Crusader

“Ah,” she said with a nod to the younger man. “He was an Able Axe, then. I’m certain you faced him in those fabled child slaughter games that they presented you lot with under the guise of practices.”

“No, ma’am, he wasn’t an Able Axe, either,” Thad said, shaking his head. “I didn’t typically face him in the exercises because they always had the older kids band together to fight him when it was called for.”

Vara ran his response through her mind, trying to make sense of it. “I’m sorry. You said he wasn’t a Swift Sword and then you said he wasn’t an Able Axe. But I remember distinctly being told that every single member of the Society is assigned a Blood Family, for training purposes, for espirit de corps. So if he wasn’t either of those, then … was there a perhaps a third Blood Family I am unaware of?”

“Ah, no,” Thad said with an almost embarrassed shake of the head.

I am dealing with a moron of some sort, as I have always suspected. Perhaps I should speak slowly in order for him to understand me. “Then he was … not a member of the Society of Arms in Reikonos?”

“No, he was,” Thad said. The warrior cocked his head at her. “You don’t know, do you?”

Vara felt the slow, hammering burn of annoyance in her cheeks, the sound of blood rushing into her ears flared and she restrained her hand from doing that familiar thing again, seeking the hilt of her sword. Why must I continue to be like him in this damnable habit? I’m not actually going to strike this fool down, after all, much as it might entice me … “No, I suppose I don’t know what you’re hinting at. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to enlighten me rather than standing there and making me feel like a complete fool.”

Thad’s mouth opened wide and then shut abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I thought everyone knew by now, with the rumors that went around awhile back.”

Vara felt a surge of impatience. “I seem like the sort who trades in rumors, do I? Do you see me with an abundance of people to keep me informed of the latest tidbits of gossip?”

“No!” A slight look of shock ran over his face. “I don’t mean suggest you’re the disagreeable sort or anything of that nature-”

Vara leaned in closer to the warrior in red, causing him to shut up immediately. “I am … very disagreeable. And I am about to become much more so if the next words out of your mouth aren’t a succinct explanation of that which you clearly realize I do not know regarding Cyrus and the Society of Arms.”

“He was never in a Blood Family,” Thad said. “It happens, rarely, that a recruit for whatever reason isn’t given one, because the instructors want him to be killed off in the training process.”

Vara frowned at him; no difficult feat since her natural state was to be somewhat displeased. “Yet he clearly has survived to this point, so it cannot have been all that bad-”

“He was the first,” Thad said with a gulp. “The first to make it past a year without a Blood Family, the first to graduate without one. The strongest warrior they ever graduated, I think, because he did it all on his own.”

She stared at him through half-lidded eyes. “No family? None?”

He shook his head. “He slept on his own, hid in a different place every night. Took all his meals by himself.” Thad’s jaw moved, but no words came out for a moment. “I don’t … I mean, the instructors would talk to him when they gave him orders, but uh … no one else was allowed to say anything to him. No fraternizing with the enemy, you know, it’s Blood Family law …”

Vara felt a sudden dryness in her mouth, the taste of bitter acrimony faded away. “And he was there from the time he was …”

“Six,” Thad said helpfully. “One of the youngest. He’s legend there, I mean … legend.”

“Yet unable to find a guild when he left,” she said quietly, pondering.

“Oh, that was because of the Guildmaster of the Society,” Thad said. “I mean, League recommendation counts for a lot in most guilds. I doubt he even knew it, but I heard a couple warriors in my last guild talk about it. Cyrus got struck down every guild he applied to-they’d use him for a while, an application period, and then cast him off, him and the other two with him. That’s why they ended up starting their own guild.” Thad blanched. “Don’t tell him I told you that; like I said, I don’t think he knows he was blacklisted by the Society. I’m actually a little surprised that Alaric wouldn’t have checked with the Society Guildmaster before-”

All Thad’s words fell upon a great deafness in Vara’s ears; they came, she heard them vaguely, but they faded in the background, as though he were speaking to her at a distance of miles instead of a foot away. No father. No mother since he was six. Not a friend nor a confidant until age eighteen? A wife who left him, a best friend who died. Goddess, I hate pity. Truly, I hate it. Yet there it is, all the same. Pity and a great swell of … sympathy. She did not acknowledge Thad again, merely started her way back up the stairs. He mouthed some words behind her but she waved him off with one hand and climbed, passing the others who were finally descending, went all the way up to her quarters and lay down on the bed.

And for some reason she could not explain, even when she thought about it at great length, she cried over the thought of Cyrus Davidon’s upbringing for the next several hours, and when she stopped, it was only because she had no tears left to shed.

Chapter 91

Cyrus

The sun rose on trees glazed with ice on the branches. It caught Cyrus riding south, fatigue catching him ahorse, bumping along to the briskness of early morning. The snowstorm he had ridden through in the night had settled into a winter’s mix, and his beard was as frosted as the tree branches, though he had used his fingers to attempt to brush it loose every now and again. At least the rest of me is warm. He tugged on Windrider’s reins; the horse was at no more than a canter now. Looking back, he saw Enrant Monge just barely on the horizon, a boxy shape behind him on a hill.

Enrant Monge is a majestic castle, no doubt. A tremendous place, and one so wrapped up in the glories of Luukessia that I can see why the Brothers are willing to die for it. He felt a tug of regret. And die they shall, if Scylax is any sort of indication. All it would take is for Drettanden-if that’s what that thing truly is-to come charging at the gates and I suspect they would buckle after only a few good hits. Still, he looked back, the majesty of that place is not to be underestimated. Even as a shape on the horizon, the squarish nature of the outside walls, the soaring towers and the meaning behind it all gave him a feeling of sadness. They’re going to lose … everything.

He started to turn again to the road ahead but blinked and looked back, down the barely noticeable track that he knew to be the road. Wagon ruts were the only sign that this was a path, and they were partially covered over from the snowstorms. There were figures coming up behind him, on horses, their hooves struggling through the snow. They were moving faster than he was, and he pondered, just for a moment, pulling Praelior out and readying for them. Then he caught the first sight of deep blue skin under robes, and waited instead, keeping Windrider in place.

“You left without saying goodbye,” J’anda said as his horse trotted along, each step a slight struggle with the snowy road. “If there is one thing I simply cannot abide, it is the thought of a trusted comrade and friend throwing himself into oblivion without so much as a ‘fare thee well’ before doing so.”

Cyrus watched the others who were with him; Aisling was easy enough to pick out, with her sullen eyes, her easy smile long gone, no trace of it left on her face. Martaina, too, though her eyes were hidden by her cowl. “So you came to say goodbye?” Cyrus asked.

“No, fool, we came to go with you.” J’anda waved a hand at him dismissively. “My talents are wasted here, conjuring bread all the day long. But sieging the city by the sea? You may have use for an enchanter’s skill yet.” He said it with a twinkle in his eye.

“And you?” Cyrus asked Martaina.

“I’m here to keep an eye on you,” she said grudgingly, “as I said I would. I expect you’ll be easier to keep an eye on if you remain alive and in close range.”