Paedrin stared at the giant of a man, feeling a dull ache in his shoulder blade. He was impressed with the Cruithne’s quickness as well as his size. It was a rare combination in someone so big.
“Let me see that gash.” He turned Paedrin to the side, frowning subtly at the wound. “Lucky blow. He only glanced you. A few stitches and you will be fine.” He marched over to the ladder leading up and climbed it quickly. Paedrin floated up to it effortlessly.
Hettie climbed up the ladder next. The Cruithne took the helm and barked a few orders to douse the fire on the deck and then started rubbing the wood of the wheel absently. She marched up to him, her expression wary. “You got us safely away, but that is just the sort of trick we might expect from the Arch-Rike. He has used us before. Let me see your fingers.”
Baylen held up one hand at a time, wagging his fingers at her. “No Kishion rings. But you are wise to be cautious. The Arch-Rike is the most cunning man I know. I also knew that I would never catch you two in time before reaching Shatalin. I did tell the Arch-Rike that you two had come to the Towers again, looking for something. I said I tracked you down to the Bhikhu temple and learned that you were heading for Lydi. I asked if I could help hunt you down. All true. He thought it would be useful having me on his side. He thought I wanted a reward. He should have looked into my motives more because I have always been loyal to Tyrus. I set up the trap in a way that suited our needs. That way, we can get to the Shatalin temple and back before word reaches there. As I said, it can only be approached by sea and we’re the first boat headed there. Not even the Paracelsus know where Shatalin is, so no one can go there by Tay al-Ard. Is my presumption correct that Tyrus is leading another group into the Scourgelands and not a revolt?”
Paedrin and Hettie looked at each other.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “You say more with your eyes than most people do with their lips. Now what I don’t understand is why you are going to the Shatalin temple. I would think that is the last place you would want to go.”
Paedrin looked at him quizzically.
“It is not far from here,” Baylen said. “What I don’t understand is why Tyrus would send you to the place where all the Kishion receive their training.”
“It was said by an ancient philosopher, Augour the Wise, that the purpose of all wars is peace. I wish I could believe that is true. History is rife with conflict. The wars and tumults of men are interrupted occasionally by the devastations of the Plague. Thus perhaps the purpose of all Plagues is peace.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Inside the confines of the captain’s cabin, Hettie completed sewing the cut on Paedrin’s shoulder. He felt the tug of the needle, but he did not flinch from it. The soldiers had done their best, but it was not enough. The three of them had scattered twenty men like leaves.
She clucked her tongue. “I’m surprised he cut you.”
“One was bound to get lucky,” he replied. “Are there any Romani quips about that?”
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “Ah yes. A blind chicken finds a grain once in a while.”
Paedrin chuckled with enjoyment. “So true. The Romani are very wise in their way.”
Hettie bit the end of the thread after finishing the tie. “Done.”
“Thank you.”
Her hand grazed along his shoulder as she stepped in front of him. Her touch sent tingles throughout his body. She sat down on the small cot across from him. In the lamplight, he could see more of the red color coming out in her hair. He had noticed it before and asked. With a small shrug, she said she had stopped dying it after leaving the Romani. The dye would fade in time and her true coloring would emerge. He liked the hint of it in the lamplight.
“What is it?” she said, looking at him with concern.
“Nothing.” She had caught him staring again. He cursed himself silently.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you think we should trust this Cruithne?”
Paedrin leaned forward. Their noses almost touched. “As opposed to jumping overboard and swimming the rest of the way to Shatalin?”
“There is something about him that concerns me.”
“I can think of about five concerns myself. He looks like a brutish Cruithne but he’s as smart as a Vaettir. He knows about Tyrus and his plans. He outmaneuvered the two of us. He…”
She put her hand on his arm, silencing him. “How does he know about Kishion being trained at Shatalin?”
The door creaked open and Baylen pressed through sideways. Hettie withdrew her hand from his arm. Paedrin tugged on his tunic jacket and wound the belt around his waist. There was a pinch of pain in his shoulder, but it had stopped bleeding earlier.
“We will be at the monastery before nightfall,” Baylen said. “What do you seek there?”
Hettie frowned.
Paedrin cocked his head. “You mentioned above deck that the Kishion train at Shatalin.”
“And you want to know how I know that.” He sighed with impatience.