suffered there?
“ I went straight to Aspect Elera when we docked,” Frentis continued. “Like you told me. When she heard what I had to say we went to Aspect Arlyn. He was able to talk the king into releasing the sister from the palace.”
“ The palace? She wasn’t in the Blackhold?”
“ Seems she was kept there when the Fourth Order first arrested her but Princess Lyrna got her out. Apparently she just marched in and demanded they release the sister to her custody. The warden thought she was acting on the king’s orders so handed her over. Rumour is Aspect Al Tendris was hopping mad when he heard, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sister Sherin was still a prisoner anyway, just had a nicer prison.”
“ What could she have done that could ever be considered treason, let alone denial of the Faith?”
“ She spoke against the war. Not just once either. Many times, to anyone who’d listen. Said the war was founded on lies and contrary to the Faith. Said you and all the rest of us had been sent to our doom for no good reason. Wouldn’t have mattered so much if it’d been some nobody spouting off, but she’s well known in the poorer parts of the capital, well liked too, on account of all the people she’s helped. When she spoke people listened. Seems neither the king nor the Fourth Order liked what she had to say.”
More of the old man’s scheming? Vaelin wondered. Perhaps he knew about his attachment to Sherin and her arrest was another means of applying pressure. He felt it unlikely, Janus had already secured his obedience. Sherin’s arrest seemed an act born of simple fear; his war could not be undone by a dissenting voice. Vaelin knew well the king’s ruthlessness but to publicly arrest a well liked sister of the Fifth Order was hardly the subtle, insidious move he favoured. He must have tried something else, Vaelin concluded. Some other way to silence her or buy her loyalty. So, she had the strength to resist him where I did not.
“ The king only agreed to Sherin’s release on condition she be shackled and kept under constant guard,” Frentis went on. “She’s also forbidden to talk to anyone without permission.” Frentis tugged an envelope from his cloak and held it out to Vaelin. “The details are here. Aspect Arlyn said we should observe them…”
Vaelin took the envelope and tossed it on the fire, watching the wax of the king’s seal bubble and run in the flames.
“ It seems the king has reprieved Sister Sherin and ordered her immediate release,” he told Frentis in a tones which didn’t invite argument. “In recognition of her long years of service to the Realm and the Faith.”
Frentis’s eyes flicked to the now charred envelope, but didn’t linger. “Of course, brother.” He shifted nervously, clearly debating whether to voice something more.
“ What is it, brother?” Vaelin prompted tiredly.
“ There was a girl, came to the dockside when we were getting ready to leave. Asked if I could give you this.” His hand emerged from his cloak again, clutching a small package wrapped in plain paper. “Pretty thing, she was. Almost made me sorry I joined the Order.”
Vaelin took the package, opening it to find two thin wooden blocks tied together with a blue silk ribbon. Inside was a single winterbloom, pressed flat on a white card. “Did she say anything?”
“ Only that I should convey her thanks. Didn’t say what for.”
Vaelin was surprised to find a smile on his lips. “Thank you, brother.” He retied the ribbon and consigned the blocks to his pocket. “Didn’t happen to bring some food did you? I’m quite starved.”
Frentis made a journey back down the hill and returned a half hour later with Caenis, Barkus and Dentos, each laden with provisions and bedrolls.
“ Haven’t slept under the stars for weeks now,” Caenis commented. “I find I miss it.”
“ Oh, quite,” Barkus drawled, unfolding his bedroll. “My backside has indeed missed the joys of hard earth and sudden rain.”
“ Don’t you lot have duties?” Vaelin enquired.
“ We’ve decided to shirk them, my lord,” Dentos replied. “Going to flog us?”
“ Depends on what kind of meal you’ve brought me.”
They roasted a haunch of goat over the fire and shared bread and dates. Dentos opened a bottle of Cumbraelin red and passed it round. “This is the last one,” he said, his voice laden with regret. “Had Sergeant Gallis pack twenty bottles before we left.”
“ Men do seem to drink more in time of war,” observed Caenis.
“ Can’t imagine why,” Barkus grunted.
For a while it was almost as it had been all those years ago, when Master Hutril would led them into the woods and they would camp out, boys sharing stories and mockery around the fire. Except there were fewer of them now, and the humour had a bitter edge. Even Frentis, in his way the most guile-less soul among them, was becoming prone to cynicism, regaling them with the news that the dungeons were once again empty as the king attempted to add ever more regiments to the Realm Guard. “More cut-throats ready to get their throats cut.”
“ Seems fitting,” Caenis said. “Those who have besmirched the king’s peace should be obliged to make recompense. What better way than through service in war? And I have to say, former outlaws do make excellent soldiers.”
“ No illusions,” Barkus agreed. “No expectations. When you live your whole life in hardship, a soldier’s life doesn’t seem so bad.”
“ Ask those poor bastards we left behind at the Bloody Hill how much they liked a soldier’s life,” Dentos said.
Barkus shrugged. “Soldier’s life often means a soldier’s death. Least they get paid, what do we get?”
“ We get to serve the Faith,” Frentis put in. “It’s enough for me.”
“ Ah, but you’re still young, in mind and body. Give it another year or two and you’ll be reaching for Brother’s Friend to silence those pesky questions, like the rest of us.” Barkus tipped the wine bottle into his mouth, grimacing in disappointment as the last drops dribbled out. “Faith, I wish I was drunk,” he grumbled, hurling the bottle into the darkness.
“ Don’t you believe it then?” Frentis went on. “What we’re fighting for?”
“ We’re fighting so the king can double his tax income, oh innocent urchin.” Barkus pulled a flask of Brother’s Friend from his cloak and took a long pull. “That’s better.”
“ That can’t be right,” Frentis protested. “I mean, I know all that stuff about Alpirans stealing children was so much horse-dung, but we’re bringing the Faith here, right? These people need us. That’s why the Aspect sent us.” His gaze swivelled to Vaelin. “Right?”
“ Of course that’s right,” Caenis told him with his accustomed certainty. “Our brother sees the basest motives in the purest actions.”
“ Pure?” Barkus gave a long and hearty laugh. “What’s pure about any of this? How many corpses are lying out there in desert because of us? How many widows and orphans and cripples have we made? And what about this place? You think the Red Hand appearing here after we seize the city is just some huge coincidence?”
“ If we brought it with us then it would have laid us low as well,” Caenis snapped back. “You speak such nonsense sometimes, brother.”
Vaelin glanced back at the mansion as they continued to bicker. A dim light was burning in one of the upstairs windows, vague shadows moving behind the blinds. Sherin at work, most probably. He felt a sudden lurch of concern, feeling her vulnerability. If her curative failed to work she was naked before the Red Hand, like Sister Gilma. He would have sent her to her death… and she was so angry.
He rose and went to the gate, eyes locked on the yellow square of the window, helplessness and guilt surging in his breast. He found he was already turning the key in the lock. If it works then there is no danger, if it doesn’t then I can’t linger here whilst she dies…
“ Brother?” Caenis, voice heavy with warning.
“ I have to…” The blood-song surged, a scream in his mind, sending him to his knees. He clutched at the gate to keep from falling, feeling Barkus’s strong hands bear him up.
“ Vaelin? Is it the falling sickness again?”
Despite the pain throbbing in his head, Vaelin found he could stand unaided, and there was no tang of blood in his mouth. He wiped at his nose and eyes, finding them dry. Not the same, but it was Ahm Lin’s song. A sudden sick realisation struck him and he tore away from Barkus’s grasp, eyes scanning the dark mass of the city, finding it quickly, a bright beacon of flame shining in the artisan’s quarter. Ahm Lin’s shop was burning.
The flames were reaching high into the sky when they arrived, the roof of the shop was gone, the blackened
