darkened, a perfect circle, divided across the middle by a thick line, had been carved into the stone. Aamon traced the circle with one clawed finger before laying his palm flat against the stone and closing his eyes.
“Forgive me.”
He sat for a moment longer, his head down, whispering unheard words beneath his breath in a quiet rhythmic chant.
Praying, Glenn thought.
When he was done, Aamon turned his head to the side and
sniffed the air.
“I told you both to stay in the house,” he announced, his voice shockingly loud in the hush of the forest.
“It’s my fault,” Kevin said, striding out into the middle of the clearing. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to, uh …”
Aamon’s green eyes pierced the space between him and Kevin, immediately cutting off his halting babble. Glenn stepped out of the trees to stand by Kevin’s side.
“It was both of us.”
Aamon regarded them for a moment, then turned back to the altar.
“What is this place?” Kevin asked.
“An abomination,” Aamon rumbled. “It was a temple.”
Glenn drew closer to the pile of remains. Here and there, small saplings and shoots emerged from the black wreckage. Dry vines curled around the rocks and benches, strangling them. Glenn noticed other dark streaks in places along the ground. On closer inspection, she saw that they were black feathers with silver patches at the tip.
“I left before dawn,” Aamon said. “Went to Karaman and
Redfield. The temples are all gone. The monasteries too. The great monument to Kirzal in Karaman … it used to shine for miles in every direction, gold and marble. Now it’s a scorched pile of stone. The people bow and scrape and the Magistra’s soldiers are everywhere.
This is not the Magisterium I left.”
“What happened to it?” Glenn asked.
Aamon looked around the ruins.
“I did,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Kevin asked. “Aamon — ”
“Come,” he said, turning his back on the altar. “I have supplies and fast horses for all of us. There’s no time to wait.”
“Uh, we don’t exactly do a lot of horseback riding at home,”
Kevin said.
“Then it’s time to learn.”
Aamon left them there, striding into the trees. Kevin turned to Glenn after he was gone.
“What do you think he did?”
“What?”
“He was asking forgiveness.”
Glenn thought of the dead agent lying in the snow, and Aamon’s massive body looming over him with blood on his hands.
“It’s not what I am,” Aamon had said that night. Whether it was an explanation or another prayer, Glenn didn’t know.
The first thing Glenn and Kevin saw when they returned to the house was three horses tied up around back. There were two small black ones and an enormous beige one with a white mane, which must have been for Aamon. Each was saddled and loaded down with supplies and there was a large sword in a scabbard lashed to Aamon’s.
Kevin reached for it but Glenn pulled his hand away and led him around to the front of the house. Before they could get there, though, she heard a commotion out front.
Glenn waved Kevin back and flattened herself against the wall.
“What?” Kevin asked as he blundered into her.
“Shh!”
Glenn eased forward. Standing in the courtyard in front of the house was a small company of men dressed in leather overlaid with steel armor that was dented and streaked with dark scorches. They were all broad-shouldered, with faces that were a mix of crooked noses, scars, and thick beards. Some carried swords or spears while others toted longbows and had quivers full of arrows strapped to their backs. They moved farther into the courtyard, directed by a thing that stood at the center of the main path leading from the village gate.
He was, if anything, larger than Aamon. A towering creature, but more dog than cat, with a short brindle coat and pointed ears. His face was black and brown and heavily scarred. A sword hung from a scabbard around his waist. His eyes were small and shrewd, cast in a sulfurous yellow.
The men were moving closer to the house. If Glenn and Kevin didn’t find somewhere to hide, they’d be spotted in seconds. She grabbed Kevin’s arm and fled backward.
“Who was that?” Kevin whispered as they stumbled into a tight gap between the house and the one behind it.
“Garen Tom, I’m guessing,” Glenn said, pulling him down into the dirt and scraps of shadows. “I think he’s in charge here. He has some kind of history with Aamon.”
“Best friends?”
Glenn glared at him. How is it possible that even in times like these …?
Booted footsteps approached from the street. They were trapped.
Glenn turned, hunting for an escape. Just then a door opened into the alley and Aamon’s clawed hand reached out to them. As one of the soldiers was about to pass across the gap between the two houses, Glenn and Kevin ducked inside. Aamon slipped the door shut and stood at it, listening. Glenn held her breath. It was dark in the house, every shade drawn.
Aamon paused to let the soldier pass, then hurried toward the front room.
“Why don’t they just break in?” Glenn asked.
“They’re not here for us.”
“What?”
“Even if Calloway sent word last night, there’s no way he could have gotten back so soon.”
Glenn followed Aamon to the front room, with Kevin behind her.
“Then why are they — ”
A bell started to ring above the town, loud and urgent. Aamon motioned for them to get down. Seconds later, shadow after shadow began passing in front of the curtained windows. Glenn peeked out and saw the villagers gathering in the courtyard.
“What are they doing?”
Aamon dropped to his knees in the corner and started stuffing supplies into a large leather pack. “We’ll have to leave the horses.
There’s a tunnel exit in back. You can count on Garen to always leave a good escape route. We’ll be gone before he knows we were ever here.”
