On the morning of the fourth day the warrior — as Rabalyn had come to think of him — ushered them off the road and into thick undergrowth.
There they crouched behind a screen of bushes as five horsemen came into sight, riding hard. Rabalyn recognized the lean figure of Seregas, the Captain of the Watch.
After the horsemen had passed Rabalyn felt close to tears. His wounds were painful. He was travelling with strangers, one of whom did not like him, and the officers of the Watch were still hunting him. What if they followed him all the way to Mellicane, and reported him as a murderer?
The warrior led them deeper into the woods to the left of the trail, and for most of the day they travelled over rough country. By evening Rabalyn was exhausted. The warrior found a hidden hollow and lit a small fire.
Rabalyn did not sit too close to it. His wounds could not tolerate heat.
Brother Braygan brought him a bowl of broth. ‘Are you feeling a little better?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You are sad because of your aunt. I see it in your eyes.’
Rabalyn felt ashamed. He had been more concerned with his own plight, and guilt at his selfishness bore down on him. ‘She was a good woman,’ he said, unwilling to lie outright.
The warrior had vanished into the night, and Rabalyn felt more comfortable in his absence. ‘I wish he’d just go away,’ he said aloud.
‘Who?’ asked Braygan. Rabalyn was immediately embarrassed. He had not meant to voice the thought.
‘Brother Lantern. He frightens me.’
‘He will do you no harm, Rabalyn. Lantern is a… good man.’
‘What happened back at the church? Did the mob go there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did they burn everything?’
‘They burned nothing, Rabalyn. Tell me about your parents. Do you know where they live now?’
Rabalyn shook his head. ‘Don’t suppose they’ll want me around. They left me and my sister with Aunt Athyla years ago. They never sent word or anything. They don’t even know Lesha is dead. Truth is they’re both worthless.’
Now it was Braygan who looked uncomfortable. ‘Never say that, my friend. We all have weaknesses. No-one is perfect. You must learn to forgive.’
Rabalyn did not respond. Aunt Athyla had never spoken badly of his parents, but as he grew older he heard stories. His father had been a lazy man, twice dismissed and once jailed for a year for stealing from his employers. He was also a drunkard, and Rabalyn’s one clear memory of him was seeing him strike his mother in the face after a row. She had been hurled back against a wall, half stunned. Rabalyn had been six years old at the time, and he had run to his mother, in tears. That was when his father kicked him. ‘How is a man supposed to make something of himself?’ his father had shouted. ‘Bad enough trying to earn enough to get by, without having to feed and clothe ungrateful brats.’
Rabalyn hated weakness. And he had never understood why his mother had deserted her children to go off with a man so lacking in virtue. He had only told the priests about his parents being in Mellicane so that they would not leave him to his fate. He had no intention of seeking them out.
Let them rot wherever they are, he thought.
Braygan moved to the small fire, and added several dry sticks. ‘So what happened when the mob went to the church?’ asked Rabalyn.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘Why?’
‘It was ugly, Rabalyn. Horrible.’
The priest’s face showed his sorrow, and Rabalyn watched him sitting quietly and staring into the fire. ‘Is Jesper all right?’ asked the boy.
‘Jesper?’
‘Kalia’s dog.’
‘Oh, yes, the dog is fine. Abbot Cethelin is looking after him.’
‘Why is Brother Lantern not dressed like a priest?’
‘He has left the Order. Like me he is… was… an acolyte. He had not taken his final vows. Would you like something to eat?’
‘I’d like to know what happened at the church,’ said Rabalyn. ‘What was so horrible?’
Braygan sighed. ‘Men died, Rabalyn. The abbot was stabbed.’
‘Brother Lantern stopped them, didn’t he?’
Braygan glanced at the boy. ‘How would you know that?’
‘I don’t know it. Just guessed really. I saw him knock over that Arbiter attacking you. He didn’t seem afraid. Then he just ordered the crowd to carry the Arbiter into the tavern. I guessed he’d do the same if the mob came to the church. Who did he kill?’
‘As I said, I do not want to talk about it. Perhaps you should ask Lantern when he returns.’
‘He won’t talk about it. And he doesn’t like me.’
Braygan smiled sheepishly. ‘He doesn’t like me much either.’
‘Then why are you travelling together?’
‘The abbot asked him to see me safely to Mellicane.’
‘What will you do when you get there?’
‘Deliver letters to the church elders, and then take my vows before the bishop.’
‘Is it a long way?’
‘Just over a hundred and fifty miles. Lantern thinks the journey will take another twelve, perhaps fifteen days.’
‘What about the war? Will we see soldiers?’
‘I do hope not,’ said Braygan, suddenly fearful. ‘There are several settlements between here and the capital. We will purchase provisions from them and keep away from the major roads.’
‘Have you ever been to the capital?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Kalia has. She said they have huge beasts there, who fight in the arena.
And Kellias the Pedlar told us that some of them were going to be fighting in the war. He said they were called Joinings, and that the King had promised an army of them to fight off our evil enemies.’
‘I do not like to speak of such things,’ said Braygan, attempting a stern tone, and failing miserably.
‘I’d like to see one,’ added Rabalyn.
‘Be careful of what you wish for, boy,’ said Lantern, silently emerging from the trees. ‘The Joinings are a curse, and anyone who seeks to use them is a fool.’
On the morning of the sixth day, tired and hungry, their provisions almost exhausted, they arrived at a waystation just outside a small village nestling in the hills. Skilgannon scanned the area. There were three wooden structures and a corral containing no horses. Smoke was drifting lazily from the chimney of the largest building. Beyond the waystation there was no sign of movement in the village, save for a fox that darted across the main street, disappearing into an alley.
Skilgannon told Rabalyn and Braygan to wait at the edge of the trees, then strode down to the corral. As he approached it a burly man appeared from the main building. He was tall and round-shouldered, his hair close-cropped, but his brown beard thick and shaggy.
‘Good morning to you,’ he said.
‘And to you. Where are your horses?’
‘Soldiers took them. The station is closed until further notice.’
Skilgannon glanced towards the silent village. ‘All gone,’ said the man.
‘The Datians are less than a day from here. So people grabbed what they could and fled.’
‘But not you.’
The man shrugged. ‘Nowhere to go, son. This is my home. There’s still food left, so if you and your friends want breakfast you are welcome.’
That is kind of you.’
‘Glad to have the company, tell you the truth. My name is Seth,’ he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. Skilgannon shook it. Seth glanced down at the spider tattoo. ‘There’s men looking for you,’ he added.