Most Aged Father did not respond at first. What artifact?
"They know only that it is ancient, possibly as old as the lost days of the enemy you have warned us against… from what Wynn calls their Forgotten History. She mentioned a castle in ice-capped mountains to the south… somewhere. And they believe Magiere is the one to obtain it. Brot'an'duive will ask the ship's hkomas to follow her request."
Sgaile tried to be precise, hoping for wise counsel. But Most Aged Father's silence drew out so long that Sgaile's hand cramped with tension where he held the word-wood to the tree's bark.
Do not worry, my son. I will see to the matter. Once Brot'an'duive has instructed the ship's master, have him return to Crijheaiche at once. You will remain to see the humans off.
"See them off?" Sgaile repeated in confusion. He had expected more.
Yes… then I believe you wish time in your clan's central enclave, with your grandfather and cousin? It is good to return to family and see firsthand all that we are sworn to protect.
Sgaile stiffened. Was Most Aged Father reminding him of his duty?
Send Brot'an'duive to Crijheaiche… tonight.
Most Aged Father's voice faded from Sgaile's thoughts, and he knelt there a moment longer in confusion before finally lifting the word-wood from the beech's bark. Sgaile rose to head back to the inn, but froze at a shadow's shift on his left.
"Be at ease," a voice said.
Brot'an'duive stepped into sight from beneath an elm's sagging branches. His first movement in the tree's shadow had been but a polite announcement of his arrival.
"You have reported to Most Aged Father?" he asked.
"Yes," Sgaile answered, "and he requested that you return to Crijheaiche, tonight. I am to stay and see Leshil and the others off."
"To see them off?" Brot'an'duive asked, his tone hard but quiet.
Sgaile watched his face. Brot'an'duive was more than Anmaglahk. He was Greimasg'ah-Shadow-Gripper-one of the remaining four who had stepped beyond even the most highly trained of Sgaile's caste.
Brot'an'duive was a master of silence and shadows.
"Perhaps… it is better that you accompany Leshil and his companions, " Brot'an'duive added, more composed. "Alone among the ship's crew, they will have only young Wynn to translate for them."
At first, the suggestion stunned Sgaile, but relief quickly followed at someone else voicing his own wish. But, not for the first time, Brot'an'duive placed him in a difficult position.
"Most Aged Father feels otherwise," Sgaile answered carefully.
"Had he heard Wynn, I am certain he would agree with me. The crew-our people-will never be at ease with humans in their midst. When I return to Crijheaiche, I will explain this… face-to-face with Most Aged Father."
Sgaile suspected a polite ruse in those final words, but he had already made his own choice. And perhaps the Greimasg'ah merely wished to give him the excuse to do so.
"I will travel with Leshil," Sgaile said. "I will continue my guardianship."
"Good, then I will stay to see you off "-and before Sgaile raised concern, Brot'an'duive shook his head. "Do not worry. Most Aged Father will understand my delay when I speak with him."
With a parting nod and a half-smile, Brot'an'duive turned away and melted into the forest's dusky shadows.
Sgaile disliked being caught between Most Aged Father and Brot'an'duive-again. But with his decision made, he breathed deeply in relief and turned eastward toward the Hajh River. Taking the longer way to the shore would give him a few more moments alone in peace.
Soon, he came upon the docks beyond the river's mouth where barges with no seaward cargo tied off. Such a barge was just arriving, though unusual for after dark. About to pass on and turn into the city's near side, Sgaile spotted the green-gray of an anmaglahk cloak as someone stepped ashore.
Had another of his caste been sent? He veered back through sparse aspens along the river, but even before he cleared the trees, the figure turned and called out.
"Sgailsheilleache!"
Sgaile halted in surprise as Osha jogged toward him with a youthful grin on his long face. He was taller than Sgaile, and his lanky arms were too long for his torso.
"Why are you here?" Sgaile asked. "Did Most Aged Father send you?"
This hardly seemed possible. Osha had accompanied Sgaile in guardianship of Leshil on their journey through the forest. He was young, still in the early stages of training, and had an open and honest manner that leaned toward naive.
"No," Osha answered, still grinning, his large teeth exposed. "Gleanneohkan'thva, your grandfather, sent me the day after you left. He said you planned to return home, and that I was invited-so you could continue my training! I came so that we might travel together."
Sgaile's brief peace shattered. For one thing, he was no longer going home, and for the rest… Truly, he intended to help Osha, but he had never thought of formally accepting the young man as a student. That was impossible.
As an anmaglahk, Osha had shown himself to be… adequate.
Competent with a bow and sufficient in hand-to-hand, his stealth was poor. His ability with foreign languages was questionable, and he was far too open and trusting.
"I cannot go home," Sgaile said quietly. "I continue guardianship of Leshil and his companions, and leave tomorrow to travel with them by sea."
Osha's grin vanished.
Clearly he had thought that an invitation to winter with Sgaile's family was a prelude to something more. It pained Sgaile to add to Osha's many disappointments, but he had more important matters at hand.
Osha reached up his sleeves and jerked both of his stilettos free.
Sgaile slid back out of reach, apprehension rising.
Osha spun the blades, gripping them with blades pointed earthward. Before Sgaile could protest, Osha fell to his knees and slammed both blades into the forest floor. Sgaile's heart dropped in his chest.
The young anmaglahk placed both hands flat on the sandy earth and bowed his head.
"Sgailsheilleache, I beg the honor…," Osha began softly, but his voice shook with desperation. "I beg acceptance into your tutelage. Be my guide to achieve my place among our caste."
Sgaile had no wish to further harm Osha, who acted properly but presumed too much. It was far too soon for Osha to make such a request. But Sgaile faltered before he could utter his denial.
Had that time already passed? Had he somehow given the impression that he would consider such a relationship? Was this his fault? And if he now refused, what would become of Osha?
Sgaile took a step, and each following one grew heavier under the weight Osha had thrown upon him. He reached down, gripped the hilts of Osha's blades, and pulled them from the earth.
Without a seasoned anmaglahk as teacher to complete Osha's training- and one with exceptional patience-the young man had no future. Initiates fresh from rudimentary training and of lesser years had sought and gained a formal teacher, but Osha had not.
Osha remained still, waiting with head bowed.
Sgaile suppressed a sigh. "Will you follow my teaching, until your need is fulfilled?"
"I swear," Osha answered.
"Will you heed my word and my way, until our bond is fulfilled?"
"I swear."
"And upon that night, when you step into silence and shadow among our caste, what purpose will my effort in you have attained?"
"I will serve the defense of our people and the honor of the Anmaglahk."
Sgaile flipped both blades, catching their tips. As he held out the stilettos, Osha lifted his head.
Osha's large wide eyes filled with relief, but his hands shook as they closed on the offered hilts.
"It is a great privilege," he whispered, and stood up, unsteady on his feet.