Once he’d finished dressing, Annev searched his straw pallet for Myjun’s promise ring and pocketed it, hoping he’d have the chance to give it to her that evening. On his way out, he stopped to admire Breathanas’s banner, which Sodar had not yet put away, and he compared the golden bird on the cloth with the one stitched on his glove. He marvelled once again at how similar they looked – even the colours were identical: bright crimson and gold.
He raised the cuff of the red glove to his nose and sniffed. To his delight, Myjun’s sweet scent still lay in the glove’s fabric. Wild flowers, he thought dreamily, and soap. But there was something else there, too. He sniffed again, savouring the aroma, and tried to decipher what the last two accents were. He had almost given up when it came to him.
Strawberries … and blood.
Chapter Forty-Six
Annev strolled into the village with the sack of palm vine and dragon’s blood clinking on his back. As the farmers and villagers passed him by, several greeted him with a wave or a nod.
‘Afternoon, Ainnevog!’
‘Hello, Greusik, Edrea!’ Annev saluted the wiry cobbler and his wife, both in their Regaleus best. ‘Happy Regaleus to you both.’
‘And to you! Looking forward to Brother Sodar’s sermon this evening.’
Annev nodded in agreement, though he suspected Tosan would not allow him to attend, and asking permission would undo whatever goodwill he might have earned for completing the headmaster’s task. Still, Annev decided he would make the best of it. He had never seen how the Academy or the rest of Chaenbalu celebrated while he was helping Sodar at the chapel, and he was excited by the novelty of the experience.
The spicy scent of Yohan’s candles wafted by, and Annev turned to see laughing children playing with the half-dozen toys Nikum had placed outside his carpenter shop. The whole village was in a festive mood, and that matched Annev’s spirit just fine. He weaved his way through Chaenbalu’s circular streets, waving to shopkeepers and craftsmen as he listened to the solid plink and clang of Sraon’s anvil and open-air smithy. Annev even considered stopping to greet the one-eyed blacksmith, but he was determined to complete Tosan’s mission and see if the headmaster would finally promote him to Avatar of Judgement or if he would find a way out of it yet again.
Annev patted the grisly package in the breast pocket of his tunic and felt strangely reassured by the feurog’s severed ears. He tightened his grip on the sack slung over his shoulder and jogged across the village plaza to the Academy’s entrance.
‘I thought you understood that you were to come back to the Academy as soon as you completed your task.’ Tosan sat in the sable-lined chair behind his desk. The hard chair that Annev had sat in last time was nowhere to be seen; in its stead was a squat three-legged stool. Given the options, Annev chose to stand, resting the dusty sack on the stool. He bowed his head.
‘I’m sorry, Elder Tosan. I returned very early. I hadn’t slept and I didn’t want to disturb you. I also thought it best to put my affairs in order with Sodar before returning here.’
Tosan’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘How … considerate of you. He paused. ‘So everything is settled with the priest? Sodar knows you will be leaving the priesthood?’ When Annev nodded, Tosan smiled. ‘Good. And the task I gave you?’
Annev placed the sack on Tosan’s desk and let the headmaster inspect the contents, counting out the palm vine and bottles of dragon’s blood tree resin. He nodded his approval. ‘And what of the pedlar?’
Annev withdrew the linen-wrapped package from his tunic and placed it in front of Tosan. ‘The merchant won’t be bothering us any more.’
Tosan’s eyes widened slightly, though his face was still sceptical. He lifted the small package and peeled back the linen. Dry flakes of blood fluttered onto his desk as he picked up the feurog’s misshapen ear, examining it closely.
‘Was the pedlar still alive when you cut these off?’
Annev hesitated. Tosan had said he could sense lies, and Crag had been alive when Annev harvested the feurog’s ears. His stomach lurched as he gave the only answer he could.
‘Yes … he was alive.’
‘Truly?’ Annev nodded and Tosan smiled with a queer mix of perverse delight and wary suspicion. ‘And after you took his ears, did you let the man go? I would be very wroth if I learned there was an earless merchant wandering around somewhere. Don’t try to deceive me.’
‘You won’t find an earless merchant wandering about the Brake.’ Annev nodded at the gruesome trophy in Tosan’s hand. ‘The owner of those ears is dead by my hands.’
‘How?’
‘I plunged the merchant’s sword straight through his eye and into his brain. I watched him die … felt him die.’
The headmaster sat in silence for a moment, processing. Finally, he nodded. ‘And what of the last piece of the puzzle? Did you learn how the merchant found our village?’
Annev knew he had to be just as careful here and tried to remember Crag’s exact words. ‘He said he was headed towards Hentingsfort on his way to Port Caer. He tried to take a shortcut through the Brakewood and got lost. When I asked him about Chaenbalu, he said he had never heard of it.’
‘He said that, did he? That contradicts what the witwomen told me. They said he was actively searching for the village and they found him right at the edge of Chaenbalu.’
‘He was searching for his mule,’ Annev blurted.
‘Excuse me?’
‘He’d lost his mule,’ Annev repeated. ‘I helped him search for her. That’s part of the reason I was delayed in returning to the village.’
‘He was searching for his mule … and you helped him?’ Annev nodded. ‘And did you find this mule? I presume not, or you would have brought the animal back to Chaenbalu.’
‘We found her,’ Annev said, ‘but she had been eaten by forest creatures.’
‘How unfortunate. And that was part of the reason you were delayed. What was the rest?’
‘We were attacked by the same beasts. The pedlar was injured and … well, I was unconscious for a time. I apologise for the delay.’
‘Unconscious, you say?’ Tosan studied him. ‘I see no injuries.’
‘I have a hard head,’ Annev said, rubbing it.
‘So it would seem.’ Tosan stroked his goatee, thinking. ‘What were these beasts?’
Dammit.
‘They were strange,’ Annev said, trying hard to keep his tale from unravelling. ‘Monsters with skin and limbs made of metal and rock.’ He wondered how much he could say about the feurog without Tosan guessing that the severed ears belonged to the monsters and not the pedlar. He wondered, too, if he would have to mention the witch.
‘Monsters in the Brakewood? Creatures made of metal and stone?’
‘Yes, Elder Tosan.’
The headmaster considered. ‘This is disturbing news, if true. Far more so than a pedlar wandering about.’ He tugged at the whiskers of his goatee, frowning. ‘I am inclined to think that you fabricated this tale to excuse your incompetence or to explain away your delay.’ Annev opened his mouth to protest, but Tosan raised a hand. ‘I said that was my inclination, not that I believed you were lying.’ He shook his head. ‘No, you believe that what you have said is the truth. It is up to me to decide whether you have been deceived.’ He paused. ‘How many monsters did you encounter?’