What do you mean she's gone?
Vrell Sparrow smiled at Esek Nathak's sharp tone. She'd been hoping to intrude upon this moment. She twisted the false prince's silk sleeve in her hands and held her breath, thankful she'd kept the scrap of fabric. Personal items made it easier to look in on someone's mind like this, as did her tar-black surroundings.
Though she floated with four men in a small wooden boat gliding west across Arok Lake-and Darkness-she nevertheless looked through Esek's eyes. The former heir to Er'Rets reclined on a cushioned chaise lounge in his solar in the Mahanaim stronghold. The blazing fire from Esek's hearth warmed Vrell's…Esek's right side. Her hands trembled with the fury coursing through his body. She forced herself to ignore it, knowing it was Esek's anger and not her own.
It galled Vrell that she had to share this man's mind. The man she had once thought to be Prince Gidon Hadar. The man who had demanded to marry her, putting so much pressure on her mother that Vrell had gone into hiding disguised as a stray boy. A disguise she still wore six months later.
Esek rose from the chaise lounge and circled his steward like a prowling dog. How can this be, Chora? Did you not tell me yourself Sir Kenton posted three guards at her door?
Chora, a short, dark-haired man in brown robes, seemed to shrink whenever Esek addressed him. His b-best men, Your Highness. He swears no man left his post. But the chamber is empty. She must have escaped another way.
Yet Lord Levy assures me that is impossible.
F-Forgive me, my king, Chora croaked out. The lady must be a mage. First taking on the appearance of a boy, now v-vanishing altogether.
Esek threw back his head and groaned. I am surrounded by fools. She's no mage, you nitwit. Both my prisoners have gone missing in the same hour, and only I can see the truth: the stray helped her. He means to steal my life-my crown and my bride. Find them!
Of course, Your Majesty. Right away. Chora scurried to the door but paused.
Esek fell back on his chaise lounge and crossed his ankles. He snatched a handful of grapes from a tray. Why are you still here?
The steward turned, trembling. F-Forgive me, Your Highness. It's only…the guards have s-searched the stronghold already. Th-There's no sign of them. I d-don't-
The door burst open. Sir Kenton, the Shield, personal bodyguard to Esek, strode into the chamber. A chill draft swept in behind him, followed by a group of New Kingsguard soldiers dragging two of their own-bound and gagged-between them.
What's this? Esek sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.
Sir Kenton shook his curtain of black hair at the guards, who yanked the prisoners to their feet. These are two of the men who escorted the stray to the dungeons. They were found in the privy on the north wing, bound to one another.
Esek stood and strode to the prisoners. He waved a finger at the gag on the taller man. Sir Kenton withdrew a dagger from his belt and cut through the cloth.
Well? Esek said. What have you to say? Report.
It was Trizo Akbar, Your Highness. The prisoner took a deep breath, as if winded. He's turned traitor. Maybe always has been. Sir Rigil and his squire too. Trizo led the prisoner away while Sir Rigil and his squire bound us and stuffed us into the privy.
Esek's temperature rose. How is it a mere stray has garnered every competent servant in Er'Rets? Has not the Council voted me king? Take these fools to the dungeons, Sir Kenton. The rest of you, find the stray, find the boy called Vrell Sparrow, find Sir Rigil and his rosy squire, and bring them to me. Now!
The chamber fell out of focus. Vrell's head tingled, her body tipped forward. She gasped, and musty, rotten-smelling air filled her lungs. She gritted her teeth and concentrated, putting a hand on the bow of the boat for support. Using her bloodvoicing gift for long periods of time always weakened her. If she could only stay connected long enough to learn Esek's plan. She concentrated on his face and pressed the wrinkled silk sleeve to her cheek.
The chamber came back into view. A door slammed. Esek and Chora were alone.
Issue a decree. Any traitor will stand before me to be judged. Then a bounty. Five golds for information on the Marad, Sir Rigil, or his squire's whereabouts. Twenty golds for the man who brings me Achan Cham alive. Ten if it's only his head. Fifty golds for Vrell Sparrow, unharmed.
F-Fifty, Your Majesty?
Have you written it down?
Yes, Your Majesty. Chora lowered his voice. But why not disclose that the boy is really Lady Averella Amal?
Because it would work to the stray's advantage. Should the people discover Averella travels with him, they might think the duchess supports his claim to my throne. No. Let them keep their secrets. The money will be enough to bring them both to me. The sooner the better. I am loath to marry Lady Mandzee Hamartano. Now that woman is a mage. Do you recall how she-
A sharp pain shot through Vrell's ear. She moaned and forced her eyes open. Blackness surrounded her, like the deepest, darkest cave. She no longer sat on the wooden bench of the boat but found herself scrunched in the bow, head bent awkwardly to one side, sleeve still clutched in her hand. Mosquitoes buzzed nearby. The boat rocked softly on the lake's surface.
A voice came from the darkness above. "Sparrow?"
Vrell jumped at the volume of Achan's voice. Noises always seemed louder after bloodvoicing, like her head had been wrapped in bandages that fell away all at once.
A hand patted Vrell's knee, then waist.
She jerked upright, not wanting anyone to feel her undergarment. The fake belly acted like a corset, padded with shorn wool rather than lined with whalebone. It gave her slender feminine shape that of a pudgy boy. "Do not touch me!"
"Whoa. It's just me: Achan."
She groped for the wooden bench and pulled herself back onto it. This was the longest she'd gone yet before blacking out. Perhaps she only needed practice to strengthen her ability.
"You fall asleep or something?" Achan mumbled, as if trying not to open his mouth when he spoke. The cuts on his cheeks must've been hurting him.
She strained to see him but her eyes could not penetrate the surrounding blackness. She was blind here, dependent on movement, sound, and smell. The boat rocked gently beneath her. She could hear the Old Kingsguard knights-Sir Gavin, Sir Caleb, and Inko-murmuring in the back of the boat. Sir Gavin's paddle dipped in and out of the water. And the smell…as if they were sitting on a dung hill.
"It is difficult not to in this light," Vrell said.
Achan chuckled. "Well, if you're that tired, stay there." He paused, and his next words came out in a mumbled rush. "I'd hate to have to dive in and rescue you twice in the same day. 'Sides, I doubt I'd find you in this…light."
A sudden chill seized Vrell at the memory of nearly drowning that morning. She shoved Esek's sleeve into her satchel. "I am fine now."
"If you say so. You're the healer." Achan's boots thunked on the bottom of the boat, lurching it as he moved away. When he spoke again his voice was quiet. "Sparrow's just tired. So, Inko, finish your story about Barthos' temple."
Inko's raspy, jilted accent lifted out of the abyssal surroundings. "It wasn't being until King Trevyn was first visiting the village that any Kinsman was ever stepping inside the shrine."
"It's really a pyramid?"
"Yes. It's being made of stone, being hollow inside all the way to the top."
"How's it stand without the support of floors?" Achan asked.
"A structure like that would be quite stable," Sir Caleb answered, his voice low and polished. "With the large base and the way all four walls push against one another, not even the wind would sway it. It'd be much stronger than any keep."
"It was being designed to look like it was rising out of the ground to be honoring Barthos," Inko said.
As the Old Kingsguard soldier continued his tale of Barthos, the false god of the soil, Vrell pondered what she had witnessed through Esek's eyes. Her worst fears were confirmed. Esek now knew the truth: Vrell was really Lady Averella Amal, heir to Carm Duchy. What now? Should she continue to play the role of Vrell Sparrow when the man she hid from knew of her disguise? It seemed pointless.
What would her companions do if they discovered the truth? They would likely come to her aid-Achan especially. He would see it as a betrayal, though, and that would hurt him. He had been through so much already. So many lies…
Mother would know what to do. But Mother had not answered Vrell's bloodvoicing calls. Lord Nathak's men had done something to her. Vrell fought the tears stinging her eyes and prayed Sir Rigil and Bran were riding to her mother's rescue this moment.
Dear Bran. His service to Sir Rigil had made him a hunted traitor. Please, Arman, do not let him be captured.
Vrell shook her thoughts back to the present. For now she should at least inform Sir Gavin about the bounties Esek had ordered. As the head of Achan's personal guard, the knight should know what they were facing.
She scratched a mosquito bite on her cheek and stared into starless void above. She must not despair. Arman, the one God, could see their path even if she could not.
"Bet Jaira hated that."
Achan sounded so amused that Vrell tried to focus on the men's conversation.
"Yes," Inko's low, raspy voice drew Vrell in, "but to be refusing her father publicly would have been bigger a disgrace. So she was allowing the Barthians to cover in mud her skin."
Achan's deep laugh made Vrell smile, and he said, "Oh, I wish I could've seen-"
Something scraped the left side of the boat. Vrell jerked her fists up to her chin, shaking at the horror of this dark place. It reminded her of the underground river from Xulon after their lamp had shattered. Did reekats live in Arok Lake? How would Peripasio, her pruny old friend who lived underground, fare in such a place?
"What's that?" Achan asked.
"Branches." Sir Gavin's paddle glubbed beneath the surface, thrusting the boat onward. "Dead, by the feel of them."
"Already we're being close to shore? Not the south shore, I am hoping?"
A long sniff answered Inko's worrisome question. Sir Gavin's odd habit of using his nose to calm himself. "Aye, Inko. The south shore."
"Is everything dead here?" Achan asked.
"Oh, no," Sir Caleb said. "You'd think so, without the sun, but life is…stubborn."
"Please be explaining, Gavin." Inko's voice sounded more stressed than usual. "Did you mean to be bringing us to the south side on purpose? Esek's men will already be following. We must be-"
The boat scratched to a halt in the twiggy branches. Vrell gripped the bow to keep from falling off her bench.
A heavy sigh. "And now we're being stuck."
Sir Gavin's paddle clunked on the side of the boat. "We must get off the water. Only I can't be certain how close the shore is with all this dead shrubbery. I need to seek out a bird but…"
"What do you sense?" Sir Caleb asked.
"Our pursuers are close. Come over the side with me, Caleb. We must tow the boat out of sight. Now."
Out of sight? Vrell almost laughed. Who but Arman could see in this cursed place? She whipped around, scanning her surroundings for any trace of light and saw none. She reached out for an open mind, but everyone in their boat-even Achan-was guarding himself well.
Leather scraped against the left side of the boat and someone grunted. Water glubbed and the boat rocked. Vrell swallowed, gripped the boat's edge, and prayed for Arman's protection. The boat tugged forward, ripping past the twiggy branches. The knights were pulling them along. Was the water shallow enough to wade or were they swimming?
"Keep quiet, now," Sir Gavin whispered as the boat slid to a stop. "We're being hunted."
As if this day hadn't been intense enough already.
Achan crouched lower in the boat, staring over the wooden edge into the endless black. Inko, who sat behind him, made no sound. Vrell Sparrow's ragged breath puffed and hitched, but Achan couldn't see the boy. Water gurgled around the craft, slapping the sides in a slow cadence. The darkness made it impossible for Achan to know whether the waves were natural, caused by Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb's movement, or something else.
Mosquitoes buzzed in his ear. A sharp itch hinted at an attack on his temple, but he didn't flinch. He sucked in a deep breath of stale air and blinked. Had that been a light? He squinted at what he thought was an alcove of trees and blinked again.
The flames of four torches swept into view, casting a golden glow on a small barge. Over a dozen men stood in the feeble light. Achan sucked in a breath, recognizing one short, weasely New Kingsguard knight. Khai Mageia served Esek but also worked for Macoun Hadar, a twisted old man who sought to exploit Achan and Sparrow's bloodvoicing talents.
Achan wanted to bloodvoice Sir Gavin, tell him about Khai, but his ability lacked control. If he tried to communicate, he'd likely give their presence away to those on the barge. For now-and for everyone's safety-he would only receive messages, not send any.
Sir Gavin must have sensed his apprehension because he bloodvoiced Achan. Stay still, Your Highness, and keep silent.
Your Highness. Achan bristled at the formality. This very day his life had changed forever. Sir Gavin, the famous Great Whitewolf himself, had taken Achan before the Council of Seven and proved he was the real Prince Gidon Hadar, rightful heir to the throne of Er'Rets.
The realization still nauseated him.
He closed his eyes and breathed a prayer to Arman, asking for protection. He didn't know why he bothered. Arman, the moody Father God, did as he pleased when he pleased.
The barge passed a jousting field away. The dull torchlight made his eyes water and tinted the black cloaks of the New Kingsguardsmen sickly green.
Esek's men. Sent to bring him back.
No one in Achan's boat moved until long after the torches had faded from sight and the darkness had settled over them again like a heavy blanket.
Sir Gavin's voice came from below. "A hand, Achan?"
Achan braced himself and reached over the side until Sir Gavin's calloused hand slid into his. He pulled the old knight up, rocking the boat and sloshing the water beneath it.
Sir Gavin sat, water dripping onto wood from his clothes. "Where are you, Caleb?"
"Here." Sir Caleb's voice came from the stern.
Achan moved that way and helped Sir Caleb aboard.
"I'm getting too old for this, Gavin," Sir Caleb said. "I've got leeches on me. I feel them sucking."
Achan wrinkled his nose. "Can you get them off?" Ah. It hurt to speak. His cheeks throbbed despite Sparrow's salve and awkward bandage. How he hated Esek Nathak.
"The ones I feel, yes," Sir Caleb said. "The ones I can't, however…well, they'll let go when they're done."
Achan shivered at the idea of leeches, which reminded him of something. "I saw Khai on the barge," Achan said over the pain. "Do you think he's here working for Esek or Macoun?"
"Both, likely." Sir Gavin's paddle dipped into the water and the boat lurched against more twiggy branches. "He's a Kingsguard soldier, so he'll go where he's sent. But he's also Macoun's man. If Macoun can't have you, he'll still want Vrell back. Bah!" The paddle clattered to the floor of the boat. "This won't do."
"He's a horrible man," Sparrow said.
Achan tried to talk without moving his jaw. "Macoun?"
"Oh, him as well, but I meant Khai. He tried to kill me."
Achan wanted to hear this tale, but Sir Gavin spoke. "We need to make camp. Caleb and I will tow the boat in as far as we can, then we'll leave the boat and wade the rest of the way."
"But still we are being on the wrong side of the lake," Inko said.
"And we'll all get leeches." Sparrow squawked, as if his voice was finally changing.
Achan smirked. Maybe the boy would finally grow into his boots. "What? The herbalist has no use for leeches?"
Sparrow's voice fell. "Bloodletting is not one of my skills."
"We must be crossing the lake first." Inko's worry never ceased. "Tsaftown is being north."
"Is it really? North, you say?" Sir Caleb's tone brought a hush over the boat. "You think Gavin has forgotten where he grew up?"
"Of course that's not what I'm-"
"Then have a little faith, Inko," Sir Caleb said. "King Axel didn't make Gavin commander for his handsome face."
The silence lingered. Achan propped his elbows on his knees and set his forehead in his palms. He'd known Inko and Sir Caleb for two days. They never agreed. Inko risked nothing, trusted no one, and questioned everything. Sir Caleb, on the other hand, was game for pretty much anything. How in all Er'Rets had these men served together year after year?
His left cheek twinged. He fought the urge to scratch under the bandage Sparrow had wrapped around his head and chin. He must look like a man with a toothache. The memory of Esek drawing Owr's sharp edge across his cheeks filled his mind's eye, and he gritted his teeth.
"Did you really grow up in Tsaftown?" Sparrow asked.
"Aye."
Perhaps Sir Gavin knew Lady Tara? Achan pushed the useless thought away. Sir Gavin had never been one to open up, as Sparrow would soon discover. Achan shivered. The Evenwall had left his clothing damp. What would they do come night? How would they even know when night arrived?
At least he had one change of clothes. The shirt and doublet Gren had made him were in Sir Caleb's pack. No point changing now if they were going to wade. He clenched his teeth through another shiver and hugged himself.
"I feel as though my blood is freezing." Sparrow echoed Achan's thoughts. Had the boy read his mind? Achan still couldn't tell when someone was in his head. He really wanted to learn that trick.
"Wait until we reach Ice Island," Sir Caleb said. "It's so cold your beard will frost."
Achan laughed, and the wounds on his cheeks throbbed. "Hear that, Sparrow? You best get started on that beard or you'll have nothing to warm that chubby face."
"And your beard is so much better?"
Achan tried to sound wise despite the awkward lull his wounds gave his voice. "I've never tried for a beard, but I'm sure I could grow one if these men would stop shaving me. You, however, haven't even the fuzz of a peach on your chin."
"We'll stop shaving you now," Sir Caleb said. "We'll all need beards for Tsaftown, for warmth and disguise."
Inko exhaled a deep breath. "Gavin, be assuring me you're having more of a plan than to be traipsing across Darkness."
"We head for Mirrorstone. We need supplies."
"Mirrorstone?" Achan spun toward Sir Gavin's voice, his movement rocking the boat. "Is not Lord Eli loyal to Prince Gidon?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, Prince Esek?" He'd never get used to it. The man he'd always known to be Prince Gidon Hadar was actually Esek Nathak. And he-Achan-was the prince: Prince Gidon. So strange.
"Don't call him 'prince,'" Sir Caleb said. "He's a fake and usurper who doesn't deserve the respect."
"Regardless," Inko said, "Mirrorstone is lying on the south side of the lake. We need to be crossing Arok Lake, to be going north. The longer we're lingering, the more time we're allowing those Kingsguard soldiers to be-"
"Can we discuss this later?" Sir Caleb said. "I'd really like to get these leeches off me."
Sir Gavin sighed. "Back into the water then, Caleb. The rest of you might as well ride 'til we get a bit closer."
The boat rocked, leather scraped over wood, branches cracked, water splashed. Then the boat jerked forward. Sparrow fell backward off his bench into Achan's lap and squeaked like a mouse. Achan laughed and groped for the boy's arm to help pull him up, but Sparrow swatted him and scrambled away.
Achan ignored the boy's antics. "How do they even know where they're going?" He paused at the throb in his cheeks. "I can see as well as any of them, and I see nothing."
"But Sir Gavin is not using only his eyes. He can be smelling the trail like a wolf," Inko said. "Though I'm fearing he should be crossing the lake now."
Achan had never trusted his life to a man's sense of smell. He'd always assumed Sir Gavin's Great Whitewolf title came from his mismatched eyes and long white hair. But maybe the man had a wolf's sense of smell too. Regardless, Achan would rather be with Sir Gavin than anyone else. Except maybe Prince Oren, his uncle. All his life Achan had been a stray: a slave without any family to claim him. Lower even than a slave. Now that he found he had an uncle and cousins, Achan wanted to know them. He fingered his uncle's signet ring on his left middle finger.
A crown, however, Achan did not want.
The knights towed the boat inland. Branches scraped the sides and scratched Achan's arms if he wasn't careful to stay seated in the center. After hundreds of broken branches and dozens of mosquito bites, the boat grated to a stop.
"You all climb out now." Sir Gavin's voice came from Achan's left. 'Tis quite swampy, so keep your feet moving."
"This is insanity," Sparrow said, seized with a bout of his bossy nature. "How can you even know where you are going? You could be wading in a circle."
"Gavin is the best guide in Er'Rets," Sir Caleb said. "Plus, I've tied a rope to Gavin and each of us will hold on. That should keep us together. If you don't like it, you and Inko may take your chances in the boat. But, Your Majesty, you don't get a choice. Come down next. Put your sword over your shoulder to keep it dry. And take care, the lake bed is quite mucky."
Achan unbuckled his belt, wrapped the leather band over his head and one arm, and fastened it so his sword- Eagan's Elk-hung down from his front right shoulder. He swung one leg over the side, the boat tipped, and he fell sideways into frigid water. In his panic, he took in a mouthful of putrid, slimy water before his boots sank into the sludge.
"You all right, Your Majesty?" Sir Caleb asked.
Achan spat, clearing the bitter taste from his mouth. "Aye." He patted Eagan's Elk to make sure it hadn't fallen off his shoulder. So much for keeping it dry. The water rose to his chest. An icy chill clapped onto his body. His muscles ached from endless shivering. Were leeches already biting his flesh?
A cold hand gripped Achan's shoulder and something stiff pressed against his chest. "Take the rope," Sir Caleb said into Achan's right ear. "There should be a knot."
Achan felt the coarse rope until his fingers found the knot. He clutched it in his right hand and tried to remain calm, though the blackness made it difficult. This must be what a blind man experienced daily.
"Inko? Vrell? Made up your mind?" Sir Caleb asked.
"Of course we'll be going with you." Though Inko's tone proclaimed displeasure.
"How deep is it?" Sparrow asked.
"Too deep," Achan said. "Even if Sparrow managed to tiptoe in this muck, only the top of his head would break the surface. I'll carry him on my back."
"Your Majesty, everyone is knowing that's no job for you," Inko said.
Achan reached out until his hand hit the side of the boat, then turned his back to it and almost lost a boot in the sludge. "Get on, Sparrow, before I change my mind. And if I'm holding you up, you get the rope."
After a long, ungraceful moment, in which Achan nearly dropped Sparrow in the lake, the boy sat on Achan's back, clinging to his throat. He took the rope from Achan's hand.
Achan hiked Sparrow up his back again and held him under his knees. "Don't choke me."
Inko climbed out, and the companions left the boat behind. They waded along, tethered by Sir Caleb's rope, trusting nothing but Sir Gavin's nose to lead them. Achan hoped Sir Gavin's nose wouldn't start running from the cold. At least Achan had Sparrow's hot breath to warm his neck.
He trudged on, each step a battle between the muck gripping his boots and the branches snagging his clothes, as if walking in a lightless void weren't awkward enough. Sparrow had better hold on, because he made no guarantee he could keep this up for long. Slowly, the water level dropped away. When it lapped around Achan's thighs, he set Sparrow on his feet.
Achan waded, rope tugging him along, body lurching through the sludge under his boots. Sound, smell, the cold…it all seemed to magnify without light. The water gurgled and splashed from the party's movement. But there were other sounds-a hiss, a rattle, a pecking-from overhead. The land smelled sour, like turned pudding.
"There's a cluster of trees here," Sir Gavin called from the front of the line. "Careful not to hurt yourselves."
The water sloshed around Achan's boots now. He held a hand out in front to feel for the trees. Pulled along by Sir Gavin's tether, Achan's hand smacked against slimy bark, and his body slid between several tree trunks, feet stumbling over the gnarled roots. He didn't want to know what made the trees slimy, especially considering the putrid smell.
Finally they stepped onto dry ground. Achan took his belt and sword off his neck and hooked it around his waist where it belonged. A chill snaked over him. His wet clothes clung to his body; his toes squished in his boots.
"I'm going to light a small torch," Sir Gavin sniffed in a strong breath, "just 'til we find a place to camp. I won't burn it long. Any light is a beacon to every living thing."
Achan bumped into Sir Caleb's back. Sparrow ran into his. Apparently they were stopping. Achan focused on the sounds of Sir Gavin digging through his pack but pecking distracted him. Could it be a woodpecker? Some kind of cricket?
A torch hissed into a green flame. Achan's eyes widened at the brightness. Spots flooded his vision until he blinked them away. In the green glow, Sir Gavin's wrinkled face resembled a dried pear. His hair and frizzy braided beard looked like freshly shorn wool that needed washing. And his eyes-one blue, one brown-shone like emerald and bronze. Achan scanned the charcoal surroundings. Spindly trees rose around them, a forest of gnarled branches that appeared burned, like the dead side of the memorial tree in Allowntown.
"How is it your torch is dry?" Sparrow asked.
"It's not," Sir Gavin said. "I've a few torchlights made from sulfur and lime. Bought them from a Jaelportian vendor at the market in Mahanaim. They burn even when doused in water. Different colors too." He pointed left. "In the forest will be best."
The knight moved away, and the rope pulled the group along single file. Achan followed Sir Caleb, eyes fixed on the allown tree painted on the shield draped over Sir Caleb's back.
Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb were the only two who carried shields. Achan's sword, Eagan's Elk, was long enough to be wielded two-handed, like the longsword Inko carried. Inko also had a bow. Sparrow had a dinky little arming sword. More like a long dagger.
An occasional black shadow scurried up the twisted trunks. What kind of creatures lived in such a place? Achan used to believe nothing could live here until, at the recent tournament, he'd met people who'd come from cities in Darkness.
A prickle on his torso reminded him of Sir Caleb's leeches. Heat flashed over him. He pressed his fingers to his side and felt a hard lump beneath his clothing. His limbs twitched. Heart stampeding, he released the rope and pulled up his jerkin and shirt. The rope slid past his thigh. Sparrow knocked into his back and yelped.
Achan scratched off the slug-like attachment and flung it away. Squirming, he drew his fingers across his stomach and found another hard lump.
Pig snout.
"What are you doing?" Sparrow asked.
"Leeches. There are leeches all over me." Achan plucked the second one off and found another on his chest. "Ahh!"
Sparrow cried out. Achan turned to find the boy patting his legs through his trousers. His eyes widened in the green light as they met Achan's chest.
"You see another?" Achan asked.
Sparrow pointed a shaking finger at Achan's armpit. Achan lifted his arm, but a hand on his back stopped him.
"Leave them for now, Achan," Sir Caleb said, his voice commanding. "Don't pull them off like a madman, lest they leave their teeth in you."
Achan froze, hands above his head, and took a deep breath. His clothing shifted, then dropped back into place. He swallowed and faced Sir Caleb. "Leave them?"
"They'll do no harm. We'll get them off when we stop, if any are still there."
Sir Gavin's moustache arched into a frown. "Just a few more moments, I promise you."
Achan nodded, still panicked at the idea of the creatures sucking his blood, even more alarmed that those he'd removed might have left their teeth in his skin.
"They do not leave teeth in you." Sparrow's shaky voice came soft behind him. "But if you pull them too fast, they tend to retch. It's the excess saliva under your skin that leaves a rash or swells-" Sparrow squealed and plowed into Achan's back again.
A creature fluttered past Achan's ear, brushing his hair with its wing. Achan ducked, pulse racing. A moth the size of a pigeon flapped wildly in the green glow.
"That is disgusting." Sparrow's voice cracked. "I hate this place. I hate it!"
Achan had to agree. He gripped the rope and straightened, keeping his eyes on the overgrown insect. The rope inched forward. So did Achan. They approached a grove of trees. The crooked branches above twisted together, forming a tunnel and forcing the moth to fly above the briary canopy.
Good riddance.
The trees grew thick and tangled, like a gnarled cage. Achan squinted at the smooth clay beneath his feet. They seemed to be on a game trail. As long as no one was hunting them now…
Sir Gavin ducked under low branches and crept on, tugging the rope along. Achan squeezed between slippery branches. His hair snagged on stiff twigs, ripping out wisps and leaving drips of slime running down his forehead. He wiped the gunk away with his free hand and found it sticky, like pitch.
Sir Gavin stopped suddenly and drove the torchlight into the ground. They were in a clearing the size of two small cottages. The ground was carpeted in soppy, grey moss. The tree branches were tight overhead, almost like a thatched roof.
Sir Gavin shrugged off his pack and shield, catching them before they hit the ground. "I sense humans to the west, which is in the direction of Mirrorstone. We must get there as soon as possible, but it's still a two-day journey on foot."
He propped his pack and shield in the branches of a tree on the perimeter. "We've only four bedrolls, so we'll take turns on watch using our ears, noses, and minds." He pointed behind Sparrow. "Privy is on that end, dinner and sleep is down here by me. Put your packs in the trees to let them dry. Be quick about it. The sooner this torch is out, the better."
Achan had no pack, only Eagan's Elk. His change of clothes was in Sir Caleb's pack. "Do you think the water damaged my sword?"
"Not in that short time," Sir Caleb said. "When did you last oil the blade?"
Achan's mouth hung open a moment, his vision flicking to Sir Gavin. "I've never done so."
Sir Caleb stared at Sir Gavin's back. "Were you not taught?"
Achan swallowed. "I-"
Sir Gavin sighed and answered while rummaging through his pack. "There was no time, Caleb. Nathak banished me the day I gave Achan the blade. Besides, you know I'm no teacher. I've done the best I could. But now that he has you, I freely relinquish the honor of his weapons training."
Achan was thankful for Sir Gavin's instruction. But could Sir Caleb teach him more? Teach him better?
Sir Caleb glared long and hard at Sir Gavin, as if the crime of not oiling a blade deserved years in Ice Island. Finally he turned to Achan. "I have oil in my pack, Your Highness. For now, remove the blade from the scabbard to give both time to dry. A wet scabbard can rust steel."
Achan lifted the hem of his shirt to dry Eagan's Elk. A black mark on his side caught his eye and it all came rushing back. "Can we get these leeches off now?"
"Yes." Sir Caleb unfastened his jerkin and shrugged it off. "Best take off all your clothes to make sure we don't miss any."
Achan set Eagan's Elk in a nearby tree and stripped down to his undershorts. He stacked his clothing carefully on the branch to avoid having it touch too much slime.
At least a dozen leeches spotted Sir Caleb's pale and wiry torso. "And that's why you don't rip them off. See how much you're bleeding?"
Achan looked down. Tiny streams of blood ran down his chest like water after a bath.
"Slide your fingernails under to wedge them off."
Achan mirrored Sir Caleb, plucking the parasites away.
"Be tossing them aside after." Inko draped his cape in a tree, his grey skin and pockmarked face like a potato full of eyes. "I'm not wanting them crawling on me in my sleep."
The men paired up to check each other's backs, Achan with Sir Caleb and Inko with Sir Gavin. Then they checked their own undershorts.
"I'm clean." Achan pitched the last leech into the trees.
A voice in the woods cried out.
Achan froze. "What was that?"
Sir Caleb wrenched his sword from the branches and advanced on the trees, weapon raised. "In the name of Caan, come out. We mean you no harm."
Vrell clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle another sob and wiped tears from her cheeks.
"Come out, now, or I'll come in after you," Sir Caleb said.
Vrell yanked up her trousers and tied her belt with shaking fingers. "It is only me." Her voice betrayed her, coming out soft, like a kitten's mew, expressing her true emotions. She inched toward the flickering light, thankful her entire body hadn't been underwater.
All four men stood in their undershorts staring at her, eyes wide. Trickles of blood were smeared across Achan's chest. The white bandage she had tied around his head had been knocked askew. She cast her gaze to the ground and casually drew her fingers along her thigh where a tickle spasmed. Could she have missed a leech? She had checked herself thoroughly but had hardly been able to see what she was doing.
Sir Caleb still held his sword ready. "What in flames were you doing in there, boy?"
Vrell stared at the sleek blade. "I…I had to…"
Achan's lips curved into a lopsided grin that faltered as quickly as it came. "Didn't realize you were gone." He winced, evidence that his cheeks still pained him. "Did my leech hit you?"
"Nearly." Vrell meandered to the edge of the clearing where Sir Gavin had promised food. She turned her back to the tree holding Sir Gavin's pack and folded her arms, still trembling at the memory of leeches attached to her legs. Achan spoke to Sir Caleb, his scarred back facing her. Pity doused her bad attitude. At least no one had ever whipped her.
Achan walked to Vrell's tree. He peeled his shirt off a branch as if thick cobwebs held it there.
"Wait." Vrell dug out a scrap of linen from her satchel and handed it to Achan. "Use this to stop the bleeding. You should let me rinse those wounds out as well."
"I'm fine." He wadded the linen in one hand and wiped the trails of blood away. He pushed the hair from his eyes as he worked. A thick strand stuck to his forehead, held there by a trail of slime. "Get your leeches off?"
Vrell stared at the moss beneath her feet. "I–I think so."
"Strip down and I'll check."
Vrell's eyes swelled. "I–I am fine. I am not…feeling well." She backed into the thicket of prickly trees, keeping an eye on Achan. A sharp branch dug into her shoulder. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The trees were so close together it was difficult to get through.
Achan's gaze followed her. "What are you doing?"
She slid behind a thick trunk and held her breath, praying someone would distract Achan from his quest to be helpful.
But Achan called again, "Sparrow?"
"Leave him." Sir Caleb's low and commanding voice soothed Vrell's nerves. "He'll ask for help if he needs it."
"But how can he stand it?" Achan asked. "I didn't want the little beasts on my skin any longer than they had been."
"Worry about yourself. Get your sword and sit. Then I'll show you how to oil your blade and rub down your scabbard."
Vrell sank against the tree, stopping herself before she sat on the moist ground. She squatted, wrapping her arms around her knees. Now seemed a good time to try and contact Mother again, but she hated the idea of blacking out on this sodden ground. That would not matter if Mother did not answer.
Vrell concentrated on her mother's face and sent a knock.
She waited, listening, but heard only the men shuffling in the clearing, the crackling of the torch, the occasional click and hiss from above. She took a deep breath-gagged at the bitter smell of the forest-and knocked again.
"Vrell?" Sir Gavin called out. "Come back, lad. I've got to put out the torch."
Vrell forced tears away and stood. She paused to let a bout of dizziness fade from standing too fast and crept back to the clearing. Four bedrolls had been laid out around the torch. A moth the size of Vrell's hand fluttered around the flame. Achan, Inko, and Sir Caleb had each claimed a bed. Sir Gavin's pack sat on the last bedroll. The knight crouched beside the torch. Where would Vrell sleep? Surely they would not expect her to share one of those skinny little flaps of leather?
"Get yourself some meat, Vrell, and sit." Sir Gavin motioned to the bedroll with his pack.
An open burlap sack protruded from the top of Sir Gavin's pack. Vrell knelt on Sir Gavin's bedroll and took the top chunk of dried meat from the sack.
"Couldn't you be waiting until we're offering our thanks?" Inko's gaze locked on Achan, who had eaten half his meat.
Achan shot a questioning glance at Vrell. She pressed her hands together in a position of prayer. His head tipped back and he pursed his lips.
Vrell knew little of what Achan believed about Arman, but she knew he didn't follow the Way like she and the knights did. Likely, Achan held beliefs similar to the rest of Er'Rets' general populace, who believed in a host of gods for any and every superstition. The remnant who knew the truth-who followed the Way, believing in Arman, the Father God, as the one and only god-was a small group indeed.
"But why thank Arman for food?" Achan asked.
Vrell coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. How rude to question Arman-or one's elders-in such a way.
But Achan charged on, clearly unfazed by his impropriety, chewing while he spoke. "I mean, if you thank him for food, why not thank him for everything? Clothes, companions, being alive, leeches…I don't see what good it does, why it matters."
A long silence passed, then the knights all spoke at once, as if eager to provide their future king with answers.
Sir Gavin tugged his beard braid. "It matters to Arman."
"Because it's showing thankfulness, respect," Inko said. "Without Arman's provisions, we wouldn't be having life."
"I thank him for all those things," Sir Caleb said.
Achan blew out a winded laugh. "Even leeches?"
"Leeches have their place in the world."
"Well, someone had better thank him for the meat, then, 'cause I'm starving."
Vrell hid a smile. How could Achan go from rudeness to acquiescence in a heartbeat and make it all harmless fun? She would never dare such boldness. And Achan had behaved that way as a stray. His nature had shocked her at first, but if she had been forced to serve Esek, she might have lost her patience quickly too.
Inko claimed the prayer. "Arman, we're thanking you for our lives, for safely delivering us from Esek's men, and for having given us this meat. Be helping us to be finding a way across the lake. In the name of your son, Caan, may it be so."
"So be it." Vrell lifted the greasy meat to her teeth and tore off an oily chunk. Her mouth watered at the smoky flavor. She stole a glance at Achan, and found his brow furrowed again. What was he thinking now? She dared not peek into his head. He would not be happy to find her there.
She studied the men around the torchlight. The dull green flame cast a pea soup fog over everyone, bringing out the worst in the Old Kingsguard knights. The flame glittered in Inko's pale eyes. With his grey, pockmarked skin and white hedge of hair, he looked dead. The green glow deepened Sir Gavin's wrinkles and grayed his white hair and braided beard. Even Sir Caleb, the youngest of the knights, in his mid-fifties, looked to have aged without the sun.
Only Achan's appearance benefited. Darkness shadowed his boyish features, straightened his posture, and broadened his shoulders. The torch cast a bronze glow over his brown skin and made his greasy black hair look silky. How could she have spent weeks healing his wounds and missed how much he resembled the Hadar family? But who would have thought a stray anything other than what he appeared to be? Vrell hoped the men would assume the same about her.
Sir Gavin jerked the torch from the ground and carried it to his bedroll. "Time to douse the lights. Everyone settled?"
No one complained, so Sir Gavin smothered the flame under the corner of the leather. Vrell edged back. The sudden darkness sent a prickle up her spine. She blinked, trying to see the men where she knew they were.
Sounds magnified in the dark. Fluttering. Clicking overhead. Steps across spongy ground. Sir Gavin, likely. Vrell hugged her knees to her chest. Would he sit with her?
Achan's voice rose above the subtle noises. "How long will we stay at Mirrorstone?"
"As little as possible without being rude." Sir Gavin's voice came from Vrell's left, where Sir Caleb's bedroll had been.
Good. She pressed her hands on the grimy leather and stretched out her legs. "And from there?"
"We look for a way to cross to the north shore. We'll fare best at Melas, rather than trying another boat."
"How far is that?" Achan asked.
"Another three days on foot. Two, if we can get horses."
Joyful heart! Horses would be merciful. Vrell still felt slimy from that water. She abhorred the stench of this place. She lifted her satchel off her neck and shoulder and opened it, looking for something pleasant to smell. Did herbs grow fresh in Darkness? Where would she find supplies for her healing kit if they didn't?
"You think Lord Eli will give us aid?" Achan asked.
"He has nothing to gain by refusing us," Sir Gavin said. "Either he'll arrest us and turn us over to Esek or he'll help us. He won't send us away."
Vrell sniffed a small bundle from her bag. Mentha. Mmm.
The mossy ground squished on her right. "Then we're risking everything to be going to him."
"We have no choice, Inko," Sir Caleb nearly yelled. "Surely you can see that much?"
"We should've been doubling back to Allowntown."
Sir Gavin sniffed in a long breath, as if to calm himself. "Esek will have men posted all along the Evenwall. We stand our best chance in Darkness."
Vrell inhaled another fresh breath of mentha. "How will we know we're not walking into a trap at Mirrorstone?" She still had not told anyone about the bounties Esek had offered for her and Achan's capture. She hated keeping secrets and not having a plan. If only she could speak with her mother.
"We won't," Sir Gavin said. "But I'll know his intentions as soon as I lay eyes on him."
"Can you teach me that?" Achan's mumble brought his injured cheeks to Vrell's mind. "I've always sensed emotions. Lord Nathak's tonic never doused my intuition. But I want to learn more. Sparrow showed me a few tricks, and-"
"I know little." Vrell's heart lifted at the idea of learning bloodvoicing from good men, not her maniacal old master, Macoun Hadar. "I should like to learn more, as well." Like how she could watch longer without blacking out and how to peek into gifted minds without being seen. Achan's mind.
"Think of your body as a fortress and yourself as its guard." Sir Caleb's voice drifted from Vrell's left. "Your duty is twofold. You must guard the fortress, allowing entry only to those you permit. Then, when you invite someone in, you must also guard the treasure, which is your mind. If you do this correctly, your guest may see only what you offer."
Vrell could do this already. She had a different way of accomplishing the same feat. She thought of her mind as a house and created a foyer in her mind where she let people in but kept them separated from her different rooms of thought.
"How do you do everything at once?" Achan asked. "When my mind is open, so many come at me. I can't keep them out and I'm tired of shielding all the time."
"You can and you must, Your Highness." Sir Caleb sounded nobler when giving orders. "No one can guard your mind for you. Either you learn to do this or you'll have to stay guarded always, never experiencing the fullness of your gift."
Vrell wished she could help Achan practice, but the knights had ordered him to keep his mind closed, for Achan's untrained bloodvoice rang like a beacon to anyone with the ability. Surely Esek had bloodvoicers monitoring for Achan's presence. Plus, unguarded, Achan's mind released a pressure that brought Vrell to her knees. She didn't miss the pain, but she did miss his sarcastic companionship.
A screech split the night. Vrell hugged her arms close. A mosquito buzzed nearby. She disliked the dark. "Sir Gavin?" She lifted her head. "We have been in Darkness for many hours and I entered the Evenwall the day Achan fought the Poroo. I feel fine, except for these accursed mosquitoes. So why do people say Darkness drives one insane?"
"That's the subtlety of it, Vrell. If your mind is focused or distracted, 'tis easy to ignore the seduction of Darkness. When you were alone in the Evenwall, you had a task to perform. Now we're conversing steadily. This keeps our minds from wandering. But as we journey through this place, we must stay together and we must have conversation. No one will keep watch alone. See that no one is silent too long. Darkness has a way of sneaking up and blinding you to your own conscience."
"What about when we sleep?" Achan asked.
"Bad dreams may come, but you won't lose your mind. Caleb and I will take first watch. Fear not and rest."
Vrell lay down on the greasy leather and curled into a ball, bringing her knees to her chest. Her body sank slowly into the wet lichen. She concentrated on Mother's face and knocked.
Still no answer.
Achan untied the bandage from his face. He lay on his back, ankles crossed, feet sticking off the end of the bedroll that was too short for his six-foot frame. He stared into the blackness above and traced his fingertips over the scabs forming on his cheeks where Esek had cut him. Would he bear these marks forever? If so, he would grow a beard, a thick one.
Had his father worn a beard?
Achan broke the stillness with a question, careful to move his cheeks as little as possible. "What happened to my father?"
A prolonged silence followed. He was thankful for these knights, who'd made it their life goal to find him, yet so many questions plagued his mind. Did these men see taking care of him as penance for failing to protect their former king?
He tried again. "Were any of you there when he died?"
"Aye," Sir Gavin finally said. "But not when he died."
Achan propped himself up on one elbow. "What happened?"
"One of our own betrayed us. A young knight named Kenton Garesh."
"The Shield?" Sir Kenton, also known as The Shield, served as Esek's personal bodyguard. The human fortress had crushed Achan on more than one occasion. Most recently, just prior to Esek slicing open Achan's cheeks.
"Aye, he drugged our stew and we slept through the dawn. The king had a schedule to keep. He was headed to Carmine to consult with Duke Amal-this was before the duke passed on. Kenton urged King Axel to go on without us, to take the secondary guards, half of which were loyal to Kenton."
The pecking noise grew loud overhead, but Sir Gavin spoke over it. "I woke in time to hear my king bloodvoice for aid. But when I reached for him, he closed his mind, a sign he was hiding something. To this day I don't know why he kept me from seeing what happened. When I couldn't connect with King Axel, I called to Dara, for your mother was gifted also. But all I heard before she perished was the word-"
"Stray," Achan said.
It was common knowledge a stray had murdered the king and queen-Achan's parents. As a result, strays were branded, forced into lives of isolation and hard labor. Achan bore the S mark of a stray on his shoulder. Lord Nathak, the disfigured and menacing Lord of Sitna, had been his owner, had branded him in order to hide his true identity all these years, substituting his son, Esek, in Achan's place.
Achan knew what came next as well. "Darkness arrived almost immediately. Arman cursed the land."
"Nay, Achan," Sir Gavin said. "That's a myth. The world's way of assigning blame to what they don't understand. The evil in men's hearts brought Darkness to Er'Rets. It had been growing on the western horizon for years, threatening Barth and Land's End. The murder of our faithful king extinguished the only light left in the west. Darkness stretched across Er'Rets to the place King Axel died. You see, Arman gives the king the task of teaching the people what's good and pure and noble. Without a king, no man existed to spread the truth to the people, to shine the light. Until now."
The words spoken to Achan's soul when he had stood before the Council of Seven that morning boomed in his memory.
FOR I HAVE APPOINTED YOU AS KING OVER THIS NATION. THERE IS NO ONE LIKE YOU AMONG ALL THE PEOPLE.
Arman had spoken to him, singled him out as king. These knights claimed Arman was the only god, that all others were false. Sparrow also went in for that view. Achan wasn't convinced, yet he couldn't deny Arman's existence. No human voice sounded like Arman's-had the effect Arman's did. But did that mean every other god was false? Inko had prayed in Caan's name, Caan the warrior son of Arman. Didn't that mean there were two gods? How could they say there was only one?
It was all too confusing to grasp.
Liquid suddenly coated his heel. He bent his knees and pulled his feet away from the soggy ground and onto the end of the bedroll. He let his mind float to the past again. "But why kill my father? Sir Kenton seems to have gained nothing."
"These men were usurpers, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "They supported the one who wanted to overthrow the throne and take it for himself."
Achan could only imagine one man deceitful enough to lead such a cause. "Lord Nathak?"
"We're not knowing his name," Inko said. "But it is being someone beyond Nathak, we are believing."
Achan stared through the inky blackness in the direction of Inko's voice. "How can you suspect a man of trying to take the throne and not know who he is?"
"We sensed his bloodvoice," Sir Gavin said. "'Tis still strong today, but he shields well."
Who could be so powerful? "Then why'd he wait all these years for Esek to come of age? Why not take the throne by force after he'd killed the king?"
"Perhaps he didn't have as much power then as he would have us believe," Sir Caleb said. "Or he knew he couldn't defeat King Axel's army, so he designed this deceit with Esek to give him time to plot his takeover."
"So Lord Nathak and Esek work for him?"
"We don't know," Sir Gavin said, "but it's clear Nathak was involved. When you were lost, I sought your mind and found you right away. But you were so young. Not yet three years old. You couldn't articulate your whereabouts. You weren't in pain. You weren't afraid. But I couldn't guess your location. And then your presence vanished."
Sir Gavin paused as the mysterious beast screeched. "Two months passed before Nathak supposedly found you wandering in the fields south of Sitna. According to him, you wore King Axel's signet ring on a chain around your neck. He said he took you to his home and later journeyed to Mahanaim to give you to the Council of Seven. Of course, 'twasn't you at all. When I finally saw you-or Esek-he looked like you, though I could no longer sense your bloodvoice. I feared Nathak had done dark magic to you. Years passed before it occurred to me you might not be you at all."
Achan twisted Prince Oren's ring around his finger. He'd been alone, an abducted babe whose parents had been slaughtered.
Lord Nathak had given Achan to Poril, his cook, to raise. Poril had named him Achan Cham. Achan, which meant "trouble" in the ancient tongue, and cham, a fire-breathing bear. All strays were given animal surnames to proclaim their lowly status.
Had Achan cried for his father in those first few days with Poril? Or had he simply forgotten the man and replaced him with the cook? Had he missed his mother? Achan's earliest memories were of Lord Nathak and Poril, who had beaten him at the slightest breeze. Achan shuddered as truth and understanding met in his heart.
"The young prince had, according to Nathak, taken such a liking to him during their time together," Sir Caleb said, "that the Council asked Nathak to raise the boy. They gave him a fief for his loyalty. He not only earned the title of Lord with the prince as his ward, but he expanded Sitna Manor and added guards and slaves. Over the years, he lobbied for a place on the Council, without success."
"Aye," Sir Gavin said. "The man is resourceful. Sitna was originally a poor trading and farming village. Nathak developed it over the years, mostly by stealing land and resources from Carmine. He proposed to Nitsa the very day her husband died. To my knowledge he's continued to ask for her hand again and again over the years. She's always refused."
Duchess Amal's constant rejection of Lord Nathak had been a favorite topic of gossip among the serving women in Sitna. It startled Achan how Sir Gavin referred to the duchess by her first name, Nitsa. Could they be friends?
"The duchess is smart enough to be knowing Nathak is only wanting her seat on the council," Inko said.
"And her power," Sir Caleb added. "And her land. I'd wager that's Esek's goal in seeking to marry Lady Averella. Carm Duchy has traditionally controlled everything north of Mahanaim. If Nitsa never remarries, whoever marries Lady Averella is her heir."
Achan slapped away another mosquito. "Bran Rennan."
"Who?"
"Sir Rigil's squire. He and Lady Averella are to be wed. Sir Rigil told me."
Sir Caleb clicked his tongue. "That young squire with the red face? Who is his father?"
"How should I know? He's from Carmine."
"Then his father is no one of importance," Sir Caleb said.
"And why should that matter?" Sparrow's bossy voice spiked above the others.
Achan had thought the boy asleep. He shivered. His pants were still damp. He hoped it wouldn't get too cold tonight. The moisture from the ground seemed to rise into the rank air.
Sir Gavin rebuked Sparrow's concern. "Nitsa can't let her heir marry the first young buck she lays her eyes on."
Sparrow huffed. "Well, maybe the duchess wishes her daughter would marry for love."
A brief silence settled over the group, then deep laughter burst out from Sir Caleb. Achan didn't find it humorous. He had lost Gren to an arranged marriage.
"Don't be too skeptical." Sir Gavin's voice cut through the chuckles. "I don't doubt Nitsa capable of such mercy."
Pecking trilled above from two places. Achan pushed the surrounding fear from his mind, wanting to get back to the subject. "So you think Lord Nathak and Esek were plotting for Carmine, each trying to marry their way into controlling it?"
"So it would seem," Sir Gavin said. "But Nitsa is smarter than Nathak. Unfortunately, the rest of Er'Rets bought into his treason. After King Axel's death, we gave testimony before the Council. Kenton and his men had set up two of my men, my generals, claiming they were the assassins or had at least been involved with the stray who did kill them. I fought all I could for them, but no one would hear me. The evidence pointed to them and they were convicted."
"Your friends on Ice Island." Sparrow's raspy voice always sounded like he had a cold.
Achan considered the purpose of their journey into Darkness. "And we're going to free them?"
"That and more. There are over two hundred and forty Old Kingsguard soldiers on Ice Island. All my men, all falsely imprisoned over the years, most for being a stray at the time of King Axel's murder. They will be the start of your army, Achan. And we need an army if we're to turn this kingdom back into Arman's hands before it's too late."
"Before Esek becomes king," Sparrow said.
Two hundred and forty men didn't sound like much of an army to Achan, but it was better than just these three knights, he supposed.
Sir Gavin snorted. "Esek is the least of our concerns. The more Er'Rets turns from Arman and worships the false gods of fables, the more people kill and murder and hate and serve themselves, the more Darkness will consume this land. It grew at King Axel's death and it grows still. When I stood in the western watchtower in the Mahanaim stronghold five months ago, the Evenwall reached the sixth buttress. Yesterday, the mist had drifted within feet of the tower itself, five buttresses closer. 'Tis moving two hands' breadths a month."
Darkness was growing? Achan felt the blood draining from his face. "Can it be stopped?"
"Only one man can push back Darkness, Achan. Arman called him to this divine purpose. Darkness has spread these past years because the truth was hidden from Arman's chosen. But I knew he lived. For if he had truly died, Prince Oren-being next in line for king-would have begun to hear Arman's voice. But Arman did not speak to Prince Oren. He spoke to you."
Sir Gavin's words knotted Achan's stomach. "So it's be king and everything is great, or don't be king and the world is consumed by Darkness forever? Nice choice."
"Darkness will continue to grow no matter what you decide. Only when the Light grows stronger than the Dark will Darkness retreat. You must rally the people. Remind them who created them and why. Take them back to truth. Others are ready and willing to step in as king, should you refuse. Esek. Lord Nathak. Though they will not push back Darkness. The choice falls to you. Will you lead us?"
A silence descended upon the camp the darkness seemed to magnify. Achan didn't respond. He couldn't. The idea was so farfetched. First, that there might be only one god, and second, that this God had chosen Achan to push back Darkness, the magnificent curse of Er'Rets. Him. Achan. Barely a man himself.
He spoke in a whisper. "Why didn't Lord Nathak kill me when he had the chance?"
"I know not, lad," Sir Gavin said. "I can only guess he was afraid to, knowing who you truly are."
Achan recalled odd encounters with Lord Nathak: times when he'd sensed fear, how Lord Nathak had ordered the guards and Esek to go easy, to not kill him. "He's afraid of me."
"Perhaps he feared the gods would smite him if he destroyed you," Sir Caleb said, a lilt to his voice.
"That is what I'd be fearing if I was being him," Inko said.
Achan didn't doubt that.
"He had to," Sir Caleb said soberly. "If the true heir died, the gift would pass to Prince Oren, revealing Esek as a fake. His plan would work only while Achan still lived."
"Perhaps," Sir Gavin said. "Or perhaps he served a darker master who wanted you alive for some evil purpose." His comment brought a moment of silence over the camp.
Achan's mind reeled. Who might this mysterious bloodvoicer be? Someone strong. Stronger and viler than Nathak. Could it be Macoun Hadar, the old wizard who had tried to use Sparrow? Or someone worse than him? Achan wriggled around, pulling off his doublet. He settled back onto the bedroll and draped the heavy leather over his head, hoping it would keep the mosquitoes off his face.
He lay still, breathing deeply, telling himself the stench wasn't so bad. A vision grew in his mind. He was flying, riding a giant moth over the treetops. The moth arched into a sudden dive. Achan squeezed with his knees and grabbed for the saddle horn. No saddle! Only tufts of coarse hair. He grappled, lost his balance, and fell.
He sat up, pulse drumming in his head. His doublet slid into his lap. Had that been Darkness pulling at his mind? It had seemed so real.
Achan lay down and tried to focus his thoughts, not wanting that to happen again. Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb whispered to his left. If only Achan could use his supposed great power he could see into Lord Nathak's and Sir Kenton's minds and learn the truth of the past. He could find out who this mysterious chief bloodvoicer was who sought to divide Er'Rets.
Currently, all he could do with his bloodvoice was shield his mind. He wanted to practice, but not what Sir Caleb had suggested, letting one person into his mind at a time. He wanted to practice reaching into the minds of others. He had done it by accident several times. But only when someone else had initiated conversation. So how did one initiate? And if Achan went wandering into someone else's mind, who would guard his?
He tuned in to the sounds of the forest. The pecking, the occasional hiss, a rattling, the buzzing of hundreds of mosquitoes. Achan closed his eyes and pictured himself standing guard over his mind. If he couldn't leave his guard post, perhaps he could at least open the door and peek out. He imagined himself doing just that. He opened a steel door in his mind but stood on the threshold, should anyone try to enter.
The results were instant. Hundreds of voices spoke, many in foreign tongues. He could hear Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb, and when he tuned in on their conversation, their voices magnified. He shifted his concentration to Inko, who dwelled over how they'd manage to go north. Achan smiled. The knights did not seem to sense him.
A small thought distracted him from the knights. Hunger. A bird. It glided through the dark sky, over the shadowed outlines of trees, scanning the ground for its master, for it had news and wanted its reward. What news? Who was its master?
These thoughts faded when Achan realized something else: even in the Darkness this bird could see! Incredible.
A sniffle perked Achan's senses. He focused on the sorrowful sound. Crying. Alone. Muffled. Not wanting to be heard. Was someone hurt? In danger? Lost?
I cannot do this anymore. The voice belonged to Sparrow. I do not know why you have allowed this to go on. The task is too difficult. I want to go home. I miss my family. Please, Arman, help me get home.
Achan withdrew and rolled over, peering through the dark in Sparrow's direction, ashamed for intruding on the boy's mind. But Sparrow's words confused him. Sparrow was a stray. Strays were orphans. What family could he possibly miss? And why had he come along if he hadn't wanted to? Had someone forced him? Achan's stomach began to boil, slowly at first, then violently. He pulled his fingers into fists and squeezed.
If that little fox was still working for Macoun Hadar…
Achan awoke choking. Someone was dragging him by the neck of his tunic, off his bedroll and onto the moist ground. The wet soil seeped into his britches. He gasped for air. Sparrow. Macoun Hadar had sent the lad to kill him. The traitor! Achan grasped the spongy moss, searching for his sword.
Pig snout! He'd left it drying in the tree.
His fingers found the hand on his tunic. He pried-
"Your Highness!" Sir Caleb released Achan's shirt and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Get your sword. Quick."
Achan paused to catch his breath, surveying where he'd last seen Sparrow. The boy pressed against a shadowy tree trunk, his already pale face ghostly in the dim light.
Heart pounding, Achan watched the knights scrambled about, packing up gear. "What's wrong?"
"Do as I ask," Sir Caleb said. "Quickly please."
Achan clambered to his feet and the tree that held Eagan's Elk and its scabbard. He pulled the belt around his waist then froze.
He could see, albeit dimly, yet no torch burned in their camp. He whipped around. Three balls of flame danced on the dark horizon, obscured by gnarled trees, drawing nearer as if someone were carrying them up the game trail.
Achan latched his belt around his waist. "Who is it?"
"Ebens." Inko strapped on his sword, leaving his bow in the tree.
Achan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What are-"
"Giants," Sparrow said.
Giants. The word winded him. In the past few months, so much myth had been confirmed reality: the existence of Owr, the Kingsword, bloodvoices. And now giants.
Maybe Arman was the one God after all.
The knights stowed the packs in the branches and stood, swords drawn, facing the game trail. Surely they weren't going to fight? Achan considered himself brave enough but saw no reason to take on one giant, let alone three. "Uh…shouldn't we leave? Escape or something?"
"No point with Ebens on our tail, and we can't have them telling others they've seen us." A vein pulsed in Sir Gavin's forehead. "Besides, there are only three."
Achan focused on the line of torches, which now seemed but a breath away. "But…three giants."
"Correct." Sir Caleb threaded his arm through his shield. "Mercenaries. Sent to kill you."
Fitting. People had been trying to kill Achan for the past few weeks. Now that his true identity had been revealed, he'd best get used to it. But how had they found their camp?
And just how giant were giants, anyway?
"They'll likely try to burn us out." Sir Caleb lifted his sword to the edge of his shield. "Watch for fire and be ready."
Achan drew Eagan's Elk. Sparrow gripped his little sword, fingers interlaced as if to pray, and held it straight out in front, as if he were stretching to see how far he could reach.
Achan sidestepped to the boy. "Ever held a sword?"
Sparrow's wide eyes darted to Achan's. He took a breath as if to argue, then deflated and shook his head.
Great. "Best stay back, then."
"Look sharp!"
Achan crouched at Sir Gavin's warning. A single flame fell through the air, partially obscured by the twisted branches. It landed in the canopy above and smoldered.
"What now?" They'd lost their chance to flee undetected.
"Hold your position," Sir Gavin said.
Sir Caleb glanced at the smoking branches. "I doubt the trees will burn. They're too damp."
A reason to thank Arman for the slime. Then two more burning arrows struck the canopy, producing thick, putrid smoke that coiled around them. Achan tugged his tunic over his nose, but the smoke clouded his vision, diminishing the glow from the giant's torches. His eyes watered.
"Be staying low." Inko gripped his longsword with both hands. "It's not being so smoky near the ground."
Smoke furled around Achan until he couldn't see. He coughed, the rank fumes invading his senses. He sank to his haunches and found clear air near the ground. Three sets of boots stood before him, lit by a pale yellow glow from ahead.
Sir Gavin's voice burst in Achan's mind. Stay back, lad.
Madness! How could they fight giants blindly?
Wood splintered. A tree, trunk and all, slapped into the soppy soil to Achan's left. He gripped Eagan's Elk tighter and peered under the golden, swarming haze. Sparrow cowered behind a stump to his right, the knights stood straight ahead, and-Achan squinted and leaned forward-something moved beyond the knights. Side to side. Swinging.
The knights held their position. Squishing footsteps set Achan's arm hair dancing. He hopped backward, lost his balance, and put a hand on the moist ground to steady himself. More steps squished from the direction of the swinging…
Club.
Two sets of thick, pale legs stepped into view, bare and tattooed but not much bigger than a man's. Where was the third giant? Surely the giants couldn't see through the smoke. The knights crouched. Achan inched back a step. A sharp branch poked into his thigh. He stifled a cry just as a high-pitched battle song rose above it.
"Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!"
Mother! Sparrow's voice surged in Achan's mind. Where have you been? Are you well? We are being attacked by giants!
Achan spun around, looking for the boy. He no longer hid behind the stump.
A woman's voice, kind and oddly familiar answered. Where are you, dearest? Are giants in the Council chambers?
What in blazes? Sparrow had told Achan his parents were dead. So who was he calling Mother?
A guttural scream tore Achan away from Sparrow's curious exchange. The pale legs charged. The knights answered with a war cry. All three struck low, from back guard, slicing their swords through the giants' legs like scythes harvesting wheat. Achan cringed as horrifying screams ripped though the air.
The giants fell like the trees, their pale, hulking bodies slamming into the soggy moss.
That was it? If these three could defeat giants so easily, perhaps two hundred and forty more like them really would be a formidable army.
The giants' torches lay spluttering but for one distant flame. Achan strained to see under the smoke. Past the fallen giants, across the clearing, a white-haired, cornstalk of a man squatted, all limbs. Pelts covered little of his body. His milky white skin glowed as if his blood was made of moonbeams. He held a spear in one hand, a torch in the other. He stabbed the torch into the moss and withdrew an axe from a sheath on his leg.
It wasn't over.
Sir Gavin! I see the third one.
Aye, lad. We're watching him.
The giant tipped back his head and yelled another trilling battle cry. "Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!" He sprang off the ground, taking long leaps into the clearing, the wet moss squishing with each step of his fearless charge.
A grunt and the clash of metal made Achan jump. He stared into the haze backlit by the distant torch. The silhouettes of four men fought, three against one much taller. The foggy shape of Sir Gavin's long hair and beard flew about. The lanky shadow parried each blow with the crook of his axe and kicked out a long leg that sent Inko's figure flying.
Sir Caleb yelled, drawing Achan's gaze to the shadow whose hair sprung atop his head like a tuft of grass. The giant met Sir Caleb's blows with his spear.
The knights attacked ruthlessly. Achan couldn't help but admire the giant's speed. For being so tall, Achan imagined he'd move slower.
The giant's spear suddenly cracked under Sir Caleb's blow. Seconds later the giant howled. He crumpled to reveal the shadow of Inko, cylindrical hair shaped like a wooden drum.
"Who sent you?" Sir Gavin yelled.
The raspy breathing of a dying eben was the only answer. Achan inched over the lichen until the men came into view. Sir Gavin crouched on the giant's right, blade held to the pale throat. Sir Caleb and Inko stood panting on the giant's left side.
Sir Gavin pressed a knee on the giant's chest. "Who?"
The giant's ragged breath seemed to consume all his effort, but he blinked slowly and turned his dark eyes to Achan, his voice a raspy growl. "Tee saplaway sen katla sar."
The intensity in that gaze shook Achan's knees. The man had a black insignia inked onto his forehead, three lines, each thicker than the first.
"I know why you've come," Sir Gavin said. "I want to know who sent you."
"Faluk san."
Suddenly, all was still.
"Achan?" Sir Gavin stood. "Answer me, lad."
"I'm here." Sir Gavin turned around and Achan asked, "Lord Falkson? Is that who he means?"
"Falkson is Lord of Barth. You've seen him at Council."
Achan remembered the stoic, grey-skinned man. "He is working for Esek?"
"So it would seem."
Achan motioned to the other giants, trying not to look at their severed legs, though his eyes kept focusing there. "Was that your idea?"
Sir Gavin's white hair and beard still blended in with the smoky haze. "Strategy worked well, if you ask me."
"Too well." Sir Caleb's voice came from the smoke cloud on Achan's other side. "It was a slaughter and ignoble."
Sir Gavin puffed a short breath out his nose. "And attempting to burn us alive is good form?"
Sir Caleb didn't answer. His body came into view as he stepped closer. "Boy, where is your sword?"
Achan wheeled around to meet Sparrow's pale face.
"Uh…" Sparrow turned to look back through the smoke. Sir Caleb gripped the boy's arm and walked where Sparrow had glanced, their steps squishing into the soil as they vanished in the haze. Achan could hear Sir Caleb's lecture.
"Never drop your weapon. I don't care how scared you are. Never leave yourself unguarded or treat your blade with such disrespect."
Inko cleaned his sword in the turf and sheathed it. "I am not understanding how they are finding us. Perhaps it is not only our wolf who is using his nose?"
Achan thought of the bird whose eyes he'd seen through. It had been bringing a message to its master. Had the bird been a spy for the giants? He scanned the smoldering canopy overhead but could see nothing else. He decided to keep the thought to himself for now.
The knights piled the three Eben bodies atop one another and set their clothes aflame.
"We need to move. Get your things." Sir Gavin lifted the torch the giant had left burning in the ground and held it high. Orange light spilled over the smoky clearing. Caleb and Inko grabbed the other torches. The orange flames lit their faces in a more normal light than the green sulfur one from before.
With nothing to carry, Achan stayed put, awed and slightly horrified at the Great Whitewolf. Sparrow sidled over, small knapsack slung across his pudgy chest so it settled over his left hip. Face ashen, bleary eyes wide, he stared at the slain giants.
"You all right?" Achan asked.
Sparrow nodded and said in a watery voice, "Your speech has improved. How do your cheeks feel?"
"Better."
"You should not have taken off your bandages yet."
Achan stiffened, not wanting a lecture from a baby who still cried to his mother. A mother he wasn't supposed to have.
Sir Caleb handed the rope to Achan. "Hold on to this in case we need to put out the torches."
Achan looped the end through his belt and handed it to Sparrow. Sir Gavin led them down the game trail into clear air.
"Sparrow? Who were you talking to when the giants attacked?" Achan kept his voice low but didn't care who heard. If Sparrow was a traitor, the sooner they discovered it, the better. He glanced over his shoulder. "You said your parents were dead."
The boy's eyes bulged. "You read my thoughts?"
"Didn't mean to. They floated into my head."
"Well, stop it. You do not belong in my head."
"But you were talking to your mother. Your dead mother?"
Sparrow scratched his ear. "S-Sometimes I still t-talk to her, even though she passed on. Especially when, um…when I am scared."
"Touching, Sparrow. My heart weeps for your tragic loss. Yet I can't help but wonder how a dead woman can answer. For I heard her myself, and I know I've heard her before. She's very much alive. And a woman so gifted in bloodvoicing must be known to someone. Save me the trouble of asking around and tell me the truth."
Sparrow said nothing.
Achan pushed back a stiff branch until it snapped. He wanted to turn and pounce on Sparrow, wrestle the truth from him. He'd been deceived for so long, he wasn't about to allow anyone to deceive him again. Besides, the boy avoided conflict like Achan avoided a bath. It wouldn't take much to scare the truth from him.
No. Achan would wait and consult Sir Gavin. If Sparrow was up to trouble, Sir Gavin would know what to do.
They hiked a brisk pace for hours. The torches helped. But it was maddening to travel so far without seeing the sun or moon. Achan's feet screamed as much as his mind. What time of day might it be in Sitna? What might Gren be doing?
His chest tightened. Gren, his childhood friend back in Sitna, had suffered an arranged married to Riga Hoff, the lazy son of a merchant. A month had not yet passed since their wedding. Not much could have changed, unless… Achan squeezed his hands into fists. If Riga harmed Gren in any way, he'd forever regret it.
Another pretty face drifted into his mind: Lady Tara Livna of Tsaftown. Unless something went wrong, he'd see Lady Tara soon enough. How much Tara looked like the goddess Cetheria. A crown of ivory braids. Eyes bluer than forget-me-nots. Achan smiled, recalling her beauty and spunk.
He looked into her eyes as if she stood before him. The gemlike sparkle of her gaze drenched him in awe. Her skin was gold leaf. She held a spear, which she drew back and lobbed at his chest. It pierced his flesh, jolting his heart. He stared at it, gasping, dumfounded to find himself still standing. He grabbed the shaft with two hands and pulled. It wouldn't budge.
Lady Tara giggled, her voice like a musical brook. She sauntered toward him and ran her fingertips along the spear. "Shall I free you?"
Pain shot through Achan's shoulder. He blinked. Darkness surrounded him, lit by the faint orange glow of firelight. Where was he? Had that been a dream?
The rope at Achan's waist tugged, pulling him tighter against a hard surface. He reached out and found a fat, sticky tree. He was in Darkness with the knights, running from Esek.
Sir Gavin called out from the circle of torchlight, "All right back there?"
"Are you hurt, Achan?" Sparrow's voice. Behind him.
"Uh…" Achan stepped around the protruding tree. "There's a tree here, Sparrow. Watch yourself."
"Just a tree, Sir Gavin," Sparrow yelled and the rope tugged Achan along again.
Sir Gavin Whitewolf.
Achan perked up. Sir Gavin was knocking, wanting to bloodvoice. Achan concentrated on opening the door like he'd done last night, allowing only Sir Gavin inside.
Would he know if he succeeded? He wanted to tell Sir Gavin about Cetheria-no, that had been Lady Tara, hadn't it?
Achan, Sir Gavin said. Don't answer, simply listen. 'Tis vital you learn to bloodvoice straight away. I've no doubt you'll succeed. Our connection now is perfect. You've opened your mind only to me. I can sense your shields. Now you must learn to speak without dropping your shields. Duplicate yourself, like Caleb's guard explanation, leaving a man to guard your mind. Let the other speak. Cough if you understand.
Cough? Why the secrecy? Did Sir Gavin suspect someone? Sparrow perhaps? Achan considered the little fox on his heels and coughed.
Good. Now do as I described.
Achan took a deep breath. He imagined himself standing sentry before the door to his mind, Eagan's Elk raised, ready to defend. He pictured himself stepping to the side. Instead of the guard Achan moving, another Achan stepped out of the first. The two stood side by side in his mind, looking at one another.
Go on, then, the first Achan said to the second. I've got this.
Achan smiled. He always had been a quick learner.
Twice before, Achan had passed through one mind and into another. Sparrow called it jumping. Achan had jumped through Sparrow to see Macoun Hadar speak with Lord Nathak. Then, when the Council of Seven had gone to deliberate as to who would be king, Achan jumped through Sir Gavin to watch the debate through Prince Oren's eyes.
Both times, Sparrow and Sir Gavin had been watching already. Achan had merely touched them, used their energy, cheated really, like peeking over their shoulder to use what they had already accomplished.
This time he'd need to use his own strength. He hoped he wouldn't faint as Sparrow often did. Concentrating on Sir Gavin, the second Achan ventured out.
Achan now walked at the front of the line, staring out through Sir Gavin's eyes into the black void beyond, arm holding a burning torch above his head, dodging the occasional slimy, black branch. Sir Gavin's pack and shield hung heavy over his aching shoulders. The rope at his waist jerked, forcing him to stop.
"Gavin!" Sir Caleb shouted from behind.
Wait. Hadn't Sir Caleb been ahead of him?
"Aye?" Sir Gavin wheeled around, looking back to Sir Caleb, who stood over a body.
Achan's body.
"Achan's fallen. Fainted or something."
Achan wheezed, the sour smell of the forest overwhelming. He lay on the wet soil. His elbow stung. His hip too. He rolled onto his knees. Sparrow, Inko, and Sir Caleb stood over him, faces shadowed in the flickering torchlight.
Sir Gavin cut between Inko and Sparrow, torch wavering in his hand. "What happened?"
Achan rubbed his elbow. "I reached out, but forgot I was walking."
Sir Gavin burst into deep laughter. "No, Achan. That's not how to message. You were watching. Never watch and walk at the same time. Forgive me. Save yourself more bruises and we'll try again once we've stopped."
No one asked any questions, thankfully. Achan had never fainted-not without the aid of a wound or tonic, anyway. It seemed weak. He hoped Sir Gavin could explain what he'd done wrong so it would never happen again.
Another thought shifted to the forefront of his mind. "Sir Gavin, I also saw Cetheria. She stabbed me, but I didn't die."
"Saw her where?" The knight reached out his hand.
Achan gripped his wrist and pulled himself up. His elbow throbbed. He must have scraped it when he fell. "Last time, when we stopped. Before I hit the tree. She stabbed me in the chest."
"Already it is happening, Gavin. I have been feeling my mind to be wandering also. We should be turning back, going to Light as fast as our legs can be carrying us."
"We are not going back, Inko. Achan, I want you to open your mind, like you did before, shields up, open to me. Then I want you to include everyone here. Do it now."
Achan repeated the process of duplicating himself to guard his mind. He looked from face to face and felt a connection tug in his mind.
Good, Sir Gavin said. Now, we keep moving. Caleb, give us a little talk about Lord Falkson and Barth, so we all know who we are dealing with. Ask questions to see that no one is drifting.
Well, the people of Barth worship Barthos, god of the earth…
With that, Sir Gavin turned and pulled them onward through the twisting black trees.
*
They made camp in a rocky area. Sir Gavin and Achan took first watch.
Achan settled onto a jagged boulder beside Sir Gavin. He looked up to the sky and noticed, for the first time, a variation in the blackness. A twisted stripe that was darker that the rest. A tree branch, perhaps? "How do you know the way?"
"I've always had a keen sense of smell." Sir Gavin put out the torch. Darkness sank over Achan like a shroud he couldn't lift. The knight chuckled softly. "Aw, that's not the full truth of it. I use my bloodvoice to share the senses of nearby beasts."
Achan recalled seeing through the bird's eyes. "You can do that?"
"I recall you did it once."
Achan tensed. "I did?" Had Sir Gavin known he'd been experimenting last night?
"When you killed your first deer."
"Ah." Achan shivered at the memory of sharing the doe's mind, tasting the bitterness of the tree bark it had been eating. It hadn't been a fair way to hunt. "Is that how you got your name?" Sir Gavin's stray surname was Lukos, after the big wolves that lived in the Chowmah Mountains.
"Sort of. I grew up in Tsaftown. We used sleds pulled by dogs to travel over snow. My lead dog was a wolf whose mother I'd killed when she attacked a friend. The pup hung around and I trained her. Chion. My white wolf. She was a good dog. Taught me much."
Achan thought of Dilly and Peg, the goats he'd tended in Sitna. He missed their companionship. "Where is she now?"
"Died years ago. I never replaced her."
Achan sensed a heavy grief that matched Sir Gavin's tone. He shifted his weight on the unforgiving rock. "How does sharing the animals' senses help you?"
"They are my eyes, nose, and ears here. I'm able to peek from one mind to another, using what I need to guide us. We follow an old road that once stretched from the south shore of the second Reshon Gate all the way to Mirrorstone. There the road divides: north across the sandbars to Melas and Allown Duchy or west across the rocky plains into Barth."
"So we're in Barth Duchy now?"
"We're in Nahar Duchy, in part of Nahar Forest. The volcanic rock of Barth Duchy reaches into the forest a bit. You can't see, but south of where we stand, the Cela Mountains separate us from Cela Duchy, where Jaelport and Meneton lie."
"What other cities are in Barth Duchy?" Achan asked.
"Only Barth. Barthians keep to themselves as much as Magos or Cherem, though they have a treaty with Jaelport."
Achan would never sign a treaty with the Hamartano family, for he didn't trust them to keep it. Not that he had accepted his role in this king business. But trust would have to be earned before he made a treaty with anyone.
Sparrow flitted to the front of his thoughts. "Sir Gavin." Achan lowered his voice to a whisper. "I don't trust Sparrow."
"Vrell? Why ever not?"
"Trivial things, really, that add up to something amiss. Last night as I bedded down I overheard him crying, saying he 'couldn't do this anymore' and wanted to go home. Then, when the giants attacked, I overheard him bloodvoice his mother-and she bloodvoiced back. When I confronted him, he lied. And I know that woman spoke to me when I first found my bloodvoice."
"Most strange. But if Vrell can bloodvoice, 'tis logical one of his parents can."
"But he's a stray. He swears his parents are dead."
Sir Gavin inhaled a long breath through his nose, perhaps joined to a wild animal's mind as it hunted. "I'll talk to him."