‘Mmm.’ Sodar tugged his beard. ‘That would do it I suppose.’ He took the wooden ladle from above the fireplace mantel and began spooning water into the kettle hanging over the blazing hearth. ‘Was it truly her?’
‘I don’t know. I think so. She ducked into Greusik’s just as I was filling the waterskins.’
Sodar shook his head. ‘And what would your headmaster say if he caught you pining after his daughter? Hmm? It’s bad enough that you cross paths at the Academy. If you start running into her outside of her father’s domain, and without his knowledge …’
Annev eased himself into a chair. ‘Tosan,’ Annev said, ‘can take a flying piss off a rolling bread bun.’
‘Annev!’ Sodar turned, spilling water. ‘Tosan is the Eldest of Ancients and head of the Academy. Show some respect.’
‘Fine,’ Annev said. ‘Elder Tosan can take a flying—’ He met the priest’s eyes and saw they were cold as ice. He swallowed. ‘Sorry, Sodar. I’m just … I’m worried about the Testing tomorrow.’
Sodar turned back to his kettle. As he did, Annev thought he heard a suppressed bark of laughter followed by the words ‘… rolling bread bun’.
Annev smiled. No matter Sodar’s words, he knew there was no love between the priest and the headmaster. The division between the priesthood and the Academy stemmed from a split that had occurred decades ago – well before Sodar came to Chaenbalu – but the tension had been exacerbated by Annev’s apprenticeship to the priest, and Sodar made no effort to relieve it. Sometimes Annev thought he was even stoking it.
With the kettle full, Sodar passed the ladle to Annev, who took several long gulps of water from the clay pot. Meanwhile, Sodar moved about the kitchen gathering tea leaves and cinnamon sticks. ‘As you check the traps, don’t reset them – and please spring all the ones that haven’t been set off.’ He tossed the leaves and sticks into the kettle.
‘But not the bird traps,’ Annev said, replacing the ladle on the mantel.
‘The bird traps, too. “No beast, nor fish, nor fowl shalt thou consume on my holy day.”’
‘But it’s not Seventhday,’ Annev argued.
‘No, it’s the first night of Regaleus,’ Sodar said, tossing a handful of ground chicory root into the kettle. ‘Besides, if tomorrow is anything like every other Testing Day, you’ll be no use to me in the morning. So distracted I’ll have to mend half your chores.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ll prepare for tomorrow today; spring all the traps.’
Annev frowned at the reminder of tomorrow’s test – and Sodar’s allusion to his previous failures – and felt churlish.
‘If the Book of Odar says we’re not supposed to eat animals on holy days, why do we still eat birds and fish on Seventhday?’
‘Because Seventhday is a regular holy day. Not a “holiday” like Regaleus.’
Annev’s frown deepened. ‘But shouldn’t we still—’
‘Annev, do you really want to debate the difference between holy days and holidays now?’ Sodar asked. ‘The Council of Neven nan Su’ul tried that in the Third Age. Whole books are written on the subject, and most of it’s horseshit.’
Annev’s mouth dropped open, though the priest pretended not to notice. A smile flickered across his face as he concentrated on his tea.
‘The truth,’ Sodar continued, ‘is that I can be a bit of a hypocrite, but – unlike some of my brothers – I try to be honest about it.’ He glanced back at Annev, his eyes twinkling. ‘But this isn’t about holy days or the Book of Odar, is it? It’s not even about you doing your chores.’
Annev looked into the priest’s eyes and clenched his jaw, afraid to speak.
Sodar watched him for a moment. ‘You’ll do fine, Annev. No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.’
Annev nodded once, his face flushed. ‘Sure,’ he said, his throat clenched. ‘So I spring all the traps. Anything else?’
Sodar poked at the leaves floating in the kettle. ‘Don’t chop more firewood. We have enough in the shed to last us through the weekend, and I’d rather you were early today.’
‘I still have plenty of time to get to class.’
‘Not if you plan to change and wash that face of yours. It’s grubby enough to make your tunic look white again.’
Annev forced a laugh then rubbed his hand along his cheek. There was definitely dirt there, though he wasn’t sure if it came from his fingertips or his face. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll hurry back,’ and he ran before Sodar could tell him to do anything else.
Chapter Two
The door at the back of the kitchen had once led directly outside, but as Annev had grown older, Sodar had constructed a makeshift wooden enclosure that extended far beyond the back door and encompassed a large enough space for Annev to train in. The woodshed also housed a variety of mock weapons, a training dummy, firewood, an underground root cellar, and a small privy.
As Annev entered the darkened room, he snatched his game bag and hunting knife from their peg on the wall then eyed the privy in the far corner of the shed. With a sigh, he jogged over to the squat box and removed the waste-filled pot hidden beneath it. Holding the vessel at arm’s length, he left the shed and trotted the quarter-mile to the edge of the woods, emptying the pot into the copse of trees he used specifically for that purpose. Finished, he set the pot down and stalked into the woods, eager to discover what animals his traps might have caught.
A dozen paces into the Brakewood, Annev stopped to inhale the glade’s rich aroma and take in the familiar sights and sounds of the forest. He studied the tall conifers with their evergreen boughs, while by contrast the oak and beech trees still wore the dead leaves of winter, yielding them only when new buds grew to take their place. He ran beneath them to one of the game trails that led deep into the forest and raced down the untamed path to his first set of snares.
Within half an hour, Annev had a pheasant, two plump squirrels and an even plumper rabbit to show for his efforts. He was heading back towards the village and was almost in sight of the treeline when he noticed a strange, inky pool of darkness surrounding a cluster of pine trees. Annev stared at the shadows, watching them shift as light filtered down from the forest canopy.
Shadepools were rare in the Brakewood, but Annev had chanced upon a few in the depths of the forest. He had never interacted with one, though, and this was the first he’d seen so near the village.
With his game bag secure over one shoulder, Annev walked to a nearby blackthorn and stooped to grab a stone that was half the size of his palm. He hefted it in his hand, looked back to the pool of darkness, and threw the projectile.