“I didn’t bloody do anything,” Barkus sputtered.

“You had your tongue down her throat,” Dentos laughed.

“I’d had a few ales. Besides, it was Caenis getting all the attention.”

Vaelin turned to Caenis, seeing a slow flush creeping up his friend’s cheeks. “Really?”

“Not half. All over him they were. ‘Ooh, isn’t he pretty?’”

Vaelin suppressed a laugh as Caenis began to blush furiously. “I’m sure he resisted manfully.”

“I dunno,” Dentos mused. “A few more minutes I reckon we’d’ve had a whole troop of pretty bastards at the gates in nine months time. Lucky some drunk came in and started shouting about a fight between the Crows and the Order.”

Mention of the fight brought the silence again. It was Barkus who finally said it: “You don’t think they’ll kill him do you?”

The room was growing dark before the door opened and Master Sollis strode in, a mountainous anger dominating his expression. “Sorna,” he grated. “Come with me. The rest of you get a meal from the kitchens then go to bed.”

The urge to ask about Nortah was overwhelming but Sollis’s thunderous visage was enough to keep them silent. Vaelin followed him down the stairs and across the courtyard to the west wall, all the time watching for any sign of his cane. He expected to be led to the Aspect’s chambers but instead they made their way to the infirmary, finding Master Henthal tending Nortah. He was laid in bed, his face slack, half-lidded eyes unfocused and dimmed. Vaelin knew the look; sometimes boys with grievous injuries had need of strong medicine which took the pain away but left them out of touch with the world.

“Redflower and Shade Bloom,” Master Henthal explained as Vaelin and Sollis entered. “He was raving when he came round. Gave the Aspect a nasty whack before we got him under control.”

Vaelin moved to the bed, heart heavy with the sight of his brother. He looks so weak…

“Will he be all right, Master?” he asked.

“Seen it before, raving and thrashing about. Usually happens to men who’ve seen a battle too many. He’ll sleep soon. When he wakes he’ll be shaky but himself again.”

Vaelin turned to Sollis. “Has the Aspect made judgement, Master?”

Sollis glanced at Master Henthal who nodded and left the room. “Judgement is not warranted,” Sollis replied.

“We wounded the King’s soldiers…”

“Yes. If you had been more attentive to my teaching, you might have killed them.”

“The Lord Marshal…”

“Does not command here. Nortah disobeyed instruction for which punishment should be levied. However, the Aspect feels punishment has been levied already. As for you, your disobedience was in defence of your brother. Judgement is not required.”

Master Sollis moved to the far side of the bed and placed a hand against Nortah’s brow. “His fever should fade when the redflower wears off. He’ll feel it though, feel the pain like a knife, sticking in his guts, twisting. Pain like that can either make a boy into a man or a monster. It is my opinion that the Order has seen enough of monsters.”

Vaelin understood it then; Sollis’s anger. It’s not us, he realised. It’s what the King did to Nortah’s father, what that did to Nortah. We’re his swords, he beats us into shape. The King has spoiled one of his blades.

“My brothers and I will guide him,” Vaelin said. “His pain will be ours. We will help him bear it.”

“See that you do.” Sollis looked up, his gaze more intense than usual. “When a brother goes to the bad there is but one way of dealing with him, and brother should not kill brother.”

Nortah came round in the morning, his groan waking Vaelin who had stayed beside him through the night.

“What?” Nortah gazed around with bleary eyes. “What’s this…?” Seeing Vaelin he fell silent, the light of memory returning to his eyes as his hand went to the lump on the back of his head. “You hit me,” he said. Vaelin watched the dreadful knowledge flood back, draining Nortah’s face of colour and making him slump under the weight of his sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Nortah,” Vaelin said. It was all he could think to say.

“Why did you stop me?” Nortah whispered through tears.

“They would have killed you.”

“Then they would have done me a service.”

“Don’t talk like that. I doubt your father’s soul would have dwelt happily in the Beyond knowing that you had followed him there so soon.”

Nortah wept silently for a while and Vaelin watched him, a hundred empty condolences dying on his lips. I don’t have the words, he realised. There are no words for this.

“Did you see it?” Nortah asked finally. “Did he suffer?”

Vaelin thought of the clatter of the trap and the exultation of the crowd. A fearful knowledge to take into the Beyond that so many rejoiced at your death. “It was quick.”

“They said he stole from the King. My father would never do that, he cherished the King and served him well.”

Vaelin seized on the only comfort he could offer. “Prince Malcius said to tell you that he grieves also.”

“Malcius? He was there?”

“He helped us, made the Crows let us go. I thought that he recognised you.”

Nortah’s expression softened a little, becoming distant. “When I was a boy we would ride together. Malcius was my father’s student and often came to our home. My father taught many boys of the noble houses. His wisdom in state craft and diplomacy was famed.” Nortah fumbled for the cloth on the table nearby and wiped the tears from his face. “What is the Aspect’s judgement?”

“He feels you have been punished enough.”

“Then I am not even granted the mercy of release from this place.”

“We were both sent here at the behest of our fathers. I have respected my father’s wishes by staying here although I do not know why he gave me to the Order. Your father also would have had good reason for sending you here. It was his wish in life, it will remain his wish now he is with the Departed. Perhaps you should respect it.”

“So I should languish here while my father’s lands are forfeit and my family left destitute?”

“Will your family be any less destitute with you at their side? Do you have riches that will help them? Think what kind of life you would have outside the Order. You will be the son of a traitor, marked by the King’s soldiers for vengeance. Your family will have burdens enough without you at their side. The Order is no longer your prison, it’s your protection.”

Nortah sank back into the bed, staring at the ceiling in mixed exhaustion and grief. “Please brother, I must be alone for a time.”

Vaelin rose and went to the door. “Remember you are not alone in this. Your brothers will not allow you to fall victim to grief.” Outside he lingered at the door listening to Nortah’s hard, pain filled sobs. So much pain. He wondered if his own father had been on the gallows if he would have fought so hard to save him. Would I have even cried?

That night he collected Scratch from the kennels and took him to the north gate where they played fetch the ball and waited for the boy Frentis to arrive for his knife throwing lesson. Scratch seemed to be growing stronger and faster with each passing day. Master Jeklin’s dog feed, a hash of minced beef, bone marrow and pulped fruit, had put even more meat on his frame and his constant exercise with Vaelin left his physique both lean and powerful. Despite his fierce appearance and unnerving size, Scratch retained the same happy, face licking spirit of an overgrown puppy.