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“No, I don’t think so.”
Korvin sighs. “I don’t understand why we are supposed to ...”
The scraping of our shoes seems oppressively loud.
“Kill them?” I finish.
He nods.
“That’s not the agreement we have with the kaligorven.” Even saying their name has the power to frighten me.
Korvin is not satisfied. “Wouldn’t it be better to let them live among us? What if we could ... I don’t know ... find a way to make the Vale a place where they wanted to dwell. Couldn’t we have light and let them live?”
This honest line of questioning makes me uncomfortable. “It may be better for them, but there is so much more to this than simply having light to live by.” There’s much about them and the Shrouded that he doesn’t understand. That I don’t understand.
As we approach the northeast entrance to the city, we both grow quiet. Shemai slouches against the gate, his face communicating his impatience.
At least he waited for us,I think, which is more than Rhun would’ve done at his age.
Even though an atmosphere of uncertainty hangs over the three of us, I can’t resist making a detour at the maevotér’s house. As I get down on one knee and lace my fingers together to hoist Korvin up, a smile chases away his troubles. He climbs up, and Shemai tosses him the bag with a fit of wild giggles. Korvin dumps the frogs in and hops down. We stumble away, barely able to contain ourselves.
“Remember,” I wheeze when we are at a safe distance, “if you get in trouble, tell him Belwyn did it in memory of Rhun.”
By the time we reach the city center, all our lightheartedness has vanished.
The square festers with people. I have quite a time keeping my brothers in sight. It is a new sensation, being so concerned for their well-being, and I’m finding it difficult to let go. Maybe it’s because I should have been there for them long before this.
On the steps of the fanum, my father and the newcomer stand side by side. I frown. Can I ever remember him inviting someone to be on the same level as him?
Father holds up his hands to silence the crowd, although it isn’t necessary. The prospect of Sola Vinari has left most speechless.
“You’ve done well to come at the call of the Hunt,” he congratulates the masses. “And I am certain your devotion to the kaligorven will be rewarded.” His arms lower. “Now, you can leave this in the capable hands of me and my men. We will all celebrate upon our return.” A smile hills his cheeks, but it does not reach his eyes.
The audience remains in uneasy silence for a beat, and a voice speaks up. “We don’t want you to decide who gets to hunt for us.”
A ripple of anger passes over my father’s face, but he masks it quickly.
Beside him, Myrzeth is unreadable.
“What would you have me do? Surely, you do not wish for us to jeopardize this Hunt.”
“You should not get all the credit every time a sola wanders into our lands,” another person yells. Cheers of agreement ring out.
The Foremost holds up his hands again. His veins stand out along his biceps. “Silence.”
Something keeps drawing my eyes back to Myrzeth, a pillar in front of the frothing audience. He makes my skin shiver.
My father’s mouth draws taut, and he projects his next words through gritted teeth. “If it would satisfy you, we will arrange for a lottery to decide who gets to join in the Hunt.”
Cheers of approval ripple through the square. Dravek motions to two of his men to make the necessary preparations. In quick order, a line snakes through the city center. Valefolk scribble their names on little strips of paper and cast them into an urn.
I quietly shift out of sight.
Thankfully, Shemai has found a group of his friends and pays no attention to me. But Korvin turns and watches me draw back.
I cannot give any explanation except a slow shake of the head, but it seems enough for him.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Father,” he whispers.
