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I will answer in kind, this I swear, upon your corpses. Upon your faces, I will answer in kind. No act is final. An
other inevitably awaits. In his mind, he uttered this promise to every face in the crowd. They were asides, too faint to be heard by the judges, but the face of each enemy who heard his promise, why, how it blanched! How the lip quivered!
Now, my friends, which among you will be the first to beg for mercy?
After a time, the tent flap rustled, and then slipped aside to permit the entrance of Sheltatha Lore.
Sagander smiled. ‘Ah, the lantern was noted. Excellent, my child.’
‘Are you in pain again, tutor?’
At times, there was something in her tone that reminded Sagander of Arathan. A hint of … no, he could not quite grasp it. He could see no insolence in her eyes, only respect and deference. And such an eagerness to serve! There was no sound reason for doubt, and yet … ‘Ah, the pain. If it must be the answer to my good deeds, well, whoever said the world was fair, yes?’
She moved further into the tent, and once again Sagander marvelled at the natural grace that came with the young. ‘But things will be made fair, tutor, and soon. And perhaps, among the new practitioners of Denul, you will find an unexpected salvation.’
He eyed her, silent as she settled herself upon a heap of cushions beside his cot, and then he said, ‘In the meantime, dear innocence, I have need of you.’
The smile she offered him looked genuine enough, but something in it – in the eyes, possibly, which seemed to softly fulminate, as if the surface was slowly melting in the heat – troubled Sagander. Too much like Arathan, this child. But unlike my failures with that bastard, I will make this creature pure again. For all the abuses her mother has inflicted upon her, I have her salvation to achieve, and achieve it I shall. ‘Can you sense it, child? This ghost of mine?’
‘I can,’ she replied. ‘Always. And still I wonder, tutor …’
He tilted his head. ‘You wonder what, beloved?’
‘Why its skin remains so black.’
Sagander held his smile, but with difficulty. It was one thing to indulge her wilful imaginings, to invite from her those strange, but hopeless, efforts at comforting his invisible pain, but this! This is the sorcery at work. It seethes through us all, a plague’s breath of unnatural power.
‘Tutor? Is something wrong? Come, lie here upon your cot, and invite again my caress. Your ghost limb desires it still, yes?’
But I feel nothing. It was a game. It brought you close, within reach of my hand. And I could touch what I dare not desire. It was enough, my own small need, and each night you spend here, with me, is another night away from your whore of a mother, from her endless vengeance upon her own daughter. Nothing cruel in this bargain – but now … ‘It is difficult this night,’ he said, his voice thin and weak, sounding piteous even to his own ears. ‘The ghost is insensate to all but its own pain.’
‘We shall see,’ Sheltatha said.
After a moment, Sagander brought his lone leg under him and used a single crutch to push himself upright. He hobbled the two steps over to his cot, twisted and slumped down upon the canvas, making the legs creak. ‘Well then,’ he gasped. ‘Here I am—’
The tent flap was suddenly yanked aside, and an armoured figure ducked in, straightening with a harsh sigh.
Infayen Menand. Heavy and indolent where Sheltatha was supple and sweet; harsh and cold where Tathe’s daughter was kind and warm.
Sagander scowled. ‘What are you doing here, unannounced, uninvited? Leave us, captain, unless Tathe now owns you as well—’
‘Tathe doesn’t even own herself,’ Infayen said, her eyes flat as they fixed upon Sheltatha Lore, who returned the stare with a closed expression belonging to a much older woman. ‘I have come at the command of Mortal Sword Hunn Raal. The child Sheltatha Lore is to be escorted to the keep. Her care is now the responsibility of the Temple of Light. Get off those cushions, girl.’
‘I am her tutor—’
‘As you please,’ Infayen cut in. ‘If the temple deems lessons proper, they will undertake them from now on. Of course,’ she added, finally levelling her gaze on Sagander, ‘you may well find for yourself a role in that, but you will teach your lessons at the temple, not here in your tent.’
After a moment, Sagander nodded sharply. ‘Yes, of course. In fact, I believe that I approve.’
‘Well, that relieves us all. On your feet, Sheltatha.’
Sagander set a hand upon the girl’s shoulder and said, ‘Go on. It is indeed for the best.’
In silence, Sheltatha Lore stood. At a gesture from Infayen, the girl strode from the tent. As Infayen moved to follow, she paused at the tent entrance and glanced back at Sagander. ‘It may be,’ she said, ‘that you do not number among those who have damaged her. I saw not enough here to decide either way. But I will nonetheless insist upon an end to privacy when it comes to your tutoring the girl.’
‘You impugn my honour!’
‘How often that proclamation from those who have none.’
