Blood Song

Questions. Still so many questions. But somehow he felt content to leave them unasked. For now the answers she gave were enough. She held him for a while longer as his tears subsided then helped him back to the Order House. He left two days later amidst fond farewells from the brothers and sisters of the Fifth Order. Sister Sherin wasn’t present, her Aspect having sent her to the southern coast the previous day where fresh rioting left many people in need of healing. It would be nearly five more years before Vaelin saw her again.

Chapter 6

He recovered in a few days with no lingering ailments save a tendency to cough on cold mornings and a life-long suspicion of overly amorous women, something which did not concern a brother of the Sixth Order with any regularity. His return to the Order was greeted with studied indifference from the masters, a marked contrast to the joyous farewells he received from the brothers and sisters of the Fifth Order. His brothers, of course, acted differently, fussing over him with an embarrassing level of concern, confining him to bed for a full week and forcing food down his neck at every opportunity. Even Nortah joined in, although Vaelin detected a certain sadism in the way he tucked the blankets in and held the soup spoon to his mouth. Frentis was the worst, spending every spare minute in their tower room, anxiously watching over him and becoming agitated at the slightest cough or sign of ill health. He earned his first caning from Master Sollis for failing to appear at sword practice because he had been fretting over a slight fever Vaelin developed in the night. Finally the Aspect decreed their room off limits to him on pain of expulsion.

When he was strong enough to leave his bed without assistance Vaelin’s first call was to the kennels where Scratch’s greeting was aggressively ecstatic, knocking him off his feet and painting his face with his stone rough tongue as his rapidly growing brood of pups milled around them yelping with excitement.

“Get off you brute!” Vaelin grunted, managing to heave the dog’s weight from his chest. Scratch whined a little at the reproach but laid his head affectionately on Vaelin’s chest. “I know.” Vaelin scratched his ears. “I missed you too.”

When he visited the stables he found Spit also had a welcome waiting. It lasted a full two minutes and Master Rensial stated confidently it was the longest fart he had ever heard a horse produce.

“Bloody nag,” Vaelin muttered, holding a candy up to the stallion’s mouth. “Test of the Horse soon. Don’t let me down, eh?”

He found Caenis at archery practice, loosing as many arrows as possible in the shortest time, a skill crucial to the Test of the Bow. To Vaelin’s eyes Caenis hardly needed the practice, his hands seeming to blur as he sent shaft after shaft into the butt thirty paces away. Vaelin had steadily improved with the bow but he knew he could never match the level of skill Caenis displayed with the weapon and even he was outshone by Dentos and Nortah.

“You’re a few points off,” he observed, although in truth the inaccuracy was barely noticeable. “The last few drifted to the left.”

“Yes,” Caenis agreed. “My aim wanders after forty arrows or so.” He drew the bowstring back, the finely honed muscles of his arm straining before he sent the shaft into the centre of the target. “A little better.”

“I wanted to ask you about the assassin you killed.”

Caenis’s expression clouded. “I’ve told the tale many times over, to you, the others and the masters. As I’m sure you’ve told your story many times.”

“Did he say anything?” Vaelin pressed. “Before you killed him.”

“Yes, he said ‘Get away from me, boy, or I’ll gut you.’ Hardly worthy of a song is it? I was wondering if I should change it when I write the tale.”

“You intend to write of this?”

“Of course. One day I will write the story of our service in the Faith. I feel our Order has been sadly remiss in recording its history. Do you know we are the only Order not to have its own library? I hope to start a new tradition.” He loosed another arrow, then two more in quick succession. Vaelin noted his aim had worsened.

Killing a man is not an easy thing to bear, or talk about, he realised. “You liked him, this Brother Nillin?”

“He was an interesting man with many stories, although when I thought about it later I realised he had a fondness for the more ancient tales. The Old Songs they’re called, from the time before the Faith was strong, sagas of blood and war and the practice of the Dark.”

The Dark… A wolf in the forest, a wolf howling outside my window. “Once there were seven. Do you know what it means?”

Caenis had drawn his bow once again but slowly relaxed the tension. “Where did you hear that?”

“Sister Henna said it before she took poison. What does it mean, brother? I know you know.”