The next day was probably the least punishing they had endured so far. Vaelin had expected a return to the harsh routine but instead Master Sollis filled the morning with a sign language lesson, Vaelin found his meagre ability had improved after his brief exposure to Sella and Erlin’s fluid signs although not by much and he still lagged behind Caenis. The afternoon was taken up with sword practice, Master Sollis introducing a new exercise, throwing rotten fruit and vegetables at them with blinding speed as they tried to fend off the putrid projectiles with their wooden swords. It was smelly but strangely enjoyable, more like a game than most of their exercises which normally left them sporting a few bruises or a bloody nose.
Afterwards they ate their evening meal in uncomfortable silence, the dining hall was much quieter than usual, the many empty places seemed to stall attempts at conversation. The older boys gave them a few looks of sympathy or grim amusement but no one commented on the absences. It was like the aftermath of Mikehl’s death only on a grander scale. Some boys were already lost and wouldn’t be coming back, others were yet to return and the tension of worrying over their possible non-appearance was palpable. Vaelin and the others exchanged some grunted comments about stinking like compost from the afternoon practice but there was little real humour in it. They concealed a few apples and bread rolls in their cloaks and returned to the tower.
It grew dark and still no one returned. Vaelin began to feel a sinking certainty that they were the only boys left in their group. No more Barkus to make them laugh, no Nortah to bore them with another of his father’s axioms. It was a truly chilling prospect.
They were climbing into bed when the sound of footsteps on the stone staircase outside caused them to freeze in wary anticipation.
“Two apples says it’s Barkus,” Dentos said.
“Taken,” Caenis accepted.
“Ho there!” Nortah greeted them brightly, coming into dump his gear on his bed. He was thinner than Caenis and Vaelin, but didn’t quite match Dentos’s haggard emaciation, and his eyes were red with exhaustion. Despite it all he seemed cheerful, even triumphant.
“Barkus here yet?” he asked, stripping his clothes away.
“No,” Caenis said smiling at Dentos who curled a disgusted lip.
Vaelin noticed something new about Nortah as he pulled his shirt over his head, a necklace of what looked like elongated beads around his neck. “Did you find that?” he asked, gesturing at the necklace.
There was a flash of smug satisfaction on Nortah’s face, a mingled expression of victory and anticipation. “Bear claws,” he said. Vaelin admired his offhanded manner and imagined the hours of rehearsal it must have taken. He decided to keep quiet and force Nortah to tell the tale of his own volition but Dentos spoilt it.
“You found a bear claw necklace,” he said. “So what? Took it off some poor fool caught in the storm eh?”
“No, I made it from the claws of a bear I killed.”
He continued to undress, affecting disinterest in their reaction but Vaelin saw clearly how much he was enjoying the moment.
“Killed a bear my arse!” Dentos sneered.
Nortah shrugged. “Believe me or not, it’s of no matter.”
They lapsed into silence, Dentos and Caenis refusing to ask the inevitable question despite their obvious curiosity. The moment stretched and Vaelin decided he was too tired to let the tension endure.
“Please brother,” he said. “Tell us how you killed a bear.”
“I put an arrow in its eye. It took a fancy to a deer I’d brought down. Couldn’t have that. Anyone who tells you bears sleep through the winter is a liar.”
“Master Hutril says they only wake up when they’re forced. You must have found a very unusual bear, brother.”
Nortah fixed him with an odd look, coldly superior, which was usual, but also knowing which was not. “I must say I’m surprised to find you here brother. I met a trapper in the wilds, a rough fellow to be sure, and a drunkard if I’m any judge. He had a lot of news to share about events in the wider world.”
Vaelin said nothing. He had decided not to tell the others about the King’s boon to his father but it seemed Nortah would leave him little choice.
“The Battle Lord left the King’s service,” Caenis said. “Yes, we heard.”
“Some say he asked a boon of the King to return his son from the Order,” Dentos put in. “But since the Battle Lord don’t have a son, how could he be returned?”
They knew, Vaelin realised. They knew ever since I arrived. That’s why they’ve been so quiet. They were wondering when I was going to leave. Master Sollis must have told them I was staying today. He wondered if it was truly possible to keep a secret in the Order.
“Perhaps,” Nortah was saying. “The Battle Lord’s son, if he had one, would be grateful for an opportunity to escape this place and return to the comfort of his family. It’s not a chance any of the rest of us will ever get.”
Silence reigned. Dentos and Nortah glaring at each other fiercely and Caenis fidgeting in uncomfortable embarrassment. Finally Vaelin said, “It must have been a fine piece of bow work, brother. Putting an arrow in a bear’s eye. Was it charging?”
Nortah gritted his teeth, controlling his anger. “Yes.”
“Then it’s to your credit that you held your nerve.”
“Thank you, brother. Do you have any stories to share?”