And yet, at the same time, Cnán knew Raphael was the only one who would have voiced the question on everyone’s mind. It wasn’t insolence that led Raphael to question Feronantus’s orders, it was a different quality entirely.
“Our mission is to kill the Khagan,” Feronantus said softly. “How does risking ourselves and exposing our presence aid our mission?”
“What happens after?” Cnán asked, surprised that it was her voice that broke the somber silence.
“After?” Feronantus asked her in return.
“Aye,” Raphael said. “After we kill the Khagan.”
Yasper groaned. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”
“We should never talk about it,” Vera said, her face hard. “It only creates fear. We all know what happens.”
Yasper stroked his beard. “Well, if you’re going to put it that way, now is the right time to talk about it.” He peered at Feronantus. “What does happen after we kill the Khagan?”
“Does it matter?” Feronantus asked.
“Look, you Shield-Brethren are an exceptional lot. Stoic. Iron-willed. Ready to die every time you draw your swords. Suicide missions like this are the sort of thing that brings everlasting glory to your name. But me?” Yasper tapped his chest. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the cities of the West again. Paris, I hear, is spectacular in the spring.”
Istvan snorted and spat. “Buda,” he said. “Paris is a shithole in comparison.”
Yasper pointed at Istvan. “This is the sort of impassioned discourse that makes this company so charming. Paris or Buda? Don’t you want to be able to see both and decide for yourself?”
“I have seen both,” Feronantus said quietly. His face was impassive, carved from stone.
“As have I,” Eleázar said. “And I would not mind seeing them again.”
Something in Eleázar’s tone touched Feronantus and his eyes flickered toward the Spaniard. “We have to find the bear first,” he said. “It is our only opportunity to lay a trap for the Khagan.”
“None of us are disagreeing with you on that point, Feronantus,” Raphael pointed out. “We joined with you on this desperate mission because we believed it was the right choice. We trusted you to lead us, to see us to victory. But we are not young initiates—wet behind the ears—who know little about soldiering. Our goal—as much as Yasper thinks otherwise—is not to die gloriously, but to live. A successful mission means going home again. All of us.”
“They’re going to kill Haakon,” Cnán said. “You know they will. After the Khagan dies, they’re going to kill every Westerner they can find.” When Feronantus did not speak, she grew angry. “You’re leaving him to die!” she shouted at him.
Feronantus whirled on her, his eyes blazing, and with a thick hand, he grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her close to his face. “I have sent many—many—men under my command to their deaths. I have watched a good number of them die. Do not presume to lecture me on the morality of my actions, little Binder. I, alone, carry the weight of my decisions, and you have no idea how heavy that burden is.” He squeezed his hand, gathering the fabric of her shirt in his fist. “Yes,” he growled, “I am leaving the boy to die, because I must in order to save thousands of other lives. Lives of men, women, and children who I will never meet. These people will never know my name; they will never even know what I have done for them. What others have sacrificed for them. But in order to save them, I must let the boy die.”
He shoved her away and turned toward the remainder of the company. “If the success of our mission depended upon it, I would let all of you die,” he snarled. “You knew this risk when you agreed to follow me east. You have had months to face this truth and prepare yourselves. We have traveled thousands of miles together. We are deep in the heart of the empire of our enemies. We are hopelessly outnumbered. Yes, it is highly likely that we are all going to die.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “We all took the oath,” he said, his voice gentler. “We all gave ourselves to the Virgin, knowing that few—very few—who so swear are allowed the luxury of dying in their beds. And those of you”—he opened his eyes and looked directly at Yasper—“who have not sworn the same vow are braver by far.”
Yasper looked away, his mouth twisting. Cnán was glad Feronantus did not look at her. She wasn’t sure she could withstand the force of his gaze. She didn’t want to acknowledge what he had just said.
“I would be honored to die beside any one of you,” Feronantus said. “I have seen Paris, Buda, London, the Levant. I have spent decades in the North, watching generation after generation of boys leave Tyrshammar to take their oaths and become men at Petraathen. Few of them ever return. And now I have seen the other half of the world. It has been a good life, and if I were to die in the course of our mission, it would be a good death. But”—and he looked at each of them in turn—“dying in the next few days is not my plan.”