But Taris didn't answer. He lay with his eyes closed, engaged in his terrible internal struggle to stay alive.
***
While Dremlock was preparing for the Festival of Fire, in the southern city of Silvergate, Timlin was still wondering if he'd made a grave mistake. Unlike the Knights of Dremlock, the Legion Soldiers seemed wild and fanatical, obeying rules Timlin couldn't comprehend. On the dock, the Soldiers had praised his skills and left him feeling reassured he would have an easy time of things, but once he arrived at the Legion hideout, he began to feel that his life meant nothing to these cold-hearted warriors.
The hideout was below a tavern underground, in a very dangerous area of the city, and it consisted of several rooms with passages that led into the sewers. Timlin was assigned an instructor. He was ordered not to speak to anyone but his instructor. His rank was apparently the lowest of the low, which left him disgruntled. He had expected better treatment.
Timlin's instructor was named Vebbeas. He was a tall man with silver hair and cold eyes, his face weathered and sullen in the lantern light. "You were chosen as a potential recruit," he said. "But I would like to know why. The Legion favors men of large build and great strength."
They stood alone in a training room with weapons and armor on racks along the walls. Vebbeas didn't seem to like Timlin. He glared at the lad, his arms folded across his chest, and his demeanor put Timlin on the defensive.
Timlin was at a loss for words for a moment. Then he said, "I'm a former Blue Squire of Dremlock. I have extensive skills in lock picking, assassination, stealth, and combat with the dagger and the bow."
Vebbeas sneered. "So you're a backstabber. Legion Soldiers prefer to face an enemy in honorable combat. We pride ourselves on strength and intimidation. Some call us barbarians or savages, but all fear us. What we are not is a bunch of common thieves and cutthroats."
Timlin shrugged helplessly, wondering if his dream was disintegrating before his eyes. "But aren't my skills somewhat valuable?"
Vebbeas sighed. "Somewhat, yes. But if you want to be part of the Legion, you'll have to learn to fight like a real warrior-face to face. I have no doubt that you have the skills you claim, but your biggest challenge will be honorable combat. You're trained to kill by surprise, by quick and deadly strikes. How would you fare against a trained warrior with stout armor and a shield?"
"I'm not sure," said Timlin, speaking truthfully. "My greatest skill is with the bow. So I obviously prefer to fight from a distance."
"Archery is important," said Vebbeas. "But again, that is secondary to honorable combat. And there is nothing intimidating at all about your appearance. Typically, a lad of your stature would be ignored by Legion recruiters."
"But I wasn't ignored," said Timlin, trying to stand taller. "So that must mean something, right?"
"What it means," said Vebbeas, "is that you were given a chance based on your reputation. I know that you were a companion of Lannon Sunshield and one of the more skilled Squires at Dremlock. But don't assume you're worth more to us than you actually are. Truthfully, I'm considering rejecting you."
Timlin cringed. "But I can prove myself. I'll fight anyone here! I'll fight to the death if need be against anyone you choose!"
Vebbeas looked him up and down and shook his head. "You're no fighter, Timlin. You might do better to live as a thief or an assassin and not a Legion Soldier. With your skills, you could make a good living at theft."
Timlin's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not a sneak or a backstabber in spite of my training. I can fight like a barbarian!"
"You would need to build up your strength," said Vebbeas. "That means you would have to eat a great deal more than you do and spend much time training your muscles. Your height cannot be changed, but you could still broaden your shoulders a bit. Even then, I doubt anyone would tremble in fear at the sight of you."
"I'll do whatever it takes," said Timlin. "The men on the dock said I had found my destiny, that I would do great things!"
"First, I will test your loyalty," said Vebbeas. "For without loyalty, there is nothing." He questioned Timlin extensively about his life at Dremlock, all he knew about Lannon, and the plans of the Divine Knights. Timlin answered every question honestly, while Vebbeas wrote down notes.
When the questioning was finished, Timlin said, "I've told you everything I know. Have I proven my loyalty?"
Vebbeas shook his head. "On the contrary, you have proven you have no loyalty at all. You showed no reluctance to reveal secrets about Dremlock and your friends-with no promise of being allowed into the Legion. That concerns me greatly, for it means you cannot be trusted."
Timlin groaned. "It was a trick, then. I thought I was supposed to show loyalty to the Legion. And now you've gotten all the information out of me that I have. So I guess I'm worth even less now than I was before you questioned me."
"It was no trick," said Vebbeas. "Loyalty is extremely important to the Legion. An honorable man would not have given up his secrets so easily. Had you shown hesitation or remorse even to a small degree, you might have passed the test. But you were eager to talk. I have no doubt that what you told me is the truth. Actually, I wish I had some feeling you were lying to me. The fact that you can, with such eager honesty, betray your friends and fellow Squires sends chills down my spine. That's the mark of a rogue or a cold-hearted killer-not a Legion Soldier."
Timlin considered Vebbeas' words and found truth in them. He harbored no loyalty to his friends or anyone else. "But I am loyal," Timlin lied. "Just not to Dremlock. I would never betray the Blood Legion."
Vebbeas stood in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then at last he shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Timlin. The Blood Legion is very rigid when it comes to choosing its members. The men on the dock were mere spies and recruiters and did what they were required to do. Whoever told you the Blood Legion was your destiny was clearly drunk or just toying with you, Timlin."
Timlin couldn't believe it. "So…so that's it? I'm done? It's because I told you all I know! Now I'm useless to the Legion!"
Vebbeas shrugged. "All I did was ask questions, Timlin. I didn't torture you for the information. You chose to answer them. As a former companion of Lannon Sunshield, you might harbor some slight value. But my opinion is that you are simply too dangerous to be allowed into the Legion."
"But I can beat anyone here!" Timlin insisted, his voice turning shrill. "At least with the bow and the dagger. I can pick any lock!"
Vebbeas shook his head. "Sorry, lad, but it's not enough. We have outstanding archers and warriors-loyal men of conscience who care about their brothers and who would die for them in an instant. You seem heartless and bloodthirsty, and I cannot administer the Trial by Dagger and the Blood Oath."
Timlin stood there, his mouth hanging open. He'd never imagined he would be rejected. He thought he would rise quickly through the ranks and be given special privileges as he had at Dremlock.
"I gave them the Red Candle," said Timlin. "I…I swore an oath against Dremlock. I walked away from fame and fortune for this?"
Vebbeas gazed at him thoughtfully. He sighed. "The Red Candle holds meaning that shouldn't be ignored. Perhaps…there is still one route you can try. Three Soldiers will be riding north in a few days to Blombalk Fortress on the edge of the Western Bloodlands. You can ride with them and appeal to the Legion High Council of Knights. The Council is very rigid, outspoken, and dangerous. You will be risking your life by going there. If they find you unworthy and a waste of their time-or they simply don't like you-they could have you tortured, imprisoned, or even executed. But the choice is yours."
"I'll go," Timlin said, without hesitation.