Aron chanced a quick look at Stormbreaker, who seemed to have turned to a statue, back straight against his chair, arms pressed firmly into the table, palms down.
For a moment, Aron wondered if Falconer would like to grow any older. In the next moment, Stormbreaker’s discomfort seemed to wash over Aron.
What in all of Eyrie could make a man like Stormbreaker so rigid, so angry and fearful? Aron felt his guild master’s unrest like hot bursts of lightning stabbing into his throat and chest. It was enough to make his eyelids flutter, and he had to put his hands on the table, almost mimicking Stormbreaker’s posture.
Meanwhile, the Thorn Brother’s eyes moved from Dari to Aron to Terrick, and it took Aron a moment to realize Falconer seemed to have no interest in Lord Baldric, Stormbreaker, or Hasty.
Aron allowed his awareness to slide toward the edges of the Veil, hoping to heighten his understanding of Falconer’s motives and purpose, but he knew better than to risk slipping into that vulnerable state.
“Lord Baldric,” Falconer said, keeping his attention fully on the youngest people in the room. His voice was quiet, yet eerily resonant and powerful, and he pressed his hands together as he spoke, fingertip to wrist. Aron immediately thought of the few times he had seen rectors in their temples, and the deep timbre of their lectures and cautions. “The Lady Provost of Thorn sends her greetings through my presence.”
Falconer gave a quick bow, then rose and managed to look at the man he had supposedly come to see.
The harsh glint in Lord Baldric’s eyes suggested he was thinking of many responses other than the one he offered, which was an answering bow with a grudging, “Please give Lady Pravda my greetings upon your return.”
Stormbreaker’s fingers curled against the wood of the table, drawing Falconer’s attention. At first his appraisal of Stormbreaker was quick and cursory, but Aron saw the Thorn Brother pause as he at last registered Stormbreaker’s unusual hair and eyes.
Falconer’s brow furrowed. “Have we met, High Master? You have the look of a child of Dyn Vagrat.”
Moments passed. Then more moments.
Only after a glare from Lord Baldric did Stormbreaker give his answer.
“We might have crossed paths in the past.” Stormbreaker’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Aron could almost feel the bellows he seemed to be holding back with the straining muscles in his neck.
Falconer studied him longer, but ultimately shrugged off whatever curiosity had possessed him. Aron was aware of Dari forcibly mediating the appearance of his legacy, making it even duller at the same time her worry for Stormbreaker escalated. Hasty and Terrick seemed uncomfortable yet intrigued, and Lord Baldric not-so-politely annoyed as Falconer got to his point.
“Lady Pravda sent me to gather all unclaimed orphans. It’s my wish to rest, then leave with the children in the morning.”
Aron sucked in a breath as Dari’s soft mental touch abruptly withdrew. He blinked rapidly, trying to understand what Falconer had just announced. In the man’s essence, Aron detected only truth and the desire to see to his assigned task—but that was mingled with an odd, almost calloused weariness. As if Falconer would rather be anywhere but here, doing almost anything but this.
Lord Baldric’s mouth had come open, as had Terrick’s, Hasty’s, and Dari’s. The bunch of them looked like siblings, mimicking one another in some deranged game.
It was Stormbreaker who finally broke the silence, and this time, he spoke with more force. “You cannot truly intend to herd a band of helpless children across Dyn Brailing and Dyn Cobb in the midst of a war.”
“It would take cycles to make such a journey.” Dari sounded horrified. “They would be fodder for guardsmen and bandits.”
Falconer gave Dari an indulgent look. “Others of our ranks have visited villages and guild houses all across Eyrie, and accomplished just such a feat. Thorn is as capable of defending its charges as Stone.”
Aron saw the lie in that assertion, and his legacy picked out the last of the statement as the source of the untruth. Falconer well knew that Thorn would be leading children into extreme peril, but he intended to proceed, nonetheless.
“I cannot allow that,” Lord Baldric said. “Those who have sought shelter in our stronghold have been guaranteed Stone’s full protection. Releasing them for a death march would be unconscionable.”
Falconer stood straighter, conveying his affront with a subdued frown. “The Guard in all six dynasts have guaranteed our safe passage. They have agreed to escort us when necessary, or we would not have undertaken this journey.”
“Guardsmen protecting you?” Hasty’s deep voice carried none of its initial jocularity, and Aron saw the flash of disbelief in the Stone Brother’s wide brown eyes. “That would be like wolves tending to the sheep. The roads are not safe, least of all in the presence of any Dynast Guard save perchance Cobb, and Ross if you’re fortunate enough to have their support.”
“Stone may have its issues with dynast armies, but Thorn does not—and seeing to the welfare of orphans is Thorn’s duty.” Falconer’s composure never faltered, and he kept right on sounding like a rector plying his trade. “I know Lady Pravda has sent many communications to you since the start of this conflict. The children’s need for safety has never been greater than it is now, so we must act.”
“Now.” Lord Baldric’s laugh sounded as sharp as a polished battle blade. “So it’s now, right now—after all these years of dereliction?”
Falconer’s calm expression wavered. “We have received no messengers from Stone asking us to retrieve orphans.” His voice shook on the last few words. “It is your responsibility to tender them to us after you take them in.”
“Since when does Stone have to send messengers to encourage Thorn to follow its own code?” Stormbreaker stood, his nails still digging into Lord Baldric’s table. “Since when does Thorn show interest in children who bear no wealth or importance to increase Thorn’s status?”
The tension radiating from Stormbreaker was so palpable Aron stood himself, more to withstand it than in a show of unity. He was dimly aware of Dari rising to join him. Hasty and Terrick remained seated, but they looked as angry as Stormbreaker.
“Dun.” Lord Baldric’s whispered caution made gooseflesh rise across Aron’s neck and shoulders. There was new energy in the room now, energy Aron had never felt before. He perceived it as a humming white cloud, a quiet, but deliberate force, and it made his bones ache when it passed over him.
Lord Baldric? His eyes moved from person to person, desperate to understand the sensation. Falconer? Could Hasty or Terrick have abilities like this?
Be still, came Dari’s private, urgent mental communication. You know nothing. You feel nothing.
Aron did his best to comply with her wishes, but had no idea if he was achieving his goals. Falconer didn’t seem to be aware of him now at all. The entirety of his attention was riveted on Stormbreaker.
“You are a child of Vagrat,” Falconer murmured, his expression shifting to wariness, or even worry. “And you would have been Harvested… when?”
“That is none of your concern,” Stormbreaker said through his teeth.
Lord Baldric moved to stand between the two men, using his considerable bulk like a wide gray buffer wall. “Enough of this. Master Falconer, I’ll have quarters prepared for you. Hasty, Terrick—see our guest to the kitchens while his chambers are made ready.”
Falconer didn’t at all look like he wished to leave, but at the same time, his eyes darted from Stormbreaker to the chamber door.
At last he realizes his peril. Aron almost wished Stormbreaker would let loose a volley of lightning and rain, just to see how Falconer responded, but he also realized it was important to Lord Baldric to keep the peace.
Falconer seemed to weigh his situation and options, and to grow more distressed with each passing moment. He regarded Stormbreaker with much higher interest now, or perhaps it was terror, though of what, Aron couldn’t say.
Terrick and Hasty stood and formed an escort, and Falconer allowed himself to be ushered to the door. He stopped long enough to turn and address Lord Baldric once more. “I sincerely regret any misunderstanding that may have grown between Stone and Thorn over the handling of orphans these past years.” His words sounded more sincere as he continued, but his gaze continued to shift to Stormbreaker every few seconds. “Rock and leaf, stone and thorn—we are both as essential to the life and growth of Eyrie as we always have been. Please allow me to begin to heal any breach that might have formed. I’m certain Lady Pravda would wish me to make reparations on her behalf.”
He bowed, and waited for Lord Baldric’s response.
Stunned by the man’s shift from arrogant demands and pronouncements to humble supplication, Aron stared at Falconer. Then he watched Lord Baldric breathe slowly at least three times before he growled, “Yes, I’m sure Pravda would want just that. We’ll meet on the morning to make plans, if that will satisfy you.”
Aron needed no touch of the Brailing legacy to read the sarcasm and mistrust in Lord Baldric’s tone. It was laced with something like despair as well.
Falconer raised his head. Despite Lord Baldric’s attitude, the Thorn Brother seemed genuinely relieved. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to our talk tomorrow, and I appreciate this opportunity to rest and restore myself.”
The door had barely closed behind him when Dari dropped into her chair and released her mental touch on Aron and, Aron presumed, on Stormbreaker.
Lord Baldric faced off with Stormbreaker and pointed a thick finger right in his face. “Grudge or no grudge, you will respect visitors when we receive them.” Then, softer, and with less force, “Don’t make me regret naming you our First High Master.”
Stormbreaker offered no apologies, but he did seem more subdued following the reprimand. Aron found himself holding his breath, as if waiting for a new storm to burst from the depths of Stormbreaker’s essence.
For her part, Dari remained silent and withdrawn. Her eyes were closed. Exhaustion seemed to roll out of her, along with distress and pain she didn’t bother to conceal. Aron was caught between going to her to offer comfort and remaining absolutely still to avoid interrupting the Lord Provost.
Lord Baldric lowered his hand and folded his arms across his broad chest. His expression shifted to that of a father, and his next question to Stormbreaker was gentler still. “Can you forgive them, Dun?”
The rest of Stormbreaker’s tension left him like a breeze blowing through open shutters. His shoulders drooped forward, and he leaned on the table in front of him with his head down. “I don’t know.”
“Not the people.” Lord Baldric’s tone remained softer than Aron was used to hearing from him. “I would never ask that of you or your sister—but can you grant that as an institution, Thorn may have some good left in it, some righteous honor that one day may be salvaged?”
Stormbreaker snorted. “With that one taking over for Pravda Altar if she ever has the decency to die?”
“Falconer was little more than an apprentice back then,” Lord Baldric said. “He did what was asked of him in Dyn Vagrat. Were I you, I’d reserve the force of your inner storms for those who commanded him.”
“And now?” Stormbreaker asked. “When he intends to lead dozens of children into hardship and death?”
Lord Baldric’s tone shifted again. “I’ll do what I can, Dun. What’s within my power—our power, as the Stone Guild. We are not oath-breakers here, in the literal sense or the figurative sense, either.”
Dari stirred from her stupor and sat up straighter. “Can you refuse Falconer? Can Thorn’s demands be turned down?”
“Were you listening?” Stormbreaker snapped as he gestured to Lord Baldric. “He’s telling us what options we have available to us as keepers of our own oaths. None!”
Aron saw each sharp word fall like a blow on Dari, and once more, he didn’t know what to do when Stormbreaker growled, “Come, boy. If you have no insights from your graal, I should return you to your training.”
Stormbreaker stalked toward the chamber doors, and Aron went after him, as much out of confusion and frustration as anything else. He glanced once over his shoulder as the door closed behind him, and was relieved to see Lord Baldric approaching Dari with a kind look on his face and an outstretched handkerchief.
As they clambered down the steps of the main keep, dozens of rebukes rose to Aron’s mind, but he voiced none of them. The edgy rumbles of thunder overhead kept putting him off, until he hated himself for his own cowardice, and hated Stormbreaker almost as much for bringing his weakness to the surface so easily.
Iko fell into step behind them as they swept onto Triune’s main byway, but Aron ignored the Sabor as thoroughly as he usually did. He could not, however, ignore Iko’s companion. Raaf tagged along at Iko’s elbow like a redheaded shadow, and the sight of him filled Aron with an entirely new dread.
Worry drove him to speak to Stormbreaker, despite the weather stirring above their heads. “Is Raaf considered an orphan, since you severed his ties with his family when you claimed him from his abusive father?”
Thunder rattled the clear sky as they passed the Judgment Arena.
Stormbreaker stopped and rubbed his hands across his face. More thunder exploded above them.
“Yes, Aron.” Stormbreaker sounded miserable and furious all at once. “Raaf is an orphan. Come the morning, if Lord Baldric finds us no path out of this madness, he’ll be taken to Thorn with all the rest.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ARON
Aron almost grabbed Stormbreaker’s arm and would have, if respect hadn’t held him back. “This can’t be allowed! How will Stone stop this madness?”
Stormbreaker said nothing, but the thunder answered for him. The lines of his face remained tight as he started walking again, and his skin was as pale as the dust swirling above the mock battlefield. Aron could see groups sparring, wooden blades smashing against wooden shields and other blunted weapons, but for once, he had no wish to ask to join in and gain extra training time. Worry for Dari’s broken heart and Raaf’s safety claimed him for a few moments, followed by confusion over Stone’s stance against Thorn’s demands.
Stormbreaker even seemed angry with him, though Aron had no idea what he might have done to set off his training master.
Unless…
He almost stumbled with the force of his next thought.
“This is my fault.” He caught Stormbreaker’s gray sleeve and stopped him halfway between the archery and knife range and the main kitchen. “It’s because of me Thorn came here, isn’t it?”
Stormbreaker first glared at him, then seemed to wake to himself and finally regard Aron in a more familiar fashion. “We have no proof of that. You should not make such assumptions.”
“Stop.” Aron knew Stormbreaker’s partial denial was proof that he was correct. “Tell me why. No, don’t. Don’t say anything to me.”
Aron turned away from Stormbreaker, careful not to look in Raaf’s direction, or toward the Shrine of the Mother. He rested his eyes on the dirt of the byway and tried to stop grinding his teeth. Everything inside him hurt anew. When he did open his mouth, emotions burst out of him as violently as any of Stormbreaker’s lightning. “Why did you treat Dari so horribly? Don’t you understand she cares about you? Doesn’t it matter to you that she needs you?”
Stormbreaker glanced at Iko and Raaf, who remained a respectable distance away. Then his gaze shifted toward the main keep, as if he might be searching for Dari. A look of regret claimed his pale face, and color slowly seeped back into his cheeks.
“The heart is its own master, Aron. You above all others should understand me in this. I can no more force myself to love Dari because she cares for me than you can force yourself to cease loving her when she does not return your feelings.”
Aron flinched at the tender brutality of Stormbreaker’s words. Embarrassment boiled inside him, bitter and hot,
but at the same time, he felt his fury leak out of his essence.
Stormbreaker let out a slow, measured breath. “It is time we laid this bare between us, so it divides us no further. I will apologize to Dari for my insensitivity, but I don’t wish to encourage her affections more than I have, since I cannot return them.”
Aron knew he should feel overjoyed at this declaration, but he felt nothing but sorrow, and worry for Dari. “Why not? How could you possibly find Dari lacking?”
“That’s a deeply private matter, Aron, and something I cannot share because the tale isn’t all my own to tell.” Stormbreaker broke eye contact and stared off into the distance, and his throat worked furiously as he swallowed more than once.
Aron recognized the gesture, from the many times he had done it himself, trying to contain his feelings for Dari.
“You love someone else.” Aron spoke while staring at his own knuckles, somehow too ashamed to keep staring at Stormbreaker.
“Yes.” Stormbreaker still sounded distant, and Aron still couldn’t look at him.
When Aron finally managed to lift his head, he murmured, “And you cannot see your way clear to putting this person aside for Dari’s sake?”
Stormbreaker grimaced, then brought his attention back to Aron. “You care for Dari very deeply. Perhaps more than I realized.”
Heat flushed across Aron’s skin, but before he could return his gaze to his knuckles, Stormbreaker caught his chin and held his head in place.
“Don’t feel shamed, Aron. I’m your guild master, and responsible for all aspects of your growth—including helping you to learn your own heart. Perhaps this situation with Dari has made me remiss in this duty, and for that, I apologize. There is nothing off-limits between us.”
A Prince Among Killers Page 12
