“My job was to find the traitor. But I let the others sway me. I was so convinced of your guilt, I didn’t even want to listen to you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” he licked his lips and added, lowering his voice, so I barely heard him. “I shouldn’t have judged you without knowing you.”
His words made something in my chest stir. Why, though? Everyone judged me, usually unfavorably and almost always without knowing jack shit about me.
I turned my head to avoid looking at him and shook it slightly. “I’m used to it.”
“It doesn’t make it right.”
Life is not right. I waved my hand, wishing for nothing but to end this line of conversation. “All is forgiven.” Something he’d said earlier struck me, and I couldn’t help myself asking, “Who exactly declared my guilt?”
His gaze hardened, and I got a feeling he understood the real reason behind my questioning.
“Myar Mal already asked me all about it,” he admitted quietly, then paused. For a moment he was studying me, as if expecting something, but I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t sure how much he knew, how much I could let out. So, I preferred to stay silent.
Finally, his lips twisted into a sour grimace. “He has this way of looking at people… he doesn’t need to say anything to make you know you screwed up.”
I recalled Adyar Lah’s downcast appearance during the vessár-ai session. It seemed my suspicion was right. I felt a pang of satisfaction, but it vanished as quickly as it showed, replaced by pity. I couldn’t wish anyone to get on Myar Mal’s bad side.
“I thought that was his default look,” I tried joking. Adyar Lah’s eyebrows shot up, but then his features relaxed and… he smiled.
“Yeah, I guess,” he chuckled, and I realized my hands weren’t clutching the armrests anymore. For the first time since I was appointed, I felt almost… relaxed.
Maybe Myar Mal was right. Maybe we could get along.
“Well.” He sighed. His smile receded into a scowl. “Whoever it was behind that attempt, let’s hope they’ll be found soon.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Let’s hope.”
* * *
The good mood brought by reconciling with Adyar Lah didn’t last long. A few moments after he left, the tent flap opened again. I glanced up to check and almost immediately lowered my head. Innam Ar-Leig. He took a seat across the desk and stared at me wordlessly.
“Can I help you, vessár?” I asked, wanting nothing but for him to leave me alone. The forty days I spent training under his command were some of the worst in my life.
“What the fuck have you done, Tirsan?” he asked, and I felt a stab of anger.
“I haven’t done anything—” I started, but he didn’t let me finish.
“You pissed off a lot of people. Surprising; from what I remember, you were always unassuming.”
“Ah.” I leaned back in my chair. Unlike other furniture, it had armrests and a proper backrest. Sadly, it was too tight for my size, making it even more uncomfortable than normal stools. “I’m afraid my main offense is being born to the wrong parents.”
“Yes,” he sighed, “I’m afraid you’re right. Wouldn’t it be beautiful, if all of our problems had simple, rational causes?”
He retrieved a small silver box of vaka pills and offered me one.
“Come on, take it. It’s a mood stabilizer too. You shouldn’t let anyone see you like you were before entering this tent.”
I took it but didn’t unpack it. I wondered if it was poisoned.
“Why do you care?” I asked. “Sorry, Innam Ar, but you never struck me as considerate.”
He chuckled. “Kid, my job is to make soldiers, not friends. I can’t afford leniency, because our enemies won’t. Be glad you didn’t train under Tyano Har. I swear, the bastard relished in our misery.”
The accusation would probably carry more weight if I wasn’t able to say the same about him.
“I was only trying to make you a man,” he continued, meeting my gaze without blinking, “and looking at you now, I wonder where the fuck I went wrong.”
I seethed. “What the fuck do you know—”
“Oh, I do, believe me. You enlisted at that precious age when you still confused your leader with your daddy. You want him to hold your hand and lead you to victory. Well, guess what, Tirsan? It’s time to grow up.”
For a moment I looked at him, stupefied. How did he know? How can some people figure out your deepest, most guarded secret, then drag it out like that, hit you where it hurts the most, without even seeming to try? Then I remembered what Tayrel Kan put into my head: he was a psychologist, it was literally his job.
Except maybe the hurting. That was just him.
I was not sure if it was my anger, my tiredness, or his casual behavior, but before I could think better of it, I snapped, “if you only came here to insult me, you can get the fuck out.”
My insolence shocked me. A part of me half-expected him to take over my body, walk it outside and leave me standing, paralyzed, in the middle of the camp for a day or two. It was a standard disciplinary action in Mespana, one I experienced once and dedicated my life to never experiencing again. It took me a while to realize that, at least for now, he was not my vessár. He was my equal.
The bastard smiled. “That’s better. I have something for you.”
He reached to his pouch again and handed me an amulet: a small tertium disk with a perfectly transparent crystal in the center, dangling from a silver chain. A protective charm.
“It won’t make you invincible,” he warned. “But it should deflect any deadly spell aimed at your back. That’s a singular ‘spell’ by the way. Don’t play a hero; as soon as you feel it sting, get the fuck down.”
I put the amulet on and hid it under my uniform.
“Now, take your pill. Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned; I’m not one
