to feed and clothe ungrateful brats.’
Rabalyn hated weakness. And he had never understood why his mother had deserted her children to go off with a man so lacking in virtue. He had only told the priests about his parents being in Mellicane so that they would not leave him to his fate. He had no intention of seeking them out.
Let them rot wherever they are, he thought.
Braygan moved to the small fire, and added several dry sticks. ‘So what happened when the mob went to the church?’ asked Rabalyn.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘Why?’
‘It was ugly, Rabalyn. Horrible.’
The priest’s face showed his sorrow, and Rabalyn watched him sitting quietly and staring into the fire. ‘Is Jesper all right?’ asked the boy.
‘Jesper?’
‘Kalia’s dog.’
‘Oh, yes, the dog is fine. Abbot Cethelin is looking after him.’
‘Why is Brother Lantern not dressed like a priest?’
‘He has left the Order. Like me he is… was… an acolyte. He had not taken his final vows. Would you like something to eat?’
‘I’d like to know what happened at the church,’ said Rabalyn. ‘What was so horrible?’
Braygan sighed. ‘Men died, Rabalyn. The abbot was stabbed.’
‘Brother Lantern stopped them, didn’t he?’
Braygan glanced at the boy. ‘How would you know that?’
‘I don’t
‘As I said, I do not want to talk about it. Perhaps you should ask Lantern when he returns.’
‘He won’t talk about it. And he doesn’t like me.’
Braygan smiled sheepishly. ‘He doesn’t like me much either.’
‘Then why are you travelling together?’
‘The abbot asked him to see me safely to Mellicane.’
‘What will you do when you get there?’
‘Deliver letters to the church elders, and then take my vows before the bishop.’
‘Is it a long way?’
‘Just over a hundred and fifty miles. Lantern thinks the journey will take another twelve, perhaps fifteen days.’
‘What about the war? Will we see soldiers?’
‘I do hope not,’ said Braygan, suddenly fearful. ‘There are several settlements between here and the capital. We will purchase provisions from them and keep away from the major roads.’
‘Have you ever been to the capital?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Kalia has. She said they have huge beasts there, who fight in the arena.
And Kellias the Pedlar told us that some of them were going to be fighting in the war. He said they were called Joinings, and that the King had promised an army of them to fight off our evil enemies.’
‘I do not like to speak of such things,’ said Braygan, attempting a stern tone, and failing miserably.
‘I’d like to see one,’ added Rabalyn.
‘Be careful of what you wish for, boy,’ said Lantern, silently emerging from the trees. ‘The Joinings are a curse, and anyone who seeks to use them is a fool.’
On the morning of the sixth day, tired and hungry, their provisions almost exhausted, they arrived at a waystation just outside a small village nestling in the hills. Skilgannon scanned the area. There were three wooden structures and a corral containing no horses. Smoke was drifting lazily from the chimney of the largest building. Beyond the waystation there was no sign of movement in the village, save for a fox that darted across the main street, disappearing into an alley.
Skilgannon told Rabalyn and Braygan to wait at the edge of the trees, then strode down to the corral. As he approached it a burly man appeared from the main building. He was tall and round-shouldered, his hair close- cropped, but his brown beard thick and shaggy.
‘Good morning to you,’ he said.
‘And to you. Where are your horses?’
‘Soldiers took them. The station is closed until further notice.’
Skilgannon glanced towards the silent village. ‘All gone,’ said the man.
‘The Datians are less than a day from here. So people grabbed what they could and fled.’
‘But not you.’
The man shrugged. ‘Nowhere to go, son. This is my home. There’s still food left, so if you and your friends want breakfast you are welcome.’
That is kind of you.’
‘Glad to have the company, tell you the truth. My name is Seth,’ he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. Skilgannon shook it. Seth glanced down at the spider tattoo. ‘There’s men looking for you,’ he added.
‘They were here yesterday. Big reward, they said.’
‘Huge,’ agreed Skilgannon.
‘Best you don’t stay too long then,’ said Seth, with a grin. ‘Expect they’ll be back.’ Then he turned and walked back inside.
Skilgannon summoned the others. Most of the space within the building was taken up by a storage area, now empty, but several tables and a dozen chairs had been set by the western wall. Seth seated them, then wandered away to the kitchen. Skilgannon rose and followed him. The big man took up a frying pan and placed it atop a large stove. Wrapping a cloth around his hand, he pulled clear the iron cover and moved the pan to the flames.
Then from the larder he took a large chunk of smoked ham, and carved eight slices. As they were placed in the pan they began to sizzle.
Skilgannon’s stomach tightened as the smell of frying bacon filled the air.
‘You don’t need to worry about me, son,’ said Seth. ‘I’m not interested in bounties.’
‘Where did the villagers go?’
‘Some headed for Mellicane, others went south. Some headed up into the high hills. The war is lost. No doubt of it. The soldiers who stole the horses were deserters. They told me that only the capital still holds out against the Datians.’ Seth flipped the bacon slices with a long knife. ‘You are a Naashanite?’
‘No, but I was raised there.’
‘Word was that the Witch Queen would send an army to help us. Never came.’ The bearded man pushed the bacon to the side of the large pan.
From the larder he took a bowl of eggs, and, one by one, cracked six of them. Three of the yolks split, the golden centres seeping over the congealing mess in the pan. ‘Never was much of a cook,’ he said, with a grin. ‘It will still taste good, though. Fine hens. Trust me.’
Skilgannon relaxed and smiled. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Twelve years this summer. Not a bad place, you know. People are friendly, and — before the war — the station was pretty busy. Postal riders and travellers. I built the sleeping quarters myself. At one time I was even turning business away. Twenty beds, full for a month. Thought I was going to get rich.’
‘What would you do if you were rich?’
Seth laughed. ‘No idea, man. I’ve no taste for finery. Having said that, there was a fancy whorehouse in Mellicane that I always hankered to try.
There was a woman there who charged ten gold raq for a single night. Can you believe that? She must have been something.’ He glanced down at the mess in the pan. ‘Well, I think it’s ready.’
He served the meal onto four wooden platters. He and Skilgannon carried them back into the dining area,
