“How should I know?” Nortah exploded. “I didn’t ask him to send me to this pit. I didn’t ask to be frozen, nearly killed ten times over, beaten every day, live in this hovel with peasants…” He trailed off miserably, huddling on to his bunk, head buried in his pillow. “I thought they would let me leave at the Test of Knowledge,” he said, more to himself than them, his voice muffled. “When they saw my heart. But that dammed woman said I was where the Faith needed me to be. I even started lying about everything but they wouldn’t let me go. That pig Hendril said the Sixth Order would benefit from having one of my breeding in its ranks.”
He fell silent, still hiding his face. Barkus moved to pat him on the shoulder but Vaelin stopped him with a shake of the head. He pulled the small oak chest from under his bed, his most valued possession next to Sella’s scarf, stolen from the back of a merchant’s cart carelessly left near the front gate. He unlocked it and retrieved a leather pouch containing all the coins he had found, won or stolen over the years. He tossed it to Caenis. “Bring me back some toffees. And a new pair of soft leather boots if you find any that’ll fit me.”
The morning dawned thick with mist, a heavy, soft blue haze hanging over the surrounding fields, waiting for the summer sun to burn it away. Vaelin and Nortah sat in miserable silence through the morning meal as the others tried not to appear too eager to leave for the fair.
“Think they’ll be any bears?” Dentos asked casually.
“I suppose,” Caenis said. “Always bears at the Summertide Fair. Drunkards wrestle them for money. Plenty of other things too. When I went there was a magician from the Alpiran Empire who could play a flute and make a snake dance.”
Vaelin had been taken to the fair every year before his father gave him to the Order and retained vivid memories of dancers, jugglers, hawkers, acrobats and a thousand other marvels amidst the mass of sound and smell. He hadn’t realised before just how badly he had wanted to see it again, to touch something from his childhood and see if it matched the whirlwind of colour and joy he remembered.
“The King will be there,” he said to Caenis, recalling a distant view of the Royal pavilion where Janus and his family looked down on the many contests played out on the tourney field. There were horse races, wrestling, fist fights, archery, the victors receiving a red ribbon from the hand of the King. It had seemed a poor reward for so much effort but the winners all seemed happy enough.
“Maybe you’ll get close enough to let him use you as a foot scraper,” Nortah said. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Caenis seemed unperturbed. “It’s not my fault you’re not allowed to go, brother,” he responded mildly.
Nortah looked as if he was about to voice another insult but instead just pushed his plate away and got up from the table, stalking from the hall, his face set in a mask of anger.
“He’s really not taking this well,” Barkus observed.
After the meal Vaelin bade them farewell in the courtyard, gratified by the effort they put in to their fa?ade of reluctance.
“I’ll...” Caenis began with an effort, “stay if you want me to.”
Vaelin was touched by the offer, he knew how badly Caenis wanted to see the King. “If you don’t go how am I going to get my boots?” He clasped hands with each of them and waved as they walked to the main gate.
He went to see Scratch and found to his surprise the slave-hound had made a new friend, an Asraelin wolf-hound bitch almost as tall at the shoulder as he was, although nowhere near as muscular.
“She got into his pen a few nights ago,” Master Jeklin told him “Faith knows how. Surprised he didn’t kill her outright. Think he wanted the company. Reckon I’ll leave ‘em be, maybe have us a litter in a few months.”
Scratch was his usual happy, bouncing self at seeing Vaelin, the bitch cautious but reassured by Scratch’s welcome. Vaelin tossed scraps to them, noting how the bitch wouldn’t eat until Scratch had.
“She’s afraid of him,” he commented.
“With good reason,” Master Jeklin said cheerfully. “Can’t keep away though. Bitches are like that sometimes, choose a mate and won’t let go whatever he does. Typical women eh?” He laughed. Vaelin, having no idea what he meant, laughed along politely.
“Not at the Fair then?” Jeklin continued, moving away to toss some food to the three Nilsaelin terriers he kept at the far end of the kennels. They were deceptively pretty animals with short pointed snouts and big brown eyes, but would nip viciously at any hand that came too close. Master Jeklin kept them for hunting hares and rabbits, an activity at which they excelled.
“Master Sollis felt I was slacking at sword practice,” Vaelin explained.
Jeklin tutted in disapproval. “Never make a brother if you don’t try hard. ‘Course in my day they’d flog you with a horse whip for slacking off. Ten strokes for a first offence, ten more for each offence after that. Used to lose ten or twelve brothers a year through flogging.” His sigh was heavy with nostalgia. “Pity you’ll miss the Fair though. They have some fine dogs for sale there. Be off myself when I’ve finished up here. It’ll be terrible crowded though, what with the execution and all. Here you go, you little monsters.” He threw some meat into the terriers’ cage, provoking an explosion of yelps and growls as they fought each other for the food. Master Jeklin chuckled at the sight.