Berren shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about any poison. I shot him in the back of the head with a crossbow. He owes me for that and so do you. The woman you had me flog. You owe me her.’
‘I suppose we do. Are you going to sell her?’
‘No, I’m going to let her go.’
Talon raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? I’ve seen more of her now. She’s probably worth more than most men would get in half a dozen seasons with the company. A well trained lady’s bonds-maid, one who was trusted to royalty, no less. . Sell her and you could buy yourself a farm or a shop in the city, or a passage back to Aria if that’s what you wanted.’
‘I’m going to set her free. It’s wrong for one man to own another. That’s all that matters. That and that men keep their promises.’ He shuddered. Saffran Kuy’s voice in his head was still as clear as a bell. Kill him! Kill him now! And he’d had no choice. Not a jot.
‘She must have made quite an impression on you.’
‘I hardly know her.’ Berren held his head in his hand. He ached and he still felt terribly weak. ‘Syannis had to give me some reason not to walk away and get on the next ship, and I couldn’t think of anything else, and now I’ll be damned if I’ll let him break his word. Not this time.’
‘Your sword-monk. This is for her, isn’t it?’
Berren didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. Not that the two of them looked much alike, not once you stripped Fasha of her veil and saw her face. But he’d seen them both stand up for what they believed was right with no fear for consequence, one of them a sword-monk, one of them nothing more than a slave. ‘Yeh.’ He laughed at the irony. ‘Probably is, too.’
Talon stood up. ‘People sometimes do very strange things once they get what they want,’ he said. ‘They turn out to be not quite the people they were pretending to be.’ A strained look flashed across his face. ‘Go and tell Tarn you’re fit to fight. King Aimes wants to see you — he’s heard of the fearsome mercenary swordsman who looks like him — but that can wait a few days. We’ve all got plenty to keep us busy and I think it’s time you joined your comrades. The Hawks are letting the taverns of Tethis know they’re here.’
The days that followed were delicious, like his first days with Talon in Kalda but without the doubt and the fear. As soon as his strength was back, he worked for as long as the sun was up; in rain or snow, he didn’t care. They built defences of earth and wood around the castle, preparing for the next summer when the merchant princes of Kalda would surely raise an army to avenge Meridian. In the evenings he drank with men who were now his friends, his sword-brothers, the men who’d stood beside him at the battle on the beach and in the shield wall outside Tethis. They’d seen who he was. They’d spilt blood together. He was the warlock’s boy no more, but the Bloody Judge of the Fighting Hawks who’d crept inside the enemy’s camp and killed their king and put an end to the war. The trouble still writ plain on Talon’s face, shouting loud that all was not said and done, that was no longer Berren’s problem. One thing alone was missing: Fasha. With every day he found himself thinking of her more and more, of their one night in Forgenver together, and what he hoped she might choose when she was free.
The summons came to bring him to the king’s hall. The new king’s guard — mostly Deephaven lancers — took his sword from him as he entered. He walked into what had once been Meridian’s hall, the king he’d killed, and bowed before four thrones. At one end sat Talon, at the other sat Syannis, between them, Gelisya, fidgeting on her chair, and beside her. . Berren simply stared in disbelief. The king. Aimes.
‘Berren of Deephaven, Your Majesty,’ said Talon, loudly.
‘You do look like me,’ said the king happily. ‘I thought you’d be giant or something like that.’
Berren couldn’t answer. He’d never worn bright rich clothes like the ones the king had on. Nor had his hair ever been so long and lustrous. But beneath all that, stripped down to skin and bone, he might have been looking at his own reflection. Except for the eyes, for where Berren’s eyes sparkled, the king’s were dull and dead.
Aimes chattered at Berren and talked like a child, moving from one thing to the next on a whim, hardly seeming to notice whether Berren heard him or not, which was just as well because Berren was too busy staring. Like having a long-lost twin. When he was finished, he waved Berren away. Talon coughed loudly. A scowl crossed Aimes’ face, and the king of Tethis stamped his foot and rolled his eyes. ‘Talli says I’m supposed to give you a present for helping him,’ he said. He looked none too happy about the idea. ‘Is there something you want? As long as it’s not the hawks or the falcons, because I like birds.’
Talon whispered something in the king’s ear. Aimes’ face brightened.
‘You want that?’ He pointed at Fasha, crouched at the foot of Gelisya’s throne.
Gelisya squeaked, ‘My maid? You can’t have my bonds-maid! She’s mine!’
Berren ignored her. He nodded. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ An idiot and a child sitting on their thrones? What sense did that make? But that was a question for Tarn, down in a tavern when they were both deep in their cups, not for now.
Aimes beamed. ‘I like you,’ he said. ‘You’re not greedy. I don’t like greedy people. Greedy people aren’t nice. Yes. You can have the woman. Talli, can we have lots of bondsmen now?’
‘Of course.’ Talon peered past Aimes at Berren and mouthed, She’s yours.
Berren murmured some words of thanks but Aimes had already forgotten that he existed and was busy beaming at Talon. ‘Uncle Syannis never lets me have anything.’
Berren bowed and began to back away. A slight whiff of bad fish tickled his nose. He looked around sharply. Kuy? There was no sign of him, but Gelisya caught his eye. A little half-smile flashed across her face, meant only for him.
‘No.’ Syannis rose suddenly. ‘This bondswoman is the property of Princess Gelisya, little brother. She is not yours to give.’ He turned and stared at Berren, and Berren felt a numbness filling his head. He stopped. He felt as though he was suddenly watching from high in the rafters, as though he wasn’t in charge of himself any more but had become a passenger in his own body. He looked very angry, he thought, as he took two quick steps towards the throne. A voice that didn’t sound anything like his own uttered a growl full of rage.
‘You promised her to me!’ He was pointing at Syannis, he realised. Around the room the new king’s guard had their hands on their swords and some even had them half out of their scabbards. But Berren found he didn’t care about that, not one little bit.
‘You promised her to me!’ he said again. ‘I remember your words exactly as you said them. When she’s mine to give, she’s yours. On your knees, you made that promise to me, as payment for Meridian’s death! Well, thief-taker, we failed that night, but I did the deed for you on the battlefield. Now honour our bargain!’
Syannis’s lips curled back to show his teeth. ‘But she is not mine to give you, boy.’
The part of him watching from the rafters saw the change in Gelisya’s face. The smug grin freezing in place, her eyes filling with horror and surprise, her jaw falling slack. She jumped to her feet. ‘You? You did it? You killed him?’ She whipped around to Syannis. ‘I want him dead! Dead! Do you hear me? Dead!’
Syannis shifted awkwardly. ‘Your father fell in battle, Princess. No one can say for sure how he was slain. In honourable combat, no doubt.’
‘He was skulking miles away, filling his face with wine, and he died with a bolt from a crossbow in the back of his head,’ hissed Berren. ‘You tell me if that’s honourable, thief-taker. If you can tell the difference any more.’