedtheflatofhis sword against the horse’sflank to send them on theirway, the minstrel swayingalarmingly as they spedthroughtheconfusionoffleshandmetal.

Vaelin grasped thestandardandthrustitintothe

earth, leaving it upright, thehawk sigil snapping in thestiff morning breeze.Defendthe flag, he thought, smilinginwryamusement.TestoftheMeleeindeed.

About twenty yardsaway he saw a suddenconvulsion in the Alpiranranks, men reining in towheel to one side as a rideron a magnificent whitecharger forced his way

through,wavinghissabreforthemtoclearapath,hisvoiceraisedincommand.Theriderwas clad in a white enamelbreastplate adorned in goldwith an intricate circulardesign that echoed thewheelsigil on the pennant stillstanding tall in the Alpirancentre.Heworenohelmandhis bearded, olive skinfeaturesweretensewithrage.Oddly the men around him

seemed intent on restraininghim, one even reaching outgrabhis reins, then shrinkingback in servile deference asthe white-clad man barked aharsh rebuke. He canteredforward, halting briefly topoint his sabre at Vaelin inchallenge,thenspurredintoacharge.

Vaelin waited, swordheld low, legs balanced,breathingslowandeven.The

white-clad man came on,teeth bared in a snarl, rageburning in his eyes. Anger,Vaelin recalled MasterSollis’swords, a lesson fromyearsago.Angerwillkillyou.A man who attacks aprepared enemy in anger isdeadbeforehemakesthefirstthrust.

As ever, Sollis wasright. Thismanwith his finewhite armour and excellent

horse, this brave, rage-filledman, was already dead. Hiscourage, his weapons, hisarmour meant nothing. Hehad killed himself themomenthebeganhischarge.

Itwas one of themorehazardous lessons theylearned at the hands of madold Master Rensial; how todefeat a head-long charge bya mounted opponent. “Whenyou are afoot a mounted

enemy has but oneadvantage,” the wild-eyedhorse-master had told themon the practice field yearsago. “The horse. Take thehorse away and he is just aman like any other.” Thatsaid he had spent the nexthourchasingthemaroundthepracticefieldonafleethunterattemptingtoridethemdown.“Dive and roll!” he keptcallingout inhis shrill,mad-

man’svoice.“Diveandroll!”Vaelin waited until the

white-clad man’s sabre wasan arm reach away thenshifted to the right, divingpast the thunderous drum ofhooves, rolling to his kneesandbring theswordround tocleave through the charger’srearleg.Bloodbathedhimasthe horse screamed, crashingto the earth, the white-cladman struggling free of the

tangle as Vaelin leapt thethrashing animal, his swordsweepingthesabreasidethenslashing down, the enamelbreastplate parting with theforceoftheblow.Thewhite-cladman fell, coughedbloodanddied.

And the Alpiransstopped.

Theystopped.Upraisedsabres hovered then felllimply to theirowner’ssides.

Charging riders reined in tostare inshock.EveryAlpiranwithin sight of the scenesimply stopped fighting andstared at Vaelin and thecorpseofthewhitecladman.Some were still staring asarrows took them or theWolfrunners hacked themdown.

Vaelinglanceddownatthe corpse, the sunderedgoldenwheelonthebloodied

breastplate gleamed dully inthe gathering dawn light. Aman of some importance,perhaps?

“Eruhin Mahktar!”Words spoken by adismounted Alpiran,stumbling nearby, clutchingat a wound in his arm, tearsstreaking his bloodied face.There was something in histone,somethingbeyondangeror accusation, a depth of

despair Vaelin had rarelyheard. “Eruhin Mahktar!”Words he would hear athousand thousand times inyearstocome.

The wounded manstaggered forward, Vaelinmaking ready to knock himunconscious with his hiltguard, he was unarmed afterall.But hemade nomove toattack, stumbling pastVaelintocollapsebesidethebodyof

the white-clad man, sobbinglike a child. “Eruhin astforgallah!” he howled.Vaelin watched in horror asthemanpulledadaggerfromhis belt and drove it withouthesitationintohisownthroat,slumping across the white-clad corpse, unstaunchedblood gouting from hiswound.

The suicide seemed tobreak the spell gripping the

Alpirans, a sudden fierceshout rising from the ranks,every eye fixed on Vaelin,sabresandlanceslevellingasthey stirred themselves andbegan to close, murderoushatewritoneveryface.

Therewasa sound likea thousand hammers strikinga thousand anvils and theAlpiran ranks convulsedagain, Vaelin could see menthrown into the air by the

impact of whatever hadstrucktheirrear.TheAlpiransstruggledtoturntheirmountsandmeet the new threat, buttoo late as a wedge ofburnished steel skeweredtheirhost.

A hulking figure cladhead to toe in armour andseatedonatallblackchargersmashedhisway through thelighter mounts of theAlpirans,hismaceablurasit

clubbedthelifefrommenandhorses alike. Behind himhundredsmoresteelcladmenwreaked similar havoc, long-swords andmaces rising andfalling with deadly ferocity.The enraged Alpirans foughtback savagely, more than afew knights disappearedunder the mass of stampinghooves, but they had neitherthe numbers nor the steel tostand against such an

onslaught. Soon it was over,every Alpiran dead orwounded.Nonehadfled.

The hulking figure onthe black charger hitched hismacetohissaddleandtrottedover to Vaelin, pushing hisvisor back to reveal a broadweathered face distinguishedby a twice broken nose andeyesdeeplylinedwithage.

Vaelinbowedformally.“FiefLordTheros.”

“LordVaelin.”TheFiefLord of Renfael glancedround at the carnage andbarked a laugh. “Bet you’venever been so glad to see aRenfaelin,ehboy?”

“Indeed,mylord.”A tall young knight

reined in beside the FiefLord, his handsome facesmeared with sweat andblood, dark blue eyesregarding Vaelin with clear

butunspokenmalevolence.“Lord Darnel,” Vaelin

greetedhim.“Mythanks,andthethanksofmymen,toyouandyourfather.”

“Still alive then,Sorna?” the young knightreplied. “At least the Kingwillbepleased.”

“Stillyourtongueboy!”snapped Lord Theros. “Myapologies, Lord Vaelin. Theboywaseverspoiled.Iblame

his mother, meself. Threesons she boreme and this isthe only one not still-born,Faithhelpme.”

Vaelin saw how theyoung knight’s hands twitchon the hilt of his long-swordand the red flushof fury thatcoloured his cheeks.Anotherson who hates his father, heobserved.Acommonailment.

“If you’ll excuse me,mylord.”Hebowedagain.“I

mustseetomymen.”Striding back towards

the beach, stepping over thedead and the dying as themorningsunroseonthefieldofblood,hereachedagainforthe bluestone, lifting it to lettherisingsunlightplayonthesurface, thinking about theday the king had pressed itupon him, the day LordDarnelcame tohatehim, thedayPrincessLyrnahadcried.

Thedaytheblood-songfellsilent.

“Bluestone, spices andsilk,”hesaidsoftly.

Chapter2The inclusion of

Renfaelinknightlycontestsinthe Summertide Fair was arelatively recent innovationbut had quickly becomehugely popular with thepeople. The crowd wasroaring their appreciation fora particularly spectacularjoustasVaelinmadehiswaytowards the royal pavilion,

hishoodpulledoverhis facetosparehimselftheburdenofrecognition. On the field aknight sailed fromhis saddleamidst a cloud of splinters,his opponent tossing hisshatteredlancetothecrowd.

“That’s one snottybastard won’t be getting upagain!” a florid faced mancommented making Vaelinwonderifitwasthespectacleofcombattheyappreciatedor

the chance to witness themaimingofrichfolk.

The guards at thepavilion entrance favouredhim with a deeper bow thanhisrankrequiredandglancedonly briefly at the King’swarrant he proffered, pullingthe flap aside and biddinghim entry with barely apause.Hewasonlytwodaysback from the north but thelegend of his supposedly

great victory over the Lonakwasalreadywidespread.

After being relieved ofhisweaponshewasledtotheroyal box where he wasunsurprised to find PrincessLyrna, alone. “Brother,” shegreeted him with a smile,holdingherhandout forhimto kiss. Hewasmomentarilydisconcerted, this wassomething she hadn’t donebefore,asignoffavourrarely

bestowed, and made in frontof the assembled populationofthecapital.Neverthelesshewenttoonekneeandpressedhis lips against her knuckles.Herfleshwaswarmerthanheexpected and he angeredhimself by enjoying thesensation.

“Highness,” he saidstraightening, attempting aneutral tone and not quitemanaging it. “I was

summoned to your father’spresence…”

She waved a hand.“He’ll be along. It seems hemislaid his favourite cloak.Never ventures outdoorswithout it these days.” Shegestured to the seat next toherown.“Willyousit?”

He sat, distractinghimself with the knight’scontest. Two groups wereassembling at opposite ends

of the field, about thirty ineach, one under a red andwhite cheque bannerwith aneaglemotif,theotherunderaflagdisplayingaredfoxonagreenbackground.

“The melee is theclimax of the Renfaelintourney,” the princessexplained.“Theredfoxisthebanner of Baron HughlinBanders, that’s him in therusty armour, once chief

retainer to Fief Lord Theros.The eagle belongs to LordDarnel, the Fief-Lord’s heir.Apparently the melee willsettle a long-standinggrievance between the two.”She picked up a white silkscarf from a nearby table. “IhavebeenbeggedtogivethistowhicheveroafIthinkmoreviolent than the others.Apparently the sight of largemen in metal suits beating

each other senseless issupposed to make mywomanlyheartswell.”

“A singularmisjudgement,Highness.”

She turned to him andgrinned. “Not one you arelikelytomake,brother.”

“Iwouldhopenot.”Hewatched the two sides lineout, exchange salutes thencharge towards each other atfullgallop,swordsandmaces

whirling.Theymet in suchacrashofmetalandhorsefleshthat both Vaelin and thePrincess winced. Thesubsequent fight was aconfusedmorass of tumblingknights and clashingweapons. Vaelin knew theknights were only supposedto strike with the flat of thebladebutmostappearedtobeignoring this ruleandhesawat least three steel-clad

figureslyingimmobileamidstthechaos.

“So this is battle,”Lyrnacommented.

“Ofasort.”“Sowhat do youmake

of him? The Fief Lord’sheir.”

Vaelin watched LordDarnel smash his sword hiltinto an opponent’s helmet,the man slipping to thechurnedearth,bloodspouting

from his visor. “He fightswell,Highness.”

“Thoughnotaswell asyou, I’m sure. And he hasnone of your insight, orintegrity. Women will bedhim for the influence andwealthheholds,notforlove.Menwill followhim for payor duty, not devotion.” Shepaused,herexpressiononeoffaint irritation. “And myfatherthinkshewillmakeme

afinehusband.”“I’m sure your father

wantsthebest…”“Myfatherwantsmeto

breed. He wants the palacefilledwiththesquallingofAlNeiren brats, all of themsharing blood with theRenfaelin Fief-Lord. Thefinalsealonhisalliance.AllIhave done in service to thisRealmandmyfatherstillseesmeasnomore thanabrood-

sow.”“The Catechism of

Joining is clear, Highness.No-one, man or woman, canbe forced to marry againsttheirwill.”

“Mywill.”Shelaughedbitterly.“Witheveryyearthatpasseswithoutamarriagemywillerodesfurther.Youhaveyour sword and your knivesand your bow. My onlyweapons are my wits, my

face and the promise ofpowerthatliesinmywomb.”

The openness of theirconversation wasdisconcerting.Wherewasthetension, the knowledge ofsharedguilt?Don’tforget,hewarnedhimself.Donotforgetwhatsheis.Whatwedid.Henoted the way her eyestracked Lord Darnel in themelee, gauging, assessing,seeing how she barely

concealed the sneer ofdistaste that curled her lips.“Highness,”hesaid.“Idoubtyouengineeredthisencounterto ask my opinion of a manyouhavenointentionofevermarrying. Do you haveanother theory for me,perhaps?”

“If you mean theAspect massacre I’m afraidmy opinion is unchanged.Although, I have uncovered

another factor. Tellme, haveyou heard of the SeventhOrder?”

She was watching hisfacecloselyandheknewshewouldseealie.“It’sastory.”He shrugged. “A legendreally. Once there was anorder of theFaith devoted tostudyoftheDark.”

“You give it nocredencethen?”

“I leave history to

BrotherCaenis.”“The Dark,” the

princess tasted the wordsoftly.“Afascinatingsubject.Allsuperstitionofcourse,butterribly persistent in thehistoricalrecord.IwenttotheGreat Library and requestedallthebookstheyhaveonthesubject.It transpiredIcauseda bit of a stir since most oftheoldervolumeswerefoundtohavebeenstolen.”

Vaelin thought ofBrotherHarlicktossingbooksintohisfireinthefallencity.“And how does this legendconnect to the Aspectmassacre?”

“Stories are plentifulabout the unfortunate event.I’ve made it my business tocollectall Ican,discreetlyofcourse. The tales are mostlynonsense, exaggerations thatgrow with every telling,

especially where you’reconcerned, brother. Did youknowyoukilledtenassassinssingle-handed, each of themarmedwithmagicbladesthatdrank the blood of thefallen?”

“Ican’tsayIrecallthat,Highness.”

“I doubted you would.Nonsense these talesmaybe,buttheyallshareatheme,anelement of the Dark colours

each one, and the morefanciful include references totheSeventhOrder.”

For all his wariness hecouldn’t deny the sharpnessof her mind. What he hadpreviously taken for lowcunningwas but a facet of aconsiderable intellect. Manytimes over the past threeyears he had pondered themeaning of Harlick’sconfession in the fallen city,

trying to draw together thedifferent strands ofknowledge. But nothinggelled; theAspects’ apparentbetrayal of the Faithful, OneEye’s power, the familiarvoice of whatever had livedbehind the eyes of HentesMustor. Try as he might hecould see no link.Therewasa continual sense ofsomething hovering out ofreach, a profound conclusion

even the blood-song couldn’tdivine. But can she? And ifshecan,couldshebe trustedwiththeknowledge?Theideaoftrustingherwasabsurd,ofcourse. But even theuntrustworthy could beuseful.

“TellmeHighness,”hesaid. “Why would a mandevoted to learning read abook then immediately throwitonthefire?”

She frownedquizzically.“Isthisrelevant?”

“Would I ask you if itwasn’t?”

“No.Idoubtyouwouldaskmeanythingifyoudidn’tneedto.”

Onthefieldthenumberof knights still fighting haddwindled to a dozen or so,LordDarnelnowexchangingblows with Baron Banders,the stiffness of his rust-

stained armour apparentlydoing little to stem hisferocity.

“If such a man weretrulydevotedtolearning,”theprincess continued as if herprevious comment hadremainedunspoken,“thentheburning of a book wouldseem tohima terrible crime.Books have been burntbefore, King Lakril the Madonce famously made a

bonfire of every book inVarinshold, pronouncing anysubject who could read asdisloyal and worthy ofexecution. Luckily the SixthOrder deposed him shortlyafter. However, there waswisdom Lakril’s madness. Abook’s value rests in theknowledge it contains, andknowledge is ever adangerousthing.”

“So, burning the book

removes thedangerposedbytheknowledge.”

“Perhaps.Thismanwaslearned you say. Howlearned?”

Vaelin hesitated,unwilling to part with thename.“HewasonceascholarintheGreatLibrary.”

“Learned indeed.” Shepursed her lips. “Do youknow I never read a booktwice? I don’t need to. I

remember every wordperfectly.”

Hertonewassomatter-of-fact he knew this was noboast. “So a man with thesame skill would have noneed to keep a book, adangerous book. Once readhe has possession of theknowledge.”

She nodded. “Perhapsthis man was attempting topreservesuchknowledge,not

destroyit.”So that was Harlick’s

mission. He stole the DarkbooksfromtheGreatLibrary.Destroyingthemtohidetheirknowledge,firstreadingthemtokeepit,protectit.Butwhy?

“You’re not going totell me, are you?” theprincessasked.“Whohewas.Whereyoufoundhim.”

“Justacurious incidentIwitnessed…”

“I knowmy regard foryouisnotreturned,brother.Iknow your opinion of me isnot high. But my opinion ofyouhasalwaysbeenbasedonthefactthatyoudonotlietome.Yourtruthmaybeharsh,butitisalwaystruth.Tellmethetruthnow,please.”

He met her eyes andwas shocked to see tearsshining there.Are they real?Cantheybe?“Idon’tknowif

I can trust you,” he told hersimply. “We once did aterriblethingtogether…”

“I didn’t know!” shewhispered fiercely. Sheleanedclose,hertoneurgent.“Lindencame tomewithhismadideaforanexpeditiontothe Martishe. My fatherordered me to bless hisendeavour. I made nopromisestoLinden,Ididlovehim but as a sister loves a

brother. But he loved memore than any sister and heheardwhathewantedtohear.I swear I didn’t know myfather’s truedesign.After allyou were going too, and Iknewyouwerenotcapableofmurder.” The tears spilledfrom her eyes and tracedalong the perfect oval of herface. “I made my ownresearches, Vaelin. I knowyou didn’t murder him, I

know you spared him ahorrible end. I tell you thesetruths because you mustbelieve me now. You mustheed my words. You mustrefuse to do what my fatherasksofyouthisday.”

“What does he ask ofme?”

“Princess Lyrna AlNieren!” A strong voice. Avoice of command. A king’svoice. Vaelin hadn’t seen

Janus for over a year andfoundhimyetmoreaged,thelinesinhisfacedeeper,moregrey streaking the coppermainofhishair, thestoopofhis shoulders morepronounced. But still, heretainedaking’svoice.Theyboth rose and bowed,suddenly aware of the vastsilenceofthecrowd.

“Daughter of the royalline of Al Nieren,” the king

continued. “Princess of theUnifiedRealmandsecond inline to the throne.” A thin,liver-spotted hand appearedfrom beneath the king’sermine robes, jabbing at thefield behind them. “Youforgetyourduty.”

Vaelin turned to seeLordDarnel,crouchedononeknee before the royalpavilion. Beyond him thefallen knights of the melee

were stumbling away orbeing carried from the field,Baron Banders in his ruststained armour among them.Despite the servility of hisbowLordDarnel’s headwasnotloweredandhishelmwasclasped at his side. His eyeswere locked onto Vaelin’s,shining with an intense anddisconcertingfury.

Lyrna quickly wipedthe tears from her face and

bowed again. “Forgive mefather,” she said in a tone offorced frivolity. “I haven’tspoken with Lord Vaelin insuchalongtime…”

“Lord Vaelin does notcommandyourattentionhere,mylady.”

A flash of angerflickered across her face butshemastereditquicklybeforeforcing a smile. “Of course.”Turning,sheheldoutthesilk

scarf,beckoningLordDarnelforward. “Well fought, mylord.”

Lord Darnel gave arigidly formal bow, reachingup to take the scarf in hisgauntleted hand, flinchingvisibly as the princesswithdrew her hand before hecould kiss it. Stepping backhe fixed his furious gaze onVaelin once again. “Iunderstand, LordVaelin,” he

said, angermaking his voicequiver, “that brothers of theSixth Order are forbidden toacceptchallenges.”

“That is correct, mylord.”

“A great pity.” Theknight bowed once again toLyrna and the King andstrode from the fieldwithoutabackwardglance.

“You seem to havearoused the shiny boy’s

dislike,”theKingobserved.Vaelin met the King’s

gaze,seeingthatsameowlishcalculation he rememberedfrom their first hatefulbargain. “I am used to beingdisliked,Highness.”

“Well we like you,don’twedaughter?”theKingaskedLyrna.

Her face wasexpressionlessasshenodded,sayingnothing.

“Possibly too much, itseems.When shewas little Iworried that her heart wouldprove too icy to allowattachmenttoanyman.Now,I find myself wishing itwouldfreezeagain.”

Vaelin was unused toembarrassment and found ithard to bear. “You sent forme,Highness.”

“Yes.” The King heldLyrnainhisgazeforasecond

longer.“YesIdid.”Heturnedand gestured to the paviliondoor. “There is someone Ishould like you to meet.Daughter,please stayand tryto remind the assembledcommons that, despiteappearances, we are in facttheirbetters.”

The princess’s voicewasdevoidofemotionasshesaid,“Ofcourse,father.”

Vaelin went to one

knee, accepting her handwhen she offered it, pressinganotherkisstothewarmthofher skin. Even theuntrustworthy can be useful.“Highness,”headdressedherrising, all too aware of theKing’s presence, “I’m notsureyouarecorrect.”

“Correct?”It was wrong in many

ways, an appalling breach ofetiquette, but he stepped

closer and planted a kiss onher cheek, whispering in herear. “The Dark is notsuperstition. Look in thewesternquarterforthetaleoftheOneEyedMan.”

“Do you seek to test

me,YoungHawk?”They were walking

from the rearof thepavilion,alonebutfortwoguards.Theking trudged through the

mud, the hem of his erminerobes heavily stained. Heseemed shorter somehow,stunted by age, his headbarely reaching Vaelin’sshoulder.

“Test you, Highness?”Vaelinasked.

The King rounded onhim. “Do not play with me,boy!”Hiseyesboreintohim.“Donot!”

Vaelin met his gaze

squarely. The Kingmay stillbe an owl but he was nolonger a mouse. “Myfriendship with PrincessLyrna offends you,Highness?”

“You have nofriendship with her. Youcannot stand the sightofher,withgood reason.”TheKingangled his head, eyesnarrowed in contemplation.“Shewantedtoshowyouthe

shiny boy, arouse yourjealousy.Yes?”

Keschet, Vaelinrecalled her words in AlHestian’s garden. The Liar’sAttack. Hide one stratagemwithin another. Lord Darnelwas a distraction, somethingherfatherexpected.Youmustrefuse to do what my fatherasksofyouthisday.

He shrugged. “I expectso.”

“What did you say toher? I know you weren’tstealingakiss.”

He gave a tight,sheepish smile. “I told herthat beauty fades, alongwithopportunity.”

The king grunted,resuming his stooped trudgethrough the mud. “Youshouldn’t bait her so. It’snecessary that you don’tbecome enemies. For the

Realm,youunderstand?”“I understand,

Highness.”“She’s not going to

marryhim,isshe?”“Iverymuchdoubtit.”“Knew she wouldn’t.”

The king sighed in wearyfrustration.“Ifonlythefellowwasn’t such a dolt. What aburden it is to have anintelligent daughter. It goesagainst nature for wit to be

boundup insomuchbeauty.It’s my experience that trulybeautiful women are eitherbestowedwithgreatcharmormountainous spite. Hermother, my dear departedqueen, was a renownedbeauty and had all the spiteyou could ever need, butmercifullylittlebrain.”

This isn’t candour,Vaelinsurmised.Justanothermask. He makes a lie of

honestytotrapmeinanotherdesign.

They came to anornately decorated carriage,intricately carved woodshining with gold leaf, itswindows curtained in blackvelvet. A team of fourdappled greys waited at thetethers.Thekinggesturedforhim to open the door andclimbedinside,groaningwiththe effort, beckoning him to

follow. The king settledhimself into a soft leathercouch and rapped his bonyfist against the wall behind.“Palace!Nottoofast.”

From outside came thesnap of a whip, the carriagejerking into motion as thefourgreystookthestrain.“Itwas a gift,” the kingexplained. “The carriage, thehorses.FromLordAlTelnar,yourememberhim?”

Vaelin recalled thefinely dressed man from theCouncil Chamber. “TheMinisterofWorks.”

“Yes, snide littlebastard wasn’t he? Wantedme to seize a quarter of theCumbraelin Fief Lord’slands, punishment for hisbrother’srebellion.Ofcourse,hewould generously take onthe burden of stewardship,togetherwithalltheattendant

rents. I thanked him for hiscarriage and seized a quarterof his own lands, gave therents to Fief Lord Mustor.Shouldkeephiminwineandwhores for a while. Areminder to Lord Al Telnarthat a true king cannot bebought.”

The king fished insidehis cloak, coming outwith aleather pouch about the sizeof an apple. “Here.” He

tossed the pouch to Vaelin.“Knowwhatthisis?”

Vaelin tugged thepouch open to find a largestone of blue, veined withgrey.“Bluestone.Abigone.”

“Yes, the largest everfound,dugoutoftheminesinthe Northern Reachesseventy-odd years ago whenmygrandfather,thetwentiethLord of Asrael, built thetowerandestablishedthefirst

colony. Know what it’sworth?”

Vaelin glanced at thestone again, the lamp-lightgleamed on its smoothsurface. “A large amount ofmoney,Highness.”Heclosedthebagandheld itout to theking.

The old man kept hishandswithinhiscloak.“Keepit. A King’s gift to his mostvaluedsword.”

“I have no need ofriches, Highness.” I can’t beboughteither.

“Even a brother of theSixthOrdermayonedayfindhimself in need of riches.Please, think of it as atalisman.”

Vaelin returned thestonetothebagandhookedittohisbelt.

“Bluestone,” the kingwent on, “is the most

preciousmineralintheworld,highly prized by peoples ofall nations, Alpirans,Volarians,themerchantkingsoftheFarWest.Itcommandsabetterpricethansilver,goldordiamonds,andmostofitisto be found in the NorthernReaches. The Realm hasother riches of course,Cumbraelin wine, Asraelinsteel and so on, but it waswithbluestonethatIbuiltmy

fleetandwithbluestonethatIforged the RealmGuard, thetwopinsthatholdthisRealminunity.AndTowerLordAlMyrna tellsme thebluestoneseams are beginning to thin.Within twenty years therewont be enough left to paytheminers to dig it out.Andthenwhatwillwedo,YoungHawk?”

Vaelin shrugged,commerce not being a

familiarsubject.“Asyousay,Highness, the Realm hasotherriches.”

“But not enough, notwithout taxing nobles andcommons to such an extentthat they’d both happily seeme and my children hungfromthepalacewalls.You’veseen how troubled this landcan be, evenwith theRealmGuard to hold it together,imagine the blood that will

flowwhen it’s gone.No,weneed more, we need spicesandsilk.”

“Spices and silk,Highness?”

“The main trade routefor spices and silk runsthrough the Erinean sea,spices from the southernprovinces of the AlpiranEmpire, silk from the FarWest, they come together atthe Alpiran ports on the

northern coast of the empire.Every ship that docks mustpay the emperor for theprivilege and a share in thevalue of their cargo. Alpiranmerchants have grownwealthy off this trade, somemore wealthy than even theMerchantKingsof theWest,andtheyallpaytributetotheemperor.”

Vaelin’s uneasedeepened. He can’t be

thinkingit.“Youwishtolurethis trade to our ports?” heventured.

The oldman shook hishead.“Ourportsaretoofew,our harbours too small. Toomany storms lash our coastand we are too far north tocapture somuch trade. Ifwewantit,we’llhavetotakeit.”

“Highness,Iknowlittleof history but I cannot recallany occasion when this

Realmoranyofthefiefswasthreatened by Alpiraninvasion or even raid. Thereis no blood between ourpeoples. The Catechisms tellusthatwarisonlyjustifiedindefenceofland,lifeorFaith.”

“Alpirans are god-worshippers are they not? AwholeempireindenialoftheFaith.”

“TheFaith canonlybeaccepted, not forced,

especiallynotonanempire.”“But they scheme to

bring their gods here, toundermine our Faith. Theirspies are everywhere,disguised as merchants,whispering denial, defilingour youth inDark rites.Andall the time theirarmygrowsand theEmperorbuildsmoreships.”

“Isanyofthistrue?”The king gave a small

smile,owleyesglittering.“Itwillbe.”

“You expect the wholeRealm to believe thisnonsense?”

“People always believewhattheywantto,trueornot.Remember the Aspectmassacre, all those deniersand suspected deniersslaughteredintheriotsonthebasis of mere rumour. Givethem the right lie and they’ll

believeit.”Vaelin regarded the

kinginsilenceasthecarriagerattled over the cobbledstreetsofthenorthernquarter,thecertaintyofhisrealisationwas chilling. There’s no liehere,heactuallymeanstodoit.“Whatdoyouwantofme,Highness? Why share thiswithme?”

The king spread hisbony hands. “I need your

sword, of course. Couldhardly go towarwithout theRealm’smostfamouswarriornow can I? What would thecommonsthinkifyouweretorefuse to bring the sword ofthe Faith to the Empire ofDeniers?”

“You expect me tomake war on a people withwhom this Realm has noquarrelonthebasisoflies?”

“Imostcertainlydo.”

“AndwhywouldI?”“Loyalty is your

strength.”Linden Al Hestian’s

face, turningmarblewhiteasthe blood drained from thegash in his neck… “Loyaltyis another lie youuse to traptheunwaryinyourdesigns.”

The king frowned, atfirst he seemed angry thenbarkeda laugh.“Ofcourse itis. What do you think

kingship is for?” His mirthfaded quickly. “You forgetthe bargain we made. Icommand and you follow.Youremember?”

“I’ve already brokenour bargain, Highness. Ididn’t do what youcommanded of me in theMartishe.”

“And yet Linden AlHestian still resides in theBeyond, taken by your

knife.”“He was suffering. I

hadtoendhispain.”“Yes,veryconvenient.”

The king waved a hand inirritation, apparently boredwith this subject. “It mattersnot, you made a bargain.You’re mine, Young Hawk.This attachment to theOrderis a fiction, you know it aswellasIdo.Icommand,youfollow.”

“Not to the AlpiranEmpire.Notwithout a betterreason than a shortage ofbluestone.”

“Yourefuseme?”“I do. Execute me if

you must. I will make nodeclamation in my defence.But I’m tired of yourschemes.”

“Execute you?” Janusbarked another laugh, evenlouder than the first. “How

noble, especially since youare fully aware I can do nosuch thing without arousingrebellion amongst thecommons and war with theFaith. And I think mydaughter hatesme enough asitis.”

Abruptly the Kingpulledasidethevelvetcurtaincoveringthewindow,hisfacesuddenly lighting up. “Ah,the widow Norna’s bakery.”

He rapped on the carriageroof again, raising his king’svoice“STOP!”

Climbing out of thecarriage he waved away theassistanceof the twosoldiersof the Mounted Guard whohadriddeninescort,grinningat Vaelin, almost like anovergrownchild. “Come joinme, Young Hawk. Finestpastries in the city, possiblythefief.Indulgeanoldman’s

weakness.”WidowNorna’s bakery

waswarmand thickwith thesmellofoven-freshbread.Onseeing the king she hurriedfrom behind her counter, atall, thickset woman withheat-reddened cheeks andflour speckled hair.“Highness! Sire! You blessmyhumbleenterpriseagain!”she gushed, bowingawkwardly and shouldering

shocked customers aside.“Move!Movefortheking!”

“Mylady,”thetookherhand and kissed it, theredness of her cheeksdeepening. “A chance toenjoyyourpastriescanneverbe ignored. Besides LordVaelinhereiscurious.Hehasscant opportunity for cakes,doyoubrother?”

Vaelinsawthewayhereyes roamed his face,

drinking in the sight of him,the way her customers, nowbowed to one knee, stolefurtiveglances,almosthatingthemfortheiradulation.“Myknowledge of cakes is scantindeed,Highness,”hereplied,hoping his annoyance didn’tcolourhistone.

“Doyouperhapshaveaback room where we canenjoy your wares?” the kingenquired of the widow. “I

should hate to disturb yourbusinessfurther.”

“Of course, Highness.Ofcourse.”

Sheledthemtotherearof the bakery, ushering theminto what appeared to be astorage room, shelves ladenwith jars and sacks of flourlining the walls, furnishedwith a table and chairs.Seated at the table was abuxom young woman

wearing a gaudy dress ofcheapmaterial,herhairdyedred, lips painted scarlet andherblouseopenatthenecktoreveal ample cleavage. Sherose as the king entered,executing a perfect bow.“Highness,” her voice wascoarse,thevowelsclipped.Avoicefromthestreets.

“Derla,” the kinggreeted her before turning tothebaker.“TheapplesnapsI

think, mistress Nornah. Andsometeaifyoucould.”

The widow bowed andretreated from the room, thedoor closing firmly behindher.Thekingloweredhimselfinto a chair and gestured forthe buxom woman to rise.“Derlathis isLordVaelinAlSorna, renowned brother oftheSixthOrderandSwordofthe Realm. Vaelin this isDerla, unrenowned whore

and highly distinguished spyinmyservice.”

The woman gaveVaelin a long look ofappraisal, a half-smileplaying on her lips. “Anhonour,mylord.”

Vaelin nodded back.“Lady.”

Her smiled widened.“Hardly.”

“Don’t waste yourwilesonhim,Derla,”theking

advised. “BrotherVaelin is atrueservantoftheFaith.”

She arched a paintedeyebrow and pouted. “Pity.Do some of my best tradewithOrderfolk.SpeciallytheThird,randylotthosebookishtypes.”

“Delightful isn’t she?”thekingasked.“Awomanofkeen mind but no moralscruple whatever. And anoccasionally violent temper.

Justhowmanytimesdidyoustab that merchant, Derla? Iforget.”

Vaelin studied Derla’sface closely, seeing noartifice in her lack ofexpression. “Fifty or so,Highness.”ShegaveVaelinawink. “Wanted tobeatme todeathandfuckmycorpse.”

“Yes, a pervertedwretch indeed,” the kingconceded. “But a rich one,

andapopularfigureatcourt.Once I’d recognised howuseful you might be it tookconsiderable expense toarrange your supposedsuicideandactualrelease.”

“For which I shallalways be grateful,Highness.”

“Asyoushouldbe.Yousee,Vaelin,itisaking’sdutyto seek out the talentedamonghissubjectssothathe

might put them to usefulservice. I have a few likeDerla secreted around thefour fiefs, all reportingdirectly to me. They get agood deal of gold and thesatisfaction of knowing theirefforts preserve the securityof this Realm.” The kingseemed suddenly weary,resting his chin on his palm,rubbing at his hooded eyes.“Yourreportfromlastweek,”

hesaidtoDerla,“repeat it toLordVaelin.”

She nodded and beganspeaking in formal, practisedtones.“OntheseventhdayofPrensur I was in the alleybehind the Rampant Liontavern, observing a house Iknow to be frequented bydeniersoftheAscendantsect.Close on midnight a numberof people entered the house,including a tall man, a

woman and a girl of aboutfifteen years who arrivedtogether. After they hadentered the house I gainedaccesstothepremisesviathecoal chute into the cellar.WhilstinthecellarIwasableto hear the heretical ritesbeing conducted in the roomabove. After roughly twohours I deduced the meetingwasabout toendand left thecellar, returning to the alley

where I observed the samethreepeopleleavingtogether.SomethingaboutthetallmanseemedfamiliarsoIresolvedto follow them. Theyproceeded to the northernquarter where they entered alarge house over-looking themill at Watcher’s Bend. Asthemanenteredthehousethelight from the lamps insideilluminatedhisfaceandIwasabletoconfirmhisidentityas

LordKralykAlSorna,formerBattle Lord and First SwordoftheRealm.”

She regarded Vaelinwith an incurious gaze, voidof fear or concern. The kingscratched idly at the greystubbleonhischin.“Itwasn’talwaysthisway,youknow?”he said. “With the deniers.When Iwasaboy they livedamongus,warybuttolerated.My first tutor in swordplay

wasaQuester,andafinemanhe was. The Orders warnedagainst them but neveradvocated forbidding theirpractices, we are a land ofexilesafterall,driventotheseshorescenturiesagobythosewho would kill us for ourFaithandourgods.TheFaithwas always dominant, ofcourse, first in the rank ofbeliefs, but others livedalongside it, andwhilst there

were many amongst theFaithful who didn’t like it,mostfolkdidn’tseemtocarethat much. Then came theRedHand.”

Theking’shandshiftedto the pattern of livid redmarks on his neck, his eyesdistant with the memory.“TheycalledittheRedHandfor themark it leaves, like aclaw scarring the flesh onyour neck. Once the marks

appearedyouknewyouwereas good as dead. Imagine itVaelin,alandlaidwasteinafew months. Think ofeveryone you know, man,woman,child,richorpoor,itdoesn’tmatter.Thinkofthemall then imaginehalfof themgone. Imagine them deadfrom a wasting illness thatmakes them rave and thrashandscreamastheyvomitouttheirowninsides.Thebodies

were piled like chaff, no onewas safe, fear became theonly faith. It couldn’t just beanotherplague,not this.ThishadtobeDarkwork.Andsoour eyes shifted to thedeniers. They suffered aswedid but because they werefewer in number it seemedthey suffered less. Mobsroamed the cities and thefields, hunting, murdering.Some sects were wiped out

and their beliefs lost for alltime, the rest driven into theshadows.BythetimetheRedHand faded all that was leftwas the Faith and theCumbraelin god. The otherswere hidden, worshipping inthe dark, ever fearful ofdiscovery.”

The focus returned totheking's eyes, fixingVaelinwith cold calculation. “Yourfather appears to have

developed unhealthyinterests,YoungHawk.”

The blood-songreturned, loud and harsh, asstrong as he had ever knownit, its meaning more clearthan he could remember.Therewasgreatdangerinthisroom. Danger from theknowledge this spyingwhorepossessed. Danger from theking’sdesign.Butmostofallthe danger of the blood-song

tellinghimtokillthemboth.“I have no father,” he

grated.“Perhaps. But you do

haveasister.Bityoungtobehungfromthewallswithhertongue ripped out, afterreceiving the Fourth Order’sministrations in theBlackhold. Her mother too Ishouldn’twonder, caged sidebyside,gabblingnonsenseateach other until starvation

weakens them and the crowscome to peck at their fleshwhilst they still live. Youwanted a better reason. Nowyouhaveone.”

Darkeyes,likehisown,small hands clutchingwinterblooms. Mumma saidyou would come and live inour house and be mybrother…

The blood-songhowled. His hands twitched.

Neverkilledawomanbefore,he thought. Or a king.Watching the old man yawnandrubathispainedkneeshesawhoweasy itwouldbe totakehisfragileneckandsnapit likea twig.Howsatisfyingitwouldbe…

He clenched his fists,stilling the twitch, sittingdownheavilyatthetable.

And the blood-songdied.

“Actually,” the kingsaid,leveringhimselfupright.“Idon’tthinkI’llstayforthecakes after all. Please enjoythemwithmy compliments.”He placed a bony hand onVaelin’s shoulder. An owl’stalon.“IassumeIdon’thaveto coach you in what to saywhen Aspect Arlyn seeksyourcounsel.”

Vaelin refused to lookat him, worried the blood-

song would return, noddingstiffly.

“Excellent. Derla,please linger a while. I’msure Lord Vaelin has morequestions.”

“Of course, Highness.”Shegaveanotherperfectbowas he left. Vaelin remainedseated.

“May I sit, my lord?”Derlaaskedhim.

He said nothing so she

tooktheseatopposite.“Quitea treat for me to meet sodistinguished a Lordship asyourself,” she went on.“Done business with lordsaplenty of course. HisHighness isalways interestedin their habits, the morebeastlythebetter.”

Vaelinsaidnothing.“Are all the stories

about you true, I wonder?”she continued. “Seeing you

now I think they might be.”She waited for him to speakand fidgeted in discomfortwhenhegaveno reply.“Thebaking widow is taking hertimewiththosecakes.”

“The cakes aren’tcoming,” Vaelin told her.“And I don’t have anyquestions.HeleftyouheresoIwouldkillyou.”

Hemethereyes,seeinggenuineemotionthereforthe

firsttime:fear.“The widow Nornah is

no doubt skilled in the quietdisposal of corpses,” heelaborated. “I expect he's ledquite a few unsuspectingfools here over the years.Foolslikethetwoofus.”

Her eyes flicked to thedoor then back to his. Hermouth twisted, biting backchallenges and provocation.Sheknewshecouldn’tbrawl

with him. “I am notdefenceless.”

“You keep a knife inyour bodice and another atthe small of your back. Iassumethepininyourhairisfairlysharptoo.”

“I have served KingJanus loyally and well forfiveyears-”

“He doesn’t care. Theknowledgeyoupossessistoodangerous.”

“Ihavemoney…”“I have no need of

riches.” The bag holding thebluestone was heavy on hisbelt.“Noneedatall.”

“Well.” She leanedback from the table, lettingher hands fall to her side,lifting her skirts to show herparted knees, another half-smile playing on her lips, nomore genuine than the first.“At least show me the

courtesyoffuckingmebeforeratherthanafter.”

A laugh died on hislips. He looked away,clasping his hands togetheronthetabletop.“You’resafefrom me but not from him.Youshouldleavethecity,theRealmifyoucan.Don’tevercomeback.”

She rose slowly,moving cautiously to thedoor,reachingforthehandle,

her other hand behind herback, no doubt clutching herknife.Turningthehandle,shepaused, “Your father isfortunateinhisson,mylord.”And she was gone, the doorswinging closed on poorlyoiledhinges.

“I have no father,” hesaidsoftlytotheemptyroom.

Chapter3AwayfromtheAlpiran

coast scrubland gave way tobroad trackless desert, sweptbya stiff southerlywind thatstirred the sands into funnelsof dust, drifting over thedunes likewraiths.Thearmykept to the fringes of thedesert, advancing towardsUnteshinacolumnmorethantwomileslong.Watchingthe

armyVaelinwasremindedofa great snake he had onceseen slip from a cage on ashipfromtheFarWest,ithadstretched across the width ofthe deck, scales glittering inthe sun like the spearsof theRealmGuardnow.

He was perched on arockstuddedriseafewmilesahead of the main column,drinking from his canteenwhilst Spit chewed at the

meagre leaves of a desertshrubnearby.Frentis andhisscout troop,whatwas left ofthemafter thebattlenear thebeach, were encamped abouttherise,keepingwatchontheeasternhorizon.

Hethoughtofthebattletwo days ago, of the white-clad man and the party thatcametoaskforhisbody,fourstern faced men of theImperialGuardwhoappeared

out of the desert anddemanded to see the BattleLord.AlHestian rode out togreet them with theluminaries of the army intow,makingashowofformaletiquette which the Alpiransignored by staying in theirsaddles. He was reading outthe king’s proclamation offormal annexation of thethreecitiesofUntesh,Lineshand Marbellis when one of

theguardsmencuthimoff inmid-sentence, a well-builtman with ash-grey hair,speaking near perfect Realmtongue: “Save your prattle,Northman. We come for theEruhin’s body. Give it to usor kill us, we won’t leavewithoutit.”

AlHestian’scomposurefaltered, his face flushingwith anger. “What is thisEruhin?”

“The man in white,”Vaelin said. He hadn’t beenasked to join the parley buthad reined in on the fringesanyway, knowing the BattleLordwouldn’twishtomakeascene by sending him away,not at such an auspiciousmoment as his first meetingwiththeenemy.“TheEruhin,yes?” he asked theguardsman.

The guardsman’s eyes

locked on to him, scanninghim from head to toe,searching his face. “It wasyou?Youslewhim?”

Vaelin nodded.Snarling, one of the otherguardsmen half-drew hissabre before the grey-hairedman restrained him with aharshorder.

“Whowas he?” Vaelinasked.

“HisnamewasSeliesen

Maxtor Aluran,” theguardsman replied. “TheEruhin, the Hope in yourlanguage. Chosen heir of theEmperor.”

“Ourcommiserationstoyour Emperor,” the BattleLord broke in smoothly.“Suchagrievouslossistoberegretted but we come onlyforwhatitrightfully…”

“You come forconquest and plunder,

Northman,” the grey hairedmantoldhim.“Youwillfindonly death in these lands.There will be no furtherparleys,nomoretalk,wewillkillyouallasyouhavekilledourHope.Expectnoquarter.Nowgiveushisbody.”

LordDarneldrankfroma flask and swilled winearound his mouth beforespitting it on the hooves ofthe guardsman’s horse. “He

breaks the rules of parleywith his discourtesies, mylord,” he observed to AlHestian. “His life is clearlyforfeit.”

“No it isn’t.” Vaelinspurred between the twoparties, addressing theguardsman.“I’llescortyoutothebody.”

HecouldfeeltheBattleLord’sfuryastheyrodeoverto the corpse, sensing Lord

Darnel’s hate, rememberingsomething Aspect Arlyn hadtold him, Men who lovethemselves hate those whowoulddimtheirglory.

The guardsmendismounted and lifted thebody of their Hope onto apack-horse. The grey hairedguardsman tightened thestraps securing the body tothe horse and turned toVaelin, his eyes shiningwith

tears. “What is your name?”hedemandedhoarsely.

He could think of noreason not to tell him.“VaelinAlSorna.”

“Your considerationdoesnotdimmyhate,VaelinAl Sorna, Eruhin Mahktar,HopeKiller.Myhonour tellsmeIshouldtakemyownlife,but my hate will keep mealive.Fromnowonmyeverybreathwillbedrawnwithbut

onepurpose,toseeyourend.My name is Neliesen NesterHevren,Captainof theTenthCohortoftheImperialGuard.Donotforgetit.”

With that he and hiscomrades had mounted andriddenaway.

Sometimes the Faithrequires all we have. TheAspect’swordsagain,spokenthat day last winter when hewalked with Vaelin on the

snow covered practice fieldlistening to what he had tosayabout theking’splans. Ithadbeencoldthatday,colderthan usual even for Weslin,thenovicebrothersstumblingin the snow as they ran andfought and bore the sting oftheirmasters’canes.

“This will be a warunlike anywe have known,”the Aspect had said, hisbreath steaming the air. “A

great sacrifice will be made.Manyofourbrotherswillnotreturn.Youunderstandthis?”

Vaelin nodded, he hadlistened to the Aspect for along time and found he hadnomorewords.

“But you must return,Vaelin. Fight as hard as youhave to, kill asmuch as youhaveto.Nomatterhowmanyof your men and yourbrothers fall, you will return

tothisRealm.”Vaelin nodded again

and the Aspect smiled, theonly time Vaelin had seenhimdososincethatfirstdayat the Order House gate allthose years ago. Somehow itmade him seemold, thewayitcreasedthelinesaroundhiseyesandhisthinlips.Hehadneverseemedoldbefore.

“Sometimes, youremind me so much of your

mother,” the Aspect saidsadly,thenturnedandwalkedaway, his tall form movingthroughthesnowwithouttheslightestmisstep.

Scratchcamelopingupthe rise, a cloud of dustascendinginhiswake,aharedangling from his mouth.Large, wide-footed haresseemed to proliferate in thescrublandsand,likeScratch,the Realm Guard had been

quick to take advantage ofeasy game. The slave-dogdropped the hare at Vaelin’sfeetandgaveoneofhisshort,raspingbarks.

“Thanks, daft dog,”Vaelin scratched at his neck.“But you can have it.” Helifted the hare and threw itdown the hill, Scratchscamperingafterwithajoyfulyelp.

“Youusuallyleavehim

behind when we go oncampaign,” Frentis said,sitting down andunstopperinghisflask.

“Thought he wouldappreciate a new huntingground.”

“So he was theiremperor’s son, was he?”Frentis asked. “The man inthewhitearmour.”

“His chosen heir. Itseems the emperor chooses

his successor from amongsthissubjects.”

Frentis frowned.“How’shedothatthen?”

“Something to do withtheirgods,Ibelieve.”

“Think he would’vechosen someone who couldfight better. The silly sodcouldn’tevensitonhishorseright.” Despite his youngbrother’s levity he couldsense his concern. “Had no

businessbeingtherereally.”“Donotworryoverme,

brother.” He gave Frentis agrin. “My heart does notweighsoheavily.”

Frentis nodded andturned his gaze on the vastexpanse of desert to thesouth. “Not really sure whythe king wants this place sobad. It’s all dust and scrub.Haven’t seen a tree sincewelanded.”

“Wecome in searchofwhat is rightfully ours byancient treaty, and to avengethe wrongs done us by theDenierEmpire.”

“Yeh, been wonderingabout that. Y’know, the onlyAlpirans I ever saw weresailors andmerchants aroundthe docks. They dressedfunnybuttheydidn’tseemnodifferent from all the othersailors and merchants,

chasing whores and moneythe way such folk do, bitmorepoliteaboutitthanmostthough. Can’t remember anyofmyfellowno-goodurchinsgettingabductedand torturedin Dark rites, ‘cept me o’course, and One Eye wasn’tnoAlpiran.”

“You question theking’swordbrother?”

Frentis’s hands movedinside his cloak, no doubt

once again exploring thepattern of scars. “His andeveryone else’s, if I think Ihaveto.”

Vaelin laughed.“Good,keepdoingthat.”

“My lord!” one of thescoutscalledtohim,standingand pointing to the easternhorizon.

Vaelin moved to theother side of the rise andpeered into the distance,

seeinga faintshimmer in theheathazerisingfromthesun-warmed sands. “What am Ilookingfor?”

“I see it,” Frentis hadhisspy-glassathiseye.Itwasan expensive item, brasstubesanda shark-skincover.Vaelin thought it best not toenquire where he got italthough he remembered thecaptain of the Meldeneangalley that brought them to

these shores had possessed asimilar item. Like Barkus,Frentis’s thieving instinctshadnevercompletelyfaded.

“Howmany?”“Not good with

figurin’, brother, as youknow.ButI’llbebuggeredifthereain’tatleastournumberandathirdmorebesides.”

“I know you know

where he is.” The Battle

Lord’s gaze was dark withboundlessenmity.

“My lord?”Vaelinwasdistractedbythespectacleonthe plain before them,thousandsofAlpiran soldiersdrawn up in offensiveformation, advancing at asteadymarchtowardstherisewhere they stood.TheBattleLord had ordered Vaelin tobringhis full regiment to theriseandputhisstandardonas

tallapoleascouldbefound.On the western slope, out ofsight of the Alpirans, werefive thousand Cumbraelinarchers.Officiallythearcherswere Fief Lord Mustor’scontribution to thecampaign,a show of allegiance afterwhat had become known asthe Usurper’s Revolt, but infact they were mercenariesselling theirbowskills to theKing and no Cumbraelin

noble was counted amongtheir number. On either sideof the rise the Realm Guardinfantry was arrayed inregiments, four ranks deep.To the rear the Nilsaelincontingent of five thousandlight infantrywaited, flankedby the ten thousand horse ofthe Realm Guard cavalry onthe right and the Renfaelinknights on the left. Behindthem stood four mounted

companies from the SixthOrder alongside PrinceMalcius commanding threecompanies of the King’sMounted Guard. It was thelargest army ever fielded bythe Unified Realm and wasabout to fight its first majorengagement, somethingwhich seemed toconcern theBattleLordhardlyatall.

“The bastard who leftme with this,” Al Hestian

raised his right arm, thebarbed spikeprotruding fromthe leather cap covering thestump glinted in the brightmid-day sun. His gaze wasfixed on Vaelin, seeminglyoblivious to the advancingAlpiran host. “Al Sendahl, Iknow you didn’t find himtaken by some imaginarybeast.”

Vaelin had beensurprised theBattleLordhad

chosen to place himself ontherise,althoughhesupposedit gave him a good view ofthe field. But he was moresurprisedat theman’schoiceoftimetopursueagrievance.“My lord, perhaps thisdiscussioncanwait…”

“Iknowmyson’sdeathwas no mercy killing,” theBattle Lord continued. “IknowwhowishedhimillandI know you were their

instrument. I will find AlSendahl,beassuredof that. Iwillsettleaccountswithhim.I’llwinthiswarfortheking,thenI’llsettlewithyou.”

“Mylord,ifyouhadn’tbeensointentonslaughteringhelpless captives you wouldstill have your hand and Iwould still have my brother.YoursonwasmyfriendandItook his life to spare himpain. The king is satisfied

withmyaccountinbothcasesandasaservantofthecrownand the Faith I have nothingelsetosayoneithersubject.”

They regarded eachother in cold silence, theBattleLord’sragemakinghisfeatures tremble. “HidebehindtheOrderandthekingifyouwish,”hesaidthroughclenched teeth. “It will notsave you when this war iswon. You or any of your

brothers. The Orders are ablight on the Realm, settingupgutterbornscumtolorditovertheirbetters...”

“Father!” A tall, finefeatured young man stoodnearby, his expressionstrained with embarrassment.He wore the uniform of acaptainintheTwenty-seventhcavalry, a crow’s featherfluttering from the top of hisbreastplate,a longswordwith

a bluestone pommel strappedacrosshisback.AthisbeltheworeaVolarian short sword.“The enemy,” Alucius AlHestian said, inclining hishead at the host advancingacross the plain, “doesn’tseeminclinedtodally.”

Vaelin expected theBattleLord to explode at hisson but instead he almostseemed chagrined, biting hisangerback,nostrilsflaringin

frustration. With a finalbaleful glance at Vaelin hestrodeofftostandbeneathhisown standard, an elegantscarlet rose at odds with thecharacter of its owner, hispersonal guard ofBlackhawks closingprotectively on either side,casting suspicious glances atthe Wolfrunners surroundingthem. The two regimentsshared a mutual detestation

andwere like to turn tavernsand streets into battlefieldswhen encountering oneanother in the capital.Vaelinwaskeentoensuretheywerekeptwell apart in the line ofmarch.

“Hotday’sworkahead,my lord,” Alucius said,Vaelin noting the forcedhumour in his voice.He hadbeen disappointed to findAlucius had taken a

commission in his father’sregiment, hoping the youngpoet had seen enoughslaughter at the High Keep.Theyhadmet infrequently inthe years since, exchangingpleasantries at the palacewhen the king called himthere for some meaninglessceremony or other. He knewAlucius had recovered hisgift, that his work was nowwidely read and young

women were eager for hiscompany. But the sadnessstill lingered in his eyes, thestain of what he had seen intheHighKeep.

“Your breastplateshould be tighter,” Vaelintoldhim.“Andcanyouevendraw that thing on yourback?”

Alucius forced a smile.“Evertheteacher,eh?”

“Why are you here,

Alucius? Has your fatherforcedyoutothis?”

The poet’s false smilefaded. “Actually my fathersaid I should stay with myscribblingsandmyhigh-bornstrumpets.Sometimes I thinkIowemywaywithwords tohim. However, he waspersuaded that a chronicle ofhis glorious campaign,penned by the Realm’s mostcelebratedyoungpoetnoless,

would add greatly to ourfamily’s fortunes. Don’tconcern yourself with me,brother, I’m forbidden fromventuringmorethananarm’slengthfromhisside.”

Vaelin looked at theoncoming Alpiran army, themyriad flags of their cohortsrising from the throng like aforest of silk, their trumpetsand battle chants a risingcacophony.“Therewillbeno

safe place on this field,” hesaid, nodding at the shortsword on Alucius’s belt.“Stillknowhowtousethat?”

“Ipracticeeveryday.”“Good, stay close to

yourfather.”“I will.” Alucius

offeredhishand.“Anhonourtoservewithyouonceagain,brother.”

Vaelin took the hand,morefirmlythanheintended,

meeting the poet’s eyes.“Stayclosetoyourfather.”

Aluciusnodded,gaveafinal sheepish smile andwalked back to the BattleLord’sparty.

Design within design,Vaelin concluded, ponderingthe Battle Lord’s words.Januspromiseshimmydeathin return for victory. I get tosave my sister, the BattleLord gets vengeance for his

son.He calculated the manybargainsanddeceits thekingmusthavespuntobringthemtotheseshores.Theentreatiesmade to Fief Lord Theros tobring so many of his finestknights. The un-named priceagreed with the Meldeneansto carry the army across thesea. He wondered if Janusever lost trackof thewebhewove, if the spider evermislaidoneofhisthreads,but

the notionwas absurd. Januscouldn’t forget his designsanymorethanPrincessLyrnacould forget the words sheread. He thought about theAspect again, about theordershehadbeengivenandhow, for all its complexity,the oldman’sweb amountedtonothing.

“ERUHIN

MAKHTAR!”

Theshoutwentupfromevery man in the regiment,loud enough to carry to theoncoming Alpirans, loudenough to be heard abovetheir own chants andexhortations.

“ERUHINMAKHTAR!” The menbrandished their pole-axes,steel catching the sun,shouting as one the wordsthey had been taught.

“ERUHINMAKHTAR!”Onthe summit of the rise Janrilwaswavingthestandardonapole twenty feet high, therunning wolf rippling in thewind for the whole plain tosee.“ERUHINMAKHTAR!”

Already the Alpirancohorts nearest the hill werebeginning to react, the rankswavering as soldiersincreased their pace, theirdrummers’ steady beat

unheededastheWolfrunners’taunt drew them on.“ERUHINMAKHTAR!”

The Battle Lord wasright, Vaelin decided seeingthe discipline of the leadingAlpiran cohort gave waycompletely, ranks dissolvingas themen broke into a run,charging the hill, their ownshoutsaburgeoninggrowlofrage.Theguardsmangaveusaweapon.Thewordsandthe

banner.EruhinMakhtar.TheHopeKillerishere,comeandgethim.

And they came. Thecohorts on either side of thecharging men broke ranksand followed suit, themadness spreading rearwardsasmoreandmoreformationsforgot their discipline andchargedheadlongforthehill.

“Little point waiting,”Vaelin told Dentos. He had

stationed himself with thearchers, his own bow ready,arrow notched. “Loose assoon as they’re in range.Mightmakethemrunfaster.”

Dentos lifted his bow,sighted carefully, his menfollowinghis lead, thendrewand let fly, the shaft archingdown on the chargingAlpirans, a cloud of twohundredarrowsclosebehind.Men fell, some rose and

charged on, others lay still.Vaelin fancied he saw a fewstill trying to crawl forwarddespite shafts buried deep inchest or neck. He loosed offfour arrows in quicksuccession as the archers’arrowstormbeganinearnest,all the time the regimentmaintaining its taunt.“ERUHINMAKHTAR!”

At least a hundredAlpiransmust have fallen by

the time they were half-wayup the hill but they showedno sign of faltering, ifanything their charge hadgatheredpace,thebaseofthehill now thick with menstruggling to climb the riseand slay the Hope Killer.Vaelin saw how the wholeAlpiran line had beendisruptedby the charge, howthe flanking cohorts werewavering, undecided as to

whether to assault theRealmGuard before them or turnandtryforthehill.Thisbattleis already won, he realised.TheAlpiranarmywaslikeanox tempted into the killingpenwithabaleof freshhay.All that remains is theslaughter.Whateverhisfaultsit was plain the Battle Lordhadagiftfortactics.

When the tide ofonrushingAlpiranshadcome

to within two hundred pacesthe Battle Lord had his ownflag-men give the signal forthe Cumbraelin archers tomove to the summit. Theycame at a run, longbowsready, reaching into thethicket of arrows alreadythrust into the sandy soil onthe summit, notching andloosing without preamble astheyhadbeenordered.

Vaelin had fought

Cumbraelins on manyoccasions, acquiring anintimate knowledge of theirdeadly skills with thelongbow, but he had neverseen their massed arrowstorm before. Air hissed likethe breath of a great serpentasfivethousandshaftsarchedinto the charging mass,producing a huge groan ofshockandpainastheystruckhome. It seemed as if all the

Alpirans in the leadcompanies fell at once, fivehundredmenormore,drivento the sand by the mass ofarrows. The air aboveVaelin’s head became thickwith arrows as theCumbraelins continued toloose, glancing back hemarvelled at the speed withwhich they plucked shaftsfrom the soil, notched andloosed, seeing one man put

five arrows in the air beforethefirstfelltoearth.

Inthefaceofthestormthe Alpiran rush slowed asmenfought toclimbover thebodies of dead andwoundedcomrades, arms and shieldsraised towardoff the rainofdeadly shafts, although theseseemed to offer scantprotection.Butstilltheycameon,fuelledbyrage,somestillstumbling forward over the

thickening carpet of deadwith multiple arrowsprotruding from their mail.When they had struggled towithin fifty paces of thesummit the Battle Lordsignalled the command forthe Realm Guard regimentsflanking the hill to advance.They moved forward at thedouble, spears levelled,pushingthedisruptedAlpiranline back. The Alpiran

cohorts wavered but soonrallied, their line holding ashorse borne archers to theirrear responded, gallopingalong the line of battle toloosetheirshaftsattheRealmGuardovertheheadsoftheirembattledcomrades.

On the right a cloudofdust rose as Alpiran horsemassed for a counter chargeat the Realm Guard’s flank.The Battle Lord saw the

danger, his flag-mensignalling frantically to settheir own cavalry in motion.The neatly arranged ranks ofthe Realm Guard horsemenstirred, more dust rising asthey manoeuvred to face themassofAlpirancavalry.Thediscordant peel of a hundredtrumpetssignalledthecharge,ten thousand horse hurtlingtowards the oncomingAlpiran lancers, meeting

head-on in a thunderouscollision.Through thedust itwas just possible to glimpsethe whirling spectacle of themelee,menandhorsesfallingand rearingamidst thedinofclashingweapons, before thecloudbecameso thick itwasimpossible to gauge thecourse of the struggle,although it was clear theAlpiran charge had beenchecked. The Realm Guard

infantry continued theirassault without interference,the Alpiran line on the rightbeginningtobuckleunderthepressure.

Whoever commandedthe Alpiran host belatedlystarted to exert control overhis forces, sending whatinfantry reserves remained tobolsterthedisintegratingline,five cohorts running forwardto contend themomentumof

the Realm Guard advance.But it was too late, theAlpiran line bowed,waveredand broke, Realm Guardstreaming through the gap toassault the neighbouringAlpirans from the rear, thewhole line breaking apartunder the strain in the spaceof a fewminutes.Not amanto miss an opportunity, theBattle Lord unleashed FiefLord Theros’s knights, the

mass of armour and horse-flesh thundering through theremnantsof theAlpiranrightthen wheeling around,wreaking slaughter on theAlpiransstillthrongingatthebase of the hill despite theCumbraelinarrowstorm.

On the left the Alpiranline started tocollapseas thesoldiers saw the havoc beingwroughtontheircomradesatthe hill. Panic took hold of

one cohort, the wholecomplement fleeing despitethe exhortations of theirleaders. The Realm Guardsurged into the gap, morecohortstakingtoflightasthewhole line crumbled. Soonthousands of Alpirans werestreaming away across theplain, raising a cloud of dusttallenoughtoobscurethesunandcastthebattleinshadow.

On the slope before

VaelinthesurvivingAlpiranswere at last attempting toescape the combined fury ofthe arrow storm and theonslaught of the Renfaelinknights. Seemingly tooexhaustedtorunmanysimplystumbled away, clutchingwounds or embedded shafts,too spent even to defendthemselves when knightsspurredamongstthemtohackdown with mace or

longsword. Here and thereknots of men fought on,islands of dogged resistanceamidst the tide of steel andhorse, but they were soonoverwhelmed. Not one manhadmade it towithin sword-reach of the summit and theWolfrunners hadn’t lost asinglesoldier.

Over on the right theever burgeoning dust-cloudspoke of an undiminished

furyfromtheAlpirancavalryand the Battle Lord orderedtheOrdercompanies into thefray. The blue cloakedbrothers were soonswallowedby the dust and itwasonlyamatterofminutesbeforeAlpiranridersbegantoemerge,gallopingwestwards,foam streaming from theflanks and mouths of theirhorses.Therewereonlyafewhundred survivors from the

thousands of horsemen thathad sought to turn the flankoftheRealmGuard.

Vaelin glanced up atthe pale disc of the sun,tinged red by the dust. Youwill witness the harvest ofdeath under a blood-redsun...Words from a dream,spoken by the spectre ofNersus Sil Nin. The thoughtthat the dream’s portentmight have a claim on his

futureleftanunwelcomechillin his breast. The bodycoolinginthesnow,thebodyof someone he had loved,someonehehadkilled…

“Faith!” Dentosexclaimed at Vaelin’s side,gazingatthespectaclebeforethem with a mixture of aweand repulsion. “Never seenthelike.”

“Don’t expect to see itagain,” he replied, shaking

his head to clear away thevestigesof thedream.“Whatwe faced today was but agathering of the garrisons ofthe northern coast.When theemperor’s real army comesnorth I doubt they’ll offer ussoeasyatriumph.”

Chapter4The Governor’s

mansionatUnteshstoodonapicturesque hill-topoverlooking the harbourwhere themastsof the city’sscuttledmerchant fleet juttedfrom the water like asubmerged forest. Themansion’s gardens were richin olive groves, statuary andavenues of acacia trees,

tended by a small army ofgardenerswhohadcontinuedtheir daily labours withoutinterruption following theBattle Lord’s assumption ofresidence. The rest of themansion staff had actedsimilarly, going about theirduties with mute servilitywhich had done little toalleviate the Battle Lord’sinsecurity. His guardswatched the servants with a

glowering vigilance and hismeals were tasted twicebefore proceeding to histable.Thedumbobedienceofthemansionstaffwas,forthemost part, mirrored in thecity’s wider population.Therehadbeen some troublewith a few dozen woundedsoldiers,survivorsofthewhathad become known as theBloody Hill, mounting ashambolicattackonthemain

gate when the first RealmGuard regiments had troopedthrough, and meeting apredictable end. But for themost part the Alpirans werequiescent, apparently at theorder of their governor who,before drinking poison alongwith his family, had issued aproclamation ordering noresistance. Apparently themanhadbeenincommandofAlpiran forces thedayof the

Bloody Hill and, feeling hehad enough slaughter on hisconscience, had no wish toface the gods with yet moreweighing the scales againsthim.

Despite the lack ofresistance Vaelin could seethe resentment of the peopleineverysnatchedglancetheycast inhisdirection,markingthe shame that made themshufflewordlesslyabouttheir

business and avoid the gazeof their neighbours. Manyhad no doubt lost sons andhusbands to the Bloody Hilland would nurse theirgrudges in silence, waitingfor the emperor’s inevitableresponse. The atmosphere inthecitywasoppressive,madeworse by the mood of theRealm Guard which hadsoured by the time theymarchedthroughthegate,the

jubilationofvictoryfadinginthe face of the Battle Lord’sdecision to leave the mostbadly wounded behind andthe lackofplunder tobehadin the Realm’s newest city.The day after their arrival agallows had appeared in thecentral forum, three corpsesdangling from the scaffold,all Realm Guard with signshung about their neckproclaimingoneathief,onea

deserterandtheotherarapist.The king’s orders had beenclear, they were to take thecities, not ruin them, and theBattle Lord felt nocompunction in ensuring hisorderswerefollowedwithoutdemur.Themenhadtakentocalling him Blood Rose ingrim mockery of his familyemblem. It seemed AlHestian’s facility for victorywasmatchedbyhistalentfor

makinghismenhatehim.Vaelin guided Spit

alongtheacacia-linedavenueleading from the mansiongate to the courtyard,dismounting and offering thereins toanearbygroom.Theman stood still, head bowed,eyesdowncast, sweatshiningon his skin in the hotafternoon sun. Vaelin notedthe way his hands trembled.Glancing around he saw the

othergroomshadadoptedthesame stance, all standingimmobile, refusing to lookathim or see to his horse,accepting the consequences.Eruhin Makhtar, he thoughtwith a sigh, tying Spit to apost with enough slack toreachthetrough.

The council wasalready underway in themansion’s main hall, a largemarble chamber impressively

decorated with mosaics onthewallsandfloorillustratingscenes from the legends oftheprincipalAlpirangods.Asusual the council discussionhad quickly degenerated intoa heated argument. BaronBanders, who Vaelin hadonceseenbeatenunconsciousby Lord Darnel at theSummertide fair and hadsinceregainedhispositionofchief retainer to Fief Lord

Theros, was exchanginginsults with Count Marven,captain of the Nilsaelincontingent. The words“jumped up peasant” and“horse-shagging dullard”could be heard amidst thetumultasthetwomenjabbedfingers at each other andshrugged off the restraininghands of their companions.There had been some badblood between the Nilsaelins

andtherestofthearmysincethe Bloody Hill, theircontingent hadn’t beenordered forward until theenemywere already in flightand most had seemed moreinterested in looting Alpirancorpses than pursuing theirbrokenarmy.

“You are late, LordVaelin,” the Battle Lord’svoice cut through thecommotion, silencing the

argument.“I had far to ride, my

lord,” Vaelin replied. AlHestian had ordered hisregiment to camp at an oasisagood fivemilesoutside thecitywalls,ostensiblytoguarda supply of fresh water fortheir next march but also asensible precaution againstthe potentially violentreaction of the city-folk toVaelin’s continued presence

within the walls. It alsoafforded the Battle Lord anopportunitytorebukehimforlateness every time heconvenedacouncil.

“Well ride faster,” theBattle Lord told him curtly.“Enough of this,” hecommandedthetwofractiouslords, nowglowering at eachinotherfurioussilence.“Saveyour energies for the enemy.And before you ask Baron

Banders,noIwillnotlift thestricture on challenges.Returntoyourseats.”

Vaelin took the onlyremainingchairandsurveyedtherestofthecouncil.PrinceMalciusandFiefLordTheroswerepresentalongwithmostofthearmy’sseniorcaptains,joined by a comparativelyjunior figure from the SixthOrder, although he stilloutranked Vaelin in the

Order’s hierarchy. MasterSollis was as lean as ever,with only a few more linescreasing his forehead andsome grey in his closecropped hair to show thepassingoftheyears.Hiscoldgrey eyes regarded Vaelinwith neither warmth norenmity. They had met onlyonce in the years since theTest of the Sword, a brief,tenseexchangeofgreetingsat

the Order House when theAspect had summoned himfor an account of the mostrecent Lonak raids. Vaelinknew he now commanded acompany of brothers but hadmade no effort to seek himout, not trusting himself tocontrol his anger at theinevitable rush of memoriesthesightof thesword-masterprovoked. My wife, UrlianJurahl’s last breath. My

wife…“I have called you

here,” theBattleLordbegan,“to issue orders for the nextphase of our campaign.” Hespoke with a slightlytheatrical air, imparting hiswords with a graveimportance, although theimpression was spoiledsomewhat when he glancedover at his son, seated at adesk outside the circle, to

ensure hewasmaking notes.Alucius smiled at his fatherandjotteddownalineortwoin his leather-boundnotebook. Vaelin noticed hestoppedassoonasAlHestianturnedbacktothecouncil.

“Wehavewon perhapsthe greatest victory in thehistory of our Realm,” theBattle Lord went on. “Butonlyafoolcouldimaginethiswar is over. We must strike

swiftly ifweare to fulfil ourKing’s commands. In sixmonthsthewinterstormswillsweepacrosstheErineanandour line of supply will betenuous at best. Linesh andMarbellis must be in ourhands before then.Word hascome from the King thatreinforcements will dock atUntesh within the month,some seven freshly raisedregiments, five of foot and

twoofhorse.Theywillmakegood our losses and garrisonthe city against siege. Whenthey get here, we march. Itonlyremainstodecidewhere.Luckily we have newintelligence with which toformulate a strategy.” HeturnedtoSollis.“Brother?”

Sollis’s voice wascoarser than Vaelinremembered,yearsofshoutedcommands adding a dry rasp

to his tone. “At the BattleLord’s order I conducted areconnaissance of thedefences at Linesh andMarbellis,” Sollis began.“Fromthescaleofadditionalfortifications and numbers oftroops visible it appears theremnants of the armydefeated at the Bloody Hillhave concentrated onMarbellis, as the largest cityonthenortherncoastitoffers

the greatest chance fordefence. Judging by thenumber of abandoned housesandvillagesintheenvironsitappears the common folkhavealsosoughtrefugethere,no doubt swelling thegarrison but also denudingsupplies. In comparisonLinesh appears less wellprepared, I counted only afew dozen sentries on thewalls and her garrison stays

inthecity,makingnopatrols.Thewalls are in a poor stateof repair, although thereappears to have been someeffort to remedy this.However, there are no newfortifications and the ditcharound thewall hasnotbeendeepened.”

“Ripe for the plucking,eh?” Fief Lord Theroscommented. “Linesh firstthenontoMarbellis.”

“No,” the Battle Lordsaid.Heassumedathoughtfulpose, a finger stroking hischin,although itwasclear toVaelin his strategy had beendecided well in advance ofthismeeting. “No. It appearsLineshcanbetakeneasilybutto do so would add preciousweekstoourmarch.Theroadbetween Untesh andMarbellis ismore direct, andMarbellisisthepinonwhich

ultimatevictoryrests,withoutit our efforts will have beenfornothing.Ourwayisclear,we must divide the army.LordVaelin.”

Vaelin met the BattleLord’s gaze, wishing forperhaps the thousandth timethat the blood-song had notdeserted him. At times likethis he sorely missed itscounsel.“Mylord?”

“You will take

command of three regimentsof foot, Count Marven’sforces and one fifth of theCumbraelinarchers.Youwillproceed to Lineshimmediately, take thecitybystorm and hold it againstsiege.PrinceMalciusandhisguard will remain in Unteshto govern the city accordingthe Realm Law. The mainforce will proceed toMarbellis when the King’s

reinforcements arrive. Wewill therefore have all threecitiesinourhandswellbeforethedawnofwinter.”

There was a moment’suncomfortable silence,several attendees registeringsurprise or confusion butPrince Malcius was the firsttovoiceconcern.“Iamtobeleft here whilst the RealmGuard marches onwards intoevengreaterperil?”

“The decision was notmine, Highness. King Janusgave me specific ordersbefore we sailed. I havewritten copies if you wantthem.”

The prince’s jawclenchedandVaelinsawhowhe fought to control his furyand humiliation. After amoment he spoke again, abarelyconcealedchokeinhisvoice. “You expect Lord

Vaelin to take a city withbarelyeightthousandmen?”

“Apoorlydefendedcityby all accounts,” the BattleLord countered. “And I’msuresovauntedacommanderasLordVaelinisequaltothetask.”

CountMarven coughedseveraltimes,faceflushed.Inaccordance with Nilsaelincustom his head was shavedto grey stubble which, along

withthegoldringheworeinhis mutilated left ear, gavehim the look of an outlaw, atrait he shared with most ofhis men. “My Lord,” headdressed Al Hestian. “Imean no disrespect to LordVaelin,butIwouldpointoutmyrank…”

“Rank is unimportantwhen set against ability andexperience,” the Battle Lordinterrupted.“LordVaelinhas

foughtandwonmanybattleswhilst you, I believe, havemerelyengagedinskirmisheswith the many outlaw bandshaunting the highways ofyourfief.”

Count Marvenglowered but his mouthremained closed despite hisobviousanger.

“I cannot believe,”PrinceMalciussaid,“thatmyfatherwouldcountenancethis

plan.”“King Janus gave

commandofthisarmytome,Highness.”AlHestian’s tonewasoneofforcedcivilitybuthis entirely reciprocateddislike of the prince waspalpable.

The argumentcontinued,risinginvolumeasVaelin pondered the plan.From what Sollis had saidtaking the citymay not be a

major problembut holding itwasanothermatter.SofarnomentionhadbeenmadeoftheAlpiran forces which wereprobably already marchingnorthward, no doubt inconsiderable numbers, andLinesh stood at the extremeend of the principal routethrough the hills fringing theeastern edge of the desert. Itwouldalmostcertainlybethefirst target before the

Alpirans turned toMarbellis,made all the more temptingby the presence of the HopeKiller.Tocall itavulnerableposition was a considerableunderstatement, as the BattleLordwellknew.

He rids himself of arival for glory, Vaelinthought. Knowing theAlpirans will assail Lineshwith all their might torevenge themselves on the

Hope Killer, thinning theirranks in the process, whilsthe wins eternal fame bytakingMarbellis and holdingit against siege. And byrendering me so vulnerablethe Alpiranswill have ampleopportunity to give him therevenge he craves. Hefrowned, remembering theAspect’s instructions.Vulnerable… Away from themainbodyof thearmy,away

fromsomanycuriouseyes.Atemptingtarget…

“I believe this is anexcellent plan,” he saidbrightly, quelling theblossomingfracas.

PrinceMalciusstaredathim,appalled.“Mylord?”

“BattleLordAlHestianhasdifficultchoicestomake.Yet none can doubt his giftsfor strategy after our recentvictory. We should not lose

faith in him now. I willhappily accept thiscommission,and,”hegaveAlHestian a grave bow ofrespect, “I thank the BattleLordforthehonour.”

“Youdoseethetrapin

this,Iassume?”Vaelin unhitchedSpit’s

reins from the post and ledhimonto thegravelpath,notlookingatSollis.“Iseemany

thingsthesedays,master.”“Brother,” Sollis

corrected. “BrotherCommanderifyoumust.Thedays when you called memasterarelongpastus.”

“And yet,” Vaelinchecked the saddle strap andpalmed away the dust onSpit’s flank, “it seems tomelikeyesterday.”

“You are no longer achild, brother. Sulking ill

becomes a Sword of theRealm.”

Vaelin turned on himthen, anger rising in hisbreast. Sollis met his gazeand made no backward step.One of the few men whowouldneverbeafraidofhim.He knewhe shouldwelcomethe company of such a man,but the Test of the Swordhung between them like acurse.

“Ihavemyordersfromthe Aspect,” he told Sollis.“As, I’m sure, do you. I ammerely attempting to followthem.”

“The Aspect orderedme to takemy company intothis carnival of fools.He didnotsaywhy.”

“Really? He told memore than Iwanted to hear.”He fixed his eyes onSollis’sface, ready to read the

reaction to hiswords. “Whatdo you know of the SeventhOrder,brother?Whatcanyoutell me of the One WhoWaits? What intelligencehave you on the AspectMassacre?”

Sollis blinked. It washis only reaction. “Nothing.Nothing you don’t alreadyknow.”

“Then leave me to mytrap.” He put a foot in the

stirrup and hauled himselfinto the saddle. Glancingdown at Sollis he sawsomething in his face he hadnever expected to see:uncertainty. “If you see theRealm again and I do not,”Vaelinsaid,“telltheAspectIdid what I could. TheAspects, all seven of them,should seek counsel withPrincess Lyrna, she is thehopeoftheRealm.”

He spurred Spit into agallopandtoreaway,acloudof gravel in his wake,exultant in the finality of hiscourse. Linesh, I will haveanswersinLinesh.

“Itwasacleverplan.”Holus Nester Aruan,

governor of Linesh, was aportlymanofaboutfiftywithajewelledringoneachofhisstubby fingers and mingled

expression of fear and angeron his fleshy face. They hadfound him in a small studyoff the mansion’s mainhallway and his wrist bore abruisefromwhenFrentishadtwisted a dagger from hisgrasp.Heofferedno reply toVaelin’s words and spat onthe intricate floor mosaic,closinghiseyesandbreathinga heavy sigh, obviouslyexpectingdeath.

“Gutsy bugger isn’the?”Dentosobserved.

“Leaving a gap in thewall,”Vaelinwenton.“Onlymaking a show of repairswhilst you prepare a spikedditch behind for us to fallinto.Clever.”

“Just kill me and havedone,” the Governor grated.“I am dishonoured enoughwithout sufferingyour emptyplatitudes.” He gave a

conspicuous sniff, wrinklinghis nose. “Is shit the naturalaromaforNorthmen?”

Vaelin glanced at hisheavily stained clothing.Frentis and Dentos weresimilarly besmirched andexuded an equally appallingstench. “Your sewers needsome attention,” he replied.“There are severalblockages.”

The governor gave a

small moan and grimaced inrealisation. “The drain in theharbour.”

“Indeed, easilyaccessible at low tide, oncethe bars were removed.Brother Frentis here spentfour nights creeping acrossthesandsatlowtidetoscrapeaway the mortar.” Vaelinwent to the window andgestured at the tower abovethe main gate. A flaming

torch could be seen wavingback and forth in thedarkness. “The signalconfirming our success. Thewalls are in our hands andyourgarrisoniscaptured.Thecityisours,mylord.”

Thegovernor lookedatVaelin closely, scrutinisinghis face andclothing. “A tallwarrior in a blue cloak,” hemurmured, eyes narrowing.“Eyesofblackwithajackal’s

cunning. Hope Killer.” Aprofound expression ofsorrow covered his features.“Youhave doomedus all bycoming here. When theemperorlearnsyouarewithinour walls his cohorts willburn the city to the groundjusttoburnyou.”

“That won’t happen,”Vaelin assured him. “MyKing will be angry if Ioverseethedestructionofhis

newestdominion.”“Your king is a

madmanandyouarehisrabiddog.”

Frentis bridled. “Watchyourmouth…”

Vaelin held up a handto silence him. “If insultingme relieves your guilt thenfeelfreetodoso.Butatleastallow me to present ourterms.”

The governor frowned

inpuzzlement.“Terms?Whattermscantherebe?Youhaveconqueredus.”

“You and your fellowcitizens are now subjects ofthe Unified Realm, with allthe rights and privileges thatentails. We are not here asslavers or thieves. This is athriving port and King Janusdesires it remains so,with aslittle disturbance as possibletoitscurrentadministration.”

“If your king expectsme to serve him, he truly ismad. My life is alreadyforfeit, the emperor willexpect me to take thehonourablecourse,aswellheshould.”

“Hasta!” There was ashoutfromthedoorwayandagirl burst into the room. Shewas in her mid-teens anddressed inwhite cotton shift.Hereyeswerewidewithfear

and a small knife wasclutched in her hand. Frentismoved to intercept her butVaelin waved him back andshe rushed to the governor’sside, positioning herselfbetween them, waving herknife at Vaelin and glaringdefiance. Her words wereheavily accented and it tookhimamomenttocomprehendthem. “Leave my fatheralone!”

The governor put hishands on her shoulders,speaking softly into her ear.She trembled,eyesbrimmingwith tears, the knifeshuddering in her hands.Vaelin noted the gentlenesswith which the governorcalmed her, taking the knifefromherandpullinghercloseasshecollapsedintears.

“In Untesh,” Vaelinsaid. “The governor’s family

were obliged to join him indeath. This land has somestrangecustoms.”

The governor shot himaguarded lookof resentmentand continued to cradle hisdaughter.

“How old is she?”Vaelin asked. “Is she youronlychild?”

The governor gave noreply but his embracetightenedonthegirl.

“Shehasnothingtofearfrommeoranyofmymen,”Vaelin told him. “They haveorders to avoid bloodshedwherever possible. Theywillbe quartered within strictlyordered limits and will notpatrolthestreets.Wewillpayfor any food or goods werequire. If any of my menabuses one of your citizensyouwillreportittomeandIwill see him executed. You

will continue to administerthe city and see to the needsof the population. Existingtaxes will continue to becollected.Oneofmyofficers,Brother Caenis, will meetwithyoutomorrowtodiscussthe details. Do I have youragreement,mylord?”

The governor strokedhisdaughter’shairandgaveacurt nod, shame bringingtearstohiseyes.Vaelingave

a formal bow of respect.“Please forgive the intrusion.Wewillspeakagainsoon.”

They were moving tothedoorwhen it hithim, theblood-songahammerblowinhis mind, louder and clearerthan he had ever heard it.Vaelin tasted iron in hismouth and licked his upperlip finding blood gushingfrom his nose in a thickstream. He felt himself

growing colder and stumbledtohisknees,Dentosreachingout to steady him as bloodspattered onto themosaic. Afresh wetness on his cheekstold him his ears were alsobleeding.

“Brother!?” Dentos’svoice was pitched high inalarm. Frentis was on theverge of panic, sword drawnand glaring warningly at thegovernorwholookeddownat

Vaelin with a mixture ofterrorandbafflement.

His vision swam andthe mansion faded, mist andshadow closing around him.There was a sound in thegloom, a rhythmic clunk ofmetal on stone and a vagueimageofachiselchippingatablockofmarble.Thechiselmoved unceasingly, fasterand faster, faster than anyhuman hand could wield it,

and a face began to emergefromthestone…

ENOUGH!Thevoicewasablood-

song. He knew itinstinctively. Another blood-song. The tone was differenttohisown,strongerandmorecontrolled. Another voicespeaking in his mind. Themarble face dissolved anddriftedaway likesandon thewind, the soundof the chisel

stoppedanddidnotresume.Your song is

unschooled, thevoicesaid.Itmakes you vulnerable. Youshould be wary. Not everySingerisafriend.

He tried to answer butthe words choked him. Thesong,herealised.Hecanonlyhear the song. He struggledtosummonthemusic,tosinghis reply, but all he couldproduce was a thin trill of

alarm.Don’t fear me, the

voicesaid.Findmewhenyourecover from this. I havesomethingforyou.

He summoned all hisremaining strength, forcingthe song into a single word.Where?

Theimageofthechiseland the stone returned, butthis time the marble blockwas whole, the face it

contained still hidden, thechisel lay atop it, waiting.Youknowwhere.

Chapter5He awoke to a smell

more foul than even thesewers of Linesh. Somethingwet and rough scraped overhisfaceandhebecameawareof a crushing weight on hischest.

“Getoffhimyoufilthybrute!” Sister Gilma’s sterncommand made his eyesflutter open, finding himself

face to facewithScratch, theslave-doggivingahappyraspofgreeting.

“Hello, you daft dog,”Vaelingroanedinresponse.

“OFF!” Sister Gilma’sshout sent Scratch skulkingfrom the bed, slinking into acornerwithapetulantwhine.He had always treated thesister with a wary respect,perhaps because she hadnevershowntheslightestfear

ofhim.Vaelin scanned the

roomfindingitmostlybareoffurnituresaveforthebedanda table where Sister Gilmahad arranged the variety ofvials and boxes that held hercuratives. From the openwindowgame thekeeningofgullsandabreezetingedwiththe combined odours of saltandfish.

“Brother Caenis

commandeeredtheoldofficesof the Linesh MerchantsGuild,” Sister Gilmaexplained,pressingahand tohis forehead and feeling forthe pulse in his wrist. “Allroads in the city led to thedocks and the building wasstandingemptysoitseemedagood choice for aheadquarters. Your dog wasfrantic until we let it in theroom. He’s been here the

wholetime.”Vaelin grunted and

licked at his dry lips. “Howlong?”

Her bright blue eyesregarded him with amoment’s wariness beforeshewenttothetable,pouringa greenish liquid into a cupand mixing in a pale whitepowder.“Fivedays,”shesaidwithout turning. “You lost alot of blood. More than I

thoughtamancouldloseandstill live, infact.”Shegaveawry chuckle, the inevitablebrightsmileonherlipswhenshe turned back, holding thecuptohislips.“Drinkthis.”

Themixturehadabitterbut not unpleasant taste andhefelthiswearinessrecedingalmost immediately. Fivedays. He had no sense of it,no lingering memory ofdreams or delusions. Five

days lost. To what? Thevoice, the other blood-song,he could still hear it, a faintbut persistent call. His ownsonganswering, thevisionofthe marble block and chiselvivid in his mind. Sella’swords in the Fallen Citybecoming clearer. There areothers, older and wiser withthesamegift.Theycanguideyou.

“Ihaveto…”Heraised

himself up, trying to drawbackthecovers.

“No!” Gilma’s tonebrooked no argument, herplump hand pushing himback into the softness of thebed.Hefoundhedidn’thavethe strength to resist.“Absolutelynot.Youwill liethere and rest, brother.” Shepulled the covers up andsecuredthemfirmlyunderhischin. “The city is quiet.

Brother Caenis has thingswellinhand.Thereisnothingrequiringyourattention.”

Shedrewback,foronceher facewasentirely serious.“Brother, do you have anyideawhathappenedtoyou?”

“Never seen the like,eh?”

She shook her head.“No, I never have. Whensomeone bleeds there has tobe an injury, a cut, a lesion,

something.Youshownosignof any injury. A swelling inyour brain that could causeyou to bleed like that wouldhavekilledyou,yethereyouare.Therewassomewildtalkamongst the men aboutGovernorAruantryingtokillyou with a Dark curse orsomesuch.Caenishadtoputa guard on his mansion andhand out a few floggingsbeforetheycalmeddown.”

Floggings? he thought.I never have to flog them. “Idon’t know, sister,” he toldher honestly. “I don’t knowwhyithappened.”Ijustknowwhatcausedit.

Itwasanothertwodays

before Sister Gilma releasedhim, albeit with sternwarnings about over-exertinghimself and making sure hedrank at least two pints of

water a day. He convened acouncil of captains atop thegatehouse from where theycouldobservetheprogressofthe defences. A thick pall ofdust was rising from theworkings as men toiled todeepen the ditch surroundingthe city and make good thedecades long neglect of thewalls.

“It’ll be fifteen feetdeep when completed,”

Caenis said of the ditch.“We’re down to nine feet sofar. Work on the walls isslower, not too many skilledmasonsinthislittlearmy.”

Vaelin spat dust fromhisparched throatand tookagulp of water from hiscanteen. “How long?” heasked,hatingthecroakinhisvoice. He knew hisappearance was not one toinspire great confidence, his

eyes deeply shadowed withfatigueandhispallorpaleandclammy. He could see theconcern in the eyes of hisbrothers and the uncertaintyof Count Marven and theothercaptains.TheywonderifI’m fit to command, hedecided. Perhaps with goodreason.

“At least two moreweeks,” Caenis replied. “Itwouldgoquickerifwecould

conscript labour from thetown.”

“No.” Vaelin’s tonewas emphatic. “We have towin the confidence of thesepeople if we are to rule thisplace. Pushing a shovel intotheir hands and forcing themto back-breaking toil willhardlydothat.”

“Mymen camehere tofight, my lord,” CountMarven said, his tone light

but Vaelin could see thecalculation in his gaze.“Diggingishardlyasoldier’swork.”

“I’d say it’s mostcertainlyasoldier’swork,mylord,”Vaelinreplied.“Asforfighting, they’ll get plentyofthat before long. Tell anygrumblerstheyhavemyleavetodepart,it’sonlysixtymilesof desert to Untesh. Perhapsthey’llfindashiphomefrom

there.”A wave of weariness

swept through him and herestedagainstabattlement todisguise the unsteadiness ofhis legs. He was finding theburdenof command,with allthe petty concerns of bothallies and subordinates,increasingly irksome. Hisirritation was made moreacuteby the insistenceof theblood-songcallinghimtothe

voiceandthemarbleblockheknew lay somewhere in thecity.

“Are you unwell, mylord?” Count Marven askedpointedly.

Vaelinresistedtheurgeto punch the Nilsaelinsquarely in the face andturned to Bren Antesh, thestocky archer whocommanded the Cumbraelinbowmen. He was the most

taciturn of the captains,barely speaking in meetingsand the first to leave whenVaelin called a halt. Hisexpression was perpetuallyguarded and it was plain heneither wanted or neededtheir approval or acceptance,although any resentment hemay have felt over servingunderamantheCumbraelinsstill referred to as theDarkblade was kept well

hidden. “And your men,Captain?” he asked him.“Any complaints about theworkload?”

Antesh’s expressionremained unchanged as hereplied with what Vaelinsuspected was a quote fromthe Ten Books, “Honestlabourbringsuscloser to theloveoftheWorldFather.”

Vaelin grunted andturned to Frentis. “Anything

fromthepatrols?”Frentis shook his head.

“Nothing, brother. Allapproaches remain clear. Noscoutsorspiesinthehills.”

“Perhaps they’remaking for Marbellis afterall,”offeredLordAlCordlin,commander of theThirteenthRegiment of Foot, known asthe Blue Jays for the azurefeathers painted on theirbreastplates. He was a

sturdily built but somewhatnervous man, his arm stillrested in a sling after beingbroken at the Bloody Hillwhere he had lost a third ofhismen in thefiercefightingon the right flank. Vaelinsuspected he had littleappetiteforthecomingbattleandwasunabletoblamehim.

He turned to Caenis.“How goes it with thegovernor?”

“He’s cooperative, buthardly pleased about it. He’skept the people quiet so far,made speeches to themerchant’s guild and thecivic council pleading withthem to stay calm. He tellsme the courts and the taxcollectors are operating aswellascanbeexpectedinthecircumstances. Trade isdown,ofcourse.Mostof theAlpiranshipsputtoseawhen

newsspreadwehadtakenthecity, the remainder refuse tosail and threaten to fire theirships ifwe try toseize them.The Volarians andMeldeneans seem to keen totake advantage of theopportunitythough.Pricesforspice and silk have risenconsiderably, which meansthey’ve probably doubledbackintheRealm.”

Lord Al Trendil,

commander of the SixteenthRegiment, gave a suppressedhuff of annoyance. Vaelinhad forbidden the army tohave any part in the localtrade for fear of accusationsof corruption, severelydisappointing the few noblesin his command with moneytospendandaneyeforprofit.

“What about the foodstores?” Vaelin asked,choosing to ignore Al

Trendil.“Full to the brim,”

Caenisassuredhim.“Enoughfor two months of siege atleast, more if it’s carefullyrationed. The city’s watersupply comes primarily fromwells and springs within thewallssowe’reunlikelytorunshort.”

“Provided the city folkdon’t poison them,” BrenAnteshsaid.

“A good point,captain.” Vaelin nodded atCaenis. “Put a guard on themainwells.”Hestraightened,finding his dizziness hadsubsided. “We’ll meet againin three days. Thank you foryourattention.”

The captains departedleaving Caenis and Vaelinalone the battlements. “Areyou all right, brother?”Caenisasked.

“Alittletiredisall.”Hegazed out at the tracklessdesert, the horizon waveringinthemiddayhaze.Heknewhewouldonedaylookoutatthis scene and behold thespectacle of an Alpiran host.The only question was howlong it would take them toarrive.Would they leavehimenough time to accomplishhistask?

“Do you think Al

Cordlin could be right?”Caenis ventured. “TheBattleLord will have Marbellisunder siege by now, it is thelargest city on the northerncoast.”

“The Hope Killer isn’tin Marbellis,” Vaelin said.“The Battle Lord drew hisplans well, he’ll have a freehand at Marbellis whilst theemperor’sarmydealswithus.Weshouldhavenoillusions.”

“We’ll hold them,”Caenis said with flatcertainty.

“Your optimism doesyoucredit,brother.”

“TheKingrequiresthiscitytofulfilhisplans.Wearetaking but the first step on aglorious journey towards aGreater Unified Realm. Intime the lands we havesecuredwillbecomethefifthfief of the Realm, united

under the protection andguidance of King Janus andhisdescendants,freefromtheignorance of theirsuperstitions and theoppression of lives lived atthewhimof an emperor.Wehavetohold.”

Vaelin tried to discernsomeironyinCaenis’swordsbut could detect only thefamiliar blind loyalty to theking.Notforthefirsttimehe

was tempted to give hisbrother a full account of hismeetings with Janus,wondering whether hisdevotion to the old manwould survive knowledge ofhis true nature, but he heldback as always. Caenis wasdefined by his loyalty, hecloaked himself in it asprotection against the manyuncertainties and lies thatabounded in their service to

the Faith. Quite why Caeniswas so devoted Vaelin hadneverbeenable todivinebutwas loath to rob him of hiscloak,delusionthoughitmaybe.

“Ofcoursewe’llhold,”heassuredCaeniswithagrimsmile, thinking, Whether itmakes a thimble-worth ofdifference to anything isanothermatter.

He moved to the

stairway at the rear of thebattlement.“IthinkI’lltakeatour of the town, barely seenityet.”

“I’llfetchsomeguards,youshouldn’twalkthestreetsalone.”

Vaelin shook his head.“Worry not, brother. Not soweakened that I can’t defendmyself.”

Caenis was still unsurebutgaveareluctantnod.“As

you wish. Oh,” he said asVaelin began to descend thestairs. “The governorrequestedwesendahealertohis house. Apparently hisdaughter’s taken ill and thelocal physicians lack theskillstohelpher.IsentSisterGilma this morning. Perhapsshe can foster some goodwill.”

“Well if anyone can,it’s her. Assure the governor

of my best wishes for hisdaughterwillyou?”

“Ofcoursebrother.”The woman who

answered the door to thestonemason’s shop regardedhimwith naked hostility, hersmooth brow set in a frownand her dark eyes narrowedasshelistenedtohisgreeting.She seemed a year or so shyof thirty,with long dark hair

tied back in a ponytail and adust stained leather aproncovering her slender form.From behind her came therhythmic thud of metal onstone.

“Goodday,madam,”hesaid. “Please forgive theintrusion.”

She folded her armsand gave a curt reply inAlpiran. From her tone heassumed she wasn’t

welcoming him inside withanofferoficedtea.

“I… was told to comehere,” he went on, her sterngaze giving no insight as toherunderstanding,hermouthfixed in a hard line, offeringnothing.

Vaelin glanced aroundat the mostly empty street,wondering if he could havemisread the vision somehow.But the blood-song had been

so implacable, its tone socertain,compellinghiscoursethrough the streets, onlysubsiding when he happenedupon this door beneath thesignof a chisel andhammer.He resisted an impulse topush his way inside andforced a smile. “I havebusinesstodiscuss.”

Her frown deepenedand she spoke in heavilyaccented but unmistakable

words, “Nobusinesshere fornorthmen.”

Vaelin felt a faintmurmur from the blood-songand the hammering from theinterioroftheshopfellsilent.A male voice called out inAlpiran and thewoman gavea grimace of annoyancebefore glaring at Vaelin andsteppingaside.“Sacredthingshere,”shesaidasheentered.“Godscurseyouifyousteal.”

Theinterioroftheshopwas cavernous, the ceilinghighandthemarble-tilefloorcovering thirty paces square.Sunlight streamed throughopened skylights,illuminating a space filledwith statuary. Their sizevaried,someafootor twoinheight, others life sized, onewasatleasttenfeettallofanimpossiblywell-muscledmanwrestling a lion. Vaelin was

struck by the vitality of theform, the precision withwhich it had been carved,seemingly freezing the giantandthelionatthemomentofgreatest violence. There wasanothersmallerstatuenearby,alifesizewomanofarrestingbeauty,herarmsoutstretchedin supplication and her finefeatures frozen in anexpression of depthlesssorrow.

“Herlia, goddess ofjustice,weepingasshepassesher first judgement.” Onhearing the voice, the blood-song rose in pitch, not inwarningbutinwelcome.Theman stoodwith his hands onhiships,achiselandhammerhanging from the pockets ofhis apron. He was short butwell built, his bare armsknottedwithmuscle.Hisfacewas angular with high

cheekbones, almond shapedeyes,andthepartsofhisskinnot covered in dust had afaintgoldensheen.

“You are not Alpiran,”Vaelinsaid.

“Neither are you,” theman replied with a laugh.“Yet here we both are.” Heturnedtothewomanandsaidsomething in Alpiran. Shegave Vaelin a parting glareand disappeared into the rear

oftheshop.Vaelin nodded at the

statue.“Whyisshesosad?”“Shefell in lovewitha

mortal man, but his passionforherdrovehimtocommitaterrible crime and so shejudged him, consigning himto the depths of the earth,chained to a rock where hisflesh is eternally eaten byvermin.”

“It must have been

quiteacrime.”“Indeed, he stole a

magicswordandwithitslewagodthinkinghimarivalforheraffections. In facthewasher brother, Ixtus, god ofdreams. Now, whenever wesuffer nightmares it is theshadeofthefallengodtakinghisrevengeonmortalkind.”

“Agodisalie.Butit’sagoodstory.”Heheldouthishand.“VaelinAlSorna…”

“Brother of the SixthOrder, Sword of the UnifiedRealm and now commanderof the foreign armyoccupying our city. Aninteresting fellow indeed,butus Singers usually are. Thesong leads us down somanypaths.” The man shook hishand. “Ahm-Lin, humblestonemason,atyourservice.”

“All your work?”Vaelinasked,gesturingatthe

arrayofstatuary.“In a manner of

speaking.” Ahm-Lin turnedand moved deeper into theworkshop, Vaelin following,his gaze drinking in thecarnival of fantastic shapes,theseeminglyendlessvarietyof form and tableaux. “Aretheyallgods?”heasked.

“Not all. Here,” Ahm-Linpausednexttoabustofagrave faced man with a

hooknose and heavy, deeplyfurrowed brows. “EmperorCammuran, the first man tosit on the throne of theAlpiranempire.”

“Heseemstroubled.”“He had good reason.

Hissontriedtokillhimwhenherealisedhewasn’tgoingtobethenextemperor.Theideaofchoosingasuccessor fromamongst the people,with thegods’ help of course, was a

dramatic break withtradition.”

“What happened to theson?”

“The emperor strippedhim of his wealth, had histongue cut out and his eyesblinded, then sent him forthto live out his days as abeggar. Most Alpirans thinkhewas being unduly lenient.They are a fine people,courteous and generous to a

fault, but unforgiving whenroused. You shouldremember that, brother.” HegaveVaelinasidelongglancewhen he failed to reply. “Imust say I’m surprised yoursong ledyouhere.Youmustknow this invasion isdoomed.”

“My song has been…inconsistentoflate.Ithastoldmelittleforalongtime.UntilI heard your voice, it had

beensilentforoverayear.”“Silent.” Ahm-Lin

seemed shocked, his gazebecomingcurious.“Whatwasit like?” He sounded almostenvious.

“Like losing a limb,”Vaelin replied honestly,realisingforthefirsttimethedepthoflosshehadfeltwhenhis song fell silent. It wasonlynowithadreturned thathe accepted the truth, the

song was not an affliction.Sellahadbeenright; itwasagift, and he had grown tocherishit.

“Here we are,” Ahm-Lin spread his arms wide astheyarrivedattherearoftheworkshop where a largebench was covered in abewildering array of neatlyarranged tools, hammers,chisels and oddly shapedimplements Vaelin couldn’t

name. Nearby a ladder wasproppedagainstalargeblockofmarblefromwhichapartlycompleted statue emergedfrom the stone. Vaelin drewup inshockat thesightof it.Thesnout,theears,thefinelycarved fur, and the eyes,those unmistakable eyes.Hissongwas singinga clear andwarm note of recognition.The wolf. The wolf that hadsaved him in theUrlish. The

wolf that had howled itswarning outside the house ofthe Fifth Order when SisterHenna came to kill him.Thewolf that had restrained himfrommurderintheMartishe.

“Ah…” Ahm-Lin’srubbed at his temples, hisexpression pained. “Yoursong is strong indeed,brother.”

“Sorry.” Vaelinconcentrated, trying to calm

the song, but it was a fewseconds before it subsided.“Isitagod?”heaskedAhm-Lin,gazingupatthewolf.

“Notquite.Oneofwhatthe Alpirans call theNameless, spirits of themysteries. The wolf featuresin many of the named gods’stories, as guide, protector,warrior or spirit ofvengeance. But it is nevernamed.Itisonlyeverjustthe

wolf, feared and respected inequalmeasure.”He regardedVaelin with an intent gaze.“You’ve seen it before,haven’tyou?Andnotcaptiveinstone.”

Vaelin wasmomentarily wary ofdisclosing too much to thisman, a stranger with a songthat had nearly killed himafter all. But the warmth ofhis own song’s welcome

overcame his distrust. “Itsavedme.Twice fromdeath,oncefromsomethingworse.”

Ahm-Lin's expressionshowed a brief flicker ofsomethingclosetofearbuthequickly forced a smile.“Interesting seems aninadequate term for you,brother. This is for you.”Hegestured to a nearby workbench where a block ofmarble rested,achiselsitting

atop it. The block was aperfectcubeofwhitemarble,the same block from hisvisionwhenAhm-Lin’s songhad laid him low, its surfacesmooth under Vaelin’sfingers.

“You obtained this forme?”heasked.

“Many years ago. Mysong was most emphatic.Whatever rests inside hasbeenwaiting a long time for

youtosetitfree.”Waiting… Vaelin

flattenedhispalmagainst thestone, feeling a surge fromthe blood-song, the tune amixofwarningandcertainty.Theonewhowaits.

He lifted the chisel,touchingthebladetentativelytothestone.“I’veneverdonethis,” he told Ahm-Lin.“Can’t even carve a decentwalkingstick.”

“Your song will guideyour hands, as mine guidesme. These statues are asmuchtheworkofmysongasmyskill.”

He was right, the songwas building, strong andclear, guiding the chisel overthe stone.He hefted amalletfrom the bench and tappedthe butt of the chisel,chipping a small piece ofmarble from the edge of the

cube. The song surged andhis hands moved, Ahm-Linand the workshop fading asthe work consumed him.Therewerenothoughtsinhishead, no distractions, therewas just the song and thestone. He had no sense oftime, no perception of theworldbeyondthesonganditwasonlyaroughshaketotheshoulder that brought himback.

“Vaelin!”Barkusshookhim again when he didn’trespond. “What are youdoing?”

Vaelin looked at thetoolsinhisdustcakedhands,notinghiscloakandweaponslaying nearby and having nomemory of removing them.The stone was radicallyaltered, the top half now aroughlyhewndomewithtwoshallow indentations in the

centreandtheghostofachinformingatthebase.

“Standing herehammering away with noweapons and no guard,”Barkus sounded moreshocked than angry. “Anypassing Alpiran could havestuck you without breakingsweat.”

“I…”Vaelinblinkedathim in confusion. “I was…”He trailed off realising any

explanationwaspointless.Ahm-Lin and the

woman who had answeredthe door were standingnearby, thewomanglaringatthe two soldiers Barkus hadbrought with him. Ahm-Linwas more relaxed, idlyguiding awhetstone over thetip of one of his chisels,favouringVaelinwithaslightsmile of what might havebeenadmiration.

Barkus’sgazeshiftedtothestonethenbacktoVaelin,a frown creasing his heavybrows.“What’sthatsupposedtobe?”

“Doesn’t matter.”Vaelin reachedforapieceoflinen and draped it over thestone. “What do you want,brother?” He was unable tokeep the irritation from histone.

“Sister Gilma needs

you. At the Governor’smansion.”

Vaelin shook his headimpatiently, reaching againfor his tools. “Caenis dealswith the Governor. Sendhim.”

“He has been sent for.Sheneedsyouaswell.”

“I’msureitcanwait…”Barkus’s hand was tight onhis wrist, putting his lipsclose to Vaelin’s ear and

whispering two words whichmade him drop his tools andreach for his cloak andweapons without furtherdemur,despitetheimmediatehowl of protest from theblood-song.

“TheRedHand.”Sister

Gilmastoodontheothersideof the mansion gate, havingforbidden them from comingany closer. For once there

was no trace of mirth in hertoneorbearing.Herfacewaspale, her usually bright eyesdimmed with fear. “Just thegovernor’sdaughter fornow,butthere’llbeothers.”

“You’re certain?”Vaelinaskedher.

“Every member of myorderistaughttolookforthesigns from the moment wejoin. There’s no doubt,brother.”

“You examined thegirl?Youtouchedher?”

Gilma noddedwordlessly.

Vaelinfoughtdownthesorrowclutchingathischest.No time for weakness now.“Whatdoyouneed?”

“The mansion must besealed and guarded. No-onecanbeallowedinorout.Youmust be watchful for anymore victims in the city at

large. My orderlies knowwhat to look for. Any foundto have the sicknessmust bebrought here, by force ifnecessary.Masks and glovesmust be worn when dealingwith them. You must alsoseal the city, no ships cansail,nocaravanscanleave.”

“There’ll be panic,”Caenis warned. “The RedHandkilledasmanyAlpiransas Realm folk in its time.

Whenwordspreadsthey’llbedesperatetoflee.”

“Then you’ll have tostopthem,”SisterGilmasaidflatly. “We cannot allow thisplague loose again.” Shefixed her gaze on Vaelin.“You understand, brother?You must do whatever isrequired.”

“I understand, sister.”Through his sorrow a dimmemory began to surface,

Sherin at theHighKeep.Hetended to avoid thinking ofthat time, the sense of losswas too great, but now hefoughttorecallherwordsthatmorning after the death ofHentes Mustor. TheUsurper’s followers hadtrappedherwithafalsereportof an outbreak of the RedHand in Warnsclave. I hadbeenworkingonacure…

“SisterSherin,”hesaid.

“She toldmeonce shehad acureforthesickness.”

“A possible cure,brother,” Gilma replied.“Based on theory only andbeyondmyskillstoformulateinanycase.”

“WhereisSisterSherinstationed thesedays?”Vaelinpersisted.

“At the Order House,lastIheard.SheisMistressofcurativesnow.”

“Twenty days sailingwith a good wind,” Caenissaid. “And twenty daysback.”

“For an Alpiran orRealmvessel,”Vaelinmusedsoftly. He turned back toGilma. “Sister, ask theGovernor to write aproclamationconfirmingyourmeasures and ordering thecity-folk to cooperate.Brother Caenis will have it

copied and distributed aboutthe city.” He turned toCaenis. “Brother see to theguardingof thegatesand themansion.Doubletheguardonthe walls. Use our men onlywhere possible.” He glancedback at Sister Gilma andforced an encouraging smile.“Whatishope,sister?”

“Hope is the heart ofthe Faith. Abandonment ofhopeisadenialoftheFaith.”

Her own smile was faint. “Ihave certain instruments andcuratives in my quarters. Ishould like them brought tome.”

“I’ll see to it,” Caenisassuredher.

Vaelin turned to go,hurrying along the stone-paved path. “What about thedocks?” Caenis called afterhim.

Vaelin didn’t look

back.“I’llseetothedocks.”TheMeldenean captain

wascompactandwiry,sittingacross the table from Vaelinwith his lean features drawninasuspiciousglare.Heworegloves of soft leather, hishandsclaspedinadoublefistonthetable.Theywereinthemap room of the oldMerchant’s Guild building,alone save for Frentis who

guarded the door. Outside,nightwasdrawingonquicklyand the city would soon besleeping, still blissfullyunaware of the crisis thatwould greet them in themorning. If the captain hadanycomplaintsabouthowheandhiscrewhadbeenhauledfrom their bunks, forced tostrip and submit to aninspection by Sister Gilma’sorderlies before being

broughthere,heclearlyfeltitbesttokeepthemtohimself.

“You are CarvalNurin?” Vaelin asked him.“CaptainoftheRedFalcon?”

The man gave a slownod. His eyes flickeredcontinually between Vaelinand Frentis, occasionallylingering on their swords.Vaelin felt no desire toalleviate theman’s unease, itsuited his purpose to keep

himscared.“Yourshipisreputedto

be the fastest vessel to sailfrom this port,” Vaelin wenton. “Finest lines of any hullevercraftedintheMeldeneanyards,sotheysay.”

Carval Nurin inclinedhisheadbutremainedsilent.

“You have noreputation for piracy ordishonesty, unusual for acaptainfromyourislands.”

“What do you want?”The man’s voice was harsh,rasping and Vaelin noticedthe pale edge of a scarprotrudingfromtheblacksilkscarf he wore around histhroat. Pirate or not, he hadseen his share of trouble ontheseas.

“To engage yourservices,” Vaelin repliedmildly.“HowfastcanyougettoVarinshold?”

The captain’s uneaselessened but suspicion stillcloudedhis face. “Done it infifteen days before. Udonorwas kind with thenortherlies.”

Udonor, Vaelin knew,was one of the Meldeneangods said to have dominionover the winds. “Can it bedonequicker?”

Nurin shrugged.“Maybe.Withanemptyhold

anda fewmorehands to runthe rigging. And two goatsforUdonor,ofcourse.”

Itwascommonpracticefor Meldeneans to sacrificeanimals to their favouredgods before a hazardousvoyage. Vaelin had beenwitnesstoamassslaughteroflivestock before theirinvasion fleet left port, theblood had flowed so freelytheharbourwatersturnedred.

“We’ll provide thegoats,” he said and gesturedfor Frentis to come forward.“Brother Frentis and two ofmy men will be yourpassengers. You will carryhim to Varinshold where hewill collect anotherpassenger. You will thenreturn here. The wholevoyagecannottakemorethantwenty-five days. Is itpossible?”

Nurin considered for amoment and nodded.“Possible,yes.Butnotformyship.”

“Whynot?”Nurin unclasped his

hands and slowly removedhis gloves, revealing mottledand discoloured skin fromfingers to wrist. “Tell me,land-bound,”hesaid,holdinghis hands up for Vaelin’sinspection, the lamp light

gleamed on the waxy,misshapen flesh, “have youever beaten at flames withyour bare hands whilst yoursister and mother burn todeath?”Agrimsmiletwistedthe Meldenean’s lips. “No,my shipwill not sail in yourservice.TheAlpiranscallyouthe Hope Killer, to me youare the spawn of the CityBurner. The Ship-Lords mayhave whored themselves to

your king but I will not.Whatever threats or tormentsyouemploywillmakeno-”

The bluestone made asoft thud as Vaelin placed iton the table, spinning itaround, lamplight flickeringon the silver veined surface.Carval Nurin stared at it inastonished and unbridledgreed.

“I’m sorry about yourmother and your sister,”

Vaelin said. “And yourhands.Itmusthavebeenverypainful.”Hecontinuedtospinthe bluestone. Nurin’s eyesneverleftit.“ButIsenseyouare, above all, a man ofbusiness, and sentiment ishardlyprofitable.”

Nurin swallowed, hisscarred hands twitching.“HowmuchdoIget?”

“If you return withintwenty-fivedays,allofit.”

“Youlie!”“On occasion, but not

rightnow.”Nurin’s eyes finally

shifted from the bluestone,meeting Vaelin’s. “WhatsuretydoIhave?”

“Myword,asabrotheroftheSixthOrder.”

“Pox take your wordand your Order. Your ghost-worshipping nonsense meansnothing tome.”Nurinpulled

his gloves on, frowning incalculation. “I want a signedassurance, witnessed by thegovernor.”

“The governor is…indisposed. But I’m sure theGrand Master of theMerchant’s Guild will behappy to oblige. Goodenough?”

The Red Falcon

differed markedly from any

other ship Vaelin had seen.She was smaller than most,with a narrow hull and threemasts instead of the usualtwo. There were only twodecks and she carried a crewofjusttwentymen.

“Builtfortheteatrade,”Carval Nurin explainedgruffly when Vaelinremarked on the unusualdesign.“Fresheritisthemoreprofityoumake.Smallcargo

offreshteamakesthreetimesthepriceof the stuff shippedinbulk.Quickeryougetfromoneport toanother, themoremoneyyoumake.”

“No oars?” Frentisasked. “Thought allMeldeneanshipshadoars.”

“Got ‘em rightenough,”Nurinpointedatthesealed ports on the lowerdeck. “Only use ‘em whenthewinddies,whichitrarely

does in northern waters. Inany case, the Falcon’ll shiftwith even the smallestbreeze.”

The Captain paused tocast his gaze around thedocks, taking in the rows ofsilentandemptyshipsandthecordon of Wolfrunnersguarding the quayside. Thecrewshadbeenorderedfromtheirvesselsduringthenight,notwithoutsometrouble,and

were now nursing theirbruises under heavy guard inthe warehouses nearby.“Can’t remember the Lineshdocks ever being so quiet,”Nurinobserved.

“War is bad for trade,Captain,”Vaelinreplied.

“Ships came and wentat their leave over the pastmonth and now they sitempty with their crewsimprisoned. And yet the

Falcon alone is permitted tosail…”

“We can’t be toocareful,” Vaelin clapped himon the back affably,provoking a shudder offearful repugnance. “Plentyof spies about.Whendo yousail,Captain?”

“Anotherhourwhenthetide’sright.”

“Then don’t allow metodelayyourpreparations.”

Nurin suppressed asneering response andnodded, walking up thegangplank to assail his crewwithabarrageofcurseriddenorders.

“Do you think heknows?”Frentisasked.

“He suspectssomething, but he doesn’tknow.” He gave Frentis anapologetic smile. “I’d sendmore men with you, but it

might arouse even moresuspicion. Sister Gilma’sorderlies told you what tolookfor?”

Frentis nodded.“Swellingintheneck,sweats,dizziness and rashes on thearms. If any of them have itthey’ll start showing withinthreedays.”

“Good. Youunderstand, brother, that ifany of the crew, including

yourself, shows signs of theRed Hand this ship cannotland in Varinshold, oranywhereelse?”

Frentis nodded. Vaelincould detect no fear orreluctanceinhim.Theblood-song spoke of only a basicand unshakeable trust, analmost unreasoning loyalty.Thethin,raggedboywhohadpleaded for his support allthose years ago in the

Aspect’sroomwasgonenow,forged into a seasoned andfearfully skilled warrior whowould never question hisorders. There were timeswhen having command ofFrentis feltmoreof aburdenthan a blessing. He was aweapon tobeusedonlywithgreat care, for there was nosheathing him onceunleashed.

“I… regret the

necessityofthis,brother,”hesaid. “If there was any othercourse…”

“You never gave methatlesson,”Frentissaid.

Vaelin frowned.“Lesson?”

“The throwing knife,you said you’d teach me.Thought I’d learned enoughmyself. Was wrong aboutthat.”

“You’ve been taught

much since.” Vaelin felt asuddensurgeofguilt.Allthebattles fought by this blindlytrusting young man, thewoundssuffered.Alltheliveshehadtaken.“Youwantedtobeabrother,”hesaid,failingto keep the guilt from hisvoice. “Did we do right byyou?”

To his surprise Frentislaughed. “Do right by me?When did you ever do

wrong?”“One Eye scarred you.

The Tests hurt you. Youfollowedmehere towar andpain.”

“What else was thereforme?Hungerand fearandaknifeinanalleytoleavemebleeding in a gutter.” Frentisgrippedhis shoulder. “NowIhavebrotherswhowoulddieinmydefence,asIwoulddiefor them. Now I have a

Faith.” His smile was fierce,unwavering, complete in itsconviction. “What is Faith,brother?”

“The Faith is all. TheFaith consumes us and freesus.TheFaith shapesmy life,in this world and in theBeyond.” As he spoke thewords Vaelin was struck bythe conviction in his ownvoice, the depth of his ownbelief. He had seen somuch

of the world now, so manygods, yet the words camefrom his lips with absoluteconviction. I heard mymother’svoice…

Chapter6The days following the

departure of the Red Falconquickly took on a tensemonotony. Every morningVaelinwenttospeaktoSisterGilmaatthemansiongate.Sofar the only new case hadbeen the daughter’s maid, awoman of middle years whowasn’t expected to last theweek. The girl herself, aided

by her youth, was sufferingthe symptoms with greatfortitude but was unlikely toliveoutthemonth.

“And you, sister?” heasked every morning. “Areyouwell?”

She would smile herbrightsmileandgiveasmallnod. He dreaded the day heclimbed the path to the gateandfoundshewasn’ttheretogreethim.

Once word of theoutbreak spread the mood inthe city became palpablyfearful, although reactionsvaried. Some, mainly therichercitizens,collectedtheirvaluables and close relativestogether before proceedingimmediately to the nearestgate, demanding to beallowedtoleaveandresortingto threats or bribes whenrefused. When the bribes

failedsomeconspiredtorushthe gates at nightfall incompany with armedbodyguardsandservants.TheWolfrunners had easilyrepulsedtheassault,clubbingthem back with the stavesCaenis had had the foresighttoissuewhenthecrisisarose.Luckily, there had been nodeaths but the mood of thecity’seliteremainedresentfulandoftendesperately fearful.

Some had barricadedthemselves into their houses,refusing all visitors and evenloosing arrows or crossbowboltsattrespassers.

The less well-off wereequallyfearfulbutmorestoicinfacingtheirfearandsofarthere had been no riots. Forthe most part people wentabout their normal business,albeit spending as little timeon the streets or in the

company of neighbours aspossible.Allsubmittedtotheregular inspections for signsof the sickness with aresigned trepidation. As yettherehadbeennocasesinthecity itself, though SisterGilma seemed certain it wasonlyamatteroftime.

“TheRedHand alwaysstartedintheporttowns,”shesaid one morning. “Carriedby ships fromacross the sea.

No doubt that’s how it camehere. Governor Aruan tellsme thegirl liked togo to thedocks and watch the shipscomingandgoing.Ifyoufindanother case it’ll most likelybeasailor.”

Fearful as thetownspeople were, he foundhimself more worried by hisown soldiers. TheWolfrunner’s discipline washolding well but the others

weremorerestive.Therehadbeen several ugly brawlsbetween Count Marven’sNilsaelins and theCumbraelin archersproducing some seriousinjuries on both sides andforcinghim to flog theworstoffenders. The onlydesertions had been from theRealmGuard,fiveofLordAlCordlin’s Blue Jays slippingover the wall with looted

provisions in the hope ofmaking it to Untesh. Vaelinhadbeen tempted to let themperish in thedesertbutknewanexamplehadtobemadesosent Barkus after them withthe scout troop. Two dayslater he returned with thebodies, Vaelin havinginstructed him to administersentenceon the spot to sparethe spectacle of a publichanging. He had the corpses

burned within sight of themain gate to ensure theguards on the wall got themessageandspreadittotheircomrades: no-one was goinganywhere.

In the afternoons hetoured the walls and thegates,forcingconversationonthemendespitetheirobviousdiscomfort.TheRealmGuardwere rigidly respectful butscared, the Nilsaelins sullen

and the Cumbraelins clearlydetested theverysightof theDarkblade, but he spent timewith all of them, askingquestionsabout their familiesandtheirlivesbeforethewar.The answers were thestandard, clipped responsessoldiers always gave to theritual pleasantries of theircommandersbutheknewhisdistance from them wasimmaterial, they needed to

see him and know he wasunafraid.

OnedayhefoundBrenAnteshnearthewesterngate,a hand shielding his eyesfrom the sun as he gazed upatabirdhoveringoverhead.

“Vulture?” Vaelinasked.

As was his custom theCumbraelin leader gave noformal greeting, somethingVaelinfoundirkedhimnotat

all.“Hawk,”hereplied.“Ofatype I haven’t seen before.Looks a little like the swift-wingfromhome.”

Of all the captainsAntesh had reacted with thegreatest calm to the crisis,placating his men andassuringthemtheywereinnodanger.Hiswordclearlyheldconsiderable sway as therehad been no attempts atdesertion by any of the

archers.“I wanted to thank

you,” Vaelin said. “For thedisciplineof yourmen.Theymusttrustyougreatly.”

“They trust you too,brother. Almost as much astheyhateyou.”

Vaelinsawlittlereasontoarguethepoint.Hemovednext to Antesh, restingagainst a battlement. “I haveto say I was surprised the

King was able to recruit somanymenfromyourfief.”

“When Sentes MustortooktheFiefLord’schairhisfirst act was to abolish thelaw requiring daily practicewith the longbow, and themonthly stipend that camewith it.Most ofmymen arefarmers, the stipend helpedsupplement their income,withoutitmanycouldn’tfeedtheirfamilies.Theymayhate

King Janus with a passion,buthatreddoesn’tputfoodinthemouthofyourchildren.”

“Do they really believeI’mthisDarkbladefromyourTenBooks?”

“You slew BlackArrow,andtheTrueblade.”

“Actually, BrotherBarkuskilledHentesMustor.And to this day I still don’tknow if the man I killed intheMartishewasreallyBlack

Arrow.”TheCumbraelincaptain

shrugged. “In any case, theFourth Book relates how nogodly man can kill theDarkblade. I have to say,brother,youdoseemtofitthedescriptionquitewell.Asforthe use of the Dark…Well,who can say?”Antesh’s facewas cautious, as if expectingsomesortofrebukeorthreat.

Vaelin decided a

change of subject wasappropriate. “And you, sir.Did you enlist to feed yourchildren?”

“Ihavenochildren.Nowifeeither. JustmybowandtheclothesI’mwearing.”

“What of the King’sgold? Surely, you have thattoo.”

Antesh seemedagitated, looking away, hiseyes searching the sky once

again for the hawk. “I… lostit.”

“As I understand it,every man was paid twentygoldsupfront.That’salottolose.”

Antesh didn’t turnback. “Do you requiresomethingofme,brother?”

The blood-song gave ashort murmur of unease, notthe shrill warning ofimpending attack, but a

suggestion of deception. Hehides something. “I’d like tohear more of Darkblade,”Vaelin said. “If you wouldcaretotellme.”

“That would meanlearning more of the TenBooks.Aren’tyouafraidyoursoul will be sullied by suchknowledge? Your faithundone?”

The Cumbraelin’swords summoned Hentes

Mustor from his memory,seeingagaintheguiltandthemadness in the Usurper’seyes. The blood-song’smurmur grew louder.Did heknow him?Had he been oneofhisfollowers?“Idoubtanyknowledge could sully aman’s soul. And as I toldyour Trueblade, my Faithcannotbeundone.”

“TheFirstBooktellsusto teach the truth of the

World Father’s love to anywhowish tohear it.FindmeagainandI’lltellyoumore,ifyouwish.”

In the evenings he

wouldmakehiswaytoAhm-Lin’s shop where his wifewould scowl murderously asshe poured tea and thestonemasonwouldcoachhiminthewaysofthesong.

“Amongst my people

it’s called the Music ofHeaven,”Ahm-Linexplainedone night. They were in theworkshop, sipping tea fromsmallporcelainbowlsnexttothe statue of thewolf,whichappeared more unnervinglyrealeverytimeVaelinvisited.The mason’s wife wouldn’tallow Vaelin into the houseitself where she invariablysecludedherselfafterpouringthetea.Hehadoncemadethe

mistake of suggesting theypourit themselveswhichhadprovoked such an outragedglare that he waited untilAhm-Lin tooka sip fromhisown cup for fear she hadpoisonedthebeverage.

“Your people?” Vaelinasked. He had deduced thatthemasonhailedfromtheFarWest but new little of theplace beyond the tales ofsailors, fanciful stories of a

vastlandofendlessfieldsandgreat cities where theMerchantKingsheldsway.

“I was born in theprovince of Chin-Sah underthe benevolent rule of thegreat Merchant King Lol-Than, amanwho knewwellthe value of those withunusual gifts. When minebecame known to the villageelders I was taken from myfamilyatagetenandbrought

to the king’s court, to betutored in the Music ofHeaven. I remember I wasterribly homesick but nevertried to run away. It was thelawthatthetreasonofthesonextends to the father and Ididn’twish him to suffer formy disobedience, though Ilonged to return to his shopandworkthestoneagain.Hewasamasontoo,yousee.”

“There is no shame in

theDarkinyourhomeland?”“Hardly, it is seen as a

blessing, agift fromHeaven.A family with a gifted childgains great honour.” Hisexpressionclouded.“Or so itwassaid.”

“Soyouweretaughtthesong?You know how to useit, you knowwhere it comesfrom.”

Ahm-Lin smiled sadly.“The song cannot be taught,

brother, and it doesn’t comefrom anywhere. It is simplywhat you are. Your song isnot another being livinginsideyou.Itisyou.”

“The song of myblood,” he murmuredrecallingthewordsofNersusSilNinintheMartishe.

“I have heard it calledthat, a name that suits wellenough.”

“So, if it cannot be

taught,whatcouldtheyteachyou?”

“Control, brother. It islikeanyothersong,tosingitwell it must be practised,honed, perfected. My tutorwas an old woman calledShin-La,sooldshehadtobecarriedaroundthepalaceonalitter and couldn’t see morethanafootortwobeyondhernose. But her song…” Heshook his head in wonder at

the memory. “Her song waslike fire, burning so brightandloudyoufeltblindedanddeafenedbyitallatonce.Thefirst time she sang to me Inearly fainted. She cackledand called me Rat, littleSinging Rat, Ahm-Lin in thelanguageofmypeople.”

“She sounds a harshteacher,” Vaelin observed,remindedofMasterSollis.

“Harsh, yes she was

that, but she had much toteachmeandlittletimeleftinwhich to do it. Our gift isextremely rare, brother, andin all her long life of servicetotheMerchantKingandhisfather before him, she hadnever met another singer. Iwas her replacement. Herlessons were harsh, painful.Sheneededno stick to strikeme, her song could hurt mewell enough. It started with

the truth telling, two menwould be brought in, onehaving committed a crime ofsome sort.Eachwould claiminnocenceandshewouldaskme which was guilty. Everytime I got it wrong, and ithappened often at first, hersong would lash me with itsfire.‘Truthistheheartofthesong,Rat,’shewouldsay.‘Ifyou cannot hear truth, youcannothearanything.’

“Once I had masteredthe art of hearing truth, thelessons became morecomplex.Aservantwouldbegiven a token, a preciousjewelorornament,andtoldtohide it somewherewithin thepalace. If I didn’t find it bynightfall they could keep it,and I would be punished forits loss. Later, a large groupof people would mill aroundoneofthecourtyards, talking

atthetopoftheirvoices,withoneofthemcarryingadaggerbeneath their robes. I hadonly five minutes to find itbefore her song would stabmeasthedaggerwouldhavestabbed our master. For, asshe never failed to remindme, Iowedall tohimand tofailhimwouldbemyeternalshame.”

“The Merchant Kingmadeuseofyoursong?”

“Indeed he did.Commerceisthelife-bloodoftheFarWest,thosethattradewellbecomegreatmen,evenkings ofmen, and successfulcommerce requiresknowledge, especiallyknowledge others wish tokeephidden.”

“Youwereaspy?”Ahm-Lin shook his

head. “Merely a witness tothe affairs of greater and

richermen.At firstLol-Thanwould have me sit in thecorner of his throne room,playing with his children, ifanyoneaskedIwassaidtobehis ward, orphan son of adistant cousin. Naturally,most assumed I was hisbastard, an unimportant butnonetheless honouredpositionatcourt.AsIplayed,menwouldcomeandgowithvarying degrees of ceremony

and protracted effusions ofrespect or regret atbesmirchingtheking’spalacewiththeirunworthypresence.I noted the richer the man’sclothes or the larger hisentourage,themorehewouldproclaim his abjectunworthiness at which Lol-Than would assure them noinsult had been suffered andoffer his apologies for notprovidingamoreostentatious

welcome. It could take anhour ormore before the truereason for the visit becameapparent, and it was almostalways about money. Somewanted to borrow it, otherswereowed it, and allwantedmore of it. And as theytalked, I would listen. Whenthey were gone, with anassurance the king wouldgivethemaswiftanswerandan apology for the appalling

discourtesy of delayingresponse to their request, hewould askmewhat song themusic of Heaven had sungduringtheconversation.

“Beingbut aboy I hadlittlenotionofthetrueimportof these affairs, butmy songdidn’t need to know why aman lied or deceived, or hidhatred behind smiles andgreat respect.Lol-Thanknewwhy, of course, and in

knowing saw the road toeither profit or loss, oroccasionally the axe-man’sblock.

“AndsoI livedmylifeat the Merchant King’spalace, learning from Shin-La, telling the truth of mysong to Lol-Than. I had fewfriends, only those permittedmebythecourtiersappointedmy guardians. They were adull lot mostly, happy but

unquestioning children fromthe minor merchant familieswho had bought a place atcourt for their offspring. Intime I came to realise myplaymates were chosen fortheir dullness, their lack ofguileorcunning.Friendswithsharper minds would havesharpened my own thoughts,made me consider that thispleasant life of luxury andplenty was in reality nothing

morethananornatecage,andIaslavewithinit.

“Therewererewardsofcourse,asIgrewtomanhoodand the lusts of youth tookme.Girls if Iwanted,boysifI wanted. Fine wine and allmanner of bliss-givingpotions if I asked, thoughnever enough to dull thesound of my song. When IgrewtoooldtoplaywithLol-Than’schildrenIbecameone

of his scribes, there werealwaysat least threeateverymeeting and no one seemedto notice thatmy calligraphywas clumsy and often barelylegible. Life inmy cagewassimple, untroubled by thetrialsoftheworldbeyondthetallwallsthatsurroundedme.ThenShin-Ladied.”

His gaze had becomedistant, lost in the memory,shroudedinsorrow.“Itisnot

an easy thing for a singer tohear another’s death song. Itwas so loud I wondered thewholeworldcouldn’thear it.A scream of such anger andregret it sentme reeling intooblivion. Sometimes I thinkshe was trying to take mewithher,notoutofspite,butduty. In hearing her finalsong I understood that herdevotion to Lol-Than was alie, the greatest of lies since

shemanaged to keep it fromher song throughout all theyearsshehadtaughtme.Herfinal songwas the screamofa slave who had neverescapedhermasteranddidn’twishtoleavemetherealone.And she showed mesomething, a vision, born ofthe song, a village, ruined,smoking, littered withcorpses.Myvillage.”

He shook his head, his

voiceladenwithsuchsadnessthat Vaelin realised he wasthe first person to hear thisstory.“Iwassoblind,”Ahm-Lin continued after amoment. “I failed to realisethatthevalueinmygiftlayinno-one knowing of itsexistence. No-one save Lol-Than and the old woman Iwould replace. I rememberedall the people Shin-La hadused in her lessons, all the

suspected criminals andservants, there must havebeenhundredsovertheyears.I knew they could never beallowed to live with theknowledge of my gift. I hadkilled them merely by beingintheirpresence.

“WhenIwokefromtheoblivionShin-Lahaddraggedme to, I found I had a newsensation burning in mysoul.”HeturnedtoVaelin,an

odd glint in his eye, like aman recalling his ownmadness.“Doyouknowhate,brother?”

Vaelin thought of hisfather disappearing into themorning mist, PrincessLyrna’s tears and his barelysuppressed urge to break theking’s neck. “OurCatechismof Faith tells us hate is aburden on the soul. I havefoundmuchtruthinthat.”

“It weighs on a man’ssoul true enough, but it canalsosetyoufree.Armedwithmyhate I began to takenoteofthemeetingsLol-Thanhadme attend, to write downwhat was said withmeticulous care. I began toconceiveof justhowvasthisdominions were, to learn ofthe thousand ships he ownedand the thousand more inwhich he had an interest. I

learned of the mines wheregold, jewels and ore werehewn from the earth, of thevast fields in which lay histrue wealth, the countlessacres of wheat and rice thatunder-wroteeverytransactionhe made. And as I learned Isearched, pouring over mypapers for some flaw in thegreatweboftrade.Fourmoreyears passed and I learnedand searched, barely

distracted by the comforts ofthecourt,lefttomyeffortsbythe guardians I now knew tobe my gaolers who saw nothreat in my new-foundstudiousness,andall thetimethe truth of my song neverwavered and I faithfullyrelatedtoLol-Thanall it toldme, every deceit and everysecret,andhistrustgrewwitheveryplotorfrauduncoveredso that I became more than

his truth-teller. In time Iwasastrustworthyasecretaryasaman such as he could have,givenmoreknowledge,morestrands to the web, all thetime searching, waiting, butfinding nothing. TheMerchant King knew hisbusiness too well, his webwas perfect. Any lie I toldhim would be swiftlyuncovered, and my deathwouldfollowswiftlyafter.

“There were timeswhen I considered simplytakingadaggerandsinkingitinto his heart, I had ampleopportunity after all, but Iwas still young and thoughmy hatred consumed me, Istill lusted for life. I was acoward, a prisoner whosecaptivitywasmadeworsebyhisknowledgeofthevastnessof his prison. Despair beganto rot my heart. I fell to

indulgence again, seekingescapeinwineanddrugsandflesh, an indulgence thatwould have seen me deadbefore long, had not theforeignersarrived.

“InallmyyearsinLol-Than’s palace, I had neverseen a foreigner. I had heardstories, of course. Tales ofstrange, white or black-skinned people who camefrom the east and were so

uncivilised their verypresence in the MerchantKing’s domain was insultingandonlytoleratedbecauseofthevalueof the cargoes theycarried. The party that cameto treat with Lol-Than werecertainly strange to me withtheir odd clothes andimpenetrablelanguage,tosaynothing of their clumsyattempts at etiquette. And tomy amazement, one of them

wasawoman,awomanwithasong.

“The only womenallowedinthepresenceoftheMerchant King were hiswives, daughters orconcubines. In my homelandtheyhavenorole inbusinessand are forbidden fromowningproperty.Throughtheinterpreter I was given tounderstand that this womanwas of high birth and to

refuse her admittance wouldbe a grave insult to herpeople. The likely profitsfromwhateverproposaltheseforeignersintendedmusthavebeen great indeed for Lol-Thantoallowherentrytotheaudiencechamber.

“The interpretercontinued but I could barelyfollow his words, thewoman’ssongfilledmymindand Icouldn’thelp staringat

her. This was a beautifulwoman,brother,butbeautifulin the way a leopard isbeautiful. Her eyes glittered,her black hair shone likepolishedebonyandhersmilewas one of cruel amusementassheheardmysong.

“‘So the slant-eyed pighasaSingerofhisown,’hersongsaid,thehollowlaughterthat coloured it making metremble. Shewas powerful, I

could sense it, her song wasstronger thanmine.Shin-LahmayhavebeenabletomatchherbutnotI,therathadmetacatandwashelplessbeforeit.‘What can you tell me, Iwonder?’ she sang in mymind, the song plungingdeeper,reachingintomemoryand feeling with brutal ease,dragging up all my hate andmy scheming. My intendedbetrayal seemed tomake her

exultant, fiercely triumphant.‘AndtheCounciltoldmethiswouldbedifficult,’shesang.Hergazelingeredonminefora moment longer, ‘If youwant the Merchant Kingdead, tell him to reject ouroffer.’”Thenitwasgone,herintrusion into my mindwithdrawn, leaving behind achill of certainty. She washere to kill Lol-Than if herefused whatever they

proposed, and shewanted tokill him, the outcome of thenegotiationsmeantnothingtoher. She had travelled acrosshalf the world for blood andwouldnotbedeniedit.”

Ahm-Lin’s face wastense with remembered pain.“Sometimes the song lets ustouch theminds of others, inalltheyearssinceImusthavetouched thousands, but neverhave I felt anything to

comparewith the black stainofthatwoman’sthoughts.Foryears afterwards I hadnightmares, visions ofslaughter, murder practisedwith sadistic precision, facesscreaming or frozen in fear,men, women, children. Andvisions of places I had neverseen, languages I couldn’tunderstand. I thought I wasgoingmaduntilIrealisedshehad left some of her

memorieswithme,eitheroutof indifference or casualmalice.Theyfadedovertime,mostly. But even now thereare nights when I wakescreamingandmywifeholdsmeasIweep.”

“Whowasshe?”Vaelinasked. “Where did she comefrom?”

“The name spoken bythe interpreter was a lie, Isensed that even before I

heard her song, and thememories she left gave noclueastonameorfamily.Asfor where she was from, itmeant nothing to me at thetime but the delegationpresented greetings from theHighCounciloftheVolarianEmpire.WhatI’velearnedofthe Volarians since leadsmeto conclude she would havebeenmostathomethere.”

“Didyoudoit?Didyou

tell the Merchant King torejecttheirproposal?”

Ahm-Lin nodded.“Without a moment’shesitation. Shocked as Iwas,my hatred was undimmed. Itold him they were full oflies,thattheirschemewasanattempt to spend his treasureandsavetheirown.IntruthIhadbarelyanyunderstandingofwhattheyhadproposedorif their word was true. As

always, however, he trustedmyverdictimplicitly.”

“And did she keep herword?”

“At first I thought shehad betrayed me. Lol-Thangavethemhisanswerthenextmorning after which theyboarded their ship and sailedaway. He appeared to be infine health, and gave everyimpression of remaining so.Disappointment and fear

crushedme.ForthefirsttimeI had lied to the MerchantKing. Surely, I would bediscoveredandanuglydeathwould follow. A monthpassed as I worried andfought to conceal my fear,and then Lol-Than slowlybegan to sicken. It wasnothing at first, a small butpersistent cough that ofcourse no onewould dare tomention, then his colour

became paler, his handsbegan to tremble, withinweekshewascoughingbloodandravinginfits.Bythetimehe died he was a wastedbundle of bone and skin thatcouldn’t remember its ownname.Ifeltnopityatall.

“Hehadasuccessor,ofcourse. His third son Mah-Lol, the two older brothershavingbeenquietlypoisonedin early manhood when it

became clear they lackedtheir father’s acumen. Mah-Lolwastrulyhisfather’sson,highly intelligent,exceptionally well educatedand possessed of all thecunning and ruthlessnessneeded to sit on a MerchantKing’s throne. But, to mygreat delight, he knewnothing of my gift. Lol-Than’sillnesshadlefthiminno state to enlighten his son

astothenatureofmyroleatcourt. To Mah-Lol I wassimply an unusually trustedsecretary,andhehadhisownmanforthat.Iwasconsignedto a bookkeeping position inthepalacestores,movedfrommy fine quarters and paid afraction of the salary I hadreceivedbefore.Apparently,Iwasexpectedtokillmyselfinshame at my fall from royalfavour, as many of Lol-

Than’s now redundantservants had already done.Instead, I simply left, tellingthe guard at the palace gatethatIhadanerrandtoruninthecity.Hebarelyglancedatme as I walked out. I wastwenty-two years old and afreeman for the first time. Itwas the sweetest moment ofmylife.

“Freedom brought achange in my song, made it

soar,seekingoutwondersandnovelty. I followed itsmusicacross the breadth of Mah-Lol’skingdomandbeyond.Itguidedmetoastonemasonina small village high in themountains,who,lackingsonsor apprentices, agreed toteachmehiscraft. I thinkhewas disturbed by the speedwith which I learned, not tosaytheunusualqualityofmywork,andheseemedrelieved

when it became clear he hadno more to teach me and Imovedon.

“ThesongguidedmetoaportwhereItookshiptotheeast. For the next twentyyears I travelledandworked,from city to city, town totown, leaving my mark onhouses,palacesandtemples.Ieven spent a year in yourrealmcarvinggargoylesforaNilsaelinlord’scastle.Inever

wanted for anything, in leantimes the song guidedme tofood and work, when timeswere fraught it sought outpeace and solitude. I neverquestioned it, never resistedit. Five years ago it guidedme here, where Shoala, mymost excellent wife, wasstruggling to keep her latefather’s shop going. She hadthe skills but richer Alpiransdon’t like to deal with

women. I’ve been here eversince. My song has neversignalled a need tomove on,forwhichIamgrateful.”

“Even now?” Vaelinwondered. “With the RedHandinthecity?”

“Didyoursongraiseitsvoice when you first heardthesicknesswashere?”

Vaelin remembered thedespair he felt at SisterGilma’s likely fate but

realised it hadn’t beencoloured by the blood-song.“No. No it didn’t. Does thismeanthereisnodanger?”

“Hardly. It means that,for whatever reason, this iswhere we are both supposedtobe.”

“This is…” Vaelinfumbled for the right words.“Ourdestiny?”

Ahm-Lin shrugged.“Who can say, brother? Of

destiny I know little but tosay I’ve seen somuchof therandom and unexpected inmy life as to doubt there issuch a thing. We make ourownpath,butwiththesong’sguidance. Your song is you,remember.Youcansingitaswellashearit.”

“How?” Vaelin leanedforward, discomfited by thehunger for knowledge heknew coloured his voice.

“HowdoIsing?”Ahm-Lin gestured at

the workbench where hispartly carved block still sat,untouchedsincehisfirstvisit.“You’ve already started. Isuspectyou’vebeensingingalong time, brother. The songcanmake us reach for manydifferent tools; the pen, thechisel…orthesword.”

Vaelinglanceddownathissword,restingwithineasy

reach against the edge of thetable. Is that what I’ve beendoingalltheseyears?Cuttingmypath through life?All thebloodspilledand lives taken,justversesinasong?

“Why haven’t youfinished it?” Ahm-Linenquired.“Thesculpture?”

“If I pick up thehammer and chisel again Iwon’t put them down untilit’s done. And our current

circumstancerequiresmyfullattention.”Heknewthistobeonlypartly true.The roughlyhewnfeaturesemergingfromthe block had begun to takeon a disturbing familiarity,not yet recognisable butenoughtomakehimconcludethefinishedversionwouldbea face he knew. Perversely,the arrival of the Red Handhad been a welcome excusefor delaying the moment of

finalclarity.“It’s not advisable to

ignore one’s song, brother,”Ahm-Lin cautioned him.“You recall the harm I didwhenIcalled toyou thefirsttime?Whydoyou think thatwas?”

“Mysongwassilent.”“That’s right.Andwhy

wasitsilent?”The king’s fragile

neck… The whore’s

dangeroussecrets…“Itcalledon me to do something,something terrible. When Icouldn’t do it my song fellsilent. I thought it haddesertedme.”

“Your song is yourprotection as well as yourguide. Without it you arevulnerable to otherswho candoaswedo,liketheVolarianwoman. Trust me brother,you wouldn’t wish to be

vulnerabletoher.”Vaelin looked at the

marble block, tracing theroughprofileoftheunformedface. “When the Red Falconreturns,”hesaid.“I’llfinishitthen.”

Twenty days after the

Red Falcon’s departure thesailorsrioted,breakingoutoftheirmakeshiftprisons in thewarehouse district, killing

their guards and making forthe docks in a well plannedassault. Caenis was quick torespond, ordering twocompanies ofWolfrunners toholdthedocksanddraftinginCount Marven’s men to sealoff the surrounding streets.Cumbraelin archers wereplaced on the rooftops,cutting down dozens ofsailors as their attack on thedocks faltered in the face of

disciplined resistance andthey went reeling back intothe city. Caenis ordered animmediatecounterattackandthe brief but bloody revoltwas all but over by the timeVaelingottothescene.

He found Caenisfighting a large Meldenean,the big man swinging acrudely fashioned club at thelithe brother as he dancedaround him, sword flicking

out to leavecutsonhis armsand face. “Give up!” heordered,hisbladeslicingintothe man’s forearm. “It’sover!”

The Meldenean gave aroar of pain fuelled rage andredoubled his efforts, hisuselessclubmeetingonlyairas Caenis continued hisvicious dance. Vaelinunlimbered his bow, notchedan arrow and sent it cleanly

through the Meldenean’sneckfromfortypaces.Oneofhisbetterfeatsofarchery.

“Not a time for half-measures, brother,” he toldCaenis, stepping over theMeldenean’s corpse anddrawing his sword. Withinthe hour it was done, nearlytwo hundred sailors weredead and at least as manywounded. The Wolfrunnershad lost fifteen men, among

themtheonetimepickpocketknown asDipper, one of theoriginal thirty chosen menfrom their days in theMartishe. They herded thesailors back into theirwarehouses and Vaelin hadthe surviving captainsbrought to the docks. Fortymen or so, allwith the bluntand weathered featurescommon to sea captains.They were lined up on the

quayside, kneeling beforehim, arms bound, moststaringupwith sullen fearoropendefiance.

“Your actions werestupid and selfish,” Vaelintold them. “If you hadreachedyourshipsyouwouldhave carried plague to ahundred other ports. I havelostgoodmeninthispatheticfarce.Icouldexecuteyouall,but I won’t.” He gestured at

the harbour where the manyships of the city’s merchantfleet were at anchor. “Theysayacaptain’ssoulrestswithhisship.Youkilledfifteenofmy men. I require fifteensoulsinrecompense.”

Ittookalongtime,withboat-loads of Realm Guardhauling at the oars as theytowed the vessels out of theharbour and anchored themoff-shore, spreading pitch on

the decks and dousing thesails and rigging with lamp-oil.Dentos’s archers finishedthe job with volleys of firearrows and by nightfallfifteen ships were burning,tall flames fountainingembers into the star-lit skyand lighting up the sea formilesaround.

Vaelin surveyed thecaptains, taking dullsatisfaction from the grief in

their weathered faces, somewith tears gleaming in theireyes. “Any repeat of thisfoolishness,” he said, “andI’ll haveyouandyour crewslashed to the masts before Iburntherestofthefleet.”

In the morning Vaelin

foundGovernorAruanat themansion gate. There was nosign of Sister Gilma and anicy claw of fear gripped his

insides.“Where is my sister?”

heasked.The Governor’s once

fleshyfacewassaggingfromworry and a too-suddenweight loss, although heshowed no sign of the RedHand. His gaze was guardedand his voice flat. “Shesuccumbed yesterdayevening, much more quicklythan my daughter or her

maid. I recall my mothersaying that was how it waswith the sickness, years ago.Some last for days, weekseven, others fade in amatterofhours.Yoursisterwouldn’tlet me near my daughter,insisted on caring for heralone,myservantsandIwereforbidden from evenventuring into that wing ofthemansion. She said it wasnecessary, to stop the spread

of the sickness. Last night Ifound her collapsed on thestairs, barely conscious. Sheforbade me from touchingher, crawled back to mydaughter’s room on herown…” He trailed off asVaelin’sexpressiondarkened.

“I spoke to heryesterday,” he said stupidly.He searched the governor’sface for some sign he wasmistaken, finding only wary

regret.Hisvoicewasthickashe voiced the redundantquestion,“She’sdead?”

The governor nodded.“Themaid too.My daughterlingers though. We burnedthe bodies, as your sisterinstructed.”

Vaelin found himselfgripping the wrought iron ofthe gatewithwhite knuckledfists. Gilma… Bright eyed,laughing Gilma. Dead and

lost to the fire inamatterofhours whilst I tarried withthoseidiotsailors.

“Were there anywords?” he asked. “Did sheleaveanytestament?”

“She faded very fast,my lord. She said to tell youto keep to her instructions,andyouseewillheragain intheBeyond.”

Vaelinlookedcloselyatthe governor’s face. He’s

lying. She said nothing. Shejust sickened and died.Nevertheless, he foundhimself grateful for thedeceit. “Thank you,my lord.Doyourequireanything?”

“Some more salve formydaughter’srash.Perhapsafew bottles ofwine. It keepsthe servants happy, and ourstocksarerunninglow.”

“I’ll see to it.” Heunclaspedhishandsfromthe

gateandturnedtogo.“Therewas a great fire

in the night,” the governorsaid.“Outtosea.”

“The sailors rioted,triedtoescape.Iburnedsomeshipsaspunishment.”

Hewasexpectingsomekindofadmonishmentbutthegovernor simply nodded. “Ameasuredresponse.However,I advise you to compensatethe Merchant’s Guild. With

meconfinedheretheyaretheonly civil authority in thecity, best not to antagonisethem.”

Vaelin was moreinclinedtofloganymerchantwho made the mistake ofraising his voice withinearshot but, through the fogof his grief, saw thewisdomin the governor’s words. “Iwill.” For some reason hepaused, feeling compelled to

add something, some rewardforthegovernor’skindlylies.“We will not be here long,my lord. Maybe a few moremonths. There will be bloodand fire when the Emperor’sarmyarrives,butwinorlose,wewillsoonbegoneandthiscitywillbeyoursagain.”

The governor’sexpression was a mixture ofbafflement and anger. “Thenwhy, in the name of all the

gods,didyoucomehere?”Vaelingazedoutat the

city.Thelightofthemorningsun played over the housesandemptystreetsbelow.Outto sea the ocean shimmeredwith gold, white toppedwaves swept towards thecoastandtheskyabovewasacloudless blue… and SisterGilma was dead, along withthousands of others andthousands more to come.

“ThereissomethingIhavetodo,”hesaid,walkingaway.

He found Dentos atop

the light-house at the far endof the mole forming the leftshoulder of the harbourentrance.Hesatwithhislegsdangling over the lip of thelighthouse’s flat top, staringouttoseaandsippingfromaflaskofBrother’sFriend.Hisbow lay nearby, the quiver

empty.Vaelin sat down nexttohimandDentospassedhimtheflask.

“You didn’t come tohearthewordsforoursister,”hesaid,takingasmallsipandhanding the flask back,grimacing slightly as themingled brandy andredflower burned its waydownhisthroat.

“Said my own words,”Dentos muttered. “She heard

me.”Vaelinglanceddownat

the base of the light-housewhere numerous lifelessseagullsbobbed in thewater,all neatly skewered with asinglearrow.“Looks like thegullsheardyoutoo.”

“Practising,” Dentossaid. “Filthy scavengersanyhow, can’t stand them,bloody noise they make.Shite-hawks my Uncle Groll

called ‘em.Hewasa sailor.”He grunted a laugh and tookanother drink. “Could be Ikilled him last night. Can’trightly remember what thebastardlookedlike.”

“How many uncles doyou have, brother? I’vealwayswondered.”

Dentos’s face cloudedandhesaidnothingforalongtime. When he finally spokethewas a sombre tone to his

voice Vaelin hadn’t heardbefore.“None.”

Vaelin frowned inpuzzlement. “What about theone with the fighting dogs?And the onewho taught youthebow…”

“I taught myself thebow. There was a masterhunter in our village but hewasn’tmyuncle,neitherwasthatvicious shit-bagwith thedogs. None of them were.”

He glanced at Vaelin andsmiled sadly. “My dear oldmum was the village whore,brother. She called themanymen who came to our doormy uncles, made them benice to me or they weren’tgettinginherbed,anyoneofthemcouldhavebeenmydadafter all. Never did find outwhich one, not that I give adog’sfart.Theywereaprettyworthlessbunch.

“Whore or not, mymumalways did her best forme.IwasneverhungryandIalways had clothes on myback and shoes on my feet,unlike most of the otherchildren in the village. Badenough being the whore’swhelp,worsetobeanenviedwhore’s whelp. It wascommon knowledge my dadcould’ve been one of thirty-oddmeninthevillage,sothe

other kids called me ‘Who’sbastard?’ I was about fourwhen I first heard it, ‘Who’sbastard? Who’s bastard?Where’d you get your shoesfrom, Who’s bastard?’ Onand on it went, year afteryear.Therewas thisone lad,Uncle Bab’s boy,mean littleshithewas,alwaysthefirsttostart shouting. One day himandhisgangstartedthrowingstuff atme, sharp stuff some

ofit,Igotallcutup,itmademeangry.So I tookmybowput an arrow through thatboy’s leg. Can’t say I wassorrytowatchhimbleedandcry and flail around. Afterthat,” he shrugged, “couldn’treally stay there any more.No one was going toapprentice awhore’sbastard,adangerousbastardatthat,somymumpackedmeofftotheOrder. I can still remember

hercryingwhenthecarttookme away. I’ve never beenback.”

Watching him swigfrom his flask, Vaelin wasstruck by how old Dentoslooked. Deep lines markedhisbrowsandprematuregreycolouredintheclosecroppedhair at his temples. Years ofbattle and hard living hadaged him and his grief forSisterGilmawaspalpable.Of

all the brothers she had beenclosest to him. When wereturn to the Realm I’ll askthe Aspect to give him aposition at theOrderHouse,Vaelin decided, then realisedthat there was every chanceneitherofthemwouldseetheRealm again. All he had tooffer Dentos were yet moreopportunities for a bloodyend. His thoughts turnedagain to the marble block

waiting in Ahm-Lin’s shopand he knew he had delayedtoo long. It was time he didwhathehadbeensentheretodo. If he could achieve itbefore the Alpiran armyarrived then perhaps anotherslaughtercouldbeavoided,ifhe was willing to pay theprice.

He got to his feet,touching Dentos on theshoulder in farewell. “I have

business…”Dentos’s weary eyes

were suddenly bright withexcitementandhisfingershotouttopointatthehorizon.“Asail!Youseeit,brother?”

Vaelinshieldedhiseyesto scan the sea. It was themerest speck, a smudge ofgrey betweenwater and sky,but unmistakably a sail. TheRedFalconwasback.

CaptainNurinwasfirstdownthegangplank,hislean,weathered face drawn withexhaustion, but the light oftriumph burned in his eyesalong with the greed Vaelinremembered so well fromtheir first meeting. “Twenty-one days!” he exulted.“Wouldn’t have thought itpossible so late in the year,but Udonor heard our callsandmadeagiftofthewinds.

Would have been eighteen ifwehadn’thadtotarrysolongin Varinshold, nor carry somanypassengersback.”

“Somanypassengers?”Vaelin asked. His gaze wasfixed on the gangplank,expecting a slender, darkhaired form to appear at anysecond.

“Nine in all. Thoughwhyagirlwhoseheadbarelyreaches my shoulder needs

seven men to guard her isbeyondme,Imustsay.”

Vaelin turned to him,frowning.“Guards?”

Nurin shrugged,gesturing at the gangplank.“Seeforyourself.”

The heavy set mandescendingthegangplankhada squat, brutish face,unleavenedbythescowlwithwhichheregardedVaelinandthesurroundingWolfrunners.

More disconcerting still wasthefactthatheworetheblackrobeof theFourthOrderandaswordathisbelt.

“Brother Vaelin?” heenquiredinaflattone,devoidofcivility.

Vaelinnodded,growinguneasedispellinganyurge toofferagreeting.

“Brother CommanderIltis,” the black robed manintroduced himself. “Faith

Protection Company of theFourthOrder.”

“Never heard of you,”Vaelin told him. “Where areSister Sherin and BrotherFrentis?”

Brother Iltis blinked,clearly unused to disrespect.“The prisoner and BrotherFrentis are aboard ship. Wehave some issues to discuss,brother.Certainarrangementsmustbemade…”

Vaelin had heard onlyone word. “Prisoner?” Hisvoice was soft but he wasaware of the menace itpossessed. Brother Iltisblinked again, his scowlfading toanuncertain frown.“What…prisoner?”

The sound of creakingwoodmadehim turnback tothe ship. Another brother oftheFourthOrder, also armedwith a sword, was leading a

darkhairedyoungwomanbya chain attached to shackleson her wrists. Sherin waspaler than he remembered,also somewhat thinner, butthebright,opensmile that lither face as their eyes metremainedunchanged.Anotherfive brothers followed heronto the quay, spreading outon either side and eyeingVaelin and the Wolfrunnerswith cold distrust. Last to

descendwasFrentis,his facedrawn in shameandhis eyesaverted.

“Sister,” Vaelin movedtowardsSherinbut foundhispath suddenly blocked byIltis.

“The prisoner isforbidden discourse with theFaithful,brother.”

“Get out of my way!”Vaelinorderedhim,preciselyanddeliberately annunciating

eachword.Iltis paled visibly, but

held his ground. “I have myorders,brother.”

“What is this?” Vaelindemanded, rage building inhis chest. “Why is our sistershackledso?”

Behind Iltis, Sherinlifted her shackled wrists,grimacing ruefully. “I’msorry you find me in chainsonceagain…”

“The prisoner will notspeak unless permitted!” Iltisbarked, rounding on her,tuggingsharplyonherchain,theshackleschafingherflesh,producing a wince of pain.“The prisoner will not sullythe ears of the Faithful withherheresyortreachery!”

Sherin’seyesflickedtoVaelin, imploring. “Pleasedon’tkillhim!”

Chapter7She was angry, he

could tell. Her expressionrigid, eyes avoiding his gazeas they walked the track tothe Governor’s mansion, herheavy chest of curativesweighingonhisshoulder.

“I didn’t kill him,”Vaelin offered when thesilencebecameunbearable.

“Because Brother

Frentis stopped you,” shereplied,eyesflashingathim.

She was right, ofcourse. If Frentis hadn’tstopped him he would havecontinuedtobeatBrotherIltistodeathonthequayside.Theother brothers from theFourth Order had unwiselybegun reaching for theirweapons when Vaelin’s firstblow sent theman sprawlingtotheground,quicklyfinding

themselves disarmed by thesurrounding Wolfrunners.They could only stand andwatch helplessly as Vaelincontinued to smash his fistinto Iltis’s increasinglybloody and distorted face,deaftoSherin’spleadingandleavingoffonlywhenFrentishauledhimaway.

“What is this?” hesnarled, wrenching himselffree. “How could you allow

this?”Frentis looked more

shamed and miserable thanVaelincouldremember.“TheAspect’s orders, brother,” herepliedinasoftmurmur.

“Excuse me!” Sherinjangledher chains, glaring atVaelin.“DoyouthinkImightbefreedtotendtoourbrotherbeforehebleedstodeath?”

And so she had tendedto Brother Commander Iltis,

ordering her chest be carriedfrom the ship and applyingbalms and salves to his cutsbefore stitching the gashVaelin had left in his browwhen he pounded hisforehead against the cobbles.She worked in silence, herdeft hands doing their workwith the clean efficiency heremembered, but therewas asharpness to her movementsthat bespoke a restrained

anger.Shedidn’tlikeseeingit,

Vaelin realised. Didn’t likeseeingthekillerinme.

“Get this lot to thegaol,”hetoldFrentis,wavinga hand at the Fourth Orderbrothers. “If they give youanytrouble,flogthem.”

Frentis nodded,hesitating.“Brother,aboutthesister…”

“We’ll talk later,

brother.”Frentis nodded again

and moved away to takecommandoftheprisoners.

Nearby, Captain Nurincleared his throat. “What?”Vaelindemanded.

“Your word, my lord,”thewirycaptainsaid.Hewasunnerved by the display ofviolence but refused to bedaunted, forcing himself tomeet Vaelin’s glare. “Our

arrangement, as noted beforewitnesses.”

“Oh.” Vaelin tuggedthe bag containing thebluestone from his belt andtossed it to Nurin. “Spend itwisely.Sergeant!”

The Wolfrunnersergeant quickly snapped toattention.“Mylord!”

“CaptainNurin and hiscrew are to be detainedwiththe other sailors. Search the

ship thoroughly to ensurenonearehidingaboard.”

The sergeant salutedsmartly and moved off,shoutingorders.

“Detained, my lord?”Nurin raised his eyesreluctantlyfromthebluestonenow grasped tightly in hisfist. “But I have urgentbusiness...”

“I’m sure you do,captain. However, the

presence of theRedHand inthe city requires you remainwithusalittlelonger.”

The greed in thecaptain’s eyes transformedabruptly into naked fear andhetookafewrapidbackwardsteps. “The Red Hand?Here?”

Vaelin turned back toSisterSherin,watchinghertieoff the suture and snip awaythestraythreadswithasmall

pair of scissors. “Yes,” hemurmured. “But, I suspect,notformuchlonger.”

“I told you once,”Sherinsaidastheypausedonthe track to the governor’smansion, “no-one is going todie on my account. And Imeantit,Vaelin.”

“I’m sorry,” he said,surprised at his sincerity. Hehad hurt her, made her feeleveryblowhelandedonIltis,

madeherseethekiller.Shesighed,someofthe

angerleechingfromherface.“TellmeabouttheRedHand.Howmanyhavedied?”

“So far, only SisterGilma and a maid at theGovernor’s mansion. Hisdaughter still lingers,although she may haveexpiredbynow.”

“No other cases? Nosignofitanywhereelseinthe

city?”Heshookhishead.“We

followed Sister Gilma’sinstructionstotheletter.”

“Then she may havesaved the city by acting soquickly.”

They came to themansion gate where one ofthe guards rang the bell tocallthegovernor.Vaelineyedthe mansion’s dim windowsas they waited. Since Sister

Gilma’spassingtheplacehadtaken on a sinister aspect,made worse by the shabbyappearance of the untendedgardens. He was half-expecting no-one to answerthebell, for theRedHand tohave finally run rampantthrough the house, leaving itan empty husk awaiting thetorch. He was ashamed tofindhimself almosthoping itwas over, with no outbreaks

elsewhere it the city it couldend here and there would beno need to send Sherin intodanger.

“Is that theGovernor?”sheasked.

“That it is.” Vaelin’sshameful hope faded asGovernor Aruan’s portlyform emerged from themansion.“Hehatesusbutheloveshisdaughter.It’showIgothimtosurrenderthecity.”

“You threatened her?”Sherin gaped at him. “Faith,this war has made you amonster.”

“I wouldn’t have hurther…”

“Don’t say any more,Vaelin.”Sheshookherhead,eyesclosedindisgust,turningaway from him. “Just stoptalking,please.”

They stood in icysilence as the governor

approached, the guardsscrupulously lookingelsewhere andVaelin feelingSherin’s anger like a knife.When the governor arrivedVaelinmadetheintroductionsand worked the key in theheavy padlock securing thegate. “She grows weaker,”Aruan said, hauling the gateopen, his voice frantic withhope and desperation. “Shewasstilltalkinglastnight,but

thismorning…”“Then we’d best not

linger,my lord. If you couldhelpmewiththis.”

Vaelin set the chestdown and Sister Sherin andthe governor hefted ittogether and started backtowards the mansion. Sheofferednowordoffarewell.

“How long will thistake,sister?”heasked.

She halted, glancing

back, her face devoid ofemotion. “The curativerequires several hourspreparation. Onceadministered theimprovement should beimmediate.Comebackinthemorning.” She turned awayagain.

“Why were youshackled?” he demandedbeforeshecouldleave.“Whywereyouunderguard?”

She didn’t turn back,her answer so soft he almostmissed it. “Because I tried tosaveyou.”

He sent the guards

away and settled down towait, lighting a fire andhuddling in his cloak, theonset ofwinter added a chilltothewindsweepinginfromthe sea. The hours stretchedas he pondered Sherin’s

words and brooded on heranger.Itriedtosaveyou…

Frentis appeared as thesun faded towards thehorizon, sitting opposite andaddingsomewoodtothefire.Vaelinglancedupathimbutsaidnothing.

“Brother CommanderIltis will live,” Frentis said,his tone deliberately light.“More’s the pity. Can’t talkyet though, just grunts and

moansonaccountofhisjaw.No great loss, heard enoughof his guff during thevoyage.”

“You said the Aspectorderedyoutoallowhertobetreatedlikethat,”Vaelinsaid.“Why?”

Frentis’s expressionwaspained,reluctanttosharewhat he knew would beunwelcome information.“Sister Sherin is a convicted

traitor to the Realm and aDenieroftheFaith.”

SherinintheBlackhold.The thought of it sentwavesof guilt and worry coursingthrough him. What had shesufferedthere?

“I went straight toAspect Elera when wedocked,” Frentis continued.“Likeyoutoldme.Whensheheard what I had to say wewenttoAspectArlyn.Hewas

able to talk the king intoreleasing the sister from thepalace.”

“The palace? Shewasn’tintheBlackhold?”

“Seems she was keptthere when the Fourth OrderfirstarrestedherbutPrincessLyrnagotherout.Apparentlyshe just marched in anddemanded they release thesister to her custody. Thewarden thought she was

actingontheking’sorderssohanded her over. Rumour isAspect Al Tendris washoppingmadwhenheheard,but there wasn’t much hecould do about it. SisterSherin was still a prisoneranyway, just had a nicerprison.”

“What could she havedone that could ever beconsidered treason, let alonedenialoftheFaith?”

“She spoke against thewar. Not just once either.Manytimes,toanyonewho’dlisten. Said the war wasfounded on lies and contrarytotheFaith.Saidyouandalltherestofushadbeensenttoourdoomfornogoodreason.Wouldn’t have mattered somuch if it’d been somenobody spouting off, butshe’s well known in thepoorer parts of the capital,

well liked too, on account ofall the people she’s helped.When she spoke peoplelistened. Seems neither theking nor the Fourth Orderlikedwhatshehadtosay.”

More of the old man’sscheming? Vaelin wondered.Perhaps he knew about hisattachment to Sherin and herarrest was another means ofapplying pressure. He felt itunlikely, Janus had already

secured his obedience.Sherin’sarrestseemedanactborn of simple fear; his warcould not be undone by adissentingvoice.Vaelinknewwell the king’s ruthlessnessbut to publicly arrest a welllikedsisteroftheFifthOrderwas hardly the subtle,insidious move he favoured.Hemusthavetriedsomethingelse,Vaelin concluded.Someother way to silence her or

buy her loyalty. So, she hadthe strength to resist himwhereIdidnot.

“The king only agreedto Sherin’s release onconditionshebeshackledandkept under constant guard,”Frentis went on. “She’s alsoforbidden to talk to anyonewithout permission.” Frentistugged an envelope from hiscloak and held it out toVaelin.“Thedetailsarehere.

AspectArlyn saidwe shouldobservethem…”

Vaelin took theenvelopeand tossed iton thefire,watching thewaxof theking’ssealbubbleandrun intheflames.

“It seems the king hasreprieved Sister Sherin andordered her immediaterelease,” he told Frentis in atones which didn’t inviteargument. “In recognition of

her long years of service totheRealmandtheFaith.”

Frentis’seyesflickedtothenowcharredenvelope,butdidn’t linger. “Of course,brother.” He shiftednervously, clearly debatingwhether to voice somethingmore.

“What is it, brother?”Vaelinpromptedtiredly.

“Therewasagirl,cametothedocksidewhenwewere

gettingready to leave.Askedif Icouldgiveyou this.”Hishandemergedfromhiscloakagain, clutching a smallpackage wrapped in plainpaper.“Prettything,shewas.Almost made me sorry IjoinedtheOrder.”

Vaelin took thepackage, opening it to findtwo thin wooden blocks tiedtogether with a blue silkribbon. Inside was a single

winterbloom, pressed flat ona white card. “Did she sayanything?”

“Only that I shouldconveyherthanks.Didn’tsaywhatfor.”

Vaelinwassurprisedtofind a smile on his lips.“Thank you, brother.” Heretied the ribbon andconsigned the blocks to hispocket. “Didn’t happen tobringsomefooddidyou?I’m

quitestarved.”Frentis made a journey

back down the hill andreturnedahalfhourlaterwithCaenis, Barkus and Dentos,each laden with provisionsandbedrolls.

“Haven’t slept underthe stars for weeks now,”Caenis commented. “I find Imissit.”

“Oh, quite,” Barkusdrawled, unfolding his

bedroll. “My backside hasindeed missed the joys ofhardearthandsuddenrain.”

“Don’t you lot haveduties?”Vaelinenquired.

“We’ve decided toshirk them,mylord,”Dentosreplied.“Goingtoflogus?”

“Dependsonwhatkindofmealyou’vebroughtme.”

They roasted a haunchof goat over the fire andshared bread and dates.

Dentos opened a bottle ofCumbraelin redandpassed itround. “This is the last one,”he said, his voice ladenwithregret. “Had Sergeant Gallispacktwentybottlesbeforeweleft.”

“Mendoseem todrinkmore in time of war,”observedCaenis.

“Can’t imagine why,”Barkusgrunted.

For a while it was

almostasithadbeenallthoseyears ago, when MasterHutril would led them intothe woods and they wouldcamp out, boys sharingstories and mockery aroundthe fire. Except there werefewer of them now, and thehumour had a bitter edge.Even Frentis, in his way themost guile-less soul amongthem,wasbecomingpronetocynicism, regaling themwith

the news that the dungeonswereonceagainemptyastheking attempted to add evermore regiments to theRealmGuard. “More cut-throatsreadytogettheirthroatscut.”

“Seems fitting,”Caenissaid. “Those who havebesmirched the king’s peaceshould be obliged to makerecompense.Whatbetterwaythan through service in war?And I have to say, former

outlaws do make excellentsoldiers.”

“No illusions,” Barkusagreed. “No expectations.When you live your wholelife in hardship, a soldier’slifedoesn’tseemsobad.”

“Ask those poorbastardsweleftbehindattheBloody Hill how much theylikedasoldier’slife,”Dentossaid.

Barkus shrugged.

“Soldier’s life oftenmeans asoldier’sdeath.Leasttheygetpaid,whatdoweget?”

“We get to serve theFaith,” Frentis put in. “It’senoughforme.”

“Ah, but you’re stillyoung, in mind and body.Give it another year or twoand you’ll be reaching forBrother’s Friend to silencethose pesky questions, liketherestofus.”Barkustipped

the wine bottle into hismouth, grimacing indisappointment as the lastdrops dribbled out. “Faith, Iwish I was drunk,” hegrumbled, hurling the bottleintothedarkness.

“Don’t you believe itthen?” Frentis went on.“Whatwe’refightingfor?”

“We’re fighting so theking can double his taxincome, oh innocent urchin.”

Barkus pulled a flask ofBrother’s Friend from hiscloak and took a long pull.“That’sbetter.”

“That can’t be right,”Frentis protested. “I mean, Iknow all that stuff aboutAlpirans stealing childrenwassomuchhorse-dung,butwe’rebringingtheFaithhere,right? These people need us.That’s why the Aspect sentus.” His gaze swivelled to

Vaelin.“Right?”“Ofcoursethat’sright,”

Caenis told him with hisaccustomed certainty. “Ourbrother sees the basestmotives in the purestactions.”

“Pure?” Barkus gave along and hearty laugh.“What’s pure about any ofthis? How many corpses arelying out there in desertbecause of us? How many

widows and orphans andcripples havewemade?Andwhat about this place? YouthinktheRedHandappearinghereafterweseizethecityisjustsomehugecoincidence?”

“If we brought it withus then itwouldhave laiduslowaswell,”Caenissnappedback. “You speak suchnonsense sometimes,brother.”

Vaelin glanced back at

the mansion as theycontinued to bicker. A dimlight was burning in one ofthe upstairs windows, vagueshadows moving behind theblinds. Sherin at work, mostprobably. He felt a suddenlurch of concern, feeling hervulnerability. If her curativefailedtoworkshewasnakedbefore the Red Hand, likeSisterGilma.Hewouldhavesent her to her death… and

shewassoangry.Heroseandwenttothe

gate, eyes locked on theyellowsquareofthewindow,helplessnessandguiltsurginginhisbreast.Hefoundhewasalreadyturningthekeyinthelock. If itworks then there isnodanger,ifitdoesn’tthenIcan’t linger here whilst shedies…

“Brother?” Caenis,voiceheavywithwarning.

“I have to…” Theblood-song surged, a screamin his mind, sending him tohis knees.He clutched at thegate to keep from falling,feelingBarkus’sstronghandsbearhimup.

“Vaelin?Isitthefallingsicknessagain?”

Despite the painthrobbing inhishead,Vaelinfoundhecouldstandunaided,and there was no tang of

bloodinhismouth.Hewipedat his nose and eyes, findingthemdry.Notthesame,butitwas Ahm Lin’s song. Asuddensickrealisationstruckhim and he tore away fromBarkus’sgrasp,eyesscanningthe dark mass of the city,finding it quickly, a brightbeacon of flame shining inthe artisan’s quarter. AhmLin’sshopwasburning.

The flames werereaching high into the skywhentheyarrived,theroofofthe shop was gone, theblackenedbeamswreathed infire. The heatwas so intensethey couldn’t go within tenyards of the door. A line oftownsfolk relayed bucketsfrom the nearest well,although the water they castattheinfernohadlittleeffect.Vaelin moved among the

crowd, searching frantically.“Where’s the mason?” hedemanded.“Isheinside?”

People shrank fromhim, fear and animosity oneveryface.HetoldCaenis toaskthemforthemasonandafewhandspointedtoaclusterof people nearby. Ahm-Linlay on the street, his headcradled in his wife’s lap asshe wept. Livid burnsglistened on his face and

arms. Vaelin knelt next tohim, gently touching a handto his chest to check he stilldrewbreath.

“Get away!” His wifelashed out, catching him onthe jaw, pushing his handaway. “Leave him alone!”Her facewas blackenedwithsoot and livid with grief andfury.“Yourfault!Yourfault,HopeKiller!”

Ahm-Lin coughed,

lurching on the ground as hefought for breath, eyesblinking open. “Nura-lah!”his wife sobbed, pulling himclose.“Erhanealmash.”

“Thank the Nameless,not the gods” Ahm-Linrasped.HiseyesfoundVaelinand he beckoned him closer,whispering in his ear. “Mywolf, brother…” His eyelidsflickered and he lostconsciousness,Vaelinsighing

in relief at the sight of hisswellingchest.

“Get him to the Guildhouse,” he ordered Dentos.“Findahealer.”

Caenis came to him asthey carried Ahm-Lin away,his wife clutching his hand.“Theyfoundthemanwhodidthis,” he said, gesturing atanother knot of people.Vaelin rushed over, pushingthrough the cordon and

finding a battered corpselying on the cobbles. Hekickedthebodyontoitsback,seeing a bruised andcompletely unfamiliar face.AnAlpiranface.

“Who is he?” Vaelinasked, his gaze tracking thecrowd as Caenis translated.After a moment a swarthyman stepped forward andspoke a fewwords, glancinguneasilyatVaelin.

“The mason is wellthought of,” Caenis related.“The work he does isconsidered sacred. This manshouldn’t have expectedmercy.”

“I asked who he is,”Vaelingrated.

Caenis relayed thequestion to the man in hishalting but precise Alpiran,receiving only a blank shakeof the head.Questions to the

restofthecrowdelicitedonlymeagre information.“Nooneseems toknowhisname,buthewasaservantinoneofthebighouses.Hetookablowtothe head when they tried tobreak out a few weeks ago,hasn’tbeenthesamesince.”

“Dotheyknowwhyhedidthis?”

Thisproducedababbleof seemingly unanimousresponses. “He was found

standing in the street with aflaming torch in his hand,”Caenis said. “Shouting thatthe mason was a traitor. Itseems themason’s friendshipwith you caused some badtalk, but no one expectedthis.”

Vaelin’sscrutinyofthecrowd intensified under theblood-song’s guidance. Thethreat lingers. Someone herehadahandinthis.

The sound of fallingmasonrymadehimturnbackto the shop. The walls werecrumbling as the fire ate thetimbersinside.Withthewallsgone themany statues insidewere revealed, gods, heroesand emperors serene andunmoving amidst the flames.Themurmurofthecrowdfellto hushed reverence, a fewvoices uttering prayers andsupplications.

It’s not there, Vaelinrealised,sweatbeadingonhisbrow as he moved closer toscan the blaze. The wolf isgone.

In the morning he

searched amidst thewreckage, sifting ash underthe impassive gaze of theblackened but otherwiseundamaged marble gods. Ithadtakenhoursforthefireto

subside,despite thecountlesswaterbucketsheavedat itbythe townsfolk and gatheredsoldiery. Eventually, when itbecameclear thesurroundinghouseswereinnodanger,hecalled a halt and let it burn.Asdawnlitthecityhesoughtout the block with its vitalsecret, finding nothing butashandafewshatteredpiecesof marble which might havebeen anything. The blood-

songwasaconstantmournfulthrobat thebaseofhisskull.Nothing,hethought.Thishasallbeenfornothing.

“You look tired.”Sherin stood nearby, greycloaked and pale in thelingering smoke rising fromthecharredruin.Herfacewasstill guarded but he saw noangerthere,justfatigue.

“Asdoyou,sister.”“The curative worked.

The girl will be fullyrecovered in a few days. Ithought I should let youknow.”

“Thankyou.”She gave barely

perceptible nod. “It’s notquite over yet. We need tokeep watch for more cases,but I’m confident anyoutbreak can be contained.Another week and the citycanbeopenedoncemore.”

Her eyes surveyed theruins then seemed to noticethe statues for the first time,her gaze lingering on themassiveformofthemanandthelionlockedincombat.

“Martual, god ofcourage,” he told her.“Battling the Nameless greatlion that laid waste to thesouthernplains.”

She reached up tocaress the god’s unfeasibly

muscled forearm.“Beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. I knowyou’retiredsisterbutIwouldbe grateful if you could lookat themanwhocarvedit.Hewasbadlyburnedinthefire.”

“Ofcourse.WheredoIfindhim?”

“At the Guild housenear the docks. I’ve hadquarters prepared for youthere.I’llshowyou.”

“I’msureIcanfindit.”Sheturnedtogothenpaused.“Governor Aruan told meabout the night you took thecity,howyousecuredhisco-operation. I feel my wordsmayhavebeenoverlyharsh.”

She held his gaze andhefeltthefamiliaracheinhischest,butthistimeitwarmedhim, dispelling the blood-song’s sorrowful dirge andbringing a smile to his lips,

thoughtheDepartedknewhehadlittletosmileabout.

“You have beenreleased on the king’sorders,” he said. “BrotherFrentis brought a royalcommand.”

“Really?” She archedaneyebrow.“MayIseeit?”

“Sadly, it has beenlost.” He gestured at thesmoking mess around thembywayofexplanation.

“Unusually clumsy ofyou,Vaelin.”

“No, I’moften clumsy,inmydeedsandmywords.”

Abriefansweringsmilelit Sherin’s face before shelookedaway.“Ishouldseetothisartisticfriendofyours.”

The gates were opened

seven days later. Vaelin alsoordered the sailors released,though only one crew at a

time. It provoked littlesurprise when most chose toleave port with the earliesttide, theRedFalconamongstthe first to depart, CaptainNurinhoundinghiscrewwithdesperateurgencyasifafraidVaelin would attempt a lastminute retrieval of thebluestone.

Some of the richercitizens also chose to leave,fearof theRedHanddidnot

fadequickly.Vaelinmanagedto intercept the one-timeemployerofthemanwhohadset fire toAhm-Lin’s shop,arichly attired if somewhatbedraggled spice merchant,chafing under guard at theeastern gate as Vaelinquestioned him. His familyand remaining servantslingered nearby, pack horsesladenwithassortedvaluables.

“His name was

carpenter, as far as I knew,”themerchantsaid.“Ican’tbeexpected to remember everyservant in my employ. I paypeople to remember forme.”Theman’s knowledge of theRealm tongue wasimpeccable, but therewas anarrogant disdain to his toneVaelin didn’t like. Howeverthe fellow’s evident fearmade him suppress the urgetodeliveranencouragingcuff

acrosstheface.“He had a wife?” he

asked.“Afamily?”Themerchantshrugged.

“Ithinknot,seemedtospendmost his free time carvingwoodeneffigiesofthegods.”

“Iheardhewasinjured,ablowtothehead.”

“Most of us were thatnight.”Themerchant lifted asilken sleeve to display astitched cut on his forearm.

“Your men were very freewiththeirclubs.”

“The carpenter’sinjury,”Vaelinpressed.

“He tookablow to thehead,abadoneitseems.Mymen carried him back to thehouse unconscious. In truthwe thought him dead, but helingered for several days,barely breathing. Then hesimplywoke up, showing noill-effects. My servants

thought it the work of thegods, a reward for all hiscarvings. The next morninghewas gone, having said nowords since his awakening.”Themerchantglancedbackathis waiting family,impatience and fear showinginthetrembleofhishands.

“I know you were notcomplicitinthis,”hetoldthemerchant, stepping aside.“Luck to you on your

journey.”The man was already

moving away, shoutingcommands to put hishouseholdontheroad.

He lingered for days,Vaelinmused and the blood-songstirred,soundingaclearnote of recognition. He feltthefamiliarsenseoffumblingfor something, some answerto themanymysteries of hislife, but once again it was

beyond his reach. Frustrationseized him and the blood-song wavered. The song isyou, Ahm-Lin had said. Youcansingitaswellashearit.He sought to calm hisfeelings, trying to hear thesong more clearly, trying tofocus it.The song is me, myblood, my need, my hunt. Itswelledwithinhim,roaringinhis ears, a cacophony ofemotion, blurred visions

flickingthroughhismindtoofast to catch. Words spokenand unspoken rose in anincomprehensiblebabble,liesand truth mingling in amaelstromofconfusion.

I need Ahm Lin’scounsel,hethought, tryingtofocus the song, forcingharmony into the discordantdin. The song swelled oncemore,thencalmedtoasingle,clear note and there was a

brief glimpse of the marbleblock, thechisel resuming itsimpossibly rapid work,guided by an unseen hand,the face emerging, featuresforming... Then it was gone,the block blackened andshattered amidst the wastedruinofthemason’shome.

Vaelin moved to anearby step and sat downheavily.Itappearedtherehadbeenbutonechancetoknow

what message the blockcontained. This verse wasover and he needed a newtune.

Chapter8He was called to the

gateatmidnight,JanrilNorinlimping to his room in theGuildhousetowakehim.

“Scoresofhorsemenonthe plain, my lord,” theminstrel said. “BrotherCaenis requested yourpresence.”

Hequickly strappedonhis sword andmounted Spit,

galloping to the gatehouse ina few minutes. Caenis wasalready there, ordering morearchers onto the walls. Theyclimbedthestairstotheupperbattlements where one ofCount Marven’s Nilsaelinspointed to the plain. “Nearfive hundred of the buggers,mylord,”themansaid,voiceshrillwithalarm.

Vaelincalmedhimwitha pat to the shoulder and

moved to the battlement,lookingdownonasmallhostof armoured riders, steelgleaming a faint blue in thedim light from the crescentmoon. At their head a burlyfigure in rust stained armourglaredupat them.“Youevergoing to open this bloodygate?” Baron Bandersdemanded. “My men arehungry and I’ve got blistersonmyarse.”

Shornofhisarmourthe

baron was smaller in staturebutnolessbullish.“Pah!”hespatamouthfulofwineontothe floor of the guild housechamber which served astheirmealhall.“Alpiranpiss.Don’t you have anyCumbraelin to offer anhonouredguest,mylord?”

“I regret my brothersandIareguiltyofexhausting

our reserves, Baron,” Vaelinreplied.“Myapologies.”

Banders shrugged andreached for the roastedchicken on the table, tearingoff a leg and chomping intotheflesh.“Iseeyoumanagedto leave most of this placestanding,” he commentedaround a mouthful. “Localscouldn’thaveputupmuchofafight.”

“Wewereabletoeffect

a stealthy seizure of the city.The governor has proved apragmatic man. There waslittlebloodshed.”

The Baron’s facebecame sombre and hepaused for a moment beforewashing down his food andreaching formore. “Couldn’tsaythesameaboutMarbellis.Thought the placewas goingtoburnforever.”

Vaelin’s disquiet

deepened. The Baron’sunexpected appearance wasunsettling, and it seemed hehad dark news to impart.“Thesiegewasdifficult?”

Banders snorted,pouring himself more wine.“Four weeks of poundingwith the engines before wehadapracticalbreach.Everynight they’d sally out, smallparties of dagger men,sneaking throughour lines to

cutthroatsandholethewaterbarrels.Everybloodynightasleepless trial. The Departedknowhowmanymenwelost.Then the Battle Lord sentthree full regiments into thebreach. Maybe fifty menmade it out again, allwounded. The Alpirans hadsettrapsinthebreach,spikedpits and so forth. When theRealmGuard got held up bythe pits they sent bundles of

tindling rolling in, all soakedinoil.Their archers set themblazingwithfirearrows.”Hepaused, eyes closed, a smallshudder ran through him.“You could hear the screamsamileaway.”

“Thecityisnottaken?”“Oh it’s taken. Taken

and taken again like a cheapwhore.” Banders belched.“Blood Rose licked hiswounds and drew his plan

well. In truth I think hisassault on the breach was agrand ruse, a sacrifice toconvince the Alpirans theywere facing a fool. Twonights later he drew up fourregiments opposite thebreach, making ready toassault. At the same time hesent the entire remainingRealmGuardinfantryagainstthe eastern wall with scalingladders. He gambled the

Alpirans were concentratingtheir strength at the breachanddidn’t leaveenoughmentodefendthewalls.Turnsouthe was right. Took all nightand thecostwashighbutbymorning the city was ours,whatwasleftofit.”

Banders lapsed intosilence, concentrating on hismeal. Vaelin let him eat andfound his gaze lingering onthe baron’s perennially rust

stained armour. On seeing itup close for the first time henoticed those parts of steelplate not besmirched withcorrosion gleamed with apolished sheen and the rustitself had an odd waxytexture.

“It’s paint,” he saidaloud.

“Mmmm?” Bandersglanced over at his armourandgrunted.“Ohthat.Aman

should try to live up to hislegend,don’tyouthink?”

“The legend of therusty knight?” Vaelin asked.“Can’t say I’ve heard it, mylord.”

“Aha, but you’re notRenfaelin.” Banders grinned.“My fatherwas a boisterous,kindhearted fellow, but overfond of dice and harlots andconsequently unable to leaveme much more than a

crumbling hold-fast and arusty suit of armour,which Iwas obliged to wear whenanswering the Lord’s call towar. Luckily my father hadmanaged to pass onsomething of his skill withthe lanceandsomystandinggrew with every battle andtourney. I was famed as theRust Knight, loved by thecommons for my poverty.The armour became my

banner,mademeeasytofindin the melee, something forthepeasants tocheerandmymen to rally to, once I hadfortune enough to hire someofcourse.”

“So this is not theoriginalarmour?”

Banders laughedheartily. “Faith no, brother!That’s all rusted touselessness years ago. Eventhe best armour rarely lasts

morethanafewyears inanycase, battle and the elementstake their toll. We have asayinginRenfael:ifyouwantto be richer than a lord,become a blacksmith.” Hechuckled and poured himselfmorewine.

“Why are you here,baron?” Vaelin asked him.“DoyoubringwordfromtheBattleLord?”

TheBaron’sexpression

sobered once again. “I do. Ialso bring myself and mymen. Three hundred knightsand two hundred armedretainersandassortedsquires,ifyou’llhaveus.”

“Youandyourmenaremost welcome, but will FiefLordTherosnothaveneedofyourservices?”

Banders set aside hiswine and sighed heavily,meetingVaelin’seyeswitha

level gaze. “I have beendismissed from the FiefLord’s service, brother. Notforthefirsttime,butIsuspectthe last. The Battle Lord bidme offer my command toyou.”

“You quarrelled withtheFiefLord?”

“Notwithhim,no.”Hismouth was set in a hard,unyielding line and Vaelinsensed it was best to let the

matterdrop.“And the Battle Lord’s

word?”Banderspulledasealed

letter from his shirt andtosseditonthetable.“Iknowthe contents, to save youreading it.Youare instructedtomake the city safe againstimminentsiege.OrderpatrolsfromMarbellis spied a greathost of Alpirans making itswaynorth.Theyappearintent

on bypassing Marbellis andseizing Linesh with alldispatch.” He took another,deepgulpofwine,wipinghismouth and belching again.“My advice, brother,commandeer the merchantfleet and sail yourmen backto the Realm. There isn’t ahope of holding this placeagainstsomany.”

“At least tencohortsof

infantry,anotherfiveofhorseandassortedsavagesfromthesouthern provinces of theEmpire. Near twentythousand in all.” Banders’svoicewaslightbutallpresentcouldsensetheweightbehindhislevity.Vaelinhadcalledacouncil of captains in theGuild house, having hadCaenissearchthecityarchivefor the largest and mostaccuratemap of the northern

Alpirancoast.“I thought there would

be more,” Caenis said. “TheEmperor’s army is supposedtobebeyondcounting.”

“Indeedtherearemore,brother,” Banders assuredhim. “This is just thevanguard. The few prisonerswe took in Marbellis werehappytoconfirmit.Theforcemarching on this city is theeliteoftheAlpiranarmy.The

finest infantryandcavalryhecanmuster,allveteransoftheborder wars with theVolarians. Don’tunderestimate the savageseither, all warriors born. It’ssaid they spend their livesworshipping theemperor likeagodandfightingeachotherover petty insults, whichthey’re happy to put asidewhen he calls them to war.Seems they like the taste of

defeatedenemies.”“Siege engines?”

Vaelinasked.Banders nodded. “Ten

of them, much taller andheftier than anything wehave, can sling a boulder thesize of musk-ox over threehundredpaces.”

Vaelin glanced aroundthetablegaugingthereactionof the other captains to thebaron’swords.CountMarven

was rigidly controlled,seemingly wary of betrayingany emotion which mightundermine his jealouslyguarded status.LordMarshalAl Cordlin had paled visiblyand kept clutching hisrecently healed arm, a faintsheen of sweat beginning toshow on his upper lip. LordMarshal Al Trendil seemedlost in thought, stroking hischin, eyes distant. Vaelin

assumedhewascalculatingifhe could escape with all thespoils he had looted atUntesh. Only Bren Anteshseemed unaffected, armsfoldedandregardingBanderswithonlyamildinterest.

“How long do wehave?” Caenis asked thebaron.

“Brother Sollis putthemhere.”Banderstappedafinger to the map spread out

on the table before them,picking out a point abouttwenty miles south-west ofMarbellis. “That was twelvedaysago.”

“An army that sizecouldn’t cover more thanfifteen miles a day,” CountMarven mused in adeliberately measured tone.“Lessinthedesert.”

“Gives us maybeanother two weeks,” Lord

Marshal Al Cordlin said, hisvoice was pitched slightlyhigh and he coughed beforecontinuing. “Ample time,mylord.”

Vaelin frowned at him.“Ampletimeforwhat?”

“Why, evacuation ofcourse.” Al Cordlin’s eyescastaroundthetable,seekingsupport. “I know there aren’tsufficient ships remaining tocarry thewhole of the army,

but the senior officers couldbe got away easily.ThemencanmarchtoUntesh…”

“Weareorderedtoholdthiscity,”Vaelintoldhim.

“Against twentythousand?”AlCordlingaveashort and somewhathysterical laugh. “More thanthree times our number, andelite troops at that. It wouldbemadnessto…”

“Lord Marshal Al

Cordlin I hereby relieve youof your command.” Vaelinnodded at the door. “Leavethisroom.Inthemorningyouwill be escorted to theharbour where you will takeshipfortheRealm.Untilthenkeeptoyourquarters,Idon’twant the men infected withyourcowardice.”

AlCordlinrockedbackon his heels as if struck,beginning to babble. “This

is… Such insults areunwarranted. My regimentwas given to me by theking…”

“Justgetout.”The stricken lord cast

one more final glance at therest of the captains, findingeither indifference or warydiscomfort, beforemoving tothedoorandmakinghisexit.“Any more suggestions ofevacuation will receive the

same response,” Vaelin toldthe council. “I trust that’sunderstood.”

He turned his attentionbacktothemap,ignoringthechorus of affirmation. Onceagain he was struck by thebarrenness of the region,marvelling that three largecities such asUntesh,LineshandMarbellis could exist onthe fringes of such tracklessdesert.Alldustand scrub,as

Frentishadsaid.Haven’tseenatreesincewelanded…“Notrees.”

“My lord?” BaronBandersasked.

Vaelin gave no replyand kept his attention on themapassomethingstirred, theseed of a stratagem nurturedby a faint murmur from theblood-song, building to achorusashiseyespickedoutapictogramaboutthirtymiles

south of the city; a copse ofpalm trees surrounding asmallpool.“What’sthis?”heaskedCaenis.

“The Lehlun Oasis,brother. The only sizeablesource of water on thesoutherncaravanroute.”

“Meaning,” CountMarven said, “the Alpiranarmy will have to stop thereonthewaynorth.”

“You mean to poison

the water, my lord?” LordMarshal Al Trendil asked.“An excellent notion. Wecould spoil it with animalcarcasses…”

“Idon’tmeantodoanysuch thing,” Vaelin replied,continuing to let the blood-song feed his design. Therisksaregreat,andthecost…

“We should seal thecity,mylord,”CountMarvensaid, breaking the silence

which Vaelin realised hadlasted several minutes. “Thesouthbound caravans willsurely pass word of ournumberstotheenemy.”

“People have beenleavingbythedozensincethethreat of the Red Handfaded,” Vaelin said. “I’d begreatly surprised if theAlpiran commander doesn’talready possess a full pictureof our numbers and our

preparations. Besides, lettinghim think us weak couldwork to our advantage. Anoverconfidentenemyispronetocarelessness.”

Hegavethemapafinalglanceandmovedback fromthe table. “Baron Banders, Iapologise for asking you totake to the saddle again sosoon after your arrival, but Irequire you andyour knightsonthemorrow.”Heturnedto

Caenis. “Brother, have thescouttroopassembleatdawn,I will take commandpersonally.Inmyabsencethecity is yours. Make everyeffort to deepen the ditcharound the walls and doubleitswidth.”

“You intend to ambushan army of twenty thousandwith a few hundred men?”Count Marven wasincredulous. “What can you

hopetoachieve?”Vaelin was already

moving to the door. “An axewithout a blade is just astick.”

Further inland the

northern desert sands roseinto tall dunes, stretching tothehorizonlikeastormsweptsea frozen in gold under acloudless sky. The sun wastoo intense to permit

marching during the day andtheywereobligedtotravelbynight, sheltering under tentsindaylightwhilst theknightsgrumbled and their war-horses nickered and stampedhooves in irritation at theunaccustomedheat.

“Noisy buggers, thislot,” Dentos observed on theseconddayout.

Vaelin glanced over ataclutchofknights,bickering

andshovingeachotheroveragameofdice.Nearbyanotherknight was loudly beratinghis squire for the lack ofpolishonhisbreastplate.Hehadtoagreetheknightswerehardly the most stealthysoldiers and he would havegladlyexchangedthemallfora single company from theOrder, but there were nobrothers to be had and heneeded cavalry for this to

work.“It shouldn’t matter,”

he replied. “They only havetomakeonecharge.”Though,Icouldn’tsayhowmanywillbeleftafterthat.

“What about patrols?”Frentis asked. “The Alpiranswould be fools not to scouttheirflanks.”

“This far out from thecity, I’m hoping they’refoolishenoughtodojustthat.

If not, we’ll only have tolingerforonedayinanycase.Any patrol that finds us willhavetobesilencedandwe’llhope they aren’t missed bynightfall.”

It took another twonights before the oasis cameinto view, shimmering intosolidity amidst the bakingdunes. Vaelin was surprisedby the size of it, expectinglittlemore thanapondanda

fewpalms,butinfactfoundasmalllakesurroundedbylushvegetation, a near irresistiblejewelofgreenandblue.

“No sign of theAlpirans, brother,” Frentissaid,reininginwiththescouttroop at the foot of the dunewherehehadhaltedtosurveythe oasis. “Seems we beatthemtoit,likeyousaid.”

“Caravans?” Vaelinaskedhim.

“Nothing for milesaround.”

“We saw scant sign oftraders on our journey north,my lord,” Baron Banderscommented. “War is nevergood for commerce. Lestyour trading in steelo’course.”

Vaelin surveyed thedesert, spying a tall, almostmountainous dune two milestothewest.“There,”hesaid,

pointing.“We’llcampon thewestwardslope.Nofires,andit would be greatlyappreciated, Baron, if yourmenrefrainedfromexcessivenoise.”

“I’lldowhat I can,mylord.Butthey’renotpeasants,y’know.Can’t just flog themlikeyourlot.”

“Maybe you should,milord,” Dentos suggested.“Remind ‘em they bleed the

samecolourasuspeasants.”“They’ll bleed well

enough when the Alpiranscome, brother,” Banderssnapped back, his alreadyflushed face colouringfurther.

“Enough,” Vaelin cutin. “Brother Dentos, go withBrother Frentis. Fetch asmuchwaterasyoucancarry,leaveaslittlesignaspossible.Idon’twantourfoestothink

anything bigger than a spicecaravan has passed here inweeks.”

It was two more days

before the Emperor’s armyappeared, heralded by a tallcolumn of dust rising abovethe southern horizon.Vaelin,FrentisandDentoslayatopahigh dune to observe theiradvance to the oasis. Thecavalry appeared first, small

parties of outriders followedby long columns riding twoabreast. Vaelin counted fourregiments of lancers plus anequal number of horse-bornearchers. Their discipline andefficiency was impressive,evident in the speed withwhich they established theircamp,tentsandcookingfiresappearingamidstthepalmsofthe oasis within an hour oftheirarrival.Heborrowedthe

spyglass from Frentis andpicked out officers andsergeantsamongstthethrong,marking their stern visageand easy authority as theyposted pickets in a tight andwell placed perimeter.Veterans indeed, he decided,regrettinghehadn’thad timetosayhisgoodbyestoSherinbefore they left.Althoughhehadsensedasoftening inherregard at their last meeting,

hestillhadmuchtoexplain.Hetrackedthespyglass

away from the oasis andfocused on a second dustcloud rising to the south, thewavering,stickfiguresof theAlpiraninfantrymaterialisingout of the desert heat withunwelcomeclarity.

Ittookoveranhourforthe infantry to file into theoasisandmakecamp.MasterSollis’s estimate had been

conservative; there were infact twelve cohorts ofinfantry,swellingtheAlpiranforce to at least thirtythousand and making himconsider,foronlythebriefestsecond, if Lord Marshall AlCordlin hadn’t been rightafterall.

“See there?” Frentispointed, lifting his eye fromthe spyglass. “Battle Lordmaybe?”

Vaelin took the glassand followed his finger to alargetentpitchedtothenorthof the oasis. A group ofsoldiers were erecting a tallstandardbearingaredbanneradorned with an emlem oftwo crossed sabres in black.Theywereoverseenbya tallmaninagoldcloakwithhardebony features and greypeppered hair. NeliesenNesterHevren,Captainofthe

TenthCohort of the ImperialGuard. Come to keep apromise.

Hewatched thecaptainturnandbowtoastockymanwith a pronounced limp. Hewore old but serviceablearmourandacavalrysabreathis belt. His skin had theolive hue of the northernprovinces and his head wasshaved bald. He listened toHevrenforafewmomentsas

thecaptainappeared tomakesomekindof report, thencuthim off with a dismissivewave of his hand, stompingofftothetentwithoutsparinghimanotherglance.

“No,thelimpingmanistheBattleLord,”Vaelinsaid.Henoted thewearyslumpofHevren’s shouldersbeforehestraightened and marchedaway. Shamed, he decided.Shunnedbecauseyoulostthe

Hope. What were yousuggesting, I wonder? Morepatrols, more guards? Moreregard for thecunningof theHopeKiller?Wouldn’t listenwould he? For the first timesince leaving thecity,Vaelinfelthismoodbegintolighten.

Itwasearlyeveningbythe time the siege enginescameintoview.Hehadbeennurturing the faint hope thatBanders had exaggerated

Sollis’sreportwiththetellingbutknewnow theBaronhadspoken true. The RealmGuardhadenginesofitsown,mangonels and catapults forslinging boulders and fireballs at or over castle walls,buteventhelargestandmostcarefully crafted could notcompare to the obviouspower of the devices theemperor had sent to bringdown the walls of Linesh.

Lumbering giants in thegathering gloom, theirweighted arms swayed asgreat teams of oxen drewthemonward.

The engines wereescorted by perhaps threethousand men, from theirloose formation and non-uniform appearance clearlythe tribesmen Banders haddescribed. Their costumevaried in colour, from garish

red silk and blue featheredhead-dressestosoberblackorblue robes devoid ofdecoration. Their weaponryand armour was equallydiverse.He picked out a fewbreast plates and mail shirtsbut most seemed un-armoured save for roundwooden shields decoratedwith unfathomable sigils.Weapons seemed to consistmainly of long spears with

serrated iron bladesaugmented with viciouslyspikedclubsandmaceswornatthebeltalongwithdaggersandshortswords.

Vaelin watched as theoxen hauled the engines tothe southern edge of theoasis, the droversunlimberingtheteamstoleadthem to the water and thetribesmenmaking their camparoundthetallframes.

“That’salotofsavagesto cut through, brother,”Dentoscommented.

“If it works, we won’thave to.” Vaelin handed thespyglass back to Frentis.“Let’spack thehorses.We’llmove out with the moonrise.”

Spit, to Vaelin’s

complete lack of surprise,provedunsuitedtotheroleof

pack horse, themustang’s illtemper taking a dangerousturn as he attempted to hoistthe pack onto his back, hishooves stamping withperilous disregard for toesand feet. It took severalpreciousminutes of cajoling,threatening and bribing withcandies before he wassufficiently settled to allowthe pack to be secured inplace, by which time the

bright crescent of the moonwashighoverhead.

“Why you hold on tothat beast is a mystery,brother,” Dentos observed,his voice slightlymuffled bythemuslin scarf covering thelowerhalfofhisface.

“He’safighter,”Vaelinreplied. “It makes up for thebruises.” He scanned theassembled scout troop, eachman similarly garbed in the

whitemuslin robes typicalofthe traderswho trackedspiceandothervaluablesacrossthedesert to the northern ports.Everymount was laden withpacks, each bulging with theround red clay pots used forcarriage of spices, althoughtonighttheywerefilledwithadifferentcargo.Heknewtheywere unlikely to fool anexperiencedeye,theirmountstoo tall and their garb

showing toomanyunfamiliardetails, not to mention theodd bulge of a concealedweapon. But, for a few vitalmoments they should beconvincing enough in thedark. He hoped it would beenough.

Heglancedtothenorth,marking the winding trail ofthecaravanroutethroughthedunestotheoasis.Thedesertwasastrangesightunder the

moon,thesandpaintedsilverby the light. Taken with thechill of the night-time desertit was almost like lookinguponasnowfield,oncemorecalling forth the half-forgotten dream, Nersus-silNin’s cruel mockery, a bodycoolinginthesnow…

“Brother?” Frentisasked,breakingthereverie.

Vaelin shook his headtoclear thevision, turning to

thescouttroopandraisinghisvoice. “You all know theimportance of our missiontonight. Once it’s done ridefor Linesh and don’t lookback.They’llbeonourheelslike starved wolves so don’ttarry,notforanything.”

He turned back to thenorth and tugged on Spit’sreins. “Come on you bloodynag.”

They lit torches and

approached at a steady pace,calling greetings inmemorised Alpiran to thetribesmen guarding thesouthern perimeter. Theywere all tall, lean men withpointed beards and skin likepolished mahogany, theirgarb a mixture of red-dyedcloth and loose armourfashioned from ivory. Eachcarriedoneofthelongspearswith serrated blades Vaelin

had noted when theysurveyed the camp earlier.Theywere clearly suspiciousbut not overly alarmed andVaelinwas relievedwhennotumult erupted at theappearance of a small butunknownparty.Fiveof themgatheredtoobstructtheirpathastheyapproachedthecamp,spears levelled but theirmanner not overlythreatening.

“Ni-rehl ahn!” Dentosgreetedthetribesmen.NexttoCaenishehadthebestearforAlpiran, although couldhardly be said to be fluent.Despite having beenextensively coached byCaenis in the few hoursbefore their departure fromLinesh he was unlikely tofool a native of the northernempire. It was their fortunethatthetribesmenhailedfrom

the southern provinces andprobably knew less of thelocaldialectthantheydid.

One of the tribesmenshook his head in confusion,saying something in his ownlanguage to his fellows whoreplied with shrugs ofbafflement.

“Unterah,”Dentosgavethe word for trader, pattinghis chest, then gesturedbroadly at their makeshift

caravan.“Onterish.”Spice.Thetribesmanwhohad

spoken stepped past Dentos,eyes scanning their companywith careful scrutiny. Heapproached Vaelin, ignoringtheaffablenodheofferedandgiving Spit a long look ofexamination, his eyesnarrowing at the site of themany scars covering themustang’slegsandflanks.

Ashoutcamefromone

oftheothertribesmanandtheman confronting Vaelinstepped back quickly, handstight on his spear, crouchinginto a fighting stance.Vaelinheld up his hands inplacation, pointing to thewest. The tribesman risked aglance over his shoulder,straightening in confusion atthesightofalargenumberoftorches appearing out of thedesert, about three hundred

teardropsoflightflickeringinthe gloom, accompanied bythe growing tell-tale rumbleofacavalrychargeinfulltiltand the peel of multipletrumpets.

Thetribesmanturnedtohisfellows,mouthopeningtovoiceacommand,anddiedasVaelin’s throwing knife sankintothebaseofhisskull.Thesnap of bowstrings and thewhistle of thrown blades

filled the air as the scouttroop freed their weapons todispatch the remainingsentries.

“Dousethetorches!Getto the engines!” Vaelinbarked, tugging Spit into arun.

Thecacophonyofbattleerupted as they entered thecamp, the thunderclap crashof Baron Banders’ knightsstriking the hastily formed

line of defending tribesmensoonreplacedby thefamiliardin of shrieking horses andclashing metal. Everywheretribesmen were gatheringweapons and rushing to jointhe battle, war cries and theharsh, grating peel of theirownhornscallingthemforth.By the time Vaelin’s partywere among the tents, mosthadgone to join thefrayandthe few who lingered to

troublethemwerequicklycutdown.

Theyfoundtheenginesbareofdefenderssavefortheartisans who tended them,mostly middle-aged men inleather smocks with fewweapons save for carpentrytools. Vaelin was sorry theydidn’thavethegoodsensetorun,killingonewhoswungathimwithamalletandleavinganother clutching a partly

severedhand.“Get out of here!” he

commanded the man,sheathing his sword andunhitching the pack of claypots from Spit’s back. Theman just lookedupathim indumbshockbeforethelossofblood made him collapselimply into the sand. Vaelincursed and left him there,openingthepackandheavingthepotsat thenearestengine

as fast as he could. Theybroke against the sturdywooden frames and spilledtheirclearviscousliquidovereverysurface.Vaelinquicklyexhaustedthecontentsofonepackandhauled another to asecondengine, alreadypartlydoused by Frentis whogrinnedwolfishly.

“Goingtomakequiteasight,brother.”

“That it will.” He

emptied the second pack andsurveyed the progress of therest of the party, notingwithsatisfaction the shatteredremainsofnumerouspotsonall tenengines.“Right, that’senough!” he shouted. “Getthemlit!”

They retreated twentyyards or so, Vaelin draggingthe wounded artisan behindhim, unwilling to let himburn. Dentos and Frentis

unlimberedtheirbows,litfirearrowsandsentthemarchingtowards the engines, theflames catching the lamp oilinstantly and soon ten greatfireswereraginginthemidstofthecamp,flamesengulfingthe tall engines in a fewmoments, ropesandbindingsdisintegrating in theheat, thegreat arms of the enginestumblinglikepinecaughtinaforestfire.

The flameswere brightenough to illuminate thebattle raging on the westernperimeter where BaronBanderswasnowrallyinghismen for the withdrawal,although thebattle-maddenedtribesmenwereinnomoodtolet them go. Vaelin sawseveral knights pulled fromtheir horses and speared todeath in quick succession asthey vainly sought to

extricate themselves fromthestruggle.

Vaelin mounted Spitanddrewhissword.“Rideforthe city!” he called to thescouttroop.

“And you brother?”Frentisasked.

Vaelin nodded at thebattle. “The baron needssome help. I’ll be alongpresently.”

“Letme-”

He fixedFrentiswithalook that brooked noargument. “Take your menhome,brother.”

Frentis bit down on nodoubt bitter words andnodded. “If you’re not backintwodays…”

“Then I’m not comingback and you will look toBrother Caenis forcommand.” Vaelin spurredSpit intoagallopandhurtled

towardsthebattle,feelingthemustangtensebeneathhiminanticipation of combat. Heskirtedtheedgeofthethrong,lashing out to strike downunwary tribesmen, wheelingawayastheyswarmedathim,galloping on then repeatingtheprocess, seeking todiverttheirfuryenoughtoallowtheknights some relief. “EruhinMahktar!” he shoutedrepeatedly,hopingtheyknew

what it meant. “I am theEruhin Mahktar! Come andkillme!”

Thewordswereclearlyunderstood by at least someof the tribesmen, judging bythe ferocity with which theypursued him, hurling spearsand hatchets with sometimesunnerving accuracy. Oneshowed a remarkable turn ofspeed, sprinting after Vaelinas he wheeled away from

another pass, leaping ontoSpit’sbackwithhiswar-clubraised then tumbling to thesand with an arrow spearedthroughhistorso.

“I don’t think weshould linger much longer,brother!” Dentos called,notching and releasinganother shaft as he gallopedalongside, a tribesmanspinningtothegroundashortdistanceaway.

“Thought I sent youback to the city,” Vaelincalled.

“No, you sent Frentis.”Dentos loosed another arrowand ducked a spear. “Wereallyneedtogo!”

Vaelin glanced at themain throng, seeing a broadfigure in red stained armourriding away from the fight,theBaronchoosing tobe thelast to leave. He pointed to

the west and they turnedaway, spurring their mountstoevengreaterspeed,thestillburning engines casting longshadows over the sands,fading as they wereswallowedbythedesert.

They rode on through

thenight,keepingawestwardcourse until sunrise thenturning to the north, onlydismounting to walk the

horseswhentheheatbegantomake them stagger. Theystripped the mounts of allexcessweight, throwing theirmail away but keeping theirweapons and the remainingcanteensofwater.

“No sign of ‘em,”Dentos said, shielding hiseyes as he scanned thesouthern horizon. “Not yetanyway.”

“They’ll be along,”

Vaelinassuredhim.Heheldacanteen to Spit’s mouth, theanimal snatching it betweenhis teeth and tipping thecontentsdownhis throat inafewgulps.Vaelinwasn’tsurehow much longer themustang could last in theheat, the desert was a cruelenvironment for a north-bornanimal, evidenced by thefoam that covered his flanksand the weary blink of his

normally bright andsuspiciouseye.

“With any luck they’refollowing the Baron’s trail,”Dentos went on. “More of‘emtofollowafterall.”

“Ithinkweusedupourshareoflucklastnight,don’tyou?” Vaelin waited untilSpit had finished drinkingthen took hold of his reins.“We keep walking. If wecan’trideinthisheat,neither

canthey.”It was early evening

when they saw it, small andfaint in the distance, butundeniablyreal.

“Fifteen miles,maybe?” Dentos wondered,eyeingthedustcloud.

“Closer to ten.” Vaelinhauled himself into thesaddle, wincing at Spit’sweary snort of annoyance.“Seems they can ride in the

heatafterall.”They kept to a canter

formostofthenight,waryofpushing the horses tocollapse,glancingcontinuallyto the south, seeing only thedesert and the star rich skybut knowing their pursuersweregainingwitheverymile.

The northern shorecame into sight with thedawn,thedesertsandsgivingwaytoscruband,sixmilesto

the east, the white walls ofLinesh gleaming in themorninglight.

“Brother,” Dentos saidsoftly.

Vaelin turned his gazesouthward,thedustcloudwaslarger now, the riders raisingit clearly visible. He leanedforward to pat Spit’s neck,whispering in his ear.“Sorry.” Leaning back hekicked his heels against the

mustang’s flanks and theyspurredintoagallop.Hehadexpected Spit to have lostmuch of his speed, but ifanything he seemed to findsome kind of relief in thegallop, tossing his head andsnorting either in pleasure oranger. His hooves churnedthe dusty ground and theyquickly outdistanced Dentosand his struggling mount, somuch so that Vaelin was

forced to rein in after fourmiles. They had crested asmall rise overlooking theplain before the city walls.The gates were open and aline of horsemen weremaking their way inside,sunlight gleaming on theirarmour.

“SeemstheBaronmadeit back,” Vaelin observed asDentosreinedin.

“Glad someone did.”

Dentos upended a canteenand let the water bathe hisface. Behind him Vaelincouldsee theirpursuerswereclosing fast, barely a milebehind. He was right, theyweren’tgoingtomakeit.

“Here,”hesaidmakingto dismount. “I have thefaster horse. It’s me theywant.”

“Don’t be fuckingstupid, brother,” Dentos said

wearily. He unhitched hisbow from the saddle andnotched an arrow, wheelinghis horse around to face theoncoming horsemen. Vaelinknewtherewasnodissuadinghim.

“I’msorry,brother,”hesaid, voice laden with guilt.“Thisfool’swar,I…”

Dentoswasn’tlistening,looking off to the south, apuzzled frown on his brow.

“Didn’t know they had themhere. Big bugger too, isn’the?”

Vaelin followed hisgaze and felt the blood-songsurge in a fiery tumult ofrecognitionashiseyespickedout the form of a large greywolf sitting a short distanceaway. It regarded him withthe impassive, green eyedstare he remembered so wellfrom that firstmeeting in the

Urlish. “You can see him?”heasked.

“’Course, he’s hard tomiss.”

The blood-song wasraging now, a piercingcacophony of warning.“Dentos,rideforthecity.”

“I’m not goinganywhere…”

“Something’s going tohappen!Please,justgo!”

Dentos was going to

arguefurtherbuthisgazewasdrawn by something else, agreatdarkcloudrisingabovethe southern horizon,ascending from the desert toat least a mile into the sky,swallowing sunlight in itsbillowing fury as it swepttowards the city, dunesdisappearing as it gatheredthemtoitshungrybreast.

Anarrowthumped intothe ground a few feet away.

Vaelin turned to see theirpursuers now barely fiftyyards distant, at least ahundred men, preceded by aswarmof arrows launched atthe gallop, a desperateattempt to end the chasebefore the sand storm boredown.

“RIDE!” Vaelinshouted, taking hold ofDentos’s reins and pullinghim along as he kicked Spit

into a gallop, arrows rainingdown as they descended theriseandrodeforthecity.Thestorm hit before they hadcovered a third of thedistance, the sand blastinginto face and eyes like acloud of vicious needles.Dentos’smount reared in thefury of it andVaelin lost hisgrip on the reins, horse andrider disappearing in thewhirlingredmist.Hetriedto

call for him but instantlychoked on the sand whichsought to fill his mouth. Hecould only do his best toshieldhisfaceandclingonasSpit ran blindly through thestorm.

Indesperationheturnedto the blood-song, trying tocalm it, master it enough toguide its music, to sing. Atfirst there was only thediscordant shriek of

wrongnessandalarmthathaderupted at the sight of thewolf, but as he exerted hiswill the confusion began tocalm, a few clear notesforming amongst the stormraging in his mind. Dentos!he called, seeking to cast thesong into the storm like agrapple.Findhim!

The song changedagain, more notes forming,the music becoming more

melodious, almost serene buttinged with something more,a tone so strange as to bevastly unknowable. Therealisation dawned like ablow. This is not my song!This is not the song of anyman!

Who?hesang.Whoareyou?

Theothersongchangedagain, allmusic fading to bereplacedbyasingleimpatient

growl.Please! he begged.My

brother…The wolf’s growl

became a shout in his mind,strong enough to make himreel in the saddle. Spitwhinniedandrearedinalarmasheheavedhimselfupright,feeling blood begin to pourfrom his nose. NO! hescreamed back with everyfibre of strength he could

force into the song. I DONOTWANTYOURHELP!

Instantly the winddropped, the harsh blast ofgritonhis facedissipating toa faint breeze, the wind-tossed sands slowlydescendingwitha sound likeathousandwhisperingvoices.Through the fading mist hesawthedarkshapeofarider,nomorethantenyardsaway,Dentos clearly recognisable

from the sword on his back.Relief flooded Vaelin as hetrotted over, reaching out toclasphisbrother’sshoulder.

“Not a good time tolinger,brother…”

Dentospitchedfromthesaddleand fellheavily to theground. His eyes were open,face pale with a familiarpallor, the arrow that hadkilled him jutting from hischest, thesteelbarbwetwith

blood.Theytoldhimlaterhow

he had sat there, still andfrozen,likeoneofAhm-Lin’screationsappearingoutoftheebbing sandstorm, raisingshouts from the sentries onthe walls and compellingCaenistofranticeffortstore-open the gate. The Alpiranpursuers, scattered by thestorm,were quick to recover

theirwitsandclose inon theimmobile Hope Killer. Onegalloped to within twentyyards, leaning low over hisstallion’s neck, bow drawnand shaft ready, teeth baredwith hate and triumph. BrenAntesh leapt atop thegatehousebattlements,putanarrow clean through therider’s chest then barked anorder at his archers. Athousand arrows rose from

the walls and descended onthe Alpirans in a black hail.Near a hundred riders cutdownbyasinglevolley.

Vaelin had noknowledgeofanyofit.Therewas only Dentos, his slack,empty face, and thearrowhead, gleaming metalshiningamongsttheredgore.Voicescalledtohimfromthewalls but he heard nothing.Caenis and Barkus sprinted

through the re-opened gate,stumbling to a halt in shock.Vaelin couldn’t hear theirgrief or their questions.Dentosandthearrow…

“Vaelin.”Itwastheonlyvoicehe

couldhaveheard.Sherinwasat his side, reaching up toclasp his wrist, his knuckleswhite as they gripped thereins.“Vaelin,please.”

Helookeddownather,

drinking in the sight of hercompassion,thefamiliarachedispelling his numbnesswithadesperateneedandhopelessshame.“Iamamurderer,”hesaid,formingeachwordwithcoldprecision.

“No…”“I am a murderer.” He

gently pulled her hand awayand kicked Spit into a walk,guidinghim through thegateandintothecity.

Chapter9He stayed in his room

for two days, slumped fullyclothed on his bunk. Janrilknockedandleftfoodoutsidehis door but he ignored it.Caenis, Barkus and Frentiseach came in turn to callthrough the door but hebarelyheardthem.Hefeltnoneed of sleep, no hunger, nothirst.TherewasonlyDentos

and the arrowhead, and thesong, the great unknowablesong of the wolf like adeafening echo in his mind.And the truth of course, thehateful truth. I am amurderer.

He remembered whenhehadgonetoDentostoaskfor his presence on themission. “You’re the besthorse archer we have…” hehad begun but Dentos was

alreadypackinghiskit.“Nortahwasbetter,”he

said,stringinghisbow.“Nortah’sdead.”Dentos had simply

smiled and for the first timeVaelin realised he had neverbelieved his lie aboutNortah’s fate. How muchmore had he known? Whatothersecretshadhekept?Allof his knowledge gone in aninstant, stolen by an arrow

loosed by a stranger whoprobably thought he hadfelled the Hope Killerhimself. Vaelin wondered ifthemanhaddiedhappyunderthe hail of Cumbraelinarrows, perhaps expecting ahero’s welcome from thegods. It must have been aterribledisappointment.

Towardseveningofthesecond day his attention wasfinallydrawnbyascratching

at the door, accompanied byan plaintive whine. Heblinked, gazing at the dimroom with blurred eyes,fingers scraping the stubbleonhischin,smellinghisownstink. “I need a bath,” hemuttered, rising to open thedoor.

Scratch’s weight borehim down effortlessly, hisharsh tongue scraping overface and chin with desperate

affection. “Alrightdaftdog!”he groaned, pushing theslave-dog away with somedifficulty.“I’malright.”

“Really?” Sherin wasstandinginthedoorway,armsfolded, her expression anecho of the severity heremembered from their firstmeeting. “Because you lookterrible.”

She turned anddescendedthesteps,returning

a few minutes later with aclothandasteamingbowlofwater. She closed the doorand sat on the bed as hestripped to the waist andwashed,Scratch’sheadinherlap as she rubbed the furbehindhisears.Hecouldfeelher gaze on his torso,knowinghereyeslingeredonhisscars,sensinghersorrow.“Nothing I didn’t earn,sister,” he told her, reaching

for his razor. “All of it, andmorebesides.”

“So you hate yourselfnow?”Therewas an edge ofangertohertone.Clearlyherbitterness at his beating ofBrotherCommanderIltiswastakingawhiletofade.

“The things I’ve done.This war…” He trailed off,closinghiseyesbrieflybeforelathering his face and liftingtherazortohisskin.

“Here.”Sherinroseandmoved tohis side, taking therazorfromhim.“Youhaven’tslept, your hands areunsteady.” She pulled over astool and made him sit.“Relax, I’ve done this moretimes than I can remember.”Hehadtoadmitmanybarberswould envy the skill withwhich shewielded the razor,slidingthebladeoverhisskinwith deft precision, her

healer’s hands gentle andsoothing. For a moment hewas lost in the scent and theclosenessofher,thegriefandself-loathingvanishedby thisnew intimacy. He knew heshould tell her to stop, thatthis was inappropriate, butfoundhimself too intoxicatedtocare.

“There.” She movedback,smilingdownathim,afinger tracing over his chin.

“Muchbetter.”Possessed by a sudden

andnearlyirresistibleimpulseto pull her close again, hereached instead for the clothto wipe away the remainingsoap.“Thankyousister.”

“Brother Dentos was agood man,” she said. “I’msorry.”

“He was the son of awhorewhogrewupinaplacewhere everyone hated him.

For him there was no otherroleinthisworldthantofightand die in service to theOrder. But you’re right, hewas a good man, and hedeserved a longer life and abetterdeath.”

“Why did you comehere,Vaelin?”Hervoicewassoft, theangergonenow,hertone merely sorrowful. “Youdetest this war, I can see it.Your skills, like mine, were

not meant for this. We aresupposedtoserveaFaiththatdefends against greed andcruelty. What are wedefendinghere?Whatdidtheking promise or threaten toforceyoutothis?”

The impulse to lie, tocontinue towallowinsecretsashehadforyears,wasonlythe faintest whisper now, anaggingsenseofsteppingtoofar on an uncharted path,

easilyoverriddenbytheneedtotellher.Ifhecouldn’tholdher at least he could findsome comfort in confidence.“Hediscoveredmyfatherhasbecome a Denier. TheAscendant sect, I believe.Whateverthatis.”

“We leave our ties ofblood behind when we giveourselves in service to theFaith.”

“Do we? Did you?

Your compassion was bornsomewhere, sister. In thosestreets you came from,amongst those beggaredpeople you try so hard tosave.Doweeverreallyleaveanythingbehind?”

She closed her eyes,facedowncast,unspeaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said.“Your past is your own. Idon’tmeanto…”

“My mother was a

thief,” she said, eyes opennow, meeting his gaze, aharsh unfamiliar accentcolouring her tone. “Finestdipper the quarter ever saw.Hands like lightning, couldhave a ring off a merchant’sfinger quicker than a snaketakes a rat. Never knew myfather, she said he was asoldier,losttothewars,butIknewshedonesomewhorin’before she learned the trade.

She taught me, y’see, said Ihad the hands for it.” Shelookeddownatherhands,thedeft, slender fingersclenching. “I was her darlin’little thief, she said, and athief never needs to be awhore.

“Turns out I wasn’tquite the thief she thought Iwas.Fatold richmanwithafat old wife managed tocorner me when I lifted her

brooch. Was beating on mewith his walking stick whenmymumknifedhim.‘No-onehitsmySherry!’shesaid.Shecould’verunbutshestayed.”She crossed her arms,hugging herself. “She stayedforme.Shewasstillstabbin’away when the Guard came.They hanged her the nextday.Iwaselevenyearsold.

“AfterthehangingIsatdown and waited to die.

Couldn’t steal any morey’see, just couldn’t. And itwasallIknewhowtodo.Nomum, no trade. I was done.NextmorningaprettyladyinagreyrobeaskedifIneededhelp.”

He couldn’t recallstandingorpullingherclose,butfoundherheadwasonhischest, breath catching as shefoughtdowntears.“I’msorrysister…”

She breathed deeply,her sobs fading, lifting herface,asmallwrysmileonherlips, whispering “I’m notyour sister,” before shepressedthemagainsthis.

“You taste,” Sherin’s

tongueplayedoverhischest,“of sand and sweat.” Shewrinkledher nose. “Andyousmellofsmoke.”

“I’msorry...”

She giggled a little,raising herself up to kiss hischeek before pressing hernakedness against him, herhead resting on his chest.“I’mnotcomplaining.”

His hands played overthe slim smoothness of hershoulders, drawing a sigh ofpleasure. “I had heard thatone had to be experienced atthis to find it trulyenjoyable,”hesaid.

“I heard that truedevotion to the Faith wouldblind me to the lure of suchpleasures.” She kissed himagain, longer this time,tongue probing his lips. “Itappears you can’t believe allyouhear.”

They had lain togetherfor hours, making love withurgent whispered intimacy,Scratch posted outside thedoor to discourage visitors.

The wonderful, electrifyingfeel of her against him, thecaress of her breath on hisneckashemovedinher,wasoverpowering, amazing.Despitethegriefandtheguiltand knowledge of whatwaitedbeyond this room, fornow he was, perhaps for thefirsttimehecouldremember,trulyhappy.

The dim light of dawnwas filtering through the

shutters on the window andhecouldseeherfaceclearly,her smile of serene bliss asshe drewback. “I love you,”he told her, fingers tracingthrough her hair. “I alwayshave.”

She nuzzled againsthim, her hand playing overthe hard muscle of his chestand belly. “Really? After alltheseyearsapart?”

“I don’t think love like

thatcaneverreallyfade.”Heclasped her hand, fingersentwining. “The Blackhold.Were you… did they hurtyou?”

“Onlyifterrorisakindoftorture.Iwasonlythereforone night, but the things Iheard.” She gave a smallshudderandhepressedakisstoherforehead.

“I’m sorry, I had toknow.Yourwordsmusthave

carried great weight to haveworried theKing andAspectTendrisso.”

“Thiswar ismore thanjust a mistake, Vaelin. Itsulliesour souls. It isagainsttheFaith ineveryway. Ihadto speak out. No one elsewould,notevenAspectElera,though I begged her to. Istarted standingup inmarketsquaresandshoutingitouttoanyone who’d listen. To my

surprise some did, especiallyin the poorer quarters. Mywords were written down,reproducedwiththatnewinkand block device the ThirdOrder uses. Pamphlets werebeing passed around ingrowing numbers, sayingthings like ‘End theWarandSavetheFaith.’”

“Hasaringtoit.”“Thankyou.Ittooktwo

weeks for them to come for

me,BrotherIltisandhismenstorming in to the OrderHousewith aKing’swarrantformy arrest.Brother Iltis isnotthekindestofmen,asyounoticed, and took greatdelightinexplainingtomeindetailwhatwasinstoreintheBlackhold. I lay awake allthat night, listening to thescreams.When the cell dooropened I nearly fainted withfear, but it was Princess

Lyrna with fresh clothes andaKing’sorderformyreleaseintohercustody.”

Lyrna. What stratagemlay behind this I wonder?“ThenIaminherdebt.”

“And I. Such a kindlyand courageous soul is rare.She made sure I hadeverything I needed, a fineroom ofmy own, books andparchment. We spent manyhours talking in her secret

garden. You know, I thinkshe’s a little lonely. When Ileft on receiving yoursummonssheevencried.Shesaid togiveyouherwarmestregardsbytheway.”

“Kind of her.” He waskeen to change the subject.“What did he offer you?Janus, I know he must havetried to ensnare you in somekindofbargain.”

“Actually, I only met

him once. The GuardCaptain, Smolen, tookme tohis room. Rumours wereflyingaroundthecityandthepalace that he’s not a wellman these days, and I couldsee it clear as day in hisgreynessofhisskin, thewayhis flesh hung on his bones.Probably the onset of agecoupled with some wastingillness. I offered to examinehim but he said he had

physiciansaplenty.After thathestaredatmeforamomentortwoandaskedmejustonequestion.WhenIgavehimananswer he laughed and toldthe Captain to take me backto Princess Lyrna’s quarters.It was a sad laugh, full ofregret.”

“Whatdidheaskyou?”She shifted, rising to

her knees, the sheets fallingaway to reveal her slender

form, her eyes glittered andhe realised she was crying.“He asked if I loved you. Isaid I did. And I do.” Herhands caressed his face withtrembling fingers. “I do. Ishould have gone away withyouwhenyouasked,allthoseyearsago.”

Themorning he awokeafter the agony of her cure,after the Aspect Massacre,aftershehadsavedhislife.“I

thoughtitwasadream.”“Then it was one we

shared.”Herhandsstoppedinmid-caress,hertonesuddenlyhesitant. “One we could stillshare. There is no longer aplace for me in the Realm,and there is a whole worldI’veyet tosee.Wecouldseeit together. Perhaps find aplace where there are nokings, no wars, no peoplekilling each other over faith

andgodsandmoney.”He pulled her close,

enfolding her in his arms,rejoicing in the warmth ofher, inhaling the smellofherhair. “There is something Ihave to do here. Somethingthathastohappen.”

He felt her stiffen. “Ifyou mean to win this war,you must know that is afool’s hope. The empirestretches for thousands of

miles, from desert to frozenmountains,withmore peoplethantherearestarsinthesky.Fight off one army and theemperor is sure to sendanother, and another afterthat.”

“No, not the war. Atask given to me by myAspect.AndIcan’trunfromit,thoughIwantto.Whenit’sdone,ourdreamswill beourown.”

She pressed closer, herlips touching his ear,whispering.“Youpromise?”

“I promise.” He meantit, with all his soul, andcouldn’t understand why itfeltlikealie.

The moment wasbrokenbya loudgrowl fromthe hallway. Janril Noren,voiceunnervedinthefaceoftheangryslavedog,calledtohimthroughthedoor.

Sherinputherhands toherlipstosuppressandlaughandshrank into thecoversasVaelin reached for his trews.“What is it?” he demanded,pullingthedooropen.

“There’s an Alpiran atthe gates demanding youcome and fight him, mylord.” Janril’s eyes slid fromVaelin’s face to snatch aglance at the room beyond,before fixing on the still

growling Scratch. “CaptainAnteshofferedtofeatherhimbut Brother Caenis thoughtyoumightwanthimalive.”

“What does he looklike,thisAlpiran?”

“Big fellow, greyinghair. Dressed like one ofthose horsemenwe fought atthe beach. Seems in a badway, having a hard timestaying in the saddle. ToolonginthedesertIthink.”

“Howmanywithhim?”“None, my lord. He’s

all alone if you can believesuchathing.”

“TellBrotherFrentistomuster the scout troop andinformBrotherCaenis I’llbetheredirectly.”

“Mylord.”Heclosed thedoorand

begantodress.“Areyougoingtofight

him?” Sherin asked,

emergingfromthecovers.“You know I’m not.”

He pulled his shirt on andleaned over to kiss her. “Ineedyoutodosomethingforme.”

Captain Neliesen

NesterHevrensatslumpedinhis saddle, a desolate fatiguemarring his unshaven face.However, as thegates swungopen and he caught sight of

Vaelin, his evidentexhaustion was replaced bygrimsatisfaction.

“Found the courage toface me, Northman?” hecalledasVaelinapproached.

“I had no choice, mymenwere starting to lose allrespect for me.” He lookedbeyond the captain at theempty desert. “Where’s yourarmy?”

“Fools led by a

coward!” Hevren spat. “Nostomach for what needed tobe done here. Gods curseEveren, desert-born scum.The Emperor will take hishead.”HefixedVaelinwithastareofpureunbridledhatred.“But I’ll have yours first,Hope-killer.”

Vaelin inclined hishead. “As you wish. Care todismount or do you want itsaid you had an unfair

advantage?”“I need no advantage.”

Hevren slid from his saddlewith difficulty, desert sandshifting from his clothes, hishorsegivingasnortofrelief.Vaelin surmised he had beenin the saddle for days andnotedhowhislegssaggedfora moment before hestraightened.

“Here.”Heunslung thecanteen on his shoulder,

removingthecapandtakingadrink. “Quench your thirst,lest people say I had theadvantage.” He replaced thecapandtossedthecanteentoHevren.

“I need nothing fromyou,”Hevrensaid,butVaelinsawhowhishandshookasitheldthecanteen.

“Then stay here androt,”hereplied,turningtogo.

“Wait!” Hevren

uncapped the canteen anddrank, gulping down thewateruntilitwasempty,thentossing it aside. “No moretalk, Hope Killer.” He drewhis sabre, plantinghis feet ina fighting stance, flicking asuddenrushofsweatfromhisbrow.

“I’m sorry, Captain,”Vaelin told him. “Sorry forthe Hope, sorry we camehere, sorry I can’t give you

thedeathyouhungerfor.”“I said no more talk!”

Hevren took a step forward,sabre drawing back for athrust, then stopped, blinkingin confusion, eyes suddenlyunfocused.

“Two parts valerian,one part crown root and apinch of camomile to maskthetaste.”Vaelinheldupthecanteen cap he had switchedfor the one containing

Sherin’s sleeping draught.“Sorry.”

“You…” Hevrenstumbledforwardafewstepsbefore collapsing. “No!” hegrunted,desperately trying toheave himself upright.“No…” He thrashed for awhilelongerthenlaystill.

Vaelin called to theNilsaelin soldiers manningthe gate. “Find himsomewhere comfortable but

secure, and make sure youtakeallhisweapons.”

Frentisarrivedwith thescout troop, reining inbeneath the arch of thegatehouse. “Couldn’t havebeen much of a fight,” heobserved as the Nilsaelinscarried off Hevren’sunconsciousform.

“I’ve taken enoughfrom him,” Vaelin replied.“Hisarmy’snowhereinsight.

Circle out to thewest, see ifyoucanpickuptheirtrail.”

“You think they’remakingforUntesh?”

“EitherthereorbacktoMarbellis. Stay out for oneday only, and take nochances. If you’re spotted,ridebacktothecity.”

Frentis nodded andspurredhishorseforward,thescout troop following closebehind.Vaelinwatched them

ride towards the west andtriedtoignorethefainttrillofuneasefromtheblood-song.

Night came with no

sign of Frentis. He waitedatop the gatehouse, gazingout at the desert, marvellingagain at the clearness of thesky here, the vast array ofstars shimmering above thenightblacksands.

“You worry about

him.” Sherin appeared at hisside, her fingers brieflytouchingthebackofhishandbefore she folded her armsbeneathherrobe.

“He’s my brother,” hereplied. “The captain stillsleeps?”

“Like a child. He’s aswell as aman could be afterdays in the desert with littlewater.”

“Don’t get too close to

himwhenhewakes, he’ll beangry.”

“He hates you verymuch.”Her voicewas heavywith regret. “They all do,these people, despite whatyoudidforthem…”

“Ikilledtheheirtotheirempireandbroughta foreignarmy to their city. For all Iknow theRedHand too. Letthemhavetheirhate,Iearnedit.”

She moved closer,casting a wary glance at theguard nearby who seemedmore preoccupied with thegrit under his fingernails.“Themasonhealswellbuthissleep is troubled, his burnsstill cause him pain. I dull itasbestIcanbutstillherantsin his dreams, speakinglanguages I’ve never heardforthemostpart,butsomeinour tongue.” Her gaze was

intent,questing.“Someofthethingshesays…”

He raised an eyebrow.“Whatdoeshesay?”

“He talks of a song, ofsingers, of a living wolffashioned from stone, of avile and deadly woman, andhe talks of you, Vaelin.Maybe it’s just nonsense,delusionsanddreamsbornofdrugsandpain,buttheyscareme.Andyouknow,Iamnot

easilyscared.”He put his arm around

her shoulders and pulled herclose, ignoring her glance ofalarm at the guard. “Whatdoes it matter, now?” heasked.

“Your position, yourrolehere.”

“Let them mutiny,depose me if they like.” Hehad raised his voice so theguard could hear, although

the man was now intenselyinterested in lookinganywhere but at him. If hewas any judge of soldierlygossip, it would be all overthe barracks bymorning. Hefoundhecouldn’tcareajot.

“Stopit.”Sheshruggedfreeofhim,flusteredbutalsosuppressingalaugh.

The guard cleared histhroat and Vaelin turned tofind him pointing out at the

desert. “Troop returning, mylord.”

The gates swung opento allow the scout troop toenter at a weary trot, Vaelininstantly alarmed that Frentiswas not among them. “TheAlpiranhostwaslessthantenmiles from Untesh when wefound it,my lord,”explainedSergeant Halkin, Frentis’ssecondincommand.“BrotherFrentis elected to ride ahead

and warn Prince Malcius ofthe danger.He ordered us toreturn here to bring word toyou.”

Vaelin briefly claspedSherin’s hand and strode offtowards the stables, callingover his shoulder. “FetchBrother Barkus and BrotherCaenis!”

Chapter10“Well, that’s that,”

Barkussaid.“Clever,” Caenis

murmured. “We didn’t givethisAlpiran enough credit, itseems.”

A thick column ofsmoke rose from the city ofUntesh to stain the morningsky. Hundreds of corpseslittered thegroundbefore the

walls where scaling laddersreacheduptothebattlementslike stacked kindling.Through the smoke Vaelincouldseeastandardsnappingin the breeze, crossed sabresofblackonaredbackground,thesamestandardhehadseenat the oasis. The AlpiranBattle Lord had eschewedsiege for an all out assault,accepting dreadful losses toreclaim the city for the

emperor. Untesh had fallen.Prince Malcius and Frentisweredeadorcaptured.

Iamamurderer…“We should keep this

from the men,” Caenis said.“Theeffectonmorale…”

“No,”Vaelinsaid.“Wetell them the truth. Theyknow I won’t lie to them.Trust is more important thanfear.”

“He could’ve made it

out,” Barkus suggested,although his tone lackedconviction. “Got to a ship,maybe.”

Vaelin closed his eyes,trying to calm his thoughts,attempting to cast the blood-songforthashehadwhenhelostDentos in the sandstorm.The note was even,unwavering, and found noanswer. “He’s not there,” hewhispered, hope surging in

hisbreast.Hehadentertaineda half-mad notion of waitinguntil darkness then finding away over thewalls to searchfor Frentis amidst theaftermath of the battle,although he was fully awarethe most likely outcomewouldbeaswiftdeath.But ifhe’snothere,thenwhere?Hewouldn’t have deserted theprince.

“Outriders,” Caenis

said, pointing to the plainbefore the citywhere a bodyof horsemen was raising athick cloud of dust as theygalloped towards theirposition.

“Can’t be more than adozen.”Barkusunhitchedhisaxe from his saddle andunfastened the leather coveron the blades. “A littlerecompense, for the princeandourbrother.”

“Leave it.” VaelinpulledonSpit’sreins,turninghim away from the city.“Let’sgo.”

Another month passed

as theywaited for the storm.He trained the men hard,drilling them until theysagged with exhaustion,ensuring each man knew hisplaceonthewallsandwasfitandskilfulenough toat least

survive thefirstassaultwhenit came.He sensed their fearand growing resentment buthadnoanswer to itbutmoretraining and sternerdiscipline. To his surprise,theirmingledfearandrespectheld true and there were nodesertions, even after Barkusreturned from areconnaissance to Marbelliswith news that it too hadfallen.

“Place is near a ruin,”the big brother related,swinging down from hishorse.“Wallsbreachedinsixplaces, half the houseswrecked by fire and I lostcountoftheAlpiranscampedoutside.”

“Prisoners?” Vaelinasked.

His brother’s usuallycheerful visage was entirelygrim. “There were spikes on

thewalls,lotsofspikes,eachone topped with a head. Ifthey spared anyone, I didn’tseethem.”

The Battle Lord…Alucius…MasterSollis…

“Whatfoolsweweretolet the old bastard send ushere,”Barkuswassaying.

“Get some restbrother,”Vaelintoldhim.

At night Sherin wouldcome to him and theywould

make love, finding blessedrelief in intimacy, lyingcoiled together in the darkafterwards. Sometimes shewouldcrysmall,jerkingsobsshe tried tohide.“Don’t,”hewould whisper. “All be oversoon.”

After a while her sobswouldsubsideandshewouldclingtohim,lipscoveringhisface with a desperateurgency.She,likeeveryother

soul in the city, knew whatwas coming. The Alpiranswould break over the wallslikeawaveandheandeveryother Realm subject in armswoulddiehere.

“We can go,” she saidone night, imploring. “Thereare still ships in the harbour.Wecanjustsailaway.”

His hand traced overher smooth brow, the finecurve of her cheek and the

elegant line of her chin. Itwas wonderful to touch herface, to feel her shiver at histouch before a warm flushcrept over her skin.“Remembermy promise,mylove,” he said, thumbing atearfromhereye.

He was touring thewalls thenextmorningwhenCaenis came with word ofRealm vessels approachingtheharbour.“Howmany?”

“Near forty.” Hisbrother appeared unsurprisedby the turn of events. Theideathatthekingwouldleavethem to whither unsupportedseemed not to have occurredto him at all. “We’re to bereinforced.”

“There has been talk,”

Caenissaidastheywaitedonthe quayside watching thefirst ship steer its way past

themoleandintotheharbour.His tone was uncomfortablebutdetermined.“AboutSisterSherin.”

Vaelinshrugged.“Wellthere might. We’ve hardlybeendiscrete.”HeglancedatCaenis,regrettinghislevityinthe face of his brother’sdiscomfort. “I love her,brother.”

Caenis avoided hisgaze, his tone heavy.

“According to the tenets ofthe Faith you aren’t mybrothernow.”

“Excellent. Feel free todeposeme. I’ll happily handthiscityovertoyou…”

“Your position as LordMarshalof theRegimentandcommander of this garrisonwas given you by the King,not the Order. I have nopower to depose you. All Ican do is report your…

transgression to the Aspectforjudgement.”

“IfIlivetobejudged.”Caenis gestured at the

approaching ship. “We’rebeing reinforced. The Kinghasnotfailedus.Ithinkwe’llallliveawhileyet.”

In the distance Vaelincouldsee therestof thefleetbobbing sluggishly on theswell.Whydotheylingeroutthere? he wondered, a

realisation dawning as theship drew nearer and he sawhow high it sat in thewater.This vessel carried noreinforcements.

Sailors threw ropes tosoldiers on the quay as theship tied up to the dock, agangplank quickly heavedover the railing. He hadexpected some senior RealmGuard Marshal to descendand was surprised by the

appearanceofafigurecladinthe expensive garb of Realmnobility making an uncertainpassagefromshiptoshore.IttookamomentbeforeVaelinpulled the man’s name fromhis memory, Kelden AlTelnar, one time Minister ofRoyal Works. The manfollowing Al Telnar wasmoretoVaelin’sexpectation,tall and simply dressed in arobeofblueandwhitewitha

neatly trimmed beard andmahoganydarkskin.

“Lord Vaelin,” AlTelnarbowedasVaelincameforwardtogreetthem.

“MyLord.”“May I present Lord

MerulinNesterVelsus,GrandProsecutor of the AlpiranEmpire currently acting asAmbassador to the Court ofKingJanus.”

Vaelin gave the tall

manabow.“Prosecutor,eh?”“A poor translation,”

MerulinNesterVelsusrepliedinnear-perfectRealmtongue,his tone cool and his eyestracking over Vaelin withpredatory scrutiny. “Moreaccurately, I am theInstrument of the Emperor’sJustice.”

Vaelinwasn’tsurewhyhe started laughing, but ittook a long time to subside.

Eventually he sobered andturnedtoAlTelnar.“Itakeityou have a Royal order forme?”

“These orders are clear

to you, my lord?” Al Telnarwasnervous,afaintsheenofsweat on his upper lip, hishandsclaspedtightlytogetheron the table before him. Buthisclear satisfactionatbeinginvolvedinamomentofsuch

importance appeared tooverride any trepidation hemight have harboured aboutdelivering these orders tosuch a famously dangerousman.

Vaelin nodded. “Quiteclear.” They were in thecouncil chamber at themerchant’s guild, the tallAlpiranGrandProsecutor theonlyotheroccupant.Thelackof witnesses had peeved Al

Telnar, making him enquireas to the whereabouts of ascribe to record theproceedings. Vaelin hadn’tbotheredtoanswer.

“IhavetheKing’swordin writing,” Al Telnarproduced a leather satcheland extracted a sheaf ofpapersbearing theroyalseal.“Ifyouwouldcareto…”

Vaelin shook his head.“I hear the King is unwell.

Didhegiveyou theseordershimself?”

“Well, no. PrincessLyrna has been appointedChamberlain, until such timeas the King recovers ofcourse.”

“Buthis illnessdoesn’tpreventhimissuingorders?”

“Princess Lyrna struckme as a very conscientiousand dutiful daughter,” LordVelsus put in. “If it is any

consolation, I discerned aconsiderablereluctanceinherbearing when she reportedherfather’sword.”

Vaelin found himselfunable tosuppressachuckle.“Ever played Keschet, mylord?”

Velsus narrowed hiseyes,hislipscurlinginangerand he leaned across thetable. “I do not understandyour meaning, you ignorant

savage. Nor do I care to.Your king has given hisword,willyouabideby itornot?”

“Erm,” Al Telnarcleared his throat. “PrincessLyrna did askme to pass onword of your father, mylord.” He balked at theintensity of the gaze Vaelinturned on him but forgedahead valiantly. “It seems hetoo is unwell, the various

maladies of age, I’m told.Although she wished toassure you she does all shecantosustainhim.Andhopestocontinuetodoso.”

“Doyouknowwhyshechose you,my lord?”Vaelinaskedhim.

“I assumed sherecognisedthegoodserviceIhaveprovided…”

“ShechoseyoubecauseitwillbenolosstotheRealm

ifIkillyou.”HeturnedtotheAlpiran.“Waitoutside.IhavebusinesswithLordVelsus.”

Alonewith theAlpiranGrand Prosecutor he couldfeeltheman’shatredlikefire,hiseyeswerealivewithit.AlTelnarmayhave relished theimportofthemoment,buthecould see Lord Velsus carednothing for history, onlyjustice.Orwasitvengeance?

“I’mtoldhewasagood

man,”hesaid.“TheHope.”Velsus’s eyes flashed

andhisvoicewasahardrasp.“Youcouldneverunderstandthegreatnessof themanyoukilled, the enormity of whatyoutookfromus.”

He remembered theclumsy charge of theman inthe white armour, the blinddisregard for his own safetyas he sped towards death.Had that been greatness?

Courage certainly, unless theman had expected the fabledfavour of the gods to protecthim. In any case, the frenzyof battle left little room foradmiration or reflection. TheHope had been just anotherenemy in need of killing.Heregretteditbutcouldstillfindno room for guilt in thememory, and the blood-songhad ever been silent on thesubject.

“I began this war withfour brothers,” he toldVelsus.“Nowoneisdeadandthe other lost to themists ofbattle. The two thatremain…” His voice faded.Thetwothatremain…

“Icarenothingforyourbrothers,” Velsus replied.“The Emperor’s mercy is agreat agony to me. If it waswithin my gift I would seeyour entire army flayed and

driven into the desert as afeastforthevultures.”

Vaelin met his gazesquarely. “If there is theslightest attempt to interferewith the safe passage of mymen…”

“The Emperor’s wordhas been given, written andwitnessed. It cannot bebroken.”

“To do so would beagainstthegods’will?”

“No,thelaw.WeareanEmpireoflaws,savage.Lawsthatbindeven thegreatestofus. The Emperor’s Word isgiven.”

“Then it seems I haveno choice but to trust it. Irequest it be noted thatGovernor Aruan gave noassistance to my forcesduring our tenure here. Hehas remained a loyal servantoftheEmperorthroughout.”

“The Governor willgive his own testimony, I’msure.”

Vaelin nodded. “Verywell.”Herosefromthetable.“Tomorrow at dawn then, amilesouthofthemaingate.Iassume there are someAlpiran forces nearbyawaitingyourword. Itwouldbebest ifyouspent thenightwiththem.”

“If you think I will

allow you out of my sightuntil…”

“Do you want me toflogyou from thiscity?”Histone was mild but he knewthe Alpiran could hear itssincerity.

Velsus’s featuresquivered with a mixture offuryand fear. “Doyouknowwhat awaits you, savage?Whenyouaremine…”

“I have to trust your

Emperor’sword.You’llhaveto trustmine.”Vaelin turnedto the door. “There is aCaptainoftheImperialGuardinourcustody.I’llaskhimtoact as your escort. Please beout of the city within thehour. And feel free to takeLordAlTelnarwithyou.”

He had the men

assembledinthemainsquare,Renfaelin knights and

squires, Cumbraelin archers,Nilsaelins and Realm Guardall drawn up in ranksawaitinghisword.Hisdislikeof speech-making was stillundimmed and he saw littlepointinpreamble.

“The war is over!” hetold them, standing atop acart and casting his voicetowardstherearrankssotheyall heard clearly. “HisHighnessKingJanusagreeda

treaty with the AlpiranEmperorthreeweeksago.Weare ordered to quit the cityand return to the Realm.Shipsarenowberthingintheharbourtotakeushome.Youwill proceed to the docks incompanies, taking only yourpacks and weapons. NoAlpiran property is to beremoved on pain ofexecution.” He scanned theranks briefly. There were no

cheers, no rejoicing, justsurprised relief on nearlyevery face. “On behalf ofKing Janus, I thank you foryour service. Stand at easeandawaitorders.”

“It’s really over?”Barkus asked as he steppeddownfromthecart.

“All over,” he assuredhim.

“What made the oldfoolgiveitup?”

“Prince Malcius liesdead in Untesh, the bulk ofthe army was destroyed atMarbellis and trouble brewsin the Realm. I assume hewants topreserveasmuchofhisarmyashecan.”

He noticed Caenisstanding nearby, possibly theonly man not joining hisvoicetothemassedbabbleofrelief. His brother’s slenderface showed a mix of

mystification andwhat couldonlybedescribedasgrief.“Itseems there’s to be noGreater Unified Realm,brother,”hesaid,keepinghistonegentle.

Caenis’s gaze wasdistant, as if deep in shock.“Hedoesnotmakemistakes,”he said softly. “He nevermakesmistakes…”

“We’re going home!”Vaelin laid hands on his

shoulders, giving him ashake.“You’llbebackat theOrder House in a couple ofweeks.”

“Bugger the OrderHouse,”Barkus said. “I’ll bemaking for the nearestdockside tavern where Iintendtostayuntilthiswholebloody farce has become abaddream.”

Vaelin clasped handswiththemboth.“Caenis,your

company will take the firstship.Barkus,takethesecond.I’ll keep orderwhile the restofthemenembark.”

LordAlTelnaroptedto

takethefirstshiphomeratherthan wait for the climax ofthis moment in history, hisface stiff with resentmentwhen Vaelin delayed him atthe gangplank. “Tell mybrother nothing of the treaty

until you reach the Realm.”He glanced over at whereCaenis stood on the prow ofthe ship, his bearing still soforlorn. They had all lostmorethantheyshouldinthiswar,friendsandbrothers,butCaenis had lost his delusion,his dream of Janus’sgreatness.Hewonderedifhisdesolationwould turn tohatewhenheheardthefulldetailsofthetreaty.

“As you wish,” AlTelnar replied shortly.“Anything further, my lord,ormayIdepart?”

He felt he should givehim some message forPrincess Lyrna but found hehad nothing to say. As hecould feel no guilt overkilling the Hope he wassurprised to discover he alsohad no more anger towardsher.

HestoodasidetoletAlTelnar board and waved toCaenis as the gangplankwashauled aboard and the shipbegan to pull away from thequay.Caenisansweredwithabrief and distracted wave ofhisownbefore turningaway.“Goodbye brother,” Vaelinwhispered.

Barkuswas next to go,urginghismenaboardwithahearty bluster that failed to

mask the haunted look hiseyes had taken on since hisreturnfromMarbellis.“Comeon, step faster you lot.Whores and inn keeperswon’t wait forever.” Hismask almost slippedcompletely when Vaelinapproached, his face tense ashe fought to suppress tears.“You’re not coming areyou?”

Vaelin smiled and

shook his head. “I can’t,brother.”

“SisterSherin?”He nodded. “There’s a

shipwaiting to takeus to theFarWest.AhmLinknowsofa quiet corner of the worldwherewecanliveinpeace.”

“Peace. Wonder whatthat’s like. Think you’ll likeit?”

Vaelinlaughed.“Ihaveno idea.” He extended his

handbutBarkusignoredittoenfold him in a crushingembrace.

“Any message for theAspect?” he asked, steppingback.

“OnlythatI’vedecidedto leave the Order. He cankeepthecoins.”

Barkus nodded, heftedhishateful axe and strodeupthe gangplank without abackward glance. He stood

unmovingon the foredeckastheshippulledaway,likeoneofAhmLin’sstatues,agreatand noble warrior frozen instone. Vaelin would alwaysprefertothinkofhimlikethisintheyearsthatfollowed.

He stayed on the quaytowatchthemallleave,LordAl Trendil hounding hisregimentontotheshipswithaflurry of waspish insults,offering Vaelin the most

cursory of bows beforeboarding. It seemed he hadnever quite forgiven him fortaking away the chance ofprofitingfromthewar.CountMarven’s Nilsaelinsscrambled aboard the shipswith unabashed eagerness, afew calling jocular farewellstoVaelinastheysailedaway.The Count himself seemedunusually cheerful, now allchance of glory had

evaporated it seemed he hadnomore cause for enmity. “Ilostmorementobrawlsthanto battle,” he said, offeringVaelinhishand.“ForwhichIthink my fief owes you itsthanks,mylord.”

Vaelin shook his hand.“Whatwillyoudonow?”

Marven shrugged. “Goback to hunting outlaws andwaitforthenextwar.”

“You’ll forgiveme if I

hopeyouhavealongwait.”The Count grunted a

laugh and strolled onto hisship, accepting a bottle ofwinefromhismenwhosangheartily as the ship drewaway,

“Desert winds blow

hardatmeTill we reach the

shiningsea.Andborneawayacross

thewavesMy lover’s life I’ll sail

tosave.”Baron Banders and his

knights laboured onto theships under the weight oftheir disassembled armour.Of all the contingents theirmoodwas themost varied, afewweepingopenlyover theloss of the great warhorseswhich had had to be left

behind, others clearly drunkandlaughinguproariously.

“Asorryspectacle theymake without armour andhorses, eh?” Banders asked,his own faux-rusted platebalanced on the shoulders ofan unfortunate squire whostumbledseveraltimesbeforesuccessfully heaving it ontotheship.

“They’re fine men,”Vaelin told him. “Without

them this city would havefallen and therewould be nohomecomingforanyofus.”

“True enough. Whenyou return to the Realm Ihopeyou’ll visitme.Alwaysafulltableinmymanor.”

“I shall, and gladly.”He shook the Baron’s hand.“YoushouldknowAlTelnarbrought details of events atMarbellis.ItseemstheBattleLord and a few others

managedtofighttheirwaytothedockswhenthewallsfell.About fifty men managed toescape in all, Fief LordTheros was not among thembuthissonwas.”

TheBaron’s laughwasharsh and his face grim.“Verminalwaysfindawaytosurvive,itseems.”

“Forgive me, Baron,but what happened atMarbellis to cause the Fief

Lord todismissyou?You’venevertoldme.”

“When we finallyfought our way in theslaughterwasterrible,andnotconfined to Alpiran soldiery.Women and children…” Heclosed his eyes and sighedheavily. “I foundDarnel andtwo of his knights raping agirl next to thebodies of herparents. She couldn’t havebeen more than thirteen. I

killedthetwoothersandwastrying to geld Darnel whentheFiefLord’smace laidmelow. ‘He’s scum, rightenough,’ he toldme the nextday. ‘But he’s also the onlysonIhave.’Sohesentmetoyou.”

“Haveacarewhenyoureturn to your lands. LordDarneldoesn’tstrikemeasaforgivingsoul.”

Banders replied with a

grim smile, “Neither am I,brother.”

Sergeants Krelnik,Gallis and JanrilNorenwerethelastoftheWolfrunnerstoleave. He shook hands witheach of them and thankedthem for their service. “It’sbeen less than ten years,” hetoldGallis. “But if youwishtobereleased,itiswithinmydiscretion.”

“We’ll see you in the

Realm, My Lord!” Gallissaid, snapping off animpeccable salute andmarching onto the ship,quickly followed by KrelnikandNoren.

TheCumbraelinarcherswere the last contingent ontothe ships. He had offered toplace them ahead of theRenfaelins for fear theymaysuspect some perfidiousDarkblade plot to abandon

them to the Alpirans, butBren Antesh had surprisedhim by insisting they waituntil all others had gone.Hesupposed there was apossibilityofambush,hewasalone with a thousand menwhosawhimasanenemyoftheirgodafterall,buttheyalltrooped onto the shipswithout trouble, most eitherignoringhimorofferingnodsofwaryrespect.

“They’re grateful fortheir lives,” Antesh said,reading his expression. “Butthey’ll be dammed if they’llsay it.So Iwill.”Hebowed,Vaelin realising it was thefirsttimehehaddoneso.

“You’re welcome,Captain.”

Antesh straightened,glanced at the waiting shipand then back at Vaelin.“This is the last ship, my

lord.”“Iknow.”Antesh raised his

eyebrows as realisationdawned.“Youdon’tintendtoreturntotheRealm.”

“I have businesselsewhere.”

“You shouldn’t lingerhere.Allthesepeoplehavetoofferyouisanuglydeath.”

“Isthatwhathappenstothe Darkblade in the

prophecy?”“Hardly.He is seduced

by a sorceress who makesherself a queen with thepowertoconjurefirefromtheair. Together they wreakterrible ruin on the worlduntilherfireconsumeshiminthe throes of their sinfulpassion.”

“Well, at least I havethat to look forward to.” Hereturned Antesh’s bow.

“Lucktoyou,Captain.”“I have something to

tell you,” Antesh said, hisnormally placid featuressombre. “I did not alwayscarry thenameAntesh.OnceI had another name, one youknow.”

Theblood-songsurged,not inwarning,but clear andstrident triumph. “Tell me,”hesaid.

Ahm-Lin’s burns hadhealed well but his scarswould linger for the rest ofhis life. A large patch ofpuckered, discoloured tissuemarred the right side of hisface from cheek to neck andsimilarly ugly scars werevisibleonhisarmsandchest.Despite this he appeared asaffable as ever, although hissadnessatwhatVaelinaskedofhimwasobvious.

“Shehaspreservedme,cared for me,” he said. “Todosuchathing…”

“Wouldyoudoanylessforyourwife?”Vaelinasked.

“I would follow mysong,brother.Areyou?”

He recalled the pure,triumphantnoteoftheblood-song as he had listened towhat Antesh had to say.“More closely than I everhave before.” He met the

mason’s gaze. “Will you dothisthingIask?”

“Itseemsoursongsarein agreement, so I have littlechoice.”

Sherin knocked at thedoor and entered bearing abowl of soup. “He needs toeat,” she said, placing thebowlnexttothemason’sbedand turning to Vaelin. “Andyouneedtohelpmepack.”

Vaelin touched Ahm

Lin briefly on the hand byway of thanks and followedher from the room. She hadtakenoverSisterGilma’soldquarters in the basement ofthe Guild House and wasbusily sorting out which ofthemyriad bottles and boxesof curatives to takewith her.“I’ve managed to procure asmall chest for your things,”she told him, moving to ashelf where her hand traced

along the line of bottles,picking out some, leavingothers.

“I only have these,” hereplied, takingabundle fromhis cloak and handing it toher, the wooden blocksFrentis had brought himwrappedinSella’sscarf.“Notmuchofadowry,Iknow.”

She gently undid thescarf, fingers pausing to playover the intricate design.

“Very fine. Where did youcomebythis?”

“Agiftofthanksfromabeautifulmaiden.”

“ShouldIbejealous?”“Hardly. She’s half a

world away and, I suspect,married to a handsomeblonde fellow we used toknow.”

Sherinpulledtheblocksapart.“Winterbloom.”

“Frommysister.”

“You have a sister? Ablood-sister?”

“Yes. I only met heronce.Wespokeofflowers.”

Shereachedtoclasphishand summoning anoverpoweringneedforher,sofierce and powerful as toalmostmakehimforgetwhathe had asked of Ahm Lin,forgettheAspect,thewar,thewhole sorry blood-soakedtale.Almost.

“Governor Aruan isarranging the ship, but wehave hours yet,” he said,movingtothetablewheresheprepared her concoctions,sitting down to unstopper abottle of wine. “Quitepossibly the last bottle ofCumbraelin red left in thecity. Will you drink with aformer Lord Marshal of theThirty-Fifth Regiment ofFoot,SwordoftheRealmand

brotheroftheSixthOrder?”Shearchedaneyebrow.

“Have I saddledmyself withadrunkard,Iwonder?”

He reached for twocupsandpouredameasureofred in each. “Just have adrink,woman.”

“Yesmylord,”shesaidin mock servility, sittingopposite and reaching for acup.“Didyoutellthem?”

“Just Barkus. The

othersthinkI’mfollowingonthelastship.”

“Wecouldstillgoback.Withthewarover…”

“There’s no place foryou there, now. You said soyourself.”

“But you’re losing somuch.”

He reached across thetable and grasped her hand.“I’m losing nothing, andgainingeverything.”

She smiled and sippedher wine. “And the task theAspect set you, is itcomplete?”

“Notquite.Bythetimeweleavehereitwillbe.”

“Canyou tellmenow?Am I finally allowed toknow?”

He squeezed her hand.“Idon’tseewhynot.”

It had been cold that

day, colder than usual evenfor Weslin. Aspect Arlynstood at the edge of thepractice field watchingMaster Haunlin teach thestaff to a group of novicebrothers.Vaelin judged themas third year survivors fromtheirageandthecomparativesmallnessofthegroup.Inthedistance madMaster Rensialwas trying to ride downanother group of boys, his

shrill tones carrying well inthechillair.

“Brother Vaelin,” theAspectgreetedhim.

“Aspect. I requestlodging for the Thirty-FifthRegiment of Foot during thewinter months.” At theAspect’s insistence it hadbecomearitualbetweenthemto formally request lodgingevery time the regimentreturned to theOrderHouse,

recognition of the fact that,funding and equipmentnotwithstanding, it remainedapartoftheRealmGuard.

“Granted. How wasNilsael?”

“Cold, Aspect.” Theyhad spent the better part ofthreemonthsontheNilsaelinborder with Cumbreael,hunting a particularly savageand fanatical band of godworshippers calling

themselves the Sons of theTrueblade. One of their lesssavoury habits was theabduction and forcibleconversion of Nilsaelinchildren,many ofwhomhadbeen subjected various formsof abuse to force theiradherence, some killedoutright when they provedtoo intractable ortroublesome. The pursuitthrough the hill country and

valleys of southern Nilsaelhad been difficult but theregimenthadharriedthebandwith such ferocity they weredowntobarelythirtymenbythe time they were corneredin a deep gulley. Theyimmediately killed theirremaining captives, a brotherand sister of eight and ninestolen from a Nilsaelinfarmhouseafewdaysbefore,then loosed arrows at the

Wolfrunners whilst singingprayers to their god. Vaelinleft it to Dentos and hisarcherstowipethemouttoaman, something he foundtroubledhisconsciencenotatall.

“Casualties?” theAspectenquired.

“Four dead, teninjured.”

“Regrettable.Andwhatdid you learn about these,

what was it, Sons of theTrueblade?”

“They consideredthemselves followers ofHentes Mustor, believed bymanyCumbraelinstoembodythe prophesied TruebladefromtheirFifthbook.”

“Ah, yes. Apparentlythere is an eleventh bookbeing touted aroundCumbrael, The Book of theTrueblade, telling the tale of

the usurper’s life andmartyrdom. The Cumbraelinbishopshavecondemneditasheretical but many of theirfollowers are clamouring toread it. It’s always the waywithsuchthings,burnabookand the ashes spawn athousand copies. It seems bykilling one lunatic we havegrownanotherbranchtotheirchurch. Ironic, don’t youthink?”

“Very, Aspect.” Hehesitated, gathering strengthforwhathehadtosay,butasevertheAspectwasaheadofhim.

“King Janus wants mysupportforhiswar.”

Does anything eversurprise you? Vaelinwondered.“Yes,Aspect.”

“Tell me, Vaelin, doyoubelieveAlpiranspieslurkin every alley way and bush

preparing the way for theirarmiestoinvadeourlands?”

“No,Aspect.”“And do you believe

Alpiran Deniers abduct ourchildren to defile inunspeakablegodworshippingrights?”

“No,Aspect.”“In that case do you

think that the future wealthand prosperity of this Realmis dependent on securing the

three principal Alpiran portsontheErineanSea?”

“Idonot,Aspect.”“And yet you come to

ask formysupportonbehalfoftheKing?”

“I come to ask forguidance. The King hasplaced my father and hisfamilyunderthreatinordertoensure my obedience, but Ifind I cannot preserve themwhilst thousands die in a

pointlesswar. Theremust besome way to steer the Kingaway from this course, somepressure that can be broughtagainsthim. If all theOrdersweretospeakasone...”

“The time when theOrders spoke as one is longpast. Aspect Tendris hungersforwaragainst theunfaithfullike an ale starved drunkardwhilst our brothers in theThird Order lose themselves

in their books andwatch theeventsoftheworldwithcolddetachment. The Fifth Orderby custom takes no part inpolitics and as for the Firstand Second, they considercommunion with their soulsandthesoulsoftheDepartedto take precedence over allearthlyconcerns.”

“Aspect, I am given tobelieve there is anotherOrder, with possibly more

power than all the otherscombined.”

Hewasexpectingsomeregisterofshockoralarm,butthe Aspect’s only expressionwasaslightlyraisedeyebrow.“I see this is the day allsecrets are to be revealed,brother.”Heclaspedhis longfingered hands together andconcealed them within hisrobe, turning and gesturingwith his head. “Come, walk

withme.”Frost crunched

underfoot as they walkedtogether in silence. From thepracticefieldcametheshoutsand grunts of pain andtriumph he remembered sowell. It made him ache withunexpected nostalgia, for allthe pain and the loss of hisyearswithinthesewallsithadbeen a simpler time, beforetheschemesofkingsand the

secrets of the Faith broughtdarkness and confusion intohislife.

“Howdidyoucomebythis knowledge?” the Aspectaskedeventually.

“I met a man in thenorth, a brother of an orderlongthoughttobeamythbytheFaithful.”

“He told you of theSeventhOrder?”

“Not without

persuasion and only up to apoint.Hedidconfirmthatthecontinued existence of theSeventh Order is a secretknown to all the Aspects.Although, given the recentrift with the Fourth Order Isuspect Aspect Tendrisremains in ignorance of thisinformation.”

“Indeedhedoes, and itis vital his ignorancecontinues. Wouldn’t you

agree?”“Certainly,Aspect.”“What doyouknowof

theSeventhOrder?”“That it is to the Dark

aswearetowarandtheFifthOrderistohealing.”

“Quiteso,althoughourbrothers and sisters in theSeventhOrderdonotrefertothe Dark. They regardthemselves as guardians andpractitioners of dangerous

and arcane knowledge,muchof which defies suchmundane concepts as namesorcategories.”

“And would they usesuchknowledgetoaidus?”

“Ofcourse,theyalwayshaveandcontinuetodosotothisday.”

“The man I met in thenorth spoke of a war withintheFaith, of somewithin theSeventh Order becoming

corruptedbytheirpower.”“Corrupted or deluded.

Whocansay?There ismuchthat remains known only tothe vanished years. What isclear is that members of theSeventh Order came topossess knowledge best lefthidden, that somehow theyreached into the Beyond andtouched something, somespiritorbeingof suchpowerandmalice that itcameclose

to destroying our Faith andtheRealmwithit.”

“Butitwasdefeated?”“Contained might be a

betterword.Butitlurkstherestill, in the Beyond, waitingand there are those called todo its bidding, plotting andkillingatitsinstruction.”

“The AspectMassacre.”

“Thatandmore.”Vaelin thought back to

his confrontation with OneEyebeneaththecity,ofwhathe had told Frentis as hecarvedthecomplexpatternofscarsintohischest.“TheOneWhoWaits.”

This time the Aspect’ssurprisewasclear.“Youhavebeenbusyhaven’tyou?”

“Whoishe?”The Aspect paused,

turning to regard theboysonthe practice field. “Perhaps

he’s Master Rensial, hisapparent madness all theseyears merely a cloak for histrue design. Or he’s MasterHaunlin who never did sayhowhecamebythoseburns.Or is he you, I wonder?”There was an unnervingintensitytotheAspect’sgazeasheturnedtoVaelin.“Whatbetterdisguisecouldtherebe,after all? Son of the BattleLord, courageous in all

things, apparently withoutflaw, loved by the Faithful.Whatbetterdisguiseindeed.”

Vaelin nodded. “Quite.Itwouldonlybesurpassedbyyou,Aspect.”

The Aspect blinkedslowly and turned away toresumehiswalk.“Mypointisthat he remains too wellhiddenandnodeviceoreffortby theSeventhOrderhasyetrevealed him. He could be a

brother of the Order or asoldier in yourRegiment.Oreven someone with noconnectiontotheOrderatall.The prophecies are vague onthemethodbut are clear thatit is the purpose of the OneWho Waits to destroy thisOrder.”

Vaelin frowned inpuzzlement. The concept ofprophecywasnotafeatureofthe Faith. Prophets and their

visions were the province offalse beliefs, of godworshippers and denierswhoclung to superstition theymistook for wisdom.“Prophecies,Aspect?”

“The One Who Waitswasforetoldtousmanyyearsago by the Seventh Order.There are some within theirranksthathavegiftofscryingthefuture,oratleasttheeverchanging clouds of shadow

that make up the future, sotheytellme.It israrefor thevisions produced by suchpeople to concur, for theshadows to coalesce into arecognisable whole, but theyall agreed on two things: wewill haveonlyone chance todiscover theOneWhoWaitsand if we fail to do so thenthis Order will fall, andwithoutthisOrdersofallstheFaithandtheRealm.”

“Butwehave a chancetostopit?”

“One chance, yes. Thelast brother to make aprophecyonthesubjectlivedover a century ago, it’s saidhe would slip into a tranceandwritehisvisionsinscriptmore precise and artful thanthemost skilled scribe in theland, even though he wasunable to readorwritewhenthe trancewasnotuponhim.

Shortly before he died hereachedoncemoreforhispenandleftashortpassage,‘Warwill unmask the One WhoWaitswhen a king sends hisarmytofightbeneathadesertsun. He’ll seek the death ofhis brother and mayhap findhisown.’”

The death of hisbrother...

“You survived twoattempts on your life whilst

still in training,” the Aspectwent on. “We believe bothwere carried out by those inservice to whatevermalignance lurks in theBeyond. For some reason itgreatlydesiresyourdeath.”

“If theOneWhoWaitsisconcealedwithintheOrder,whynotsimplyhavehimkillme?”

“Eitherbecausenosuchopportunity has yet arisen or

because todo sowouldhaverisked revealing his face andhe still has much to do. Butamidst the chaos of war,surroundedbysomuchdeath,hemaywelltakehischance.”

Vaelin felt a chill thatowednothingtotheicywindssweeping across the practicefield. “The king’swar is ourchance?”

“Ouronlychance.”“Foretold by a man

scribbling in a trance morethan a hundred years ago.YouarewillingtocommittheOrder towar on the basis ofthisalone?”

“After all you haveseen, all you have learned,canyou reallydoubt it?Thiswar will happen whether wesupportitornot.Thekinghassethiscourseandwillnotbedissuaded.”

“If it happens the

Realmcouldfallinanycase.”“Andifitdoesn’titwill

certainly fall. Not towarringfiefs once more but to utterruin, the earth scorched, theforests burned to cinder andall the people, Realm Folk,Seordah and Lonak dead.Whatelsewouldyouhaveusdo?”

“I couldn’t think of

anything to say,”Vaelin told

Sherin, his thumb tracingover the smooth skin of herhand. “He was right. It washorrible, terrible, but he wasright. He toldme this wouldbeawarunlikeanywehaveknown. A great sacrificewould be made. But I mustreturn. No matter howmanyof my men and my brothersfell, I must return to theRealm once I had completedmy task.As hewalked away

hetoldmeIremindedhimofmymother. Ioftenwonderedhowtheycametoknoweachother, now I suppose I’llneverfindout.”

Her head lay on thetable,eyesclosed,lipsparted,her hand still holding thewine cup he had given her.“Twopartsvalerian,onepartcrown root and a pinch ofcamomile tomask the taste,”he said, stroking her hair.

“Trynottohateme.”He dressed her in her

cloak, tucking the scarf andblocks in the folds, andcarried her to the harbour.She was light in his arms,fragile. Ahm Lin waited onthe quay next to a largemerchant vessel, his wifeShoalaclutchinghishand,herface tight with suppressedtears as she cast a forlorn

gaze of the city she wouldlikely never see again.Governor Aruan wasnegotiating with the vessel’scaptain, a stocky man fromthe Far West who grewalarmed at the sight ofVaelin. Perhaps he had beenone of the captains forced towatch theburning shipsafterthe sailor’s escape attempt,Vaelin couldn’t remember,but he quickly concluded his

haggling with the Governorand stomped off up thegangplank.

“The price is agreed,”the Governor told Ahm Lin.“They sail direct for theWest,firstportofcall…”

“It’s better if I don’tknow,”Vaelincutin.

AhmLincameforwardto take Sherin from him,lifting her easily in hismuscularmason’sarms.

“Tell her they killedme,” Vaelin said. “As theship pulled away from thedock the Emperor’s Guardarrivedandkilledme.”

The mason gave areluctant nod. “As the songwillsit,brother.”

“She could stay here,”Governor Aruan offered.“The city owes her a greatdebtafterall.Shewouldbeinnodanger.”

“Do you really thinkLord Velsus will share yourgratitude, Governor?” Vaelinaskedhim.

The Governor sighed.“Perhaps not.” He took aleather purse from his beltandhandedittoShoala.“Forher, when she wakes. Withmythanks.”

The woman nodded,cast a final hateful glare atVaelinthenatearfulglanceat

the city, before turning andstridingupthegangplank.

Vaelin reached out totrace his fingers throughSherin’s hair, trying to burntheimageofhersleepingfaceinto hismemory. “Take careofher,”hetoldAhmLin.

Ahm Lin smiled. “Mysong would have it no otherway.” He turned to go thenhesitated.“Mysongholdsnonote of farewell, brother. I

can’t help but think that oneday we’ll sing togetheragain.”

Vaelin nodded,stepping back as Ahm Lincarried Sherin onto the ship.He stood with the Governoras the shippulledaway fromthedock,ridingthetidetotheharbour mouth, sailsunfurling to catch thenortherly winds, taking heraway.Hewaitedandwatched

until the sail was a faintsmudge on the horizon, untilit had vanished completelyand there was only the seaandthewind.

Heunbuckledhisswordand held it out to Aruan.“Governor,thecityisyours.Iam commanded to wait forLord Velsus beyond thewalls.”

Aruan looked at thesword but made no move to

takeit.“Iwillspeakforyou,Ihave some influence at theEmperor’scourt.Heisfamedfor hismercy…”He falteredand stopped, perhaps hearingthe emptiness of his words.After a moment he spokeagain, “Thank you for mydaughter’slife,mylord.”

“Take it,” Vaelininsisted,againholdingoutthesword. “I’d rather you thanLordVelsus.”

“As you wish.” TheGovernor took the sword inhis plump hands. “Is therenothingIcandoforyou?”

“Actually, about mydog…”

Verniers’Account“And?”Al Sorna had fallen to

silenceafterrelatinghisfinalwordstotheGovernor.“Andwhat?”heenquired.

I bit down myexasperation. It wasbecoming increasinglyapparent that the Northmantook no small pleasure fromvexing me. “And what

followed?”“You know what

followed.Iwaitedoutsidethewalls, in the morning LordVelsus came with a troop ofImperial Guards to take meinto custody. Prince Malciuswas duly delivered to theRealmunharmed. Janus diedshortly after. Your historywasfulsomeinitsdescriptionof my trial. What else can Itellyou?”

I realisedhewas right,insofar as recorded historycould relate he had told methe entirety of his tale,providing a great deal ofpreviously unknowninformation and clarificationontheoriginsofthewarandthe nature of the Realm thathad spawned it. But I foundmyself possessed of aconviction that there wasmore, an unshakeable sense

thathistalewasincomplete.Irecalled moments when hisvoice had faltered, onlyslightly but enough to assuremehehadbeenholdingback,perhaps concealing truths hehad no desire to reveal.Looking at the wealth ofwords adorning the sheetsthat now covered the deckaround my bedroll my mooddarkened as I considered thework involved in verifying

this narrative, the extensiveresearch that would beneededtocorroboratesuchastory. Where is the truthamongstallthis?Iwondered.

“So,” I said, gatheringmy papers, taking care tokeep them in order. “This isthe answer to the war?Simply the folly of adesperateoldman?”

Al Sorna had settledonto his bedroll, hands

claspedbehindhishead,eyescast to the ceiling, hisexpression sombre anddistant. He yawned. “That’sall I can tell you, my lord.Now,ifyou’llallowmesomerest, I have to face certaindeath tomorrow and wouldprefer to meet it fullyrefreshed.”

I sifted through thepages, my quill picking outthose passages where I

suspected he had been lessthan forthcoming. To mydismay I found there weremorethanIwouldhaveliked,even a few contradictions."You said you nevermet heragain,” I said. “Yet you sayPrincess Lyrna was presentattheSummertideFairwhereJanus embroiled youhiswarmongeringscheme.”

He sighed, not turning.“We exchanged a cursory

greetingonly.Ididn’tthinkitworthmentioning.”

Adimmemorycame tome,a fragment frommyownresearches undertaken whilstpreparing my history of thewar. “What about themason?”

Itwas only the briefesthesitation but it told me agreatdeal.“Mason?”

“The mason at Lineshyou befriended. His house

wassetalightbecauseofit.ItwasawellknownstorywhenIresearchedyouroccupationof the city. Yet you make nomentionofhim.”

Herolledontohisbackand shrugged. “Hardly afriendship. I wanted him tocarve a statue of Janus forthe town square. Somethingto confirm his ownership ofthe city. Needless to say themason refused. Didn’t stop

someone burning his housedownthough.Ibelieveheandhiswifeleftthecitywhenthewarended,withgoodreasonitseems.”

“And the sister of yourfaith who stopped the redplague from ravaging thecity,”Ipressed,angriernow.“Whatofher?Thecity folkIinterviewedtoldmanytalesofher kindness and hercloseness to you. Some even

thoughtyouwerelovers.”He shook his head

wearily. “That is absurd. Asfor what became of her, Iassumed she returned to theRealmwiththearmy.”

He was lying, I wassure of it. “Why relate thistale if you have no intentionof telling me all of it?” Idemanded. “Do you seek tomake me a fool, HopeKiller?”

Al Sorna grunted alaugh. “A fool is any manwhodoesn’tthinkhe’safool.Letmesleep,mylord.”

In the twenty years

since its destruction theMeldeneans had madestrenuous efforts to rebuildtheir capital on a granderand more ornate scale,perhaps seeking defiance inarchitectural achievement.

Thecityclusteredaroundthewide natural harbour on thesouthern shore of Ildera, thelargest island in thearchipelago, a vista ofgleaming marble walls andred tiled rooftopsinterspersedwithtallcolumnshonouring the islanders’myriad sea gods. I had readhow Al Sorna’s equallyformidable father hadoverseen the toppling of the

columns when his armystormed ashore bringing fireand destruction. Survivorsspoke of Realm Guardurinatingonthefallenstatuesthat sat atop the columns,drunk on blood and victory,chanting “A god is lie!” asthecityburnedaroundthem.

If Al Sorna felt anyremorseatthedestructionhisfather had wrought he failedto show it, gazing at the fast

approaching city with onlythe faintest interest, hatefulswordinhand,ignoredbythesailors as he rested againstthe rail. It was a bright,cloudless day and the shipploughed easily through thestill waters with sails furled,the sailors hauling on theiroarsunderthebosun’sharshexhortations.

We exchanged nogreetingwhenIjoinedhimat

therail.Myheadstillbuzzedwith questions but my heartwas chilled by the certainknowledge that he wouldprovide no answers.Whatever purpose he hadpursuedintellingmehis talewas now fulfilled. He wouldtell me nothing more. I hadlainawakemostof thenight,my mind pouring over hisstory, seeking answers andfindingonlymorequestions.I

wonderedifhisintentionhadbeen to take some cruelrevenge for the harshcondemnationofhimandhispeople that had colourednearly every line of myhistory of the war, but,despite the fact that I couldnever feel any warmth forhim, I knewhewas not trulyvindictive. A deadly enemycertainly, but rarely avengefulone.

“Can you still usethat?” I asked eventually,tiringofthesilence.

He glanced at thesword in his hand. “We’llsoonsee.”

“Apparently,TheSheildisinsistingonafaircontest.Iexpect they’ll give you a fewdays to practice. So manyyears of inactivity wouldhardly make you the mostfearsomeopponent.”

His black eyes playedovermyface, faintlyamused.“What makes you think I’vebeeninactive?”

I shrugged. “What isthere to do in a cell for fiveyears?”

He turned back to thecity, his reply a vaguewhisper nearly lost to thewind.“Sing.”

All activity on the

docksidegraduallydiedawayas we tied up to the quay.Every stevedore, fisherman,sailor, fish-wife and whorestoppedwhattheyweredoingand turned to regard the sonof the City Burner. Thesilence was instantly thickand oppressive, even theconstant keening of theinnumerable gulls seemed tofade in an atmosphere nowheavy with an unspoken,

universal hatred. Only onefigure amongst the throngseemed immune to themood,a tall man standing armswideinwelcomeatthefootofthe gangplank, perfect teethgleaming in a broad smile.“Welcome, friends,welcome!” he called in rich,deepbaritone.

Itookinhisfullstatureas I descended to the quay,notingtheexpensivebluesilk

shirtthatcladhisbroad,leantorso and the gold-hiltedsabre at his belt. His hair,longandhoney-blond,trailedinthewindlikealion’smane.He was, quite simply, themost handsome man I hadever seen. Unlike Al Sorna,his appearance was entirelyin keeping with his legendand I knew his name beforehe told me, Atheran Ell-Nestra,ShieldoftheIsles,the

man the Hope Killer hadcometofight.

“Lord Verniers is itnot?” he greeted me, hishand engulfingmy own. “Anhonour, sir. Your historieshave pride of place of myshelves.”

“Thank you.” I turnedas Al Sorna made his waydown the gangplank.“This…”

“Is Vaelin Al Sorna,”

El-Nestra finished, bowingdeeply to the Hope Killer.“The tale of your deeds fliesbeforeyou,ofcourse…”

“Whendowefight?”AlSornacutin.

Ell-Nestra’s eyesnarrowedalittlebuthissmilenever wavered. “Three dayshence, my lord. If it suitsyou.”

“It doesn’t. I wish toconcludethisfarceasquickly

aspossible.”“I was under the

impressionthatyouhadbeenlanguishingat theEmperor’spleasure for the last fiveyears. Do you not requiretime to refresh your skills? Ishould feel dishonoured iffolk were to say I had tooeasyavictory.”

Watching themstareateach other, I was struck bythe contrast they made.

Although roughly equal instature, Ell-Nestra’smasculinebeautyandblazingsmile should have outshoneAl-Sorna’s stern, angularvisage. But there wassomething about the HopeKiller that defied theislander’s commandingpresence, an innate inabilitytobediminished.Iknewwhy,ofcourse,Icouldseeitinthefalse humour Ell-Nestra

painted on his face, the wayhiseyesscannedhisopponentfrom head to toe. The HopeKiller was the mostdangerousmanhewouldeverface,andheknewit.

“I can assure you,” AlSornasaid.“Noonewilleversayyouhadaneasyvictory.”

Ell-Nestra inclined hishead. “Tomorrow then,midday.” He gestured at agroup of armedmen nearby,

hard-eyed sailors festoonedwithavarietyofweapons,allglaring at the Hope Killerwith undisguised antipathy.“My crew will escort you toyour quarters. I advise younottolingerontheway.”

“Lady Emeren,” I saidas he made to walk away.“Whereisshe?”

“Comfortably situatedat my home. You’ll see hertomorrow.She sendsheryou

her warmest regards, ofcourse.”

It was a bald lie and Iwondered what she had toldhimaboutme andhow closewas their association. Couldit perhaps amount to morethan just a conveniencebetweentwovengefulsouls?

Our quarters were asoot blackened building nearthe centre of town, the finelypointedbrickworkandruined

mosaics on the floorindicated it had probablyonce been a dwelling ofconsiderable status. “ShipLord Otheran’s house,” oneof the sailors explained ingruff response to my query.“The Shield’s father.” Hepaused to glare at Al Sorna.“He died in the fire. TheShield commanded it be leftas it is, a reminder for bothhimandthepeople.”

Al Sorna didn’t appearto be listening, his gazeroaming over the ruined,grey-black walls, a strangedistanceinhiseyes.

“Food has beenprovided,”thesailortoldme.“In the kitchen, take thestairsover there to the lowerfloors.We’llbeoutsideifyouneedanything.”

We ate at a largemohaganytableinthedining

room, an oddly perfectfurnishing in so wasted ahouse. I had found cheese,bread and an assortment ofcured meats in the kitchen,together with some verypalatable wine Al Sornarecognised as originatingfrom the southern vineyardsofCumbrael.

“Why do they call himthe Shield?” he asked,pouring himself a cup of

water. I noticed he hardlytouchedthewine.

“After your father’svisit theMeldeneans decidedthey needed to look to theirdefences. Every Ship LordmustcontributefiveshipstoafleetwhichconstantlypatrolstheIslands.Thecaptaingiventhe honour of commandingthe fleet is known as theShieldoftheIsles.”Ipaused,watching him carefully. “Do

youthinkyoucanbeathim?”His eyes wandered

around the dining room,lingering on the peeledremains of a wall painting,whateverithaddepictednowlostinablack-streakedsmearofoncevibrantcolours.“Hisfather was a rich man,bringing an artist from theEmpire to paint a mural ofthe family. The Shield hadthreebrothers,allhis elders,

and yet he knew his fatherloved him more than theothers.”

Therewasanunnervingcertainty to his words,provoking the suspicion thatwe sat eating amidst theghosts of the Shield’smurdered family. “You seemuch in a patch of fadedpaint.”

He set his cup downandpushedhisplateaway.If

this was his last meal itseemed to me he hadapproached it with littleenthusiasm. “What will youdowiththestoryItoldyou?”

The unfinished storyyou told me, I thought butsaid, “It has given me muchto think about. Although, if Iwere to publish it I doubtmanywould be convinced bythe picture of the war assimply thedeludedagencyof

afoolisholdman.”“Janus was a schemer,

a liar and, on occasion, amurderer.Butwashe trulyafool? For all the blood andtreasurespiltintothesandinthathatefulwar, I’mstillnotsureitwasn’tallpartofsomegreat design, some finalschemetoocomplexformetograsp.”

“When you talk ofJanus you tell of a callous

anddeviousoldman,andyetIhearnoangerinyourvoice.No hatred for the man whobetrayedyou.”

“Betrayedme?TheonlyloyaltyJanuseverfeltwastohis legacy, a Unified Realmruled in perpetuity by theHouseofAlNieren.Itwashisonly true ambition. Hatinghim for his actionswould belike hating the scorpion thatstingsyou.”

I drained my wine cupand reached for the bottle. Ifound I had a liking for thefruit of Cumbrael and felt asudden desire to be drunk.Thestressof thedayand theprospectofwitnessingbloodycombatonthemorrowleftanunease inmy gut Iwas keentodrown.Ihadseenmendiebefore,criminalsandtraitorsexecuted at the Emperor’scommand,buthoweverbright

my hatred burned for thismanIfoundIcouldnolongerrelish the impendingviolenceofhisend.

“What will you do ifyougainvictory tomorrow?”Iasked,awareIwasslurringa little. “Will you return toyour Realm? Do you thinkKing Malcius will welcomeyou?”

He pushed back fromthe table and got to his feet.

“I think we both know therewillbenovictoryformehere,whatever transpirestomorrow. Good night, mylord.”

I refilled my cup,listening to him climb thestairs and make his way toone of the bedrooms. Imarvelledthathecouldsleep,knowing that without thewine’s assistance I wasunlikely to find any rest this

night. And yet I knew hewould sleep soundly,untroubled by fearfulnightmares, untroubled byguilt.

“Wouldyouhavehatedhim, Seliesen?” I askedaloud, hoping hewas amongthe ghosts crowding thishouse. “I doubt it. Grist foranotherpoem,nodoubt.Youalways did relish theircompany, these sword

swinging brutes, though youcould never truly be one ofthem.Learntheirtricks,learnto ride, learn to make prettypatterns with that sabre theygave you. But you neverlearned to fight, did you?”Tearswerecomingnow.HereI was, a drunken scribblerweepinginahouseofghosts.“You never learned to fight,youbastard.”

Among the few

attractions the MeldeneanIslandshavetoofferthemoreeducatedvisitorarethemanyimpressive ruins to be foundon thecoastlineof the largerisles. Although varying inscale and purpose theydisplayauniformityofdesignand articulation clearlyindicative of construction bya single culture, an ancientracepossessedofanaestheticsophistication and elegance

entirely absent from thearchipelago’s moderninhabitants.

By far the mostimpressive surviving exampleof this once greatarchitecture is theamphitheatre situated sometwo miles from theMeldenean capital. Carvedfromadepressioninthered-veinedyellowmarblecliffsonthe island’s southern shore,

the amphitheatre has provenimmune to the depredationswrought by successivegenerations of islanders whodisplay scant reluctance incannibalising other sites forbuilding materials. A greatbowl of terraced seatinglooking down upon a wideoval stage where, no doubt,great oratory, poetry anddrama had once been thedelightofamoreenlightened

audience, the amphitheatrewasnowtheperfectvenueformodern islanders to publiclyexecute miscreants or watchmenfighttothedeath.

Wehadbeenrousedbythe Shield’s crew just asdawn broke over the city.They explained it would bebest if we were conveyed tothevenuebeforethepopulacewoketothrongthestreetsandbay their hatred at the

Cityburner’sspawn.As I had come to

expect, Al Sorna showed nooutward concern as wewaitedforthesuntoclimbtoits midway place in the sky.He sat in the lowermost tier,sword resting beside him ashe gazed out to sea. A stiffbreezewas blowing from thesouthalthoughtheabsenceofcloud foretold a day free ofrain. I wondered if Al Sorna

feltitwasagooddaytomeethisdeath.

The Lady Emerenarrived an hour short ofnoon, accompanied by twomore of the Shield’screwmen, dressed simply asalways in a plain white andblack robe, her fine featuresunadorned by paint orjewellery. But for thesapphire ring on her fingertherewasnooutwardsignof

herrank,however,herinnatedignity and poise wereunchanged. I rose to greetherasshestrodeintotheovalarena,bowing formally.“MyLadyEmeren.”

“Lord Verniers.” Hervoice had lost none of therich timbre I remembered,coloured by a faint trace ofthe peculiar lilting accentunique to those raised in theEmperor’scourt.Iwasstruck

onceagainbyherbeauty,theflawlessskin,thefulllipsandbright green eyes. She hadlong been regarded as theperfection of Alpiranwomanhood,asdutifulasshewas comely, daughter of anoble blood-line andfavoured by the Emperorsince girlhood, educated atcourtalongsidehisownsons,a daughter to him in all butname. When Seliesen was

called to his destiny it wasinevitable that they wouldmarry.Who else was worthyofherafterall?

“You are well?” Iasked.“Youhavesufferednomistreatment,Itrust.”

“My captors have beenmore than generous.” Hergaze shifted to the HopeKiller and I saw again theexpressionofcold,fathomlessmalice that marred her

perfectfeatureswhenevershespoke of him. Al Sornareturned her gaze with ashort incline of his head, hisfaceshowingonlythemildestinterest.

“There are no guardswith you,” the Lady Emerenobserved.

“The prisoner gave hisword to theEmperor that hewould meet the Shield’schallenge. Guards were not

deemednecessary.”“Isee.Mysoniswell?”“Very. Happily at play

last I saw him. I know hehungersforyoureturn.Asdoweall.”

Hereyesflashedatme,burningwithalmostthesameflameofhatredsheshowedtotheHopeKiller,andIfoundIcould not meet them. Shealwaysknew,Irecalled.Whywouldshenothatemetoo?

“When I return to theEmpire my son and I willcontinue to live in quietseclusion,” the Lady Emerentoldme.“Idesirenoreturntocourt. Nor do I expect anythanks for finally securingjusticeformyhusband.”

I sighed heavily. “Soit’s true then? Thiscircumstanceisyourdoing.”

“The Meldeneansdesire justice too.TheShield

watched his parents andbrothersburntodeathbeforehis eyes. His assistancerequired little persuasion.These Northmen have a raregift for stoking hatred inothers.”

“And do you reallybelieve your hatred will diewithhim?Whatif itdoesn’t?What comfort will you findthen?”

Her green eyes

narrowed.“Donotpreachatme,scribe.Youareagodlessman,webothknowit.”

“Soit’stothegodsyoulook for comfort now?Begging gifts from heedlessstone. Seliesen would havewept…”

Hersapphireringleftacut on my cheek as sheslapped me. I staggered alittle. She was a strongwoman and felt no need of

restraint. “Do not speak myhusband’sname!”

Many words came tome then as I stood clutchingmy bleeding face,many bile-filled, loathsome words sureto cut her to the core withlacerating truth. Butmeetingher blazing eyes I felt thewords die in my breast, myanger shrivelling and flyingaway on the sea-born wind,replaced by a depth of pity

andregretIknewhadalwayslurkedinmysoul.

I gave her anotherformal bow. “I am sorry tohavecausedyouanydistress,lady.”Iturnedandwalkedtowhere the Hope Killer sat,placing myself next to him,two guilty men awaitingsentence.

“Icanstitch that ifyoulike,” Al Sorna offered as Iheldalacekerchieftothecut

on my cheek. “It’ll scarotherwise.”

I shook my head,watching the Lady Emerentake her place at the far endof the first tier, her gazestudiously avoiding mine. “Iearnedit.”

The Shield arrivedshortly afterwards, leading acompany of spear-bearingcrewmen who quickly movedto take up positions around

the arena. No doubt he waskeen that his moment ofrevenge should proceedwithout any assistance fromthe crowd now beginning tothrong the seats. Theirmoodwas tense rather thancelebratory, many pairs ofeyes bore into Al Sorna’sbackbuttherewerenocursesor cat-calls, making mewonder if the Shield hadmade efforts to ensure the

event at least bore somesemblanceofcivilisation.

What absurd comedythisis,Ithought.Topardonaman for a crime he didcommit so he can faceretribution foronehehadnopartin.

Last to arrivewere theShip Lords, eight men ofmiddle or advanced yearsdressed in what I assumedpassed for finery in the isles.

These were the wealthiestmen in the Islands, elevatedto the governing council byvirtueof thenumberof shipsthey owned, a singular formof government that hadsurvivedsurprisinglywell foroverfourcenturies.Theytooktheir places on the raisedlong marble dais at the farend of the arena, eight largeoak-wood chairs havingalreadybeenplacedtherefor

theircomfort.One of the Ship Lords

remained standing, a wiryman, dressed more simplythanhisfellows,butwithsoftleatherglovesonbothhands.IsensedAlSornashiftnexttome.“CarvalNurin,”hesaid.

“ThecaptainoftheRedFalcon,”Irecalled.

He nodded. “Bluestonebuysalotofshipsitseems.”

Nurin waited for the

hum of the crowd to diedown,hisexpressionlessgazelingering on Al Sorna for amoment before he raised hisvoice to speak, “We come towitness resolution ofchallenge to single combat.The Shiplords Councilformally recognises thischallenge to be fair andlawful. There will be nopunishment for any bloodspilled this day. Who speaks

forthechallenger?”One of the Shield’s

crew stepped forward, alarge, bearded man with ablue scarf on his headdenoting his rank as firstmate.“Ido,mylords.”

Nurin’s gaze turned tome. “And for thechallenged?”

Iroseandwalkedtothecentreofthearena.“Ido.”

Nurin’s expression

faltereda littleat the lackofan honorific in my responsebut he continued smoothly.“By law we are required toenquireofbothparties if thismatter can be resolvedwithoutbloodshed.”

The first mate spokefirst,voiceraised,addressingthe crowd rather than theShiplords. “My Captain’sdishonour is too great.Although a peaceful man by

nature the souls of hismurdered kin cry out forjustice!”

There was a growl ofagreementfromtheaudience,threatening to build into acacophony of rage until aglare from Carval Nurincaused it to subside. Helooked down at me. “Anddoes the challenged wish toresolve this matterpeacefully?”

I glanced back at AlSornaand foundhimlookingup at the sky. Following hisgaze I saw a bird circlingabove, a sea eagle judgingfrom the wingspan. It turnedandwheeled in the cloudlesssky, born by the warm airrisingfromthecliff,aboveallthis, above our sordid publicmurder.For I now knew thiswas murder, there was nojusticehere.

“My lord!” CarvalNurin prompted, his voicehardwithannoyance.

Iwatchedtheeaglefoldits wings and dive below thecliffface.Beautiful.“Justgetit over with,” I said, turningandwalking back tomy seatwithoutabackwardglance.

There was a curiousexpressiononAlSorna’sfaceas I returned to my seat.Perhaps he was amused by

my refusal to play long withthis travesty. Later, in mymore deluded moments, Iwonderedif theremighthavebeen some admiration there,some small measure ofrespect.Butthat,ofcourse,isabsurd.

“The combatants willtake their place!” CarvalNurinannounced.

Al Sorna stood, heftinghis hateful sword. Therewas

abriefhesitationasheplacedhis hand on the hilt, I notedthe flex of his fingers beforehe drew the blade from thescabbard. His face wasdevoid of amusement now,darkeyesseemingtodrinkinthe sight of the steel shiningin the sun, his expressionunreadable.Afterasecondheplaced the scabbard next tome and walked to the centreofthearena.

The Shield cameforward, his sabre bared,blond hair tied back with aleather thong, clad simply insailors garb of plain cottonshirt, buckskin trews andsturdy leather boots. Hisclothesmayhavebeensimplebut he wore them like aprince, easily outshining thefinery of the assembled ShipLords,exudinggravenobilityand physical prowess, a lion

in search of justice for itsmurdered pride. The goodhumour he had displayed atthe harbour was gone nowand he regarded Al Sornawith a cold, predatoryjudgement.

AlSornatookhisplaceopposite,meetingtheShield'sgazewithoutdemur, showingthesameeffortlessinabilitytobe outshone. He stood withhis sword held low, legs

parted in line with hisshoulders, a slight crouch tohisback.

CarvalNurinraisedhisvoiceagain.“Begin!”

It happened almostbeforeNurin’s commandhadended, so fast it was amoment before I, and thecrowd, realised what hadoccurred. Al Sorna moved.He moved in a way I hadnever seen a man move

before, like the eagle divingbelow the cliff edge, or theorcas swooping on thesalmonwhenweleftLinesh,afluid blur of speed and asingle flickering slash ofmetal.

TheShield’ssabremusthave been fashioned ofquality steel judging by therichringingsounditmadeasit skittered away across thearena, leaving him standing

there unarmed anddefenceless.

Thesilencewastotal.Al Sorna straightened,

offering the Shield a grimsmile. “You were holding itwrong.”

The Shield’s faceshowed a brief spasm ofeither rage or fear, but hemastered it quickly. Sayingnothing, awaiting death andrefusingtobeg.

“There was muchlaughter in your house,” AlSorna told him. “When yourfather returned from distantshoreswithpresentsandtalesof adventure, you wouldgather around with yourbrothers and listen,hungering for manhood andrejoicing in his love. But henevertoldyouofthemurdershe committed, honest sailorspitchedtothesharksfromthe

decksof theirown ships, northe women he raped whenthey raided the Realm’ssouthern shore. You lovedyour father, but you loved alie.”

The Shield bared histeeth in a feral grimace ofhate.“Justfinishit!”

“It wasn’t your fault,”AlSornawenton.“Youwerejustaboy.Therewasnothingyoucoulddo.Youwereright

torun…”TheShield’scomposure

shattered, an enraged roarerupting from his lips,charging forward, handsreaching for Al Sorna’sthroat. The northman side-stepped the charge andslammedthepalmofhishandinto the Shield’s temple,fellinghimto thearena floorwhere he lay still andimmobile.

Al Sorna turned andwalked back to his seat,retrieving the scabbard andsheathing his sword. Thecrowd were beginning toreact now, mostly in shock,butwithatingeofangerthatIknewwouldonlygrow.

“This challenge is notconcluded, Lord Vaelin!”Carval Nurin called abovetherisingtumult.

Al Sorna turned,

walking to where LadyEmeren sat, shocked andstaring at him in rigidfrustration. “My Lady, areyou ready to depart thisplace?”

“This contest is to thedeath!” Nurin shouted. “Ifyou leave thisman alive youdishonour him in the eyes oftheIslesforalltime.”

Al Sorna turned awayfromtheLadyEmerenwitha

graciousbow.“Honour?”heaskedNurin.“Honour is justa word. You can’t eat it ordrink itandyeteverywhere Igo men talk of it endlessly,and they all tell a differenttaleofwhatitactuallymeans.FortheAlpiransit’sallaboutduty, theRenfaelins think it’sthesameascourage.Intheseislands it appears it meanskilling a son for a crimecommitted by his father then

slaughtering a helpless manwhen the pantomime fails togotoplan.”

It was strange, but thecrowd fell silentashe spoke,even though his voicewasn’tparticularly loud theamphitheatre carried iteffortlessly to all thosepresent, and somehow theiranger and disappointedblood-lustabated.

“I offer no excuse for

myfather’sactions.NorcanIoffer any contrition. Heburnedacityontheordersofhis king, it was wrong but Ihad no hand in it. In anycase, spilling my blood willleavenomarkonamanwhodied three years ago,peacefully inhisbedwithhiswifeanddaughterathisside.There is no vengeance to behad on a corpse long sincegiventothefire.Nowgiveme

what I came for or kill meandhavedone.”

My gaze shifted to thespear-bearing guards, seeinghesitation as they exchangedglancesandcastwaryeyesatthe crowd, now possessed ofarisingmurmurofconfusion.

“KILL HIM!” It wastheLadyEmeren,onherfeetnow, striding towards AlSorna, finger pointed inaccusation, snarling. “KILL

THE MURDERINGSAVAGE!”

“You have no voicehere, woman!” Nurin toldher, voice hard in rebuke.“Thisisthebusinessofmen.”

“Men?”Herlaughwasharsh, near hysterical as sheroundedonNurin.“Theonlyman here lies unconsciousand unavenged. Cowards, Icall you. Faithless piratescum! Where is the justice I

waspromised?”“You were promised a

challenge,” Nurin told her.He looked at Al Sorna for alongmomentbeforeliftinghisgaze to the crowd, his voicerising. “And it is concluded.We are pirates it is true, forthe gods gave us all theoceans as our huntinggrounds, but they also gaveus the law with which wegoverntheseIslesandthelaw

holds true in all things or itmeans nothing. Vaelin AlSornastandsasvictorin thischallenge under the terms ofthelaw.Hehascommittednocrime in the Isles and istherefore free to go.” Heturned back to the LadyEmeren.“Piratesweare,butscum we are not. And you,Lady,arealsofreetogo.”

We were marched to

the end of themole and toldus to wait whilst theyarrangedpassageforuswiththe few foreign vessels inport. A large detachment ofspearmenstoodguardacrossthe quay to discourage anylast minute vengeance fromthe townsfolk, although Ijudgedthemoodofthecrowdat the conclusion of thechallenge to be subdued,more disappointed than

outraged.Theguardsignoredus and it was plain ourdeparture would be markedwith no ceremony. I have tosay it was an awkwardcircumstance to linger therewiththetwoofthem,theLadyEmeren prowling the dock,arms tightly folded againsther breast, Al Sorna sittingsilentlyonaspicebarrel,andme,prayingfortheturnofthetideandblessedreleasefrom

thisplace.“This does not end

here, Northman!” the LadyEmeren burst out after anhour of silent pacing. Sheapproached to within a fewfeet of him, glaring, hating.“Have no dream of escapefrom me. This earth is notbroad enough to hidefrom…”

“It’s a terrible thing,”Al Sorna cut in. “When love

turnstohate.”Herbalefulvisagefroze

asifhehadstabbedher.“I knew a man once,”

Al Sorna continued, “wholoved a woman very much.Buthehadadutytoperform,a duty he knew would costhim his life, and hers too ifshe stayed with him. And sohe tricked her and had hertaken far away. Sometimesthat man tries to cast his

thoughtsacross theocean, toseeifthelovetheysharedhasturned to hate, but he findsonly distant echoes of herfierce compassion, a lifesaved here, a kindness donethere, like smoke trailingafter a blazing torch.And sohe wonders, does she hateme? For she has much toforgive,andbetweenlovers,”hisgazeswitchedfromhertome, “betrayal is always the

worstsin.”The cut on my cheek

burned, guilt and griefmingling inmybreastamidstatorrentofmemory.Seliesenwhen he first came to court,the way his smile alwaysseemed to bring the sun, theEmperorgivingthehonourofhiseducationincourtmattersto me, his early stumblingattemptsatetiquette,listeningto his latest poems far into

the night, the fierce jealousywhen Emeren made herfeelings known, and theshameful triumph when hebegan to forsake hercompany for mine. And hisdeath... The endless grief Ithoughtwouldconsumeme.

AlSornahadseenitall,I knew it. Somehow, therewas nothing hidden from hisjeteyes.

Al Sorna rose and

stepped towards the LadyEmeren, making her flinch,notinhatredIknew,butfear.Whatelsehadheseen?Whatelse would he say? Kneelingbefore her he spoke in clear,formal tones, “My Lady, Ioffer my apology for takingyourhusband’slife.”

Ittookheramomenttomaster her fear. “And willyou offer your own inrecompense?”

“Icannot,mylady.”“Then your apology is

as empty as your heart,Northman. And my hatred isundimmed.”

They found a vesselfrom the Northern Reachesfor Al Sorna, ships from theUnified Realm’s northmostholdings apparently enjoyrights of anchorage inMeldenean waters deniedtheircountrymen.Ihadheard

and read a little of theReaches,how itwashome topeoples of varied ancestry,andwasthereforeunsuprisedto find thecrewmostlydark-skinned with the broadfeatures common in theEmpire’s south-westernprovinces. I walked with AlSorna to the ship’s berth,leaving the Lady Emerenrigidlyimmobileattheendofthe mole. She stared out to

sea, refusing to grace theNorthmanwithanotherword.

“Youshouldheedher,”I told him as we neared thegangplank. “Her vendettawon’tendhere.”

He glanced over at thestillformoftheLady,sighingin regret. “Then she is to bepitied.”

“We thought we weresending you here to yourdeath,butallwehavedoneis

setyou free.Asyouknewwewould, I’m sure. Ell-Nestranever had a chance. Whydidn’tyoukillhim?”

Hisblackeyesmetminewith the piercing, questinggaze I knew saw far toomuch. “At my trial LordVelsus asked me how manylives I had taken, I honestlycouldn’t tell him. I’ve killedmany times, the good, thebad, cowards and heroes,

thieves and… poets.” Hiseyes became downcast and Iwondered if this was myapology. “Even friends. AndI’m sick of it.” He lookeddown at the sheathed swordinhishand.“Ihopetoneverdrawthisagain.”

He didn’t linger, madeno offer of his hand or anyword of farewell, simplyturning and making his wayup the gangplank. The

vessel’s captain greeted himwith a deep bow, his face litwith a naked awe shared bythe surrounding crew. TheNorthman’slegendhadflownfar it seemed, even thoughthesemenhailedfromaplacelongdistantfromtheRealm’sheartland, his name clearlycarried a great meaning.What waits for him? Iwondered. In a Realmwhereheisnolongermerelyaman.

The ship departedwithin the hour, leaving halfits cargo unloaded on thedocks, keen to be away withitsprize.Istoodattheendofthe mole with the LadyEmeren, watching the HopeKiller sail away. I could seehimforatime,atallfigureattheprowoftheship.Ifanciedhemayhaveglancedbackatus, just once, perhaps evenhaveraisedahandinawave,

buthewastoofarawaytobesure. Once free of theharbour the ship unfurled tofull sail and was soonvanished beyond theheadland, heading east withallspeed.

“You should forgethim,”ItoldtheLadyEmeren.“This obsession will be yourruin.Gohomeandraiseyourson.Ibegyou.”

I was appalled to see

she was crying, tearsstreaming from her eyes,althoughherfacewasrigidlydevoid of expression. Hervoice was a whisper, butfierce as ever, “Not until thegodsclaimme,andeventhenI'll find a way to send myvengeancethroughtheveil.”

PartVInlongergames,where

theLiar’sAttackoroneoftheother openings outlinedabove has failed, thecomplexityofKeschetis fullyrevealed. The followingchapters will examine themost effective stratagems tobe employed in the longgame, beginning with TheBowman’s Switch, taking its

name from a manoeuvreemployed by Alpiran horsearchers. Like the Liar’sAttack,TheBowman’sSwitchemploysmisdirectionbutalsoretains the potential forexploiting unforeseenopportunity. A skilled playercan move offensively againsttwo objectives, leaving theiropponent ignorant of theultimate targetuntil themostfruitful opportunity presents

itself.Author unknown,

Keschet – Rules andStrategies, Great Library oftheUnifiedRealm.

Chapter1He took Spit and rode

westward, keeping to theshoreline, finding a campsiteshelteredin the leeofa largegrass-topped dune. Hegathered driftwood for a fireandcutgrassfortindling.Thestems were dried by the seabreeze and lit at the firsttouch of the flint. The firegrewhighandbright,embers

rising like fireflies into theearly evening sky. In thedistance the lights of Lineshseemed to burn brighter stilland he could hear musicmingled with the sound ofmany voices raised incelebration.

“After all we did forthem,”hetoldSpit,holdingacandyupforthewarhorsetochomp on. “War, plague andmonths of fear. Hard to

believe they’re happy to seeusgo.”

If Spit cared anythingforironyitwasexpressedinaloudsnortofannoyanceashejerkedhisheadaway.“Wait.”Vaelin caught hold of thereins and unfastened thebridle before moving to liftthe saddle from his back.Shorn of the encumbranceSpitcanteredawayacrossthedunes, kicking through the

sand and tossing his head.Vaelin watched him play inthe surf as the sky dimmedandabrightfullmoonrosetopaint the dunes a familiarsilver blue. Like snow driftsintheheightofwinter.

Spit came trotting backas the last glimmer ofdaylight faded, standingexpectantlyattheedgeofthelightcastbythefire,awaitingthenightlyritualofgrooming

and tethering. “No,” Vaelinsaid. “We’re done. Time togo.”

Spit nickereduncertainly, forehoof kickingsand.

Vaelin went to him,slapped a hand on his flank,stepping back quickly toavoid the retaliatory kick asSpit reared, whinnying inanger, teeth bared. “Go onyou hateful beast!” Vaelin

shouted, gesticulatingwildly.“GO!”

And he was gone,galloping away in a blur ofsilver blue sand, his partingwhinny resounding in thenightair.“Goonyoubloodynag,” Vaelin whispered withasmile.

There was little else tooccupy his time so he sat,feedingthefire,recallingthatday atop the battlements at

the High Keep when hewatchedDentosapproach thegate without Nortah andkneweverythingwasabouttochange. Nortah… Dentos…Two brothers lost and abouttoloseanother.

It was only a slightchangeinthewindbringingafaintscentofsweatandbrine.He closed his eyes, hearingthe soft scrape of feet onsand, approaching from the

west, making no pretence ofstealth. And why would he?Wearebrothersafterall.

He opened his eyes toregard the figure standingopposite.“HelloBarkus.”

Barkus slumped downinfrontofthefire,raisinghishands to the flames. Hismuscle thick armswere bareasheworeonlyacottonvestand trews, his feet shorn ofbootsandhishairmattedwith

sea water. His only weaponwas his axe, strapped acrosshis backwith leather thongs.“Faith!”hegrunted.“Haven’tbeen this cold since theMartishe.”

“Must’ve been a hardswim.”

“Right enough. Wewere threemilesoutbefore Irealised you’d gulled me,brother. The ship's captaintook some hard persuading

beforehe'dsailhisboatbacktoshore.”Heshookhishead,droplets flying from his longhair. “Sailing off to the FarWestwithSisterSherin.Asifyou’d pass up a chance tosacrificeyourself.”

Vaelin watchedBarkus’s hands, saw howtheywerefreeofanytremblealthough it was cold enoughtomakehisbreathsteam.

“That was the deal,

right?”Barkuswenton. “Wegettoliveandtheygetyou?”

“AndPrinceMalcius isreturnedtotheRealm.”

Barkus frowned. “He’salive?”

“Iwassparingwith thetruthingettingyoualloutofthecitywithoutanyfuss.”

The large brothergruntedagain.“Howlongtilltheycomeforyou?”

“Firstlight.”

“Time enough to restup then.”Heunslunghisaxefromhisback,settingitdowncloseby.“Howmanydoyouthinkthey’llsend?”

Vaelin shrugged. “Ididn’task.”

“Against the two of usthey better send a wholeregiment.” He looked up atVaelin, puzzled. “Where’syoursword,brother?”

“I gave it to Governor

Aruan.”“Not the brightest idea

you’ve had. How do youintendtofight?”

“I don’t. In accordancewith the king’s word I willsurrender myself to Alpirancustody.”

“They’llkillyou.”“I don’t think so.

According to the Fifth Bookof theCumbraelin god I stillhave many more people to

kill.”“Pah!”Barkusspatinto

the fire. “Prophecies arebullshit.Superstitionforgod-worshippers. You took theirHope, they’ll kill you rightenough. Just a question ofhow long they take over it.”He met Vaelin’s eyes. “Ican’t stand by and watchthemtakeyou,brother.”

“Thenleave.”“You know I can’t do

that either.Don’tyou think Ilostenoughbrothersalready?Nortah,Frentis,Dentos-”

“Enough!” Vaelin’svoice was sharp, cuttingthroughthenight.

Barkus drew back inalarm and bemusement.“Brother,I…”

“Just stop.” Vaelinstudiedthefaceofthemaninfront of him with all thescrutiny he could muster,

searching for some crack inthemask,someflickeroflostcomposure. But it wasperfect, impervious andinfuriating. He fought tomaster the anger, knowing itwould kill him. “You’vewaited so long for this, whynot showme your true face?Here at the end, whatdifferencedoesitmake?”

Barkus grimaced in aflawless display of

embarrassed concern.“Vaelin,areyouquitewell?”

“Captain Antesh toldme something before he left.Wouldyouliketohearit?”

Barkusspreadhishandsuncertainly.“Ifyouwish.”

“It seems Antesh isn’this real name. Hardlysurprising, I’m suremany oftheCumbraelinswehiredfelttheneed tousea falsename,either through fear of a

criminal past or shame atacceptingourcoin.Whatwassurprising is that we’ve bothheardhisothernamebefore.”

Still no slip in themask. Still nothing beyondtheconcernofatruebrother.

“BrenAnteshwasoncegreatly in thrall to his god,”Vaelin told him. “So greatwashisdevotionitdrovehimto kill, to gather others whoalso thirsted to honour their

god with the blood ofheretics. In time he led themtotheMartishewheremostofthem died at our hands,leading him to question hisbelief, to abandon his god,acceptingtheking’sgoldandgivingittothefamiliesofhisfallen men, then seekingdeathinaforeignwar,allthetimetryingtoforgetthenamehe had won in theMartishe:Black Arrow. Bren Antesh

was once named BlackArrow.Andheassuresmehewas never in possession ofany letters of free passagefromhisFiefLord, norwereanyofhismen.”

Barkus remained still,allexpressionnowvanished.

“You remember theletters, brother?” Vaelinasked.“Thelettersyoufoundon the body of the archer Ikilled. The letters that set us

towarwithCumbrael.”It was only a slight

change in the angle of hishead, a small shift in the setofhisshoulders,anewcurveto his lips, but suddenlyBarkuswasgone, likesmokein the wind.When he spokeVaelin was unsurprised tohear a familiar voice, thevoice of two deadmen. “Doyoureallythinkyou’regoingto serve a Queen of Fire,

brother?”Vaelin’s heart

plummeted like a stone. Hehadbeennurturingawitheredhopethathemightbewrong,that Antesh had been lyingand his brother was still thenoble warrior sailing awaywiththemorningtide.Nowitwas gone and there was justthetwoofthem,aloneonthebeach with death comingswiftly. “I’m told there are

otherprophecies,”hereplied.“Prophecies?” The

thing that had been Barkusgrated a harsh, ugly laugh.“You know so little. All ofyou, scribbling down yourfumblingattemptsatwisdom,calling it scripture when it’sjust the rantings of the madandthepower-hungry.”

“The Test of theWild.Isthatwhenyoutookhim?”

The thing wearing

Barkus’s face grinned. “Hewanted to live so badly.Finding Jennis was a gift oflife but his sense ofbrotherhoodwassostronghecouldn’t bring himself to dowhatwasnecessary.”

“He found Jennis’sbodyfrozen,withnocloak.”

The thing laughedagain, harsh, grating,enjoying its cruelty. “Hisbodyandhissoul.Jenniswas

still alive, half dead withcold, but still breathing,whispering pleas for Barkusto save him. Of course therewasnothinghecoulddo,andhe was so very hungry.Hungerdoesstrangethingstoaman,remindshimheisjustan animal, an animal thatneedstofeed,andfleshisjustflesh. The temptationsickened him, the hungerdriving him beyond the edge

of madness, and so hewandered out into the snowandlaydowntodie.”

Hentes Mustor, OneEye, the carpenter whoburned Ahm Lin’s house, allonceclosetodeath.“Deathisyourgateway.”

“Theycalltous,acrossthehatefulvoid, theplaintivecallofasoulneardeath, likea lost lamb drawing a wolf.Not all can be taken, only

thosewiththeseedofmaliceandthegiftofpower.”

“Barkus had nomalice.”

Another venomouscackle. “If there’s a manwithout malice in his heartI’ve yet tomeet him.Barkushad hidden his so deep hebarely knew it was there,festeringlikeamaggot inhissoul, waiting to be fed,waiting for me. It was his

fatheryousee,thefatherwhohad sent him away, whohated andenviedhisgift.Hesaw the wondrous things theboy could dowithmetal andhungered for the power. It isthewayofthingsforthoseofus with gifts. Wouldn’t youagree,brother?”

“Wereyoualwayshim?Every word spoken since,everydeed,everykindness. Ican’tbelieveitwasallyou.”

The thing shrugged.“Believe what you wish.Theycomeclosetodeath,wetake them, from thatmomenttheyareours.Weknowwhatthey know, makes it so easytomaintainthemask.”

The blood-songwhispered, a faint but jarringnote. “You’re lying. HentesMustor was not fully withinyour command, was he?That’s why you killed him

before he could tell me thelies youwhispered to him inthe voice of his god. Andwhen you came for AspectElera you had three menunder your yolk yet theyattacked separately, no doubtyour business with AspectCorlin at the house of theFourth Order taxed yourabilities.Idon’tthinkyoucanfully control more than onemind at once, and I’ll wager

yourgripcanbebroken.”The thing inclined

Barkus’s head. “Battle Sightis a powerful gift indeed.Soonyou’llbeclosetodeathand one of us will come toclaim it. Lyrna loves you,Malcius trusts you. Whobetter to guide them throughthe difficult years ahead?What malice lurks in yourbreastIwonder?YourMasterSollisperhaps?Janusandhis

endless schemes?Or is it theOrder? After all, they sentyouhere todrawmeoutandindoingsorobbedyouofthewoman you love. Tell methere is no malice there,brother.”

“If it’s my song youwant why have you soughtmydeathtwicenow?Sendinghirelings into the Urlish tokillmeduringtheTestoftheRun,sendingSisterHenna to

my room the night of theAspectMassacre.”

“What usehavewe forhirelings? And Henna’smission was conceived inhaste, so troublesome to findyouat theHouseof theFifthOrderthatnightofallnights,before we knew what poweryoucouldofferus.Shesendsher regards, by the way. Sosorryshecouldn’tbehere.”

He searched for some

guidancefromtheblood-songbut found only silence. Thisthing was not lying. “If notyou, then who?” His voicefadedasitcametohim,borneon a despairing chord fromthe blood-song: BrotherHarlick’s fear in the FallenCity.Have you come to killme?“TheSeventhOrder,”hemurmuredaloud.

“Did you really thinkthey were just a bunch of

harmlessmysticslabouringinservice to your absurd faith?They have their own plans,their own agents. Do notdelude yourself that theywould hesitate to seek yourdeath should you prove anobstacle.”

“Then why have theynotattackedmesince?”

The thing shiftedBarkus’s body in badlyconcealed unease. “They are

biding their time,waiting fortheirchance.”

Another lie, confirmedby the blood-song.The wolf.The Seventh set its hirelingson me but the wolf killedthem. Had they seen it asevidence of some Darkblessing, protection affordedby a power they feared?Questions. As ever, therewerealwaysmorequestions.

“Were you once a

man?” he asked it. “Did youhaveaname?”

“Names mean much tothelivingbuttothosewho’vefelt the depthless chill of thevoidtheyseemtheconceitofchildren.”

“So you were aliveonce.Youhadabodyofyourown.”

“A body? Yes I had abody.Tornby thewildernessand wasted by hunger,

pursuedbyhateateveryturn.Ihadabodybornof a rapedmother they called a witch.We were driven out becauseher gift could turn the wind.The man who fathered meliedandsaidshehadusedtheDark to compel him to bedher. Lied that he refused tostay with her when the spellfaded.Liedthatshehadusedher gift to spoil the crops inrevenge. With stones and

rottingfilththeydroveusintotheforestwherewelivedlikeanimals until the hunger andthe cold took her from me.But I lived on, more a beastthan a boy, forgettinglanguage and custom,forgetting everything butrevenge. And in time I tookit,infullmeasure.”

“‘He called forth thelightning,’” Vaelin quoted.“‘Andthevillageburned.The

peoplefledtotheriverbutheswelled it with rain until thebanks burst and carried themaway.Stillhisvengeancewasnot sated and he broughtdownablastofwindfromthefar north to encase them inice.’”

The thing formed asmile,chillinginitscompletelack of cruelty, a smile offond remembrance. “I canstill see his face, my father,

frozenintheice,staringupatme from the depths of theriver.Ipissedonit.”

“TheWitch’sBastard,”Vaelinwhispered.“Thestorymustbethreecenturiesold.”

“Time is as much adelusion as your faith,brother.Tolookintothevoidis to see the vastness andsmallness of everything atonce, in an instant of terrorandwonder.”

“What is it? This voidyoutalkof?”

The thing’s smilebecame cruel once more.“Your faith calls it theBeyond.”

“Youlie!”hespat,eventhough there was no soundfrom the blood-song. “TheBeyond is a place of endlesspeace, complete wisdom,sublime unity with theeverlasting souls of the

Departed.”The thing’s lips

twitched for a moment andthen it began to laugh, loudand hearty peals ofamusement echoing acrossthebeachandthesea.Vaelinfelt his hand itch for thedagger in his boot as itcontinued to laugh, resistingthe urge with difficulty. Notyet…

“Oh,” the thing shook

itshead,thumbingatearfromits eye. “You utter fool,brother.” He leaned forward,thefaceofwhathadbeenhisbrother a red mask in thefirelight,hissing,“WearetheDeparted!”

He waited for theblood-song’s call but heardnothing beyond an icysilence. It was impossible, itwasblasphemybuttherewasno lie in this thing’s words.

“TheDepartedawaitusintheBeyond,” he recited, hatingthe desperation in his voice.“Souls enriched by thefullnessandgoodnessoftheirlives, they offer wisdom andcompassion…”

The Thing waslaughing again, near helplesswith mirth. “Wisdom andcompassion.Thereisnomorewisdom and compassionamongstthesoulsinthevoid

than there is in a pack ofjackals. We hunger and wefeed,anddeathisourmeat.”

Vaelin closed his eyestight, resuminghis recitation,the words tumbling rapidlyfromhislips.“Whatisdeath?DeathisbutagatewaytotheBeyond and union with theDeparted. It is both endingand beginning. Fear it andwelcomeit…”

“Death brings us fresh

souls to command, morebodies to twist to our will,sate our lusts and serve hisdesign…

“What is the bodywithout the soul? Corruptedflesh,nothingmore.Markthepassing of loved ones bygiving their shell to thefire…”

“The body iseverything. A soul without abody is a wasted, wretched

echoofalife-”“I HEARD MY

MOTHER’S VOICE!” Hewas on his feet, dagger inhand, crouched in a fightingstance, eyes now locked onthe thing across the fire. “Iheardmymother’svoice.”

ThethingthathadbeenBarkusgotslowlytohisfeet,hefting the axe. “It happenssometimes, amongst theGifted,theycanhearus,hear

the souls calling in the void.Briefechoesofpainandfearmostly. That’s how it allstarted,youknow,yourfaith.Several centuries ago anunusally gifted Volarianheardababbleofvoicesfromthe void, among them theunmistakable voice of hisown dead wife. He took itupon himself to spread theword,thegreatandwondrousnewsthatthereislifebeyond

thisdailypunishmentofgriefand toil. People listened, theword spread and so beganyour faith,allbuilton the liethat there is a reward in thenextlifeforservileobedienceinthisone.”

Vaelinfoughttomasterhis confusion, tried to stophimself willing the blood-song to speak, togive the lieto this thing’s words. Woodcracked in the fire, the surf

beat against the shore in aceaseless rumble and Barkusregarded him with the cool,dispassionate gaze of astranger.

“What design?” Vaelindemanded.“Youspokeofhisdesign?Whoishe?”

“You’ll meet him soonenough.” The thing that hadbeenBarkus clasped the haftof the axe with both hands,taking a firm grip, holding it

upfortheedgeofthebladetocatch themoonlight. “Imadethisforyou,brother,orratherI allowedBarkus tomake it.He always hungered for thehammer and the anvil so,althoughheresistedmanfullyuntil I took away hisreluctance. Beautiful isn’t it?I’ve killed so many timeswith so many differentweapons, but Imust say thisis the finest.With this I can

bring you to the brink ofdeath as easily as if I werewielding a surgeon’s knife.You’ll bleed, you’ll fade andyour soul with reach out tothevoid.He’llbewaitingforyou there.” The smile thething offered was grim now,almost regretful. “You reallyshouldn’thavegivenupyoursword,brother.”

“If I hadn’t youwouldn’t have been so

willingtotalk.”The thing’s smile

vanished.“Talking’sover.”He leapt over the fire,

axe drawn back, teeth baredin a hateful snarl. Somethinglarge and black met him inmid-air, fastening its jawsonhis arm, rending and tearingas theycrashed togetherontothe fire, thrashing, scatteringflame.Vaelinsawthehatefulaxe rise and fall once, then

twice,heardtheenragedhowlofaslave-dogasthebladebithome,thenthethingthathadbeenBarkuswas rising fromthedregsofthefire,hairandclothes aflame, his left armhanging ruined and useless,nearly severed by Scratch’sbite. But the right arm wasstill whole, and he still heldtheaxe.

“AskedtheGovernortoset him loose at nightfall,”

Vaelintoldhim.Thethingroaredinpain

and rage, the axe archinground ina silverblur.Vaelinducked under the blade,lancing out with the dagger,piercing the thing’s chest,seeking the heart. It roaredagain, swinging the axewithinhuman speed. Vaelin leftthe dagger embedded in itschestandcaughtholdthehaftof theaxeas itswunground,

backhandedasavageblowtothe thing’s face and follwedwith a kick to the groin. Itbarely staggered anddelivered a stinging head-butt, sending Vaelin reelingacross the sand, falling ontohisback.

“SomethingIdidn’ttellyou about Barkus, brother!”thethingsaid, leapingcloser,axe raised. “When youtrained together, I always

madehimholdback.”Vaelinrolledtotheside

as the axe bit down on thesand, twisted to send a kickinto the thing’s temple,surgingtohisfeetasitshookoffthepainandswungagain,theblademeetingonlyairasVaelin dived over the arc oftheswing,duckedinclosetosnatch the dagger from itschest, stabbed again thenstepped back to let the axe

swing within an inch of hisface.

ThethingthathadbeenBarkus stared at him,shocked, still, smoke risingfrom his burns, his ruinedarm bleeding onto the sand.He dropped the axe and hisgoodhandwenttotherapidlyspreading stain on his shirt.Hestaredatthethickslickofbloodcoveringhispalmforasecond then slowly sank to

hisknees.Vaelinmoved past him

andretrievedtheaxefromthesand,fightingrevulsionatthefeelof it inhishands. Is thiswhy I always hated it so?Because this was its finalpurpose?

“Nicely done, brother.”The thing that had beenBarkus showedblood stainedteeth in a grin of absolutemalice. “Perhaps the next

time you kill me, I’ll bewearing the face of someoneyouloveevenmore.”

The axe was light,unnaturally so, making onlythe faintest whisper as hebrought it up and round,slicingthroughskinandboneaseasilyasitdidtheair.Thehead of what had been hisbrotherrolledonthesandandwasstill.

Hetossedtheaxeaside

and pulled Scratch from thedying remnants of the fire.Heaping sand onto thesmouldering burns, tearinghis shirt topress ragsagainstthedeepcutsinhisside.Theslavedogwhimpered, tonguelapping weakly at Vaelin’shand. “I’m sorry, daft dog.”He found his vision blurredby tearsandhisvoicecaughtbysobs.“I’msorry.”

He buried themseperately.Forsomereasonitseemed the right thing to do.HesaidnowordsforBarkus,knowinghisbrotherhaddiedyears agoand in anycasehewasnolongersureifhecouldsay them and not feel a liar.As the sun rose he took theaxeandwalkedtotheedgeofthe beach. The morning tidewas coming in fast, thebreakers roaring in from the

headland. He hefted the axe,surprisedtofindtherevulsionhad gone, whatever Darkstain it had held seemed tohavedissipatedwiththedeathofthemanwhohadfashionedit. Now it was just metal.Finely grafted and gleaminginthesun,butstilljustmetal.Hehurleditintotheseawithall the strength he couldmuster,watcheditglitterasitturned end over end before

dropping into thewaveswithasmallsplash.

He washed himself inthe surf and returned to hismakeshiftcamp,coveringthebloodstains as best he could,then made for the road,walkingbacktowardsLinesh.Itwasanhourorsobeforehecame to theagreedplaceandthedesertheatwascomingonswiftly.Hechosea spotneara road marker and sat down

towait.Theblood-song roseas

he sat there, a new tune,stronger and clearer thanbefore.Ashisthoughtsturnedin his head he found themusic changed, mournful asherecalledthefinalwhimperfromScratch,bombasticashereplayed the fight with thething that had been Barkus,and with the music cameimages, sounds, feelings he

knew were not his own. Heunderstood that for the firsttime he was truly incommandofhissong,hewasfinallysinging.

Somewhere in a placethatwasn’taplacesomethingwas screaming, beggingforgiveness from an unseenhandthatdealtpunishmentofdepthlesspain,untroubledbymercyormalice.

In a palace far to the

north a young womancomposed the greeting shewouldofferherbrotheronhisreturn, a carefully craftedspeech combining grief,regretandloyaltywithexpertprecision. Once satisfied shelaydownherquill, requestedsome refreshment from hermaid and, when she wascertainshewasalone,putherperfect face inherhandsandwept.

To the west anotheryoung woman gazed at abroad ocean and refused toweep. In her hand she heldtwo wooden blocks wrappedin a finely embroidered silkscarf.Belowher the seabeatagainst the ship’s hull,scattering spume into the air.Herhand itched to throw thebundle to the waves, angerburning in her, a hard painshe couldn’t escape, making

her hate the thoughts itprovoked. A desire forrevenge was not somethingsheunderstood,neverhavingfelt it before. From behindcameashoutofpainandsheturned, seeing a sailorcollapsedon thedeckhavingfallen from the rigging,clutchingatabroken legandswearing profusely in alanguage she didn’tunderstand. “Lie still!” she

commanded, moving to hisside,returningtheblocksandthe scarf to the folds of hercloak.

Aboard another shipsailing another ocean, ayoung man sat, silent andstill, his face a blank mask.Despite his stillness heprovokedfearinthosearoundhim, their master’s ordershaving made it clear that toawaken his interest invited

the swiftest death. Althoughthe young man was asunmoving as a statue,withinhisshirtthescarsonhischestburned with a continual,fierceagony.

Vaelinfocusedthesongto a single pure note, castingit forth across the deserts,jungles and ocean thatseparated them: I will findyou,brother.

The young man

stiffened momentarily,drawing fearful glances fromthosewhoguardedhim, thenreturned to his previousimmobile, expressionlessstate.

Thevisionandthesongfaded, leaving him sitting inthe blazing sun, a dust cloudrising in the east, soonresolving through the hazeintoa troopofhorsemen, thetall figure of Grand

Prosecutor Velsus at theirhead, riding hard, eager toclaimhisprize.

ENDOFBOOKONE

###

AbouttheauthorAnthony Ryan writes

and illustrates fantasy andsciencefiction.Heworksfulltime as a researcher, has a

degreeinhistory,andlivesinLondon. For moreinformation, news andgeneral wittering about stuffhelikes,checkoutAnthony'sblog at:http://anthonystuff.wordpress.com

Other titles by

AnthonyRyanSlab City Blues: A

Hymn to Gods Long Deadavailable at Amazon.com or

Amazon.co.uk.