Verdot Amal also concerned Achan, even though Sir Caleb had forgiven him. Someone had alerted Esek that they'd been heading to the prison. Merrygog McLennan could have had a man track them. Any of the missing prisoners from the Prodotez could have followed them as well. Achan racked his brain to remember as many as possible. This only frustrated him. It was impossible for this list to be thorough.
He couldn't stand to think that one of his companions might be deceiving him, but he'd lived long enough to know that even close friends sometimes had secrets they were unwilling to share.
Like Sparrow.
The boy's secret festered in light of recent events. Achan shook Sparrow from his thoughts and concentrated on his list.
It took time, but eventually he felt satisfied with it. The next task proved harder. Shadowing these men was the only way he might discover the traitor. He informed Sir Eagan of his plans-so he could check on Achan and make sure no one stabbed his body while his mind was elsewhere-then began the tedious quest of watching through the eyes of each name on his list, starting with Verdot Amal.
Vrell shivered. Her tent was so small and drafty. She had gotten used to the extra warmth her fake belly provided. She held it in her lap and reached inside to remove another handful of moldy wool. The pile at her feet filed her tent with a musty smell, reminding her of hemlock, which reminded her of the serving boy, which reminded her of her uncle.
Tears filled her eyes. She hadn't known Lord Livna well, but he had always been kind to her. She could still see his bulging eyes after Esek had-Stop. Mother had counseled Vrell on the long day's ride, made her promise not to relive the horrible scene.
Darkness was preying on her mind again. She focused on something more pleasant. Achan had changed since Tsaftown. Maybe it had been the trumpets, or the gifts, or the death of the serving boy and her uncle. But he walked around taller, brow furrowed, finally taking his birthright seriously.
She recalled Achan's expression when Sir Caleb said she would not serve as his squire. She had not meant to hurt his feelings. She shivered at the timing of her choice. Any other day it would have been Vrell standing behind Achan, fetching his wine. What if she had somehow tasted his wine?
She spilled out a fresh batch of tears over the circumstances as she finished empting her fake belly of the old, moldy wool. She grabbed a handful of the fresh fleece Sir Gavin had bought her in Tsaftown. She prayed it would make a difference in the smell.
Thankfully she would be home soon. Very soon.
Achan had been so preoccupied with his new army he had not seemed to notice that Vrell was missing from his tent. It was for the best. The busier he was, the easier she could sneak away in Carmine, unnoticed. The day might come when Achan would ask Sir Gavin, "Whatever became of Vrell Sparrow?" And Sir Gavin would say, "The lad wasn't cut out for war. Left us in Carmine to seek out an occupation as healer."
And that would be the end of it.
She was glad, really. It was Arman's will. Yet her heart ached, and her mind dwelled on mythical situations. A ball in Armonguard. Would Achan recognize her if she attended? Would he kiss her hand?
She shook the petty daydream aside. She would never have to attend a ball in Armonguard. She would be a married woman. Right?
Why pretend? Bran clearly no longer cared for her in such a way, and if she were honest, the same was true for her. Had time changed matters? Or had they simply fooled themselves into believing they were meant to be?
Maybe Tara was right. Maybe love really did not exist. Maybe it was purely a decision a person made, a business arrangement, a matter of who was available or had the largest inheritance? Vrell's heart told her otherwise, but as Sir Caleb said, "The heart is deceitful above all things."
Vrell certainly did not trust hers.
Achan lurched awake, parchment clutched in hand. He'd been looking in on Merrygog McLennan, hoping the old man would implicate himself, but apparently, the man had fallen asleep and taken Achan with him. A faint orange light glowed through the brown linen curtain separating Achan's bed from the knights. All must be sleeping here, too.
Achan found shadowing harder work than he'd imagined. After hours, Sir Eric and Lady Viola were the only names he'd crossed from his list. He had shadowed the minds of Lady Livna, Lady Merris, Arne, and Verdot Amal and discovered nothing, which meant he would have to continue shadowing their minds until he proved them innocent. Or guilty.
This could take a long time.
He yawned and took one last look at the list, with the intention of blowing out his lamp right after. He tapped his finger on the name that continued to haunt him.
Vrell Sparrow.
Achan had taken Sir Gavin at his word for weeks, accepting Sir Gavin's explanation despite his curiosity.
Until now.
A tiny voice inside disagreed. He should continue to trust Sir Gavin. But as the future king he had a job to do, however unpleasant, and would not be mocked behind his back because he'd been too naive to verify every possibility.
Sparrow's name was on the list. To complete his inquiry, he had to check at some point. His new resolve to do this job well demanded it. Kindness was his only objection, and he couldn't afford to give away kindness anymore. Not when the serving boy's life could have been spared. Not when more lives were at stake until the traitor was found.
Come to think of it, Sparrow had abandoned his post as Achan's squire just before that banquet.
Achan sat up on his bedroll and put his face in his hands.
He pictured Sparrow's chubby face, sensed the shield around his mind, and pushed. As usual, Sparrow's mind was shrouded in armor he couldn't penetrate. Yet if he were the strongest bloodvoicer, there should be a way. He just needed to figure out how.
32
The snowy hunting trail wound through the mountains, slowed the horses, and deepened Achan's frustration. He could walk faster than this. He hadn't realized they crossed the AstrapeRiver until Inko and Kurtz stopped to count the group and make sure no one had fallen through the ice. Their second night out from Tsaftown, they camped along the bank of the River Betsar, though Achan could hear or see no sign of a river, even when a bonfire was lit.
It should have been a three-day journey to Mitspah, but on day four, they still hadn't arrived, though there was less snow and the River Betsar was now flowing freely within its icy banks. That night they ate fresh fish.
Sir Caleb kept Achan's mind busy with a discussion of Mitspah. It's is a mining town. They bring in much income from wealthy travelers who come to see PazFalls and TempleArman.
Temple Arman? I thought Arman's temple was his followers.
True, but two temples to Arman exist in Er'Rets. One is in Armonguard, the other in Mitspah.
How interesting to see how this temple differed from Cetheria's temple in Sitna and Avenis' temple in Mirrorstone.
Achan peered up the line, then realized, despite the few torches men carried, he could see his surroundings. His heart quickened. He blinked at the sky. Though he could see no moon or stars, something lit the woods as if he were standing outside at night under a full moon.
He called up to Sir Gavin at the front of the line. I can see.