When Bel finished, Fahren turned to Naphur. ‘This should be taken care of as soon as possible.’
Naphur nodded, grim-faced. ‘This creature will be destroyed, Bel,’ he said. ‘Have no fear of that. A job for Baygis, maybe.’
Hoped flared in Corlas. If Iassia were killed, he would be free! He could leave the Halls and …and what? Bel was no longer a tiny baby to be whisked away in the dead of night.
‘In the meantime,’ Fahren was saying, ‘you must try to understand that the bird is a deceiver and you’ve no cause to feel guilt for its actions.’
Bel nodded blankly. ‘I know.’ Then: ‘My Throne, I have a request.’
‘Yes?’
‘Restore me to the peacekeepers.’
Naphur looked genuinely confused. ‘What?’ he said. ‘But you’ve already proved yourself. There’s no need to tread backwards!’
‘I don’t really see it as backwards, my Throne,’ said Bel. ‘I did well as a keeper. I would like to finish my term.’
Naphur was stunned, and Fahren was quick to intercede.
‘It is time you rested, lad,’ he said, standing and placing a hand under Bel’s arm to bring him to his feet. Naphur was clearly annoyed by the intervention, but Fahren held his gaze until he silently acceded.
Bel glanced from one to the other. ‘I’m sorry, my Throne,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise my request would irk you.’
‘You’re tired,’ snapped Naphur, ‘and aren’t thinking clearly. Go to bed. We’ll talk more of this tomorrow.’
Corlas caught Bel’s eye, wanting to convey that he, at least, was not angry. Soon the two of them would discuss this again in private.
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Bel said, producing the envelope from his trouser pocket. ‘Someone left this for Taskmaster Corlas at the Treewith Inn.’
Corlas frowned as he took the letter.
‘Good night then,’ said Bel, bowing and leaving as Corlas thumbed open the letter.
‘Well!’ exclaimed Naphur. ‘What was that foolishness?’
‘It is as Corlas has said before, my lord,’ answered Fahren. ‘Bel’s path may not be straight and narrow.’ He glanced at Corlas, who didn’t look up from the letter.
‘Anything of interest, Taskmaster?’
‘Just …tidings from an old acquaintance,’ said Corlas.
His return to the Halls had forced him to become adept at hiding his emotions. Still, on seeing who had written the letter, it was a struggle to keep his features relaxed, to stop his hands from shaking. He couldn’t afford the Throne and Fahren becoming curious about this missive. The sins of his past could yet do him harm, and silently he prayed that Iassia would be found and killed. In the meantime, he read on. The writing was messy, but the words were definitely the bird’s.
Taskmaster Corlas,
Greetings, old companion. How goes it with you? I’d ask you in person, but you seem to enjoy the Halls so much as to never leave, even to visit a helpful old friend. This is deeply hurtful, but I console myself by imagining how happy you must be, reunited with your boy. He’s a smart little soldier, just like his father. He’s yet to murder the innocent, but there’s hope he’ll follow in your footsteps. Got a good head for bloodlust on him, believe me. I’ve seen it close up.
I write to deliver a warning. You may consider yourself safe, tucked up snug behind the wards, but I am not without my options. I remember who you killed, Corlas. I can shame you and worse. What will your son think of that, and your enemy friends?
By the way, I hear Losara is doing very well – that’s what we called your other half-son. Battu has named him Apprentice, so you may yet meet him again one day, perhaps when he leads the charge against the light?
Good luck, dear Corlas. See you again soon.
Your friend,
Iassia
Stiffly Corlas folded the letter. What did Iassia hope to achieve? To scare Corlas from the Halls with threats? Or coax him out in an attempt to find his other son? Certainly it had been shocking to receive his first ever news of Losara.
‘Well,’ he said, as if to himself, ‘isn’t that something. I never would have imagined old Velmy as one to get married.’
He needn’t have bothered with casual lies, for he wasn’t being paid any attention.
‘He can’t accept responsibility for the entire troop!’ Naphur was saying. ‘He’s only one blade, not the troop leader or even penulm! Corlas, surely you agree?’
‘There’s more to it than that,’ said Corlas, thankful for the steadiness in his voice.
‘What then?’
‘It is his first taste of blood,’ Corlas said. ‘The first time he has seen comrades die. That is a change for any new soldier. Also he will be worried because …he fears to lose control.’
Corlas found resonance in his own words.
‘But he didn’t lose control,’ insisted Naphur. ‘You heard the Saurian. It sounds as if Bel was perfectly in tune with his sword.’
‘It sounds,’ said Corlas, ‘as if he went berserk. That can be a frightening feeling. To know that a battle can take you over, can drug you with screams, can make you forget your own senses …It is ecstasy to be in that moment, and only afterwards that you feel the peril.’
‘Don’t forget that I was a soldier too, Taskmaster,’ Naphur said. ‘Hence I know the experience is different for all of us. I don’t think you can assume to know what Bel is feeling.’
‘With all due respect, my lord,’ Corlas said levelly, ‘I do not feel that my authority over Bel, or my understanding of his feelings, can be dismissed by any man.’
‘Naphur,’ said Fahren, ‘we’d simply be giving Bel time to think things through.’
‘Mollycoddle him, you mean,’ said Naphur. ‘Swords are forged in the fire, and he needs to harden up. No other soldier in the army gets to dictate his own placement.’ He glared at them both, defying retort, but Corlas and Fahren remained silent. Finally, the heat went out of him.
‘Oh,’ he muttered, ‘very well. I know that Bel is no coward. And it was not dictating, it was a request.’ He scowled. ‘He may have his way.’
Fahren leaned back in his chair and smiled at Corlas. ‘It is amazing how wisdom will eventually show through,’ he said.
With the distractions of the past few days dealt with, Bel found himself suddenly desiring Jaya sharply. It was as if he had put most thought of her aside, in order to concentrate on what had needed to be done – but now that he was back, and standing in The Wayward Dog, with no huggers to kill nor birds in his head, he remembered the smell of her, the sight of her moving above him, the way it had felt to lie together …There was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to be with her, yet she wasn’t here, and he didn’t know where she was, and he thought he might scream. He deserved to see her. What was the point of going off to be a hero if there was no girl to come back to? No wonder soldiers drank so much.
‘Jaya,’ he said, putting his ale down heavily on the bar and spilling froth. ‘I left a letter for her a week ago. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, lest you want to make life difficult for yourself.’
‘I got it to her,’ said the bartender quickly.
‘And?’
‘And …she took it. I’ve not seen her since. Said she was going away for a while.’
‘Going away for a while?’ repeated Bel blearily. He took a big swig, then wiped away froth with the back of his hand. ‘Going away for a while, she said?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did she leave anything for me?’
‘No, sir.’
‘No, sir?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Right,’ said Bel. ‘Well, get us another ale then.’
‘Excuse me for saying,’ said the barman carefully, ‘but sir seems very tired.’
Bel squeezed the mug and shattered it to pieces.
As the bartender stared at him like a cornered animal considering its next move, Corlas appeared by his side.