They left Senke alone with Aaron, who still stood before the body. He appeared dumbstruck and on the verge of tears.
“I have nothing to clean up the blood with,” he said, his voice oddly distant. Senke tried to laugh, but it came out more as a choked cough.
“There’s a closet in the corner with a bunch of spare sheets. You can use one of them.”
Aaron obeyed, moving in a stiff, methodical manner. Senke watched him, all the while rubbing his fingers across the front of his chest.
“I’ve had sex with a horse,” he said as Aaron walked back. The boy paused, but Senke laughed again, his face flushing a pale shade of red.
“Just testing the spell,” Senke said. “Clearly it’s worn off.”
“Clearly.”
Senke sighed. Aaron bent down on his knees and began mopping up the blood. He kept his eyes straight down, as if afraid of seeing the body. The sight of it seemed so…wrong.
“Listen,” Senke said as he knelt down. “That was a special man, and an old one, too. He was ready to go, and I don’t think he was too upset with you about it, alright? I know how much pressure Thren’s putting on you. He wants you to replace him one day, and to be a name the whole world fears.”
“I don’t want the world to fear me,” Aaron whispered. “I want them to fear Haern.”
“Haern?” asked Senke. “I’m not sure I…”
Aaron glanced up at him, his stare hard and full of killing. Senke’s mouth dropped open. Kayla knew Dustin had been sent after Delius’s daughter. Senke had seen Aaron come speak with Kayla in the mess hall. It made no sense for an old man to try and kill Dustin. But a young one, one who had vanished and was left behind instead of being at his father’s side when infiltrating the castle…
“I could get killed for this,” Senke said as he stood. He glanced around, as if looking for spies listening in on their conversation. “Fuck me like a Kerran whore. You’re Haern. You took a new name.”
At Aaron’s icy look, Senke broke out into nervous laughter.
“Up, down, and sideways, as our dear Kayla likes to say. I know grown men who would have crumbled and confessed sooner than you did, boy. How old are you again?”
Aaron ignored the question, focusing instead on mopping up the rest of the blood. Senke saw the current blanket he held was completely soaked so he retrieved another. He tossed it over Robert’s body, shaking his head as his grin faded.
“We’ve all got secrets, Aaron,” Senke said as he rubbed his chest again. “Some we tell, and some we keep hidden. Yours must stay hidden. Do you understand that? If anyone finds out what you did, they’ll go to Thren in a heartbeat. I don’t want to imagine your father’s fury. He’ll kill everyone who knew about it, including me and Kayla. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite happy with living, and would like to continue doing so for the next couple of decades.”
“I don’t see a way out,” Aaron said as Senke tucked the sheets around the body. “And what was the point? I prayed, and people died. Hardly mercy. Ashhur’s not even real. He’s…he’s just a shitty dream.”
Senke tsk’ed at him.
“Such language,” he said as he knelt down. He looked to the door, as if expecting it to bang open at any moment. Just in case, he put his back to it and acted as if he were busy wrapping the body. While Aaron watched, he pulled out a small medallion of the golden mountain from underneath his leather armor.
“I’m not the most faithful,” Senke said as Aaron’s eyes widened in shock. “I treat it more like a good luck charm than anything else. Doing what we do makes prayer hard sometimes, you know? But whatever you want to say, or want to learn, I’ll do my best. I might be signing my death warrant, but if you need help with girls, love, or faith, rely on me. You’re a good kid, Aaron. I’m not proud of all I do, but it’s better than what I did before joining the Spider Guild. One day, maybe I’ll get out.”
Aaron stopped scrubbing, seeing that whatever blood was in the carpet wasn’t going anywhere through his meager efforts. He tossed the wet, crimson blanket on top of Robert’s body, glad that his head was covered. He didn’t want to see those sad eyes staring up at him.
“Everyone needs friends,” Senke said. “Even people like you and me. Thren seems determined as the abyss to keep you from having any. But we’ll be training together, hopefully for the next several years. When we do, we can talk more, alright?”
Aaron nodded.
“What do we do about the body?” he asked.
“Leave it here,” Senke said. “We’ve done enough. I’ll get a few of our lower ranks to smuggle it out one of the tunnels. I think it’s time you and me got something stiff to drink.”
Aaron smiled.
“Senke…thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Senke winked.
“Keep it to yourself, Haern. ”
18
F or over a mile stretched the wagon train. Some were covered with dried hides and white tarps, while others were open and piled high with pumpkins, squash, and winter-corn. In one wagon was a whole troop of dancers, singing and laughing at the sight of Veldaren’s walls. Another two were full of hard men, their faces and hands scarred from the sellsword life. All around the wagons walked servants, cooks, high-born maidens and low-born camp followers. At the far end trailed a small herd of cattle and sheep, ready for the butcher. When the Kensgold started, they would have fresh blood and meat for their festival.
Ahead of it all rode Laurie Keenan.
“We’re bringing twice what we brought last year,” said Torgar riding next to him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I know things more often than others,” Laurie said, his voice oddly soft and gentle. “Like how I know you should watch your tongue, Torgar, lest I cut it out and feed it to the ravens.”
The sellsword captain laughed at his employer. Laurie was a smart man, but he was often full of idle threats and ambiguous comments. His eyes were dark, his complexion more so. Riding next to the sellsword, he seemed skinny and weak. He wore his hair long and braided, in the popular fashion of Angelport where the caravan had originated, following the highway out from the Ramere and north through the Kingstrip.
“I don’t understand why we bother to return,” Torgar said, ignoring the warning to watch his tongue. “This must cost you a fortune every time we make this trip. Why not make Leon and Maynard come to you? It’s far safer in Angelport than Veldaren, anyway.”
“Because if all three of us left Veldaren, there might not be a city to return to,” Laurie said. His face was clean-shaven except for a thin strip of hair growing from the center of his chin that hung halfway down his neck. Laurie twirled it with his fingers as his caravan wound around a small hill on its way to the city’s western entrance. The southern gate was closer and would have saved them a good twenty minutes of traveling, but the king had forbidden merchants from entering there. That, and being among the poor was not one of Laurie’s favorite pastimes; the south was just crawling with the empty-pocketed cretins.
“A shame you can’t just hire that Thren guy to work for you,” Torgar said after glancing back at the caravan to make sure nothing looked amiss. “Imagine what a man like that might have done as your right hand man.”
“Trust me, I’ve tried,” said Laurie, sounding tired of the topic. “He’s a hard man to get a hold of. Most of my messengers wound up dead, at least the one’s offering him the position. I think he took it as an insult.”
Torgar laughed heartily.
“Only a fool would turn down working for you, milord. Food’s good, the women are fine and clean, and there’s always a steady stream of idiots to kill with a sword.”
“Speaking of idiots with swords,” Laurie said, pointing to the western entrance. The gates were open wide, but there was a lengthy line of peasants, merchants, and mercenaries winding out from it. A thick grouping of guards was the cause.
