“So many passengers?” Vaelin asked. His gaze was fixed on the gangplank, expecting a slender, dark haired form to appear at any second.
“Nine in all. Though why a girl whose head barely reaches my shoulder needs seven men to guard her is beyond me, I must say.”
Vaelin turned to him, frowning. “Guards?”
Nurin shrugged, gesturing at the gangplank. “See for yourself.”
The heavy set man descending the gangplank had a squat, brutish face, unleavened by the scowl with which he regarded Vaelin and the surrounding Wolfrunners. More disconcerting still was the fact that he wore the black robe of the Fourth Order and a sword at his belt.
“Brother Vaelin?” he enquired in a flat tone, devoid of civility.
Vaelin nodded, growing unease dispelling any urge to offer a greeting.
“Brother Commander Iltis,” the black robed man introduced himself. “Faith Protection Company of the Fourth Order.”
“Never heard of you,” Vaelin told him. “Where are Sister Sherin and Brother Frentis?”
Brother Iltis blinked, clearly unused to disrespect. “The prisoner and Brother Frentis are aboard ship. We have some issues to discuss, brother. Certain arrangements must be made…”
Vaelin had heard only one word. “Prisoner?” His voice was soft but he was aware of the menace it possessed. Brother Iltis blinked again, his scowl fading to an uncertain frown. “What… prisoner?”
The sound of creaking wood made him turn back to the ship. Another brother of the Fourth Order, also armed with a sword, was leading a dark haired young woman by a chain attached to shackles on her wrists. Sherin was paler than he remembered, also somewhat thinner, but the bright, open smile that lit her face as their eyes met remained unchanged. Another five brothers followed her onto the quay, spreading out on either side and eyeing Vaelin and the Wolfrunners with cold distrust. Last to descend was Frentis, his face drawn in shame and his eyes averted.
“Sister,” Vaelin moved towards Sherin but found his path suddenly blocked by Iltis.
“The prisoner is forbidden discourse with the Faithful, brother.”
“Get out of my way!” Vaelin ordered him, precisely and deliberately annunciating each word.
Iltis paled visibly, but held his ground. “I have my orders, brother.”
“What is this?” Vaelin demanded, rage building in his chest. “Why is our sister shackled so?”
Behind Iltis, Sherin lifted her shackled wrists, grimacing ruefully. “I’m sorry you find me in chains once again…”
“The prisoner will not speak unless permitted!” Iltis barked, rounding on her, tugging sharply on her chain, the shackles chafing her flesh, producing a wince of pain. “The prisoner will not sully the ears of the Faithful with her heresy or treachery!”
Sherin’s eyes flicked to Vaelin, imploring. “Please don’t kill him!”
Chapter 7
She was angry, he could tell. Her expression rigid, eyes avoiding his gaze as they walked the track to the Governor’s mansion, her heavy chest of curatives weighing on his shoulder.
“I didn’t kill him,” Vaelin offered when the silence became unbearable.
“Because Brother Frentis stopped you,” she replied, eyes flashing at him.
She was right, of course. If Frentis hadn’t stopped him he would have continued to beat Brother Iltis to death on the quayside. The other brothers from the Fourth Order had unwisely begun reaching for their weapons when Vaelin’s first blow sent the man sprawling to the ground, quickly finding themselves disarmed by the surrounding Wolfrunners. They could only stand and watch helplessly as Vaelin continued to smash his fist into Iltis’s increasingly bloody and distorted face, deaf to Sherin’s pleading and leaving off only when Frentis hauled him away.
“What is this?” he snarled, wrenching himself free. “How could you allow this?”
Frentis looked more shamed and miserable than Vaelin could remember. “The Aspect’s orders, brother,” he replied in a soft murmur.
“Excuse me!” Sherin jangled her chains, glaring at Vaelin. “Do you think I might be freed to tend to our brother before he bleeds to death?”
And so she had tended to Brother Commander Iltis, ordering her chest be carried from the ship and applying balms and salves to his cuts before stitching the gash Vaelin had left in his brow when he pounded his forehead against the cobbles. She worked in silence, her deft hands doing their work with the clean efficiency he remembered, but there was a sharpness to her movements that bespoke a restrained anger.
She didn’t like seeing it, Vaelin realised. Didn’t like seeing the killer in me.
“Get this lot to the gaol,” he told Frentis, waving a hand at the Fourth Order brothers. “If they give you any trouble, flog them.”
Frentis nodded, hesitating. “Brother, about the sister…”
“We’ll talk later, brother.”
Frentis nodded again and moved away to take command of the prisoners.