The King's assassin

the ocean for good, but no! And he’s right up to his neck in this.’

‘He came back, did he?’

‘Yes! And have you not seen him?’ Talon’s voice rang with accusation, but if Syannis replied at all, Berren didn’t hear. ‘You have, haven’t you? Don’t! Don’t say anything, brother! I can see it in your face. You sought him out when he crossed the ocean, and now that he’s back, you’ve done so again!’

‘He sought me.’

Talon was snarling like a wolf in chains. ‘What hold does he have over you? Does he promise you that you’ll be king one day? Is that what it is?’

A burst of scornful laughter. ‘Is that what you think?’

Talon was almost growling. ‘I will rejoice to see you on the throne, brother, and well you know it, but I will kill him if I see him, however much he is a friend of yours. Whatever he did, he did it for his own reasons, not for love of you or of anyone but himself!’

Tarn turned and mouthed something at Berren. Do you know what they’re talking about?

‘And what about my little protege? Will you suffer him to live? Kuy has touched him too.’

Berren’s blood quickened. Syannis was talking about him!

‘I’ve kept him close and watched him well and I see no sign of taint in him. Which is more than I can say for you, brother. I begin to wonder, how did you find him? What made you choose him to be your apprentice all those years ago? Is it really just because he looks a bit like Aimes?’

‘A bit like Aimes? I could find you a dozen men in Kalda who look a bit like Aimes. Probably a dozen in Tethis. I don’t know what drew him to me.’ Syannis paused. He muttered something too quietly for Berren to make out. ‘But it’s more than that. It’s not what he looks like; it’s what he is, inside. He is Aimes.’

Whatever else Talon and Syannis had to say, Berren missed it as Tarn tugged at his elbow, pulling him away. ‘Hey! I’ve got an idea!’

Berren growled at him. ‘Shh!’

Tarn lurched a little. ‘There’s still some barrel in that beer. Maybe if we empty it, we can sleep in it? Because I don’t know where my tent is.’ Syannis and Talon had fallen silent. Berren heard their footsteps moving away through the woods.

‘I think it’s on the ship,’ muttered Berren. ‘Because you never put it up.’

‘Oh no, they took all the tents off to make space for the bloody horses.’

The two of them walked slowly back through the trees and staggered to Tarn’s barrel. All around them the sands rang with snores in the darkness. The Hawks, drunk and happy, asleep.

‘Oh, it’s not so bad out here.’ Tarn slumped down and yawned and a moment later he was snoring. Berren looked around the beach. There were men everywhere, soldiers lying in their bedrolls. There were piles of blankets, also evicted from the ship. He picked up a couple and threw one over Tarn, then walked back towards the woods. The trees would keep the wind off. He could already hear other snores coming from among them. He stumbled on, looking for a quiet place to call his own. He was about to throw his blanket down when a twig snapped behind him.

‘Hello, Berren.’ There was just a shape but the voice was unmistakeable. ‘Just one thing: did you actually see her die?’

He shook his head. He was so drunk he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. ‘What?’

‘Did you see her die, boy? Your sword-monk. Did you actually see her die? Did you see the moment her heart stopped?’

‘Yes.’ And now he could see it all over again and tears rolled down his cheeks. Stupid beer, making him cry.

‘Are you sure?’

The apparition turned and walked away through the trees, silent. Berren stared after it.

There was a faint whiff of rotting fish in the air.

PART THREE

TETHIS AND THE LOST KING

18

JUST ON A GRANDER SCALE

He crawled and dragged himself out of a hut he’d never seen, inch by inch out of a village he didn’t know, to the reed beds on the edge of a lake he couldn’t name. He was going to die and he wanted it to be outside under the stars, not in the dark. He reached the water’s edge, rolled onto his back and waited. One by one the stars winked out. Tears filled his eyes. He wanted to live, not to die. He wanted to live but the choice had been taken away.

A man stood over him. The man’s face, where it wasn’t lost among the shadows of his cowl, was pale. One half was ruined, scarred ragged by disease or fire, with one blind eye milky white. He wore pale hooded robes the colour of moonlight.

‘Are you death?’ Berren asked.

‘I bring the Black Moon,’ the stranger said.

Berren woke up covered in sweat. For a moment he couldn’t work out why he was in a room and in a bed instead of shivering on the beach. The hangover was real enough, though. Beside him Hain was snoring loudly.

He sat, head in his hands, wincing at the pain, putting the last few days back together, piece by piece. They’d returned to Forgenver. Master Sy had been on the same ship. They couldn’t possibly have avoided each other and yet somehow they did. When they were back, Talon had come and dug him out of his tent. My brother is heading south. He wants you with him. I think he’s stupid and I think you shouldn’t go. If you do, then you’re stupid too. And you’re not. He’d sounded angry.

In the room next door he could hear Master Sy. The thief-taker was snoring too, just like he always used to back in Deephaven.

He didn’t know why he’d said yes. Hadn’t known then, still didn’t know now. Just that he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t let the thief-taker vanish again, even if he had no idea of what to say to him. Talon hadn’t said a word, but the look in his eye spoke volumes. You deserve each other. Both of you. They’d ridden out of Forgenver late that same day and headed south, him and Hain and the thief-taker. Day after day with hardly a word spoken between them.

His head was spinning. He could barely keep his eyes open and he couldn’t get the dream out of his head. I bring the Black Moon. What did that mean?

He shook himself, wincing again. Dreams were stupid and it was much too early to be awake. He put on a nightshirt and went looking for some water. Moonlight robes made his dream-person a priest, didn’t it? A moon- priest. He’d known a moon-priest back in Deephaven. Garrent. But a priest with a burned face and one eye? He didn’t remember anyone like that.

When he got back, Hain was dressed. He gave Berren a sour look. They’d never really got past that punch on the nose. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Looking for water.’

Hain nodded at a jug on the table and mumbled something. Behind Berren the door opened and Master Sy came in. Except this wasn’t his Master Sy any more. This Syannis was older, angrier, his face pinched tight in frustration. The heady mix of fear and awe Berren remembered as his apprentice was gone,