‘This is not an enterprise to which you are suited,’ he said. ‘What do you think you are doing here?’

‘There’s no food,’ said the man. ‘My children are crying with hunger. All of this,’ he added, waving his arm at the food ships being unloaded in the distance, ‘is going to the homes of the rich. I’ll not watch my children starve. I’d sooner die myself.’

‘And that is what you will do,’ said Skilgannon. ‘You will die.’ With a sigh he tossed the knife to the deck, then dipped his hand into his money pouch, producing a heavy golden coin. ‘Take this to the tavern and purchase some food. Then go home and forget this foolishness.’

The second man lurched to his feet, knife in hand. ‘No need to take crumbs from this bastard’s table, Garak,’ he said. ‘Look at his money pouch. It’s bulging. We can have it all. Let’s take him!’

‘You have a decision to make, Garak,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Here is a coin honestly offered. With it you can feed your family for a month. The alternative is never to see them again in this world. I am not a forgiving man, and I offer no second chances.’

The knifemen exchanged glances. In that moment Skilgannon knew they would attack, and he would kill them. Two more lives would be wasted. Garak’s children would lose their father, and Skilgannon would have two more souls upon his conscience. Then, as always, his mind cleared. He could feel the weight of the scabbard on his back, the need to draw the Swords of Night and Day, to feel his fingers curl round the ornate ivory handles, to see the blades slice through flesh, and blood gushing from severed arteries. Skilgannon made no effort now to quell the growing hunger.

‘Brother Lantern!’ came the voice of Rabalyn. Skilgannon did not turn, but kept his eyes on the two men. He heard the youth walking along the jetty, and saw Garak’s gaze flick towards him.

As the deadly moment passed Skilgannon’s anger rose. He fought for control.

‘I’ll take the coin, master,’ said Garak, sheathing his knife. The haggard man sighed. These are terrible times. I am a furniture maker. Just a furniture maker.’

Skilgannon stood stock still, then drew in a deep breath. It took every effort of his will not to cut the man down. Silently he handed him the coin.

Garak gestured to his comrade, who stood for a moment, staring malevolently at Skilgannon. Then both men walked along the jetty, past Rabalyn.

Skilgannon moved to the jetty rail and gripped it with trembling hands.

‘Druss told me you had gone for a walk. I am sorry if I disturbed you,’

said Rabalyn.

‘The disturbance was a blessing.’ The blood lust began to fade.

Skilgannon glanced at the lad. ‘So, what are your plans, Rabalyn?’

The youth shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I wish I could go home. Perhaps I shall stay in the city and seek work.’

Skilgannon saw the boy staring at him, and knew that he was waiting for an invitation. ‘You cannot come with me, Rabalyn. Not because I do not like your company. You are fine and brave. I like you greatly. But there are people hunting me. One day they will find me. I have enough death on my conscience without adding you to the list. Why don’t you take Braygan’s advice, and join him at the temple?’

The youth’s disappointment showed. ‘Maybe I will. May I keep the shirt? I have no other clothes.’

‘Of course you may.’ Skilgannon fished another coin from his pouch.

‘Take this. Ask the priests to exchange it for silver and copper coins. Then you can purchase another tunic and some leggings that fit more closely.

What is left will allow you to pay the priests for your lodgings.’

Rabalyn took the coin and stared at it. ‘This is gold,’ he said.

‘Aye, it is.’

‘I have never held gold. One day I will pay you back. I promise.’ He stared hard at Skilgannon. ‘Are you all right? Your hands are trembling.’

‘I am just tired, Rabalyn.’

‘I thought you were going to fight those men.’

‘It would not have been a fight. Your arrival saved their lives.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Just men, seeking to find food for their families.’ A cool breeze whispered across the water.

‘Do you have a family?’ asked Rabalyn.

‘I did once. Not now.’

‘Doesn’t it make you lonely? I have felt lonely ever since Aunt Athyla died.’

Skilgannon took a deep, calming breath. He felt his body relax, and the trembling in his hands ceased. ‘Yes, I suppose it does.’

Rabalyn moved alongside Skilgannon and rested his arms on the jetty rail. The moon shone broken on the lapping sea. ‘I never thought about it before. I used to get really annoyed with Aunt Athyla. She’d fuss over me constantly. Once she had… gone I realized there wasn’t anyone who’d fuss over me again. Not in the same way, if you know what I mean?’

‘I know. After my father died I was raised by two kindly people, Sperian and Molaire. Molaire would worry constantly about whether I had eaten enough, or was getting enough sleep, or wearing warm enough clothes in the winter to fend off the chill.’

‘Yes, exactly,’ said Rabalyn, smiling at the memories. ‘Aunt Athyla was like that.’ His smile faded. ‘She deserved better than to die in that fire. I wish I could have done something more for her while she was alive.

Bought her a nice gift, or a… I don’t know. A house with a real garden.

Even a silk scarf. She always said she liked silk.’

‘She sounds a good woman,’ said Skilgannon softly, seeing the youth’s distress. ‘I expect you gave her more than you think.’

‘I gave her nothing,’ said Rabalyn, an edge of bitterness in his voice. ‘If only I had killed Todhe earlier she would still be alive.’

‘That may be so, Rabalyn, but there is no more futile phrase than if only

. If only we could go back and live our lives again. If only we hadn’t said the unkind words. If only we had turned left instead of right. If only is useless. We make our mistakes and we move on. In my life I have made decisions that cost the lives of thousands. Worse than that, through my actions those who loved me died horribly. If I allowed myself to walk the path of if only I would go mad. You are a fine, strong young man. Your aunt raised you well. She gave you love, and you will repay that love by loving others. A wife, sons, daughters, friends. That is the greatest gift you can give her.’

They stood in silence for a while, listening to the water lapping against the jetty.

‘Why are people hunting you?’ asked Rabalyn, after a while.

‘They have been sent by someone who wants me dead.’

‘He must hate you very much.’

‘No, she loves me. Now I need to be alone, my friend. I have much to think on. You go back to the tavern. I will join you there later.’

It still seemed strange to Skilgannon that of all the moments he had shared with Jianna, through all of the violence, fear and excitement, he should recall so vividly their walk home together from the bathhouse.

Having fooled the men sent to spy on him they strolled together, her arm hooked in his. He had glanced at her, his eyes drawn to the flimsy yellow tunic dress she wore. Her breasts were small and firm, her nipples pushing at the fabric. She was wearing a cheap scent that dazzled his senses. He found himself wishing with all his heart that she could have been what she pretended to be. Skilgannon had discovered the joys of sex at the bathhouse the previous summer, but never had he wanted anyone the way he desired the girl holding his arm.

‘What is your plan now?’ she asked, as they walked together. He could not. think clearly, aware of an uncomfortable tightness in his belly. ‘Well?’

she persisted.

‘We will go to my home. We will talk there,’ he said, trying to buy time.

‘What will you tell your servants?’

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