The sergeant bowed and hurried off.
“A thousand things can happen in a battle,” Nortah said to Vaelin. “You put too much stock in one dropped sword.”
“Wars aren’t won with dropped swords, brother.” Vaelin took the rag from Alornis and walked towards the tree where he had tethered Scar.
“Brother Kehlan should see to that,” she called after him but he just waved and climbed into the saddle.
? ? ?
Finding Caenis wasn’t difficult. The Seventh Order contingent, now grown to some four brothers and two sisters, were housed in a canvas roofed ruin near the harbour, somewhat removed from the rest of the army, who continued to eye them with unabashed suspicion. Caenis sat with the others, talking in low but earnest tones, each of them listening with keen attention. They were all younger than his brother. The gift of youth provided a greater chance of surviving the Volarian onslaught, the young being better suited to the rigours of battle or more likely to catch the slavers’ eye. One young man had clearly endured some harsh treatment, sitting shirtless as he listened to Caenis, his back striped with recent whip-strokes, raw and red in the evening light.
“The province of war is no longer confined to the Sixth Order,” Caenis was saying. “Now all the Faithful are called to join this struggle. Now we are all warriors. Concealment is a luxury we can no longer afford.”
He fell silent as Vaelin stepped from the shadows, the others turning to regard him with a mixture of customary awe and grave respect.
“Brother,” Vaelin said. “I would speak with you.”
They walked the length of the mole as darkness fell, a three-quarters moon showing through intermittent cloud. Caenis said nothing, waiting for him to speak, perhaps fully aware of the first word he would say.
“Mikehl,” Vaelin said when they had come to the end of the mole. The evening tide had drawn the sea back from the mole so it seemed they stood atop a great height, assailed by a strong breeze, the gently lapping waves barely visible below. He searched Caenis’s face as his brother gave no response, seeing what he had expected to see. Guilt.
“Before I sailed to the Reaches Aspect Grealin assured me he had no part in it,” Vaelin went on. “Placing the blame squarely on Brother Harlick, who in truth has admitted his part, though not in the most fulsome terms. Is there perhaps something you would like to add to the story, brother?”
Caenis’s expression didn’t change and his voice was toneless as he replied, “My Aspect instructed me to keep you safe. I did as I was instructed.”
“The men who killed Mikehl told of another, someone I fancy they met in the forest that night. Someone they feared.”
“They were expecting a brother of Harlick’s acquaintance, someone complicit in his scheme. I found him, killed him, and took his place. The assassins hired by Nortah’s father were not so easily killed, so I sent them in the wrong direction, a direction I expected would lead them clear of any brothers. Mikehl, however, was always so slow, and so easily lost.”
Vaelin turned away from him, staring out to sea. The wind was rising and the wave-tops shone white in the dim moonlight. Farther out he could see a black shape on the horizon, soon joined by several more. “Our Fleet Lord makes good his promise,” he observed.
Caenis glanced at the approaching ships. “This war has garnered some strange allies.”
“And revealed much in the process.”
“That day you found us . . . My words were unfair. I had lost so many men, so much unforeseen death. It seemed the Departed had abandoned us, as if your Faithlessness had drawn their judgement. It was a foolish notion, brother.”
“Brother,” Vaelin repeated softly. “We’ve called each other that for so long I wonder if it still holds meaning. So much has been concealed, so many lies spoken. That first day, in the vaults, Grealin patted you on the shoulder and you flinched. I thought you feared his imaginary rats, but he was greeting you. You weren’t joining the Sixth Order, you were reporting to your Aspect.”
“It is how we persist, how we continue to serve the Faith. At least until now. With Aspect Grealin gone the burden of rebuilding this Order falls to me. It would sit easier with your help.”
“The Gifted from the Reaches want no part of your Order. Cara and Marken aren’t even of the Faith and I doubt Lorkan could summon the will to believe in anything.”
“Much like you, brother.” Caenis’s words were softly spoken but Vaelin heard the judgement in them clearly.
“I did not lose my faith,” he told Caenis. “It shrivelled and died in the face of truth.”
“And will this great truth win this war, brother? Look around you and see how many have suffered. Will your truth sustain them in the months and years ahead?”