Blood Song (75 page)

“How many uncles do you have, brother? I’ve always wondered.”

Dentos’s face clouded and he said nothing for a long time. When he finally spoke there was a sombre tone to his voice Vaelin hadn’t heard before. “None.”

Vaelin frowned in puzzlement. “What about the one with the fighting dogs? And the one who taught you the bow…”

“I taught myself the bow. There was a master hunter in our village but he wasn’t my uncle, neither was that vicious shit-bag with the dogs. None of them were.” He glanced at Vaelin and smiled sadly. “My dear old mum was the village whore, brother. She called the many men who came to our door my uncles, made them be nice to me or they weren’t getting in her bed, any one of them could have been my dad after all. Never did find out which one, not that I give a dog’s fart. They were a pretty worthless bunch.

“Whore or not, my mum always did her best for me. I was never hungry and I always had clothes on my back and shoes on my feet, unlike most of the other children in the village. Bad enough being the whore’s whelp, worse to be an envied whore’s whelp. It was common knowledge my dad could’ve been one of thirty-odd men in the village, so the other kids called me ‘Whose bastard?’ I was about four when I first heard it, ‘Whose bastard? Whose bastard? Where’d you get your shoes from, Whose bastard?’ On and on it went, year after year. There was this one lad, Uncle Bab’s boy, mean little shit he was, always the first to start shouting. One day him and his gang started throwing stuff at me, sharp stuff some of it, I got all cut up, it made me angry. So I took my bow put an arrow through that boy’s leg. Can’t say I was sorry to watch him bleed and cry and flail around. After that,” he shrugged, “couldn’t really stay there any more. No one was going to apprentice a whore’s bastard, a dangerous bastard at that, so my mum packed me off to the Order. I can still remember her crying when the cart took me away. I’ve never been back.”

Watching him swig from his flask, Vaelin was struck by how old Dentos looked. Deep lines marked his brows and premature grey coloured in the close cropped hair at his temples. Years of battle and hard living had aged him and his grief for Sister Gilma was palpable. Of all the brothers she had been closest to him.
When we return to the Realm I’ll ask the Aspect to give him a position at the Order House,
Vaelin decided, then realised that there was every chance neither of them would see the Realm again. All he had to offer Dentos were yet more opportunities for a bloody end. His thoughts turned again to the marble block waiting in Ahm Lin’s shop and he knew he had delayed too long. It was time he did what he had been sent here to do. If he could achieve it before the Alpiran army arrived then perhaps another slaughter could be avoided, if he was willing to pay the price.

He got to his feet, touching Dentos on the shoulder in farewell. “I have business…”

Dentos’s weary eyes were suddenly bright with excitement and his finger shot out to point at the horizon. “A sail! You see it, brother?”

Vaelin shielded his eyes to scan the sea. It was the merest speck, a smudge of grey between water and sky, but unmistakably a sail. The Red Falcon was back.

Captain Nurin was first down the gangplank, his lean, weathered face drawn with exhaustion, but the light of triumph burned in his eyes along with the greed Vaelin remembered so well from their first meeting. “Twenty-one days!” he exulted. “Wouldn’t have thought it possible so late in the year, but Udonor heard our calls and made a gift of the winds. Would have been eighteen if we hadn’t had to tarry so long in Varinshold, nor carry so many passengers back.”

“So many passengers?” Vaelin asked. His gaze was fixed on the gangplank, expecting a slender, dark haired form to appear at any second.

“Nine in all. Though why a girl whose head barely reaches my shoulder needs seven men to guard her is beyond me, I must say.”

Vaelin turned to him, frowning. “Guards?”

Nurin shrugged, gesturing at the gangplank. “See for yourself.”

The heavy set man descending the gangplank had a squat, brutish face, unleavened by the scowl with which he regarded Vaelin and the surrounding Wolfrunners. More disconcerting still was the fact that he wore the black robe of the Fourth Order and a sword at his belt.

“Brother Vaelin?” he enquired in a flat tone, devoid of civility.

Vaelin nodded, growing unease dispelling any urge to offer a greeting.

“Brother Commander Iltis,” the black robed man introduced himself. “Faith Protection Company of the Fourth Order.”

“Never heard of you,” Vaelin told him. “Where are Sister Sherin and Brother Frentis?”

Brother Iltis blinked, clearly unused to disrespect. “The prisoner and Brother Frentis are aboard ship. We have some issues to discuss, brother. Certain arrangements must be made…”

Vaelin had heard only one word. “Prisoner?” His voice was soft but he was aware of the menace it possessed. Brother Iltis blinked again, his scowl fading to an uncertain frown. “What… prisoner?”

The sound of creaking wood made him turn back to the ship. Another brother of the Fourth Order, also armed with a sword, was leading a dark haired young woman by a chain attached to shackles on her wrists. Sherin was paler than he remembered, also somewhat thinner, but the bright, open smile that lit her face as their eyes met remained unchanged. Another five brothers followed her onto the quay, spreading out on either side and eyeing Vaelin and the Wolfrunners with cold distrust. Last to descend was Frentis, his face drawn in shame and his eyes averted.

“Sister,” Vaelin moved towards Sherin but found his path suddenly blocked by Iltis.

“The prisoner is forbidden discourse with the Faithful, brother.”

“Get out of my way!” Vaelin ordered him, precisely and deliberately annunciating each word.

Iltis paled visibly, but held his ground. “I have my orders, brother.”

“What is this?” Vaelin demanded, rage building in his chest. “Why is our sister shackled so?”

Behind Iltis, Sherin lifted her shackled wrists, grimacing ruefully. “I’m sorry you find me in chains once again…”

“The prisoner will not speak unless permitted!” Iltis barked, rounding on her, tugging sharply on her chain, the shackles chafing her flesh, producing a wince of pain. “The prisoner will not sully the ears of the Faithful with her heresy or treachery!”

Sherin’s eyes flicked to Vaelin, imploring. “Please don’t kill him!”

Chapter 7

She was angry, he could tell. Her expression rigid, eyes avoiding his gaze as they walked the track to the Governor’s mansion, her heavy chest of curatives weighing on his shoulder.

“I didn’t kill him,” Vaelin offered when the silence became unbearable.

“Because Brother Frentis stopped you,” she replied, eyes flashing at him.

She was right, of course. If Frentis hadn’t stopped him he would have continued to beat Brother Iltis to death on the quayside. The other brothers from the Fourth Order had unwisely begun reaching for their weapons when Vaelin’s first blow sent the man sprawling to the ground, quickly finding themselves disarmed by the surrounding Wolfrunners. They could only stand and watch helplessly as Vaelin continued to smash his fist into Iltis’s increasingly bloody and distorted face, deaf to Sherin’s pleading and leaving off only when Frentis hauled him away.

“What is this?” he snarled, wrenching himself free. “How could you allow this?”

Frentis looked more shamed and miserable than Vaelin could remember. “The Aspect’s orders, brother,” he replied in a soft murmur.

“Excuse me!” Sherin jangled her chains, glaring at Vaelin. “Do you think I might be freed to tend to our brother before he bleeds to death?”

And so she had tended to Brother Commander Iltis, ordering her chest be carried from the ship and applying balms and salves to his cuts before stitching the gash Vaelin had left in his brow when he pounded his forehead against the cobbles. She worked in silence, her deft hands doing their work with the clean efficiency he remembered, but there was a sharpness to her movements that bespoke a restrained anger.

She didn’t like seeing it,
Vaelin realised.
Didn’t like seeing the killer in me.

“Get this lot to the gaol,” he told Frentis, waving a hand at the Fourth Order brothers. “If they give you any trouble, flog them.”

Frentis nodded, hesitating. “Brother, about the sister…”

“We’ll talk later, brother.”

Frentis nodded again and moved away to take command of the prisoners.

Nearby, Captain Nurin cleared his throat. “What?” Vaelin demanded.

“Your word, my lord,” the wiry captain said. He was unnerved by the display of violence but refused to be daunted, forcing himself to meet Vaelin’s glare. “Our arrangement, as noted before witnesses.”

“Oh.” Vaelin tugged the bag containing the bluestone from his belt and tossed it to Nurin. “Spend it wisely. Sergeant!”

The Wolfrunner sergeant quickly snapped to attention. “My lord!”

“Captain Nurin and his crew are to be detained with the other sailors. Search the ship thoroughly to ensure none are hiding aboard.”

The sergeant saluted smartly and moved off, shouting orders.

“Detained, my lord?” Nurin raised his eyes reluctantly from the bluestone now grasped tightly in his fist. “But I have urgent business...”

“I’m sure you do, captain. However, the presence of the Red Hand in the city requires you remain with us a little longer.”

The greed in the captain’s eyes transformed abruptly into naked fear and he took a few rapid backward steps. “The Red Hand? Here?”

Vaelin turned back to Sister Sherin, watching her tie off the suture and snip away the stray threads with a small pair of scissors. “Yes,” he murmured. “But, I suspect, not for much longer.”

“I told you once,” Sherin said as they paused on the track to the governor’s mansion, “no-one is going to die on my account. And I meant it, Vaelin.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprised at his sincerity. He had hurt her, made her feel every blow he landed on Iltis, made her see the killer.

She sighed, some of the anger leeching from her face. “Tell me about the Red Hand. How many have died?”

“So far, only Sister Gilma and a maid at the Governor’s mansion. His daughter still lingers, although she may have expired by now.”

“No other cases? No sign of it anywhere else in the city?”

He shook his head. “We followed Sister Gilma’s instructions to the letter.”

“Then she may have saved the city by acting so quickly.”

They came to the mansion gate where one of the guards rang the bell to call the governor. Vaelin eyed the mansion’s dim windows as they waited. Since Sister Gilma’s passing the place had taken on a sinister aspect, made worse by the shabby appearance of the untended gardens. He was half-expecting no-one to answer the bell, for the Red Hand to have finally run rampant through the house, leaving it an empty husk awaiting the torch. He was ashamed to find himself almost hoping it was over, with no outbreaks elsewhere in the city it could end here and there would be no need to send Sherin into danger.

“Is that the Governor?” she asked.

“That it is.” Vaelin’s shameful hope faded as Governor Aruan’s portly form emerged from the mansion. “He hates us but he loves his daughter. It’s how I got him to surrender the city.”

“You threatened her?” Sherin gaped at him. “Faith, this war has made you a monster.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt her…”

“Don’t say any more, Vaelin.” She shook her head, eyes closed in disgust, turning away from him. “Just stop talking, please.”

They stood in icy silence as the governor approached, the guards scrupulously looking elsewhere and Vaelin feeling Sherin’s anger like a knife. When the governor arrived Vaelin made the introductions and worked the key in the heavy padlock securing the gate. “She grows weaker,” Aruan said, hauling the gate open, his voice frantic with hope and desperation. “She was still talking last night, but this morning…”

“Then we’d best not linger, my lord. If you could help me with this.”

Vaelin set the chest down and Sister Sherin and the governor hefted it together and started back towards the mansion. She offered no word of farewell.

“How long will this take, sister?” he asked.

She halted, glancing back, her face devoid of emotion. “The curative requires several hours preparation. Once administered the improvement should be immediate. Come back in the morning.” She turned away again.

“Why were you shackled?” he demanded before she could leave. “Why were you under guard?”

She didn’t turn back, her answer so soft he almost missed it. “Because I tried to save you.”

He sent the guards away and settled down to wait, lighting a fire and huddling in his cloak, the onset of winter added a chill to the wind sweeping in from the sea. The hours stretched as he pondered Sherin’s words and brooded on her anger.
I tried to save you…

Frentis appeared as the sun faded towards the horizon, sitting opposite and adding some wood to the fire. Vaelin glanced up at him but said nothing.

“Brother Commander Iltis will live,” Frentis said, his tone deliberately light. “More’s the pity. Can’t talk yet though, just grunts and moans on account of his jaw. No great loss, heard enough of his guff during the voyage.”

“You said the Aspect ordered you to allow her to be treated like that,” Vaelin said. “Why?”

Frentis’s expression was pained, reluctant to share what he knew would be unwelcome information. “Sister Sherin is a convicted traitor to the Realm and a Denier of the Faith.”

Sherin in the Blackhold
. The thought of it sent waves of guilt and worry coursing through him.
What had she suffered there?

“I went straight to Aspect Elera when we docked,” Frentis continued. “Like you told me. When she heard what I had to say we went to Aspect Arlyn. He was able to talk the king into releasing the sister from the palace.”

“The palace? She wasn’t in the Blackhold?”

“Seems she was kept there when the Fourth Order first arrested her but Princess Lyrna got her out. Apparently she just marched in and demanded they release the sister to her custody. The warden thought she was acting on the king’s orders so handed her over. Rumour is Aspect Al Tendris was hopping mad when he heard, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sister Sherin was still a prisoner anyway, just had a nicer prison.”