Trial of Fire (39 page)

Of course, the book would have been one supplied by Robert, and to stay in bed in such a manner would require him obtaining permission from an uncle now dead, and the bed he missed so much no longer existed, it was, in fact, little more than a charred remnant.

Fine thoughts to be starting a new day with – and what was all that noise? They were all supposed to be as quiet and invisible as possible while they were in hiding in the forest around Elita.

He opened his eyes and sat up, pulling his blankets away. A fine rain was falling, leaving everything damp and cold, though the fallen tree where he’d put his bed was keeping him relatively sheltered and—

The voice finally penetrated his foggy waking haze and he frowned. Robert. Then his frown turned to a smile and he leapt up and ran across the camp, never happier to see anyone ever before. Robert saw him approaching and gave his own open smile in return, which turned into laughter as he pointed at Andrew’s bare feet: in his haste, he had forgotten to put on his boots.

‘What happened? Where’s Micah? Is he all right? Did you get away from the Malachi?’ Andrew was full of questions, knowing he was going to get his own interrogation sooner or later, but the horrible tension of the last ten days felt like it was unravelling in his stomach.

Robert stood and drew him under the shelter, away from the rain. Most of the men he’d been talking to had done sentry duty all night; they bid farewell and went to their beds as the newly arisen crew began to prepare breakfast.

‘I see you brought back reinforcements,’ Robert began, pouring himself some more brew from beside the fire.

‘The Bishop said that’s what you wanted us to do. And Finnlay said that’s why—’

As he sat down again, Robert interjected, ‘You’d better go put your boots on before your feet freeze.’

‘Robert!’ Finnlay approached, grinning, with Micah, though Micah stayed back, which made Andrew frown a little.

‘It’s good to see you back.’

‘I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I, brother? Now you’ve gone and started a rebellion. Some people can’t be trusted.’

‘Oh, well,’ Finnlay laughed, spreading his hands, ‘if I get to take credit for it, I’m not going to complain. Though I might just go and wake up the Bishop, as he was the one who gave the order.’

Robert looked around the camp: everyone was spread out, neatly bedded beneath sheltering bushes and trees. ‘He’s here too?’

‘Everyone is here, Robert,’ Finnlay said, a little more soberly. ‘Including Patric.’

A flash of something indescribable appeared on Robert’s face and then as quickly disappeared. He sprang to his feet urgently, though his voice was as calm as ever. ‘He’s here? I thought he’d have to be dead by now. I—’

‘How about I go and wake everybody up while you have some breakfast? I suppose you rode all night? No, don’t bother answering, I know that look.’ Finnlay turned to Andrew and added, ‘And you can do as you’re told and put your boots on. You should also do something with that hair before it walks off on its own.’

Instantly, Andrew’s hands flew to his hair and his face warmed a little as Robert chuckled again, but Andrew found he was smiling as well as he ran back to his bed.

As he sat down on the dead tree trunk, Micah approached him, a little hesitantly. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ he said quietly.

Andrew pulled his boots on, then knelt down to roll up his bedding. He tucked it neatly inside the trunk and hoped it would stay protected from the rain. Then he stood, looking over his shoulder to where Robert was paying them no attention.

‘What’s going on? What happened? Why did …’ he paused, with another quick look around to make sure nobody would hear him. ‘Why did Robert leave with Sairead? Where were you?’

Micah met his gaze steadily, as though he were looking for something in Andrew. He couldn’t guess what. ‘I can’t explain it to you.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I promised I wouldn’t.’

Andrew’s gaze narrowed. ‘Promised who?’

Micah’s eyes left Andrew’s to light on a place behind him. They lingered
there a moment, then he looked away, a flash of pain on his normally sunny face. ‘I almost got him killed. I’m only here because he …’

Dry pain pressed against Andrew’s chest, making it hard to breathe. He watched Micah force air into his own lungs, and did the same. He needed an answer, and so did Robert. ‘He doesn’t trust you, does he?’

Micah just shook his head.

‘Should he?’

At that, Micah looked up, at first wounded that Andrew would ask such a question, and then a little surprised, for the same reason. His answer was simple. ‘Yes. You both should.’

Andrew looked harder, and deeper, but there was nothing else there but the truth. That was all he wanted. ‘I believe you.’

For a moment, Micah just stared at him, blinking slowly, then again he looked away until a pleased smile wiped some of the darkness from his eyes. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ he whispered.

‘Come on, let’s eat. Finnlay says Robert rode all night. Did you?’

‘Aye, we did.’

‘Food, and then some sleep. Then I’ll fill you in on everything you missed.’

‘Just don’t forget to do something about your hair.’

*

Finnlay certainly planned to wake everybody up, but in reality, he went straight to where Patric’s bed was sheltered by an arrowhead of bushes. Joshi’s bed made up the third side, protecting Patric even while he was sleeping.

His friend was already awake, and Joshi was packing up his bed, ready for the day. The young man eyed Finnlay warily, but Finnlay simply smiled. He was going to enjoy this – especially after Robert’s reaction.

‘Patric, you need to get up. Robert’s back and he’s waiting to see you.’

Almost instantly, Patric was up, pulling on his cloak. ‘I feel the cold so much more now. I wish I didn’t but …’ Then he was out of bed, feeling for his boots and pushing his feet into them. ‘I always remembered spring in Lusara as being much warmer than this.’ He stepped over his bedding, reaching out a hand to Joshi to guide him as he usually did. His smile reached and filled his blind eyes. He’d more than recovered from his fever now and Finnlay found watching him move about quite strange.

‘Well? Where is he?’

‘Here.’

Finnlay turned to find his brother standing there, horror and amazement fighting for domination on his face. He was deathly pale, his mouth open in
surprise. He took a short step forward, but the ring of steel on steel slapped him out of his shock.

Joshi held his sword pointed at Robert’s belly, his stance clear enough to everyone. Before Robert even moved, Finnlay knew what he was about to do—

‘Robert, don’t! Just—’

But Patric was already talking, speaking aloud to Joshi in a language Finnlay could have sworn he understood – but he didn’t. Then Joshi, normally so quiet, answered back, his voice a growl, his gaze never once deviating from Robert’s face.

‘Finn?’ Robert asked for clarification in one word, but Finnlay waited.

Again Patric spoke, his voice hard, his attention all on his friend. Joshi grunted, sheathed his sword and turned back to Patric. He said something else, his eyes blazing in anger; Patric snapped back, shutting up the young man with a word. There was silence for a moment, then Joshi turned and walked away, leaving the three of them alone.

Finnlay watched, amazed. In the week and more since he’d arrived at Bleakstone, he’d not seen Joshi more than a few yards from Patric – and now he was stalking off to the river without looking back.

‘Robert?’ One word, and then Patric was being swept up in a fierce hug by Robert. Then Robert was stepping back, gesturing at Patric’s eyes.

‘In the name of Serin, Pat, what happened? I thought you had to be dead! It’s so long since we heard anything from you and—’

‘And it’s been almost a year since I heard anything about you. The only way I knew you were alive was that I was sure I’d hear if you’d died. You’re a hard man to find, Robert.’

‘You’re not the only one who’s said that,’ Finnlay laughed.

‘Look, come back to the fire and have some breakfast,’ Robert began. His voice seemed completely normal, but his face, for once, showed his shock and concern.

‘If you don’t mind, Robert,’ Patric interrupted, ‘I think perhaps we would be more comfortable discussing things in a more private manner.’

Robert’s gaze hardened. ‘Of course. Finn? Could you—’

‘There’s the old ruin, where the mill used to be. We could have some privacy there.’

For a moment, he thought Robert would refuse, but then he said slowly, ‘Very well.’

‘Are you going to ask McCauly as well?’

‘Why don’t we just invite everyone?’ Robert said sourly. He looked uphill to where McCauly was talking to Father John, and added, ‘I suppose I’d
better, or he’ll never leave me alone. Finn, could you take Patric down to the ruin, and I’ll retrieve the good priest.’

*

Aiden saw Robert approach, trying to both hide a grin and look nonchalant at the same time. His tall, imposing figure seemed completely at home in this setting, his powerful shoulders counterpoint to the strength in the trees, his long dark hair, weathered tan skin and green eyes almost a part of the forest itself. Aiden composed his own features, laced his fingers together in a gesture of contemplation, and waited for Robert to speak.

‘Did I say to bring
everybody?’

‘You said to bring everybody who wanted to come. These, I’m afraid, are only the men who could get away in the short notice I gave.’

‘Oh.’ Robert reached up to scratch the back of his head.

‘I like the boy.’

‘Boy?’ Robert’s gaze shifted a little, but then focused again. ‘He’s impossible not to like. If you could rule a country with popularity alone, he’d be the most successful King in the history of the world.’

‘Not only that, but I think he has some kind of power buried somewhere in him.’

‘That’s what I’m told – though how do you know?’

‘He has the uncanny ability to know when somebody’s telling the truth or lying.’

‘That’s just guesswork.’ Robert began to wave off the suggestion, but Aiden pressed on.

‘I don’t think so. And it’s not just me. A number of us have tried to lie to him and he gets it right every time.’

Robert narrowed his gaze, then said, ‘Well, even if you’re right, that’s not going to do him a lot of good on its own.’

‘He’s young,’ Aiden began, but Robert forestalled him.

‘It seems Patric wants to talk – and I don’t think that what he has to say can wait. I need to know what he’s learned before—’

‘Before what?’

Robert shook his head. ‘Look, do you want to hear this or not?’

‘Fine, lead the way. I just thought we might at least get breakfast.’

With a flat gaze, Robert said, ‘They’re down at the mill. You go, I’ll collect food. Will that shut you up?’

Completely deadpan, Aiden replied, ‘I’ll let you know.’

Robert turned for the fire then, murmuring something about people obsessed with eating.

*

Despite his grumblings, Aiden couldn’t help but notice that it was in fact
Robert who did most of the eating. He’d brought back boiled eggs, two loaves of bread, a small pot of honey and a large pot of brew, along with cups and some dried apricots. All but the brew had been slung in his cloak, so that when he arrived in the ruin, he found a flat stone on which he spread out the cloth.

Patric ate a little, sipped a little and, for a blind man, did a remarkable impression of watching Robert. And Robert did his own watching, wiping out the worst of his hunger before finding a piece of fallen dressed stone to sit on. Then he munched on another piece of bread and said, ‘Go ahead. Give me the bad news.’

Patric raised his eyebrows. ‘You assume it’s bad?’

‘Well, if it was good, I think you would have found a way to tell me by now.’

Tilting his head to one side, Patric seemed to be listening to something. ‘Well, I won’t say whether it’s bad news or not. I’ll leave that to you to decide. But first off, I need to tell you – well, ask you, really – are you and Jenn Bonded?’

Robert had just taken a mouthful of brew and instantly began choking on it. Finnlay leapt to his aid, thumping him on the back a few times as Robert’s eyes watered and he tried to breathe.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were about to drink.’ Patric grimaced. ‘Next time—’

‘Next time warn me,’ Robert coughed one last time. ‘What’s this about Bonding?’

Patric swallowed. ‘It’s not actually about Bonding – but about you and Jenn. I … we don’t have time to go into all the details now, but—’

‘Robert,’ Finnlay interrupted, ‘for the last four years or so, Patric has lived with the people you sent him to find – the Generet. A lot of what he’s found has come from carvings on their walls, and some from what they told him. He had to learn their language, and the language on the walls.’

Robert turned back to Patric, ‘And your friend, he’s Generet, isn’t he?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Patric grimaced a little. ‘I’m sorry about that – but that group you encountered at Bu had warned him about you, that they believed you were—’

‘The Angel of Darkness.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Jenn could hear them mindspeaking at Bu. That’s why we left there so quickly. So your friend thinks I’m the enemy?’ Robert smiled a little. ‘I mean, the enemy rather than
the
Enemy?’

‘His name’s Joshi – and yes. But don’t worry about him, honestly. He was just trying to protect me.’

‘He’s done a good job.’

With another nod, Patric continued, ‘I learned a lot about Bonding – and about mindspeaking, since all the Generet can do it. By the mass, Robert, there’s so much you need to know, I don’t know where to start.’

‘Just stay with Bonding for the moment. Why did you ask about Jenn and me?’

‘Because if you can mindspeak with her, you’re supposed to be Bonded.’ There was silence in the ruin as Aiden looked at Robert and then his brother. Patric continued, ‘Mindspeaking is a product of the Bonding, just like the Key said.’

‘But,’ Robert interrupted, ‘you just said all the Generet could mindspeak. You’re saying they’re all Bonded to each other?’