‘Orfantal, what’s happened to you?’
‘I escaped,’ he replied. ‘Only now I’m going to be dragged back, and not even the High Priestess can help me. I mean, she won’t, because it isn’t her place and anyway she doesn’t understand. Mother’s here. She’s on her way.’
‘She wants Korlat to protect you.’
Orfantal laughed. At the sound, Ribs awoke, lifted his head to study Orfantal, and then looked to Wreneck. Wagging his tail, he rose and approached the boy.
Frowning, Wreneck patted the dog’s head. ‘I like this one the best,’ he said. ‘The ghosts scare me a bit.’
‘What’s that spear for?’
‘For the ones who attacked us, who burned down the estate and killed Lady Nerys and hurt Jinia. They’re in Urusander’s Legion.’
‘You’d better hurry,’ Orfantal said, unsurprised at any of the news Wreneck delivered, unsurprised and, he realized, unaffected. Perhaps he’d heard it all before. He couldn’t remember. The Citadel’s wise stone filled his head, but the wisdom was lost, confused, wandering the corridors.
‘I will. But I needed to warn you first. About your mother.’
Orfantal held out a hand to forestall Wreneck’s explaining any further. ‘Yes. Don’t worry, I see her. All of her. Thank you. Wreneck, were you my friend once?’
The boy’s eyes widened, and he nodded.
‘Are we still friends?’
‘I am,’ Wreneck replied. ‘To you, I mean.’
‘I think you’re a hero now, Wreneck. Remember how we played? All those battles? The last two to fall, you and me. Remember that?’
‘It isn’t like that, though,’ Wreneck said. ‘It’s about not being strong enough, or fast enough. It’s about enemies with empty eyes, stabbing you with their sword. It’s about you lying there, bleeding and hurting, while soldiers make an innocent girl bleed between the legs, and there’s nothing you can do, because you weren’t good enough to stop them.’
‘The heroes always die,’ whispered Orfantal.
‘I’ve got people to kill,’ Wreneck said, backing towards the door.
‘And I’ve got to be a big brother, just like you were once, to me.’
‘Be good to her?’
‘I will, Wreneck.’
‘Better than I was to you.’
Orfantal smiled. ‘Look at us now. We’re all grown up.’
* * *
Lord Draconus was sitting in the dark, motionless in a high-backed chair near the unlit hearth. The air was cold, lifeless, yet the chamber felt suffocating as Kellaras stepped inside and closed the door behind him. ‘Milord.’
It may have been that Draconus had been asleep, for he now started and straightened slightly. ‘Captain.’
‘I was to come here, milord, to tell you of your impending audience with Lord Anomander.’
‘Yes. I will speak to him. There is much to discuss.’
‘Instead,’ Kellaras resumed, ‘I must inform you that Anomander has ridden out with Silchas Ruin, to the Valley of Tarns. Urusander’s Legion draws close. There will be a battle before the sun has set.’
Draconus was motionless, and he said nothing for a long moment, and then he rose from the chair. ‘Where are my Houseblades?’
‘They ride to the battle, milord.’