“Report, Lieutenant,” Kjell ordered.
“All is well, Captain.”
“Nothing gets near her,” Kjell insisted for the hundredth time.
“Not even a mouse,” Jerick replied, his standard answer to Kjell’s dogged demand.
“How is she?” It was the first time Kjell had asked. Jerick had managed to communicate her whereabouts and her wellbeing without elaborating, which had left Kjell both grateful and gutted.
Jerick regarded him with more compassion than he deserved.
“She is tireless.”
“There is much to be done,” Kjell said evenly.
“She is unhappy, Captain. She rises early, works without ceasing, and retires late. Every day she asks if you are well, and I tell her the same thing that I just told you. You are tireless. And you are miserable.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Kjell snapped.
“All right. I will lie,” Jerick agreed cheerfully.
“I do not want her to suffer,” Kjell muttered.
Jerick nodded and immediately shifted subjects.
“There will be a celebration, Captain. Will you be there? There is talk you will be knighted.”
“A hero of the realm.” Kjell sighed, repeating the title that was to be bestowed on him.
“Yes. The people need a celebration. And you need to allow them to thank you.”
“The king said the same thing. I promised I will be there,” Kjell grumbled.
“He is a good king, Captain.” Jerick said softly.
“Jerick? Why do you always say things I have no desire to hear?” Kjell asked, though his voice lacked its customary venom.
“Because I am the only one who dares,” Jerick replied. “It’s good for you, Captain.”
“Yes. I am always healed by your presence and your words, Lieutenant,” Kjell countered dryly.
Jerick snorted. “King Aren reminds me a little of you.”
“Cease speaking, Lieutenant,” Kjell sighed, knowing Jerick would never, ever cease speaking.
“It is something in his eyes,” Jerick mused. “Though his are a brighter blue. And much warmer. Wiser. Maybe it is his mouth. Of course he smiles more.” Jerick’s grin was wicked as Kjell sought to sweep his feet out from under him. The lieutenant countered and danced away. Kjell let him scamper, crouching over the deer once more, too subdued to make chase, though he appreciated Jerick’s company more than he would admit.
“She’s a beauty. First one I’ve seen. The animals are coming back. The forest is coming alive. It’s . . . comforting,” Jerick mused, listening to the chirping of the birds and the chattering of the squirrels above them.
Kjell nodded, though he knew little comfort and even less peace. He considered again that Ariel of Firi had died in the depths of the sea. Or maybe she’d never left the Corvar Mountains or the Bay of Brisson at all. She was controlling him—his emotions, his time, his energy—with no effort at all.
“Don’t drain the doe here. Yetta will want the blood. She will put it in her soup, and it will taste like the nectar of the gods.” Jerick indicated the deer Kjell had just begun to skin.
“Then help me carry it back,” Kjell said. They hoisted it upon their shoulders, walking in comfortable silence, the weight and warmth of the animal shared evenly between them.
“Captain, if Lady Firi followed you from the plains of Janda all the way to the mountains in Corvyn, she followed you here,” Jerick offered as they neared the west castle gate. The newly-trained watchman saw their approach and called out a welcome and a query, just as he’d been taught.
“Are you sure you aren’t Gifted, Lieutenant?” Kjell murmured, waiting for the gate to rise. “You have an uncanny way of reading my mind.”
“No Captain. I am not Gifted,” Jerick retorted. “I am just your friend.”
***
Kjell was summoned to the castle by the King’s Council and asked to report on the “progress of the army and the readiness of the guard.” The king’s advisors were much like Tiras’s council in Jeru—self-important, inquisitive, and full of suggestions that made them all feel productive but accomplished very little.
Still, they revered Kjell—everyone but the king, who treated him with respect but no awe—and that much was a new experience. He answered their questions, made a few requests for the building up of the castle’s defense, and escaped as quickly as he could. He strode down the long corridor hung with the portraits of the Caarn royalty, refusing to cast his gaze at the woman named Koorah or the glowing picture of the young queen. He was down the stairs and through the expansive foyer when he heard her voice, echoing through the slightly-opened door of the Great Room just to the left of the entrance.
He paused and moved toward the sound, entranced, letting it flow over and through him like a caress. She was telling stories again, and he suddenly realized she was talking about him.
“The captain thrust his lance upward into the belly of Architeuthis,” she said, injecting drama into every word.
“The giant squid!” a child interrupted.
“Yes, the giant squid. Mortally wounded, the squid retreated, swimming back into the darkest parts of the sea, for that is where Architeuthis lives.”
“Why is he so big?” a little voice inquired.
“Because he is lonely,” Sasha replied, inexplicably.
“The captain is lonely?” the child asked.
“No.” Sasha’s voice hitched but she recovered quickly. “Architeuthis is lonely. He grows big to keep himself company. His tentacles are like friends. But sometimes he is so lonely, he tries to take the ships deep into the sea. But ships don’t belong on the sea floor, and neither do men. So Architeuthis is destined to be alone.”
“But why is the Healer so big?” the same child insisted, thoroughly confused.
“Because he is a warrior,” Sasha was quick to answer.
“Not a Healer?” someone asked.
“I suppose he is both,” Sasha said softly.
“Is he lonely too? My father says he isn’t friendly,” another child chimed in.
Kjell winced.
“Is that a true story about the giant squid?” a child pondered doubtfully. “How do you know he just doesn’t want to gobble ships and eat people?”
Sasha quieted the children and before long only the soft sounds of independent study filtered through the window. Kjell turned away, the spell broken, his hands still in need of washing.
“You have found our school,” Padrig said, startling him. “We’re holding classes in the Great Hall until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
“Is there no one else to teach them?” Kjell asked. Jerick said Sasha was tireless, but she could not do everything.
“There are a few others. But Queen Saoirse assists for a little while every day. She is the most educated among us.”