This interview was clearly over. Sollis would tell him nothing else. It was obvious, and sad. Master Sollis was a man of many stories and much wisdom, he knew much more than the correct grip on a sword or the right angle to slash a blade at a man’s eyes, but Vaelin suspected little of it was ever heard. He wanted to hear more of the Lonak and their war bands and their High Priestess, he wanted to know of the Dark, but Sollis’s eyes were fixed on the fire, lost in thought, the way his father had looked so many times. So he got to his feet and said, “Yes master.” He drained the rest of his warm milk and gathered the blanket around him, clutching his damp clothes as he moved to the door.
“Tell no one, Sorna.” There was a note of command is Sollis’s voice, the tone he used before he swung his cane. “Confide in no one. This is a secret that could mean your death.”
“Yes master,” Vaelin repeated. He went out into the chilled hallway and made his way to the north tower, huddled and shivering, the cold so intense he wondered if he would collapse before he made it up the steps but the milk Master Sollis had given him left just enough warmth and sustenance to fuel his journey.
He found Dentos and Barkus in the room when he staggered through the door, both slumped on their bunks, fatigue evident in their faces. Strangely they seemed enlivened by his arrival, both rising to greet him with back slaps and forced jokes.
“Can’t find your way in the dark, eh?” Barkus laughed. “Would’ve beaten this one back easily if I hadn’t been caught by the current.”
“Current?” Vaelin asked, bemused by the warmth of their welcome.
“Crossed too early,” Barkus explained. “Up near the narrows. I thought I was done I can tell you. Got washed up right opposite the gate but Dentos was already there.”
Vaelin dumped his clothes on his bunk and moved to the fire, bathing in the warmth. “You were first, Dentos?”
“Aye. Was sure it would be Caenis but we’ve not seen him yet.”
Vaelin was surprised too; Caenis’s woodcraft left them all to shame. Still he lacked Barkus’s strength and Dentos’s speed.
“At least we beat the other companies,” Barkus said, referring to the boys in other groups. “None of them have turned up yet. Lazy bastards.”
“Yeh,” Dentos agreed. “Passed a few of them on the way. Lost as a virgin in a brothel they were.”
Vaelin frowned. “What’s a brothel?”
The other two exchanged an amused glance and Barkus changed the subject. “We smuggled some apples from the kitchen.” He pulled back his bed covers to reveal his prizes. “Pies too. We’ll have us a feast when the others get here.” He lifted an apple to his mouth for a hearty bite. They had all become enthusiastic thieves, it was a universal habit, anything of the meanest value could be expected to disappear in short order if not securely hidden. The straw in their mattresses had long since been replaced with any stray piece of fabric or soft hide they could lay their hands on. Punishment for theft was often severe but bereft of any lectures on immorality or dishonesty and soon they came to realise that they were not being punished for stealing but for getting caught. Barkus was their most prolific thief, especially when it came to food, closely followed by Mikehl who specialised in clothing… Mikehl.
Vaelin stared into the fire, biting his lip, deciding how to phrase the lie. It’s a bad thing, he decided. It’s a hard thing to lie to your friends. “Mikehl’s dead,” he said finally. He couldn’t think of a kinder way to say it and winced at the sudden silence. “He… was taken by a bear. I - I found what was left.” Behind him he heard Barkus spit out his mouthful of apple. There was a rustle as Dentos sank heavily onto his bunk. Vaelin gritted his teeth and went on, “Master Hutril will bring the body back tomorrow so we can give him to the fire.” A log cracked in the fire place. The chill was almost gone and the heat was starting to make his skin itch. “So we can give thanks for his life.”
Nothing was said. He thought Dentos might be crying but didn’t have the heart to turn and see for sure. After a while he moved away from the fire and went to his bunk, laying his clothes out to dry, unstringing his bow and stowing his quiver.
The door opened and Nortah entered, rain soaked but triumphant. “Fourth!” he exulted. “I was sure I’d be last.” Vaelin hadn’t seen him cheerful before, it was disconcerting. As was Nortah’s ignorance of their evident grief.
“I even got lost twice,” he laughed, dumping his gear on his bunk. “Saw a wolf too.” He went to the fire, hands splayed to soak up the heat. “So scared I couldn’t move.”
“You saw a wolf?” Vaelin asked.
“Oh yes. Big bastard. Think he’d already fed though. There was blood on his snout.”
“What kind of bear?” Dentos asked.
“What?”
“Was it a black or a brown? Brown’s are bigger and nastier. Black’s don’t come near men mostly.”
“Wasn’t a bear,” Nortah said, puzzled. “A wolf I said.”
“I don’t know,” Vaelin told Dentos. “I didn’t see it.”
“Then how d’y’know it was a bear?”
“Mikehl got taken by a bear,” Barkus told Nortah.
“Claw marks,” Vaelin said, realising deceit was more difficult than he imagined. “He was… in bits.”
“Bits!” Nortah exclaimed in disgust. “Mikehl was in bits?!”
“’Cos my uncle said y’don’t get browns in the Urlish,” Dentos said dully. “Only get ‘em in the north.”