“Ezraan hated sunrises when we were younger,” Janis said. “That was one thing we never agreed on. I always thought that sunrises were promises of hope, fresh starts.”
“What did my father think?” Khollo asked curiously.
Janis smirked. “He saw sunrises as heralds that he was about to have to start working.”
Khollo frowned. “Was he lazy?” That didn’t fit with the picture of Ezraan he had constructed the previous night.
“Not hardly. He enjoyed working, but he also liked sleeping and he was not fond of mornings. Once you got him moving though, there was no stopping him. He was a machine during the day, practicing or leading or training constantly.”
“You said he was an archer,” Khollo remembered, touching his bow lightly.
Janis nodded. “Yes. The finest I ever saw. He was a natural. He would be proud to know that his son was following in his footsteps. Even better, with his old bow.”
“How – ?”
“I inherited it when my mother died,” Janis explained. “Ezraan had moved on to a more powerful bow by the time the war started, and she kept it to remember him.”
“Oh.”
They stood in silence for a few moments. “What was he like?” Khollo asked. “I mean, you said he worked hard and was a good fighter, but that’s not all he was.”
“No,” Janis agreed. “Ezraan was much more. He was one of the kindest soldiers I have ever known. Always willing to help, always giving to those less fortunate than he was. And he valued the lives of his men above everything, even his own life. Soldiers begged to transfer into his unit because they knew he would look out for them and protect them.”
“Shouldn’t commanders always protect their men?” Khollo asked.
“Yes, and generally they did, but Ezraan was better than anyone else at coming up with plans that involved minimum risk for his forces,” Janis explained. “He suffered more defeats than some, but fewer casualties and in the long run I’d say he was one of the best leaders we had, even if he wasn’t a front-line soldier. He preferred to stand back and put arrows through the vertaga leaders.” Janis paused. “I think the fact that he led from the back helped. His men felt like they were protecting him, returning the favor as it were. Whatever the case, soldiers loved serving under Ezraan and were fiercely loyal to him.”
“Was he built like you?” Khollo asked curiously, trying to form an image of the inspiring leader his father had been.
“Not hardly,” Janis snorted. “He was almost exactly like you are, small, wiry, and tough. He was tan from a life in the outdoors and had long brown hair. His eyes were like yours as well. Green, piercing and intelligent, but with fewer gold flecks. He was never meant to be a front-line soldier.”
The image Khollo had been building shattered and he tried again. Eventually, he came up with an image rather like an older version of himself.
“Yes,” Janis said, as though he had been reading Khollo’s mind. “You are your father’s son, there is no doubt about that. You’ve inherited his gift for leadership as well as his looks. In some ways,” Janis said quietly, “Having you around is like having my brother back.
“But you aren’t completely the same. You’re tougher, smarter, than Ezraan ever was. Probably comes from months living on the street, fending for yourself.” Janis held up his hands to ward off a furious tirade. “I’m not making excuses. I’m just observing that you may have benefitted in other ways from that time. Your mother would have never forgiven me if she’d known.”
Belatedly, Khollo realized that he had never thought of what his mother was like. He had vague memories of her, a kind face and a pleasant voice, but that was it. He had been raised at the Academy, where the figures worthy of most respect were male warriors slaughtering the enemy in battle, where every waking hour was focused on building strength and skill and becoming a better fighter. From that perspective, the only parental model worth following was that of the father, especially if one knew his father had been a soldier.
“She must have been tough as well,” Khollo said finally. “To be working at the docks.”
Janis snorted. “She was proud and strong, though she was smaller even than your father. She was from the north originally, where hard work is the only work which needs doing. She was not the most . . . refined of women, and she had a forceful personality and the same dark good looks of your father. They were perfect for each other,” Janis finished, somewhat wistfully.
Khollo sighed and turned away from the horizon. The sun was well up now, the air beginning to lose some of its chill. “Janis, thanks for telling me all of this,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “You have no idea how much it means after all this time to have a family again.”
Janis nodded. “I know Khollo. And I’m sorry that – ”
He broke off suddenly as the sounds of someone climbing the ladder below reached their ears. Amid a collection of choice curses, a hand reached up onto the roof, followed by the red face of a slightly overweight soldier.
“It is . . . too . . . damn early to be running all the way to the roof,” he groused. He broke off abruptly when he saw Janis and Khollo standing there, watching him. “Oh . . . sorry, m’lord,” he said awkwardly. “But I’ve brung a message for you.” He tossed a roll of parchment up onto the roof, then vanished below again.
Janis stooped and retrieved the parchment. There was a plain wax seal with no insignia holding the parchment shut. Janis broke it and unfurled the message. He scanned
