Vaelin watched him ride away, the Sentar closing in alongside as they took the Northern Road.
“Come with us.” He turned to find Wise Bear sitting astride Iron Claw, bone-staff in hand. “This place is bad, full of stink and heat, and too far from the green fire.”
“I’ll see you at the Mirror Sound before long,” Vaelin told him but Wise Bear just smiled, clicking something in his unfathomable tongue as Iron Claw lumbered towards the road.
Mishara came to nuzzle at his hand as Kiral stood close by and Astorek waited amidst his wolves. She offered no embrace, nor even a smile, her scar rendered near invisible in the bright sunlight. Davoka stood nearby, head lowered and arms folded. Their farewell had been lengthy and not without rancour.
“My song is varied when I look at you,” Kiral said eventually. “I hear so many different notes now, as if it doesn’t know what path you will take. Some are bright, some dark. It was not so when we first met.”
Mishara gave a final lick to his hand and bounded off in Iron Claw’s tracks, the bear issuing an irritated growl as she nipped playfully at his rump. “When I see you again I hope it will be clearer,” Vaelin told Kiral, glancing at Astorek, who gave a cheery wave, his wolves breaking into an instant chorus of howls. “I am glad your song guided you to happiness.”
“It will be good to hunt again,” she said, pausing to offer a final glance to Davoka before climbing onto her horse. He watched as the dust of their passing faded on the Northern Road, though the wolves could still be heard long after.
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“I promised I would return,” Frentis said, hefting his pack. “Even though it was a promise made to a man now dead. And Aspect Arlyn has directed me to establish a joint mission house with the Fifth Order.”
Still they cling to it, Vaelin thought, following Frentis along the wharf. Despite all the knowledge gained, the Faith remains and seeks to grow.
“Besides,” Frentis continued. “I feel the queen would be more comfortable with me gone.”
Vaelin could find no argument to this point; the queen remained icy in his brother’s presence and he knew she recalled his final words to the Empress all too well. However, as the principal architect of what was fast becoming known as the Great Liberation, Frentis’s status among the freed population had increased to near-mythic proportions. Everywhere, former slaves would pause to bow to him, some running to his side with fervent thanks and offerings. Nor were all his admirers slaves; many free citizens had witnessed him fighting to save them from the Arisai.
“You know there is always a place for you in the Reaches,” Vaelin said. “Should you ever tire of the Order.”
“That day will never come, brother. I think you know that.” Frentis paused a short distance from the gangplank, glancing up at the collection of expectant faces arrayed along the ship’s rail. Sister Illian, regarding Vaelin with a somewhat stern visage. The hairy captain exchanging a ribald joke with the former slave. And mad Master Rensial, balancing on crutches and frowning at Vaelin as if seeking to recall his name. He has his own Order now, Vaelin decided, a pang of envy mingling with satisfaction in his breast.
“Kiral said you tried to save her,” Vaelin said. “The Empress.”
“We once murdered our way across an empire and killed a king,” Frentis replied. “And yet I was saved. Why not her?”
“She was monstrous. Brother Hollun estimates near half a million people died at her command.”
“She was what she was made.” His hand went to his shirt, feeling for scars that no longer existed. “As was I. In my heart I know she could have been made . . . better.”
He gave a tight smile and they embraced. “My regards to your sister,” Frentis said, drawing away and stepping onto the gangplank, pausing once more. “The dreams still come, brother. Not every night, but most. She comes to me and I find she is easier to bear now.”
He smiled again and ascended to the ship, the last of the faith-hounds jumping in excitement to lick his face as he stepped onto the deck and disappeared from sight.
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