Janis smiled. “You know something, Khollo? I think you’ll be a natural in your new role.”
Chapter 7
In addition to his promotion, Khollo was given new quarters. By the time the discussion in the council chamber ended, the sun was rising in the east. A stunned Sergeant Wilkes stumbled down the stairs to rouse his cadets for training, while Khollo returned to the smithy to collect his gear. Janis and Ondus remained in the council room, having sent one of the guards to bring food so that they could continue planning.
When Khollo entered the smithy, he found that Tarrik was already fussing with the join between the two halves of his new weapon. “You’re late,” the smith grumbled.
Khollo made a show of looking around the smithy, at the two motionless lumps that were Aaron and Wendell, still sound asleep. “Looks to me as though you’re early,” he countered.
Tarrik shrugged. “Matter of perspective. Where were you?”
“With Lord Kurkan,” Khollo replied heavily. “He and Ondus just returned from scouting the Southern Fells. They found at least one band of vertaga there, and suspect more are hiding nearby.”
Tarrik’s hand slipped on one of the weapon pieces, slicing his thumb open. “Vertaga?”
Khollo was already getting tired of explaining the situation. “Yes. Now are you happy we made all those arrowheads and spearheads?” He brushed past the stunned smith and grabbed his belongings. “I’ve been ordered to return to Lord Kurkan’s service in the keep. I won’t be able to help here much more, but I enjoyed my apprenticeship while it lasted.”
“So did we,” Tarrik said absently. “I’m sad to see you go, lad. Good luck with your new role, whatever it is.” He paused. “Are you quite sure . . . they’re back?”
“Lord Kurkan and Ondus bear the wounds of their encounter, and we have reports from Ishkabur as well,” Khollo replied quietly, almost gently.
The smith sighed. “It’s just, I remember the last war. Horrible time. I was with the army in those days, fixing weapons, following them from battle to battle. The wounded were carried past us sometimes . . .”
Khollo rested a gentle, reassuring hand on the big man’s shoulder. “With any luck, we won’t be in that situation again. We have the advantage of knowing what we’re up against.” I think.
“We can hope,” Tarrik murmured thoughtfully.
“Good luck with your project,” Khollo said as he was leaving. “I wish I had gotten to see it finished.”
“You may yet,” the smith replied absently, frowning down at the cluttered workbench.
Khollo made his way back to the keep and dumped his belongings in the room he had been assigned, a large tower room consisting of a bedchamber and privy, complete with a tub for bathing. The bedroom had a large, soft bed, a round table with three chairs and a chest of drawers. The floors were cold stone, but there was a fireplace in the outside wall to help stave off the chill.
After unpacking his meager belongings, Khollo returned to the council chamber and helped Ondus and Janis finish off the generous platter of food that had been sent up. During the meal, the two men filled Khollo in on a few more details of their hunt, the rapidly changing weather, the plentiful tracks they had found before their encounter with the beasts, and the places they had searched without any luck.
“There have been sightings by foresters and hunters in some of the villages,” Janis added at one point. “Or at least, they could have been vertaga. Most of the witnesses seem to have convinced themselves they saw a bear.”
“Could they have seen bears?” Khollo asked.
“Bears don’t have horns,” Janis grunted.
Which, Khollo had to admit, was an excellent point.
When the last crumbs had been finished off, Janis shoved back from the table and stood, pacing. “Now, Khollo, based on what I’ve heard over the years, you are not cut out to be a front-line soldier. That requires strength, discipline, split-second timing, and coordination with your comrades. Which hasn’t been a strong suit of yours. Like me, you fight better as an individual. Yet you don’t have my strength or size.
“But you’re quick and smart. Which makes you well suited to be a scout.”
Khollo thought about this for a long moment. Well, it’s not as impressive as being a warrior, but I may be good at it. “It’s worth a shot,” he decided.
Janis nodded. “We think so as well. Now, scouts do not engage hand to hand if they can help it. You’re not built for it. So your weapons will have to be ranged weapons.” Janis reached down below the table and produced a long bundle, holding it out for Khollo’s inspection.
Khollo took the package, frowning, wondering what sort of weapon lay within. Slowly, he unwrapped the canvas covering, laying the contents on the council table.
“A bow,” he said quietly, reaching for the weapon, sliding a hand over the smooth curve. Several gray-fletched arrows lay beside the bow, in a hard, cylindrical quiver. Khollo took the quiver and draped it over one shoulder so that the fletching tickled the side of his neck. The strap attached to the tube buckled halfway across Khollo’s chest. He tightened it until the quiver was firmly pinned, but not overly restrictive. Then he picked up the bow and tugged at the string.
“Those are a man’s weapons,” Janis said softly. “You will find no finer in this fortress.” He paused. “That was my brother’s first bow.”
Khollo looked up. “Your brother?”
“He was killed in the first war, in one of the major battles,” Janis said, his voice trembling.
Khollo looked away, embarrassed. He had never known Janis to be quite so emotional. Ondus’ eyes were shining as well, though he was composed and calm otherwise.
“Are you sure you want to give these to me?” Khollo asked. “If they’re
