and Silvestre drove Berren and the other soldiers mercilessly hard. They had no pause for breath until they almost collapsed with exhaustion, because that, as Silvestre said, was how it was when you went to war. If someone showed signs of being tired, he’d attack them himself, raining blows onto their arms and legs.
‘There’s a difference between you and those others,’ he told them. ‘They’re learning an art. They might as well be learning to paint or to sculpt. You’re learning to stay alive. Which means you never, never drop your guard, even if your arms are cut to bloody stumps and you have to hold your sword between your teeth.’ They soon learned. Fight and fight and fight until you drop.
The days wore into weeks. Berren saw Talon less and less, until one evening the prince caught him on his weary way to bed. ‘We’ll be gone in a few days now,’ he said. ‘The seasons are changing. We’re forming up again. Our ship’s here ready to take us to war. Yours is here too.’ He clapped Berren on the shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to have some fun before you leave.’
Berren yawned and tried not to look interested. ‘You’re going straight off to fight?’ Time was running out, then. Talon would ship him off to Deephaven. He’d have to slip away and that meant getting his things together. Getting some money. Inside, he frowned. This had been coming ever since Talon had taken him in but he’d grown comfortable in Kalda now. Despite their start, Tarn had become a friend; underneath his gruff mask he was an amiable man, generous and honest and Berren was going to miss him. He’d miss Talon too, with his flashing smile and his wit.
Talon’s hand stayed on Berren’s shoulder. ‘Our ships sail on the same day. Yours will take you to Brons. From there you’ll be able to get passage on a Taiytakei clipper through the storm-dark to Deephaven. I’ll make sure of that. Or you could stay in Brons, I suppose. Brons is as close as the sea gets to the heart of the Dominion.’ He laughed. ‘It’s warmer there and they’re all dark-skinned short-arses like you. I think most of the first settlers who went to Aria came from Brons. You’d fit.’
Talon let him go and Berren knew better than to ask any more. They’d be going their separate ways, that was what mattered. He needed to find the thief-taker as much as ever, still gripped by the same pull that had made him jump ship and take his chances with the sea. He had no idea what he’d do when they met. The anger didn’t burn like it used to, but it burned nevertheless.
When Berren rose the next morning, Tarn had already gone and so he made his way up to the sword-master’s house alone; when he reached it, Talon and Tarn were already there, squatting in a corner of the yard and deep in conversation. Talon saw Berren and beckoned him over.
‘You’ve practised with Tarn enough,’ Talon said. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘The sword-master says—’ he began, but Talon was already shaking his head.
‘No, no, no. If I wanted to know what Silvestre thinks, I’d ask him. If I want to know how he fights, I’ll stay and watch. I want to know what you think of him.’
‘I like him,’ Berren said. It felt odd talking about Tarn when he was standing right there.
‘Would you have him at your side in a fight? Would you let your life depend on him?’
Berren cocked his head. ‘I would,’ he said. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Tarn’s frown was fierce. ‘He’s reliable,’ said Berren slowly. ‘He’s slow on his feet a bit and I’d worry about that perhaps –’ Tarn glared ‘– but I’d know I could depend on him. The two of us would work well. I’m quicker, he’s stronger. Where I’m small, he’s large. Between us we could do things that neither could do alone. If I was hurt, he’d help me. Probably do something foolish.’ He had to smile. The look on Tarn’s face was touching: he was trying so very hard to scowl.
‘What about the
‘There’s a difference between you and those others,’ he told them. ‘They’re learning an art. They might as well be learning to paint or to sculpt. You’re learning to stay alive. Which means you never, never drop your guard, even if your arms are cut to bloody stumps and you have to hold your sword between your teeth.’ They soon learned. Fight and fight and fight until you drop.
The days wore into weeks. Berren saw Talon less and less, until one evening the prince caught him on his weary way to bed. ‘We’ll be gone in a few days now,’ he said. ‘The seasons are changing. We’re forming up again. Our ship’s here ready to take us to war. Yours is here too.’ He clapped Berren on the shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to have some fun before you leave.’
Berren yawned and tried not to look interested. ‘You’re going straight off to fight?’ Time was running out, then. Talon would ship him off to Deephaven. He’d have to slip away and that meant getting his things together. Getting some money. Inside, he frowned. This had been coming ever since Talon had taken him in but he’d grown comfortable in Kalda now. Despite their start, Tarn had become a friend; underneath his gruff mask he was an amiable man, generous and honest and Berren was going to miss him. He’d miss Talon too, with his flashing smile and his wit.
Talon’s hand stayed on Berren’s shoulder. ‘Our ships sail on the same day. Yours will take you to Brons. From there you’ll be able to get passage on a Taiytakei clipper through the storm-dark to Deephaven. I’ll make sure of that. Or you could stay in Brons, I suppose. Brons is as close as the sea gets to the heart of the Dominion.’ He laughed. ‘It’s warmer there and they’re all dark-skinned short-arses like you. I think most of the first settlers who went to Aria came from Brons. You’d fit.’
Talon let him go and Berren knew better than to ask any more. They’d be going their separate ways, that was what mattered. He needed to find the thief-taker as much as ever, still gripped by the same pull that had made him jump ship and take his chances with the sea. He had no idea what he’d do when they met. The anger didn’t burn like it used to, but it burned nevertheless.
When Berren rose the next morning, Tarn had already gone and so he made his way up to the sword-master’s house alone; when he reached it, Talon and Tarn were already there, squatting in a corner of the yard and deep in conversation. Talon saw Berren and beckoned him over.
‘You’ve practised with Tarn enough,’ Talon said. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘The sword-master says—’ he began, but Talon was already shaking his head.
‘No, no, no. If I wanted to know what Silvestre thinks, I’d ask him. If I want to know how he fights, I’ll stay and watch. I want to know what you think of him.’
‘I like him,’ Berren said. It felt odd talking about Tarn when he was standing right there.
‘Would you have him at your side in a fight? Would you let your life depend on him?’
Berren cocked his head. ‘I would,’ he said. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Tarn’s frown was fierce. ‘He’s reliable,’ said Berren slowly. ‘He’s slow on his feet a bit and I’d worry about that perhaps –’ Tarn glared ‘– but I’d know I could depend on him. The two of us would work well. I’m quicker, he’s stronger. Where I’m small, he’s large. Between us we could do things that neither could do alone. If I was hurt, he’d help me. Probably do something foolish.’ He had to smile. The look on Tarn’s face was touching: he was trying so very hard to scowl.
‘What about the
Similar Books
