“You are far from home, my friend.”
Lekran jerked, his chains snapping tight. “Then . . . get this fucking metal off me . . . so I can go back there. For time on this earth is short, and I have many men to kill.”
? ? ?
“It truly prevents dreams?” Frentis gave the contents of the flask a dubious sniff, finding the scent less than inviting, like mildew mixed with stewed tea.
“It renders a sleep deep enough to prevent them,” Brother Kehlan replied. “I first concocted it in the aftermath of the Ice Horde. There were many in the Reaches troubled by nightmares when the killing was done, myself included. It will stop your dreams, brother. Though the aching head you’ll have come the morning may make you pine for the dreams.”
They aren’t dreams, Frentis knew. But it might at least guard against wayward thoughts when she touches my mind. The Fifth Order had established itself in the merchants’ houses near the docks, the many rooms and deep cellars providing space enough for most of the wounded and storage for their growing supply of bandages and curatives. It seemed Lady Al Bera had managed to persuade a few Alpiran merchants to risk a final supply run across the wintry Meldenean, bringing much needed medicines along with the food.
He thanked the healer and made his way outside, walking along the wharf to where Vaelin stood regarding the huge Volarian warship. He was aware of the many glances he drew as he walked, and more than a few openly hostile glares, but mostly just fear or surprise. He might still be the Red Brother to some, but to most he was now the King’s Assassin, freed by virtue of their queen’s endless grace. She stirred no fear in them, only adulation, and they laboured tirelessly at her command. Everywhere he looked people were at work, rebuilding fallen walls, hammers ringing in makeshift forges and new recruits being drilled to unaccustomed discipline. He saw fatigue on many faces but no idleness, all moving to their allotted tasks with a singular determination. Her captains might fear her course, but these people would sail every ocean in the world at her word.
He heard raised voices on the ship as he neared, his eyes picking out two figures on the deck, one short, the other tall. The shorter of the two seemed to have the loudest voice. “Your sister has a surprisingly waspish tongue, brother,” Frentis observed to Vaelin.
“Our new Lord of the Queen’s Yard brings out the worst in her,” he replied, watching Alornis angrily bunch up a sheaf of parchment and throw it in Davern’s face before stomping off the gangplank. “He asked her to make drawings of the ship. Something I suspect he now regrets.”
“Arrogant numb-head!” Alornis fumed, having made her way to the quay, her stern visage unmoved by her brother’s comforting hug.
“He didn’t like the drawings?” Vaelin asked.
“It wasn’t the drawings.” She raised her voice, casting it back at the ship. “It’s his pigheaded refusal to listen to reasonable advice!”
“I’m sure he knows his business,” Vaelin said, earning a reproving scowl.
“This monstrosity,” she said pointing at the Queen Lyrna’s hull. “Is massively over-engineered, yet he wants to copy it, expending vast amounts of labour and timber in the process.”
“Your own design being more elegant, no doubt?”
“Actually, yes, dear brother, it is.” She drew herself up, clutching her satchel to her chest. “I shall take this to the queen.” She gave Frentis a stiff bow and walked off with a determined gait.
“When last I met her,” Frentis said, “she was more softly spoken.”
“We are all much changed, brother.” Vaelin turned away from the ship, walking towards the mole with Frentis falling in alongside. “The queen’s design for you,” he said, halting a good distance from other ears. “You can refuse.”
“Hardly, brother. Nor would I wish to.”
Vaelin gazed out to sea, grey waters chopped by the wind under a turbulent sky. “The woman who haunts your dreams, do you think she will sense your coming?”
“Possibly. Though I’m hoping Brother Kehlan’s physic will mask my thoughts. In any case, her interest in me might work to our advantage, my mission being diversionary.”
“It seems we both have hard roads ahead of us.”
“It would be best if you don’t share your course with me. If she found me and somehow took me alive, I . . . doubt I could keep secrets from her should she bind me again.”
Vaelin nodded, turning back from the sea, sorrow plain on his brow. “I searched for you for such a long time, casting my song out far and wide, but I never caught more than the vaguest glimpse. Now, it seems I am bound to send you away again and have no song to find you in any case.”
“I have much to balance, brother. And an assassin shouldn’t linger in sight of his victim’s sister.” He extended his hand and Vaelin gripped it tight. “We’ll find each other in Volar, of that I’ve no doubt.”