flaming circle tattooed to their face in a brilliant fiery red. They looked fierce and proud.
They were short, too. Short and wiry like him and Master Sy, not heavy and muscle-bound like most of the prince’s soldiers at the Watchman’s Arms. With a slight shock he realised that the last one was a women, every bit as unreadable as the men. He watched them all go past. They each had two small curved swords strapped across their backs. The light of the sun reached the ground; across the city and the river Arr, the horizon burst into an orange fire. The temple doors fell back and for a moment, a golden light washed over the advancing monks, casting them into silhouette. Berren blinked and rubbed his eyes. From behind they looked a lot like the man he’d seen in the scent garden.
He shook himself. It stood to reason that the killer had been short and carried a sword over his back. Short people were better at climbing and creeping and hiding. And you wouldn’t want a great long sword hanging from your belt for quiet work. A smallsword, that’s what anyone would take if they thought about it. Strapped across his back to keep it out of the way.
Or across her back. For some reason, that thought had never crossed his mind until now. It filled him up with a strange excitement.
‘Off you go then, lad.’
Berren followed the monks through the temple gate. He threw Master Sy an idle salute and then ran all the way to the temple and sat down at the back where no one would notice. Other novices crowded in, priests too, and then the monks walked sedately past to stand in the centre of the temple, ringing the altar while the Sunherald of Deephaven himself walked in slow circles around them, droning on about something. Berren even tried to pay attention, but he might as well not have bothered. He was too far away to hear properly and even the words he caught didn’t make much sense. The ceremonies were strange and exciting at first, but as they wore on and on all through the morning, Berren’s head began to feel heavy. The nights awake in the scent garden caught up with him. Before long he was asleep.
He woke up again to find the temple in silence. The Sunherald was still there and so were the monks, but they were all as still as statues. With a little gasp of horror, Berren saw the sun on the altar. It was nearly midday! He’d been asleep for the whole morning! Oh gods, what if The Worm had seen him? Had he been snoring? What if any of the other teachers had seen him? What if the monks had seen him? Someone must have seen him! Sooner or later Sterm would find out. Sleeping in temple was just a fraction short of spitting at the altar. Khrozus! He’d be working penances for the whole rest of the year for this!
Everyone was very still. They were all staring at him, or at least that was how it seemed at first. Slowly, though, he realised that they were staring past him, to the great doors behind. He turned around to look.
‘Well don’t stop just for me,’ called a voice from among the silhouettes at the door. Berren knew the voice at once – the prince.
There was a long pause. ‘And there ends today’s lesson,’ snapped the Sunherald from the altar. Berren’s brow furrowed. He checked the angle of the light on the altar again. Not far from midday but not quite there yet.
‘Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been preaching away all morning and I happen to have the foul luck to show up just in time for the half-hour recess before you start all over again? Fortunate in a way, I suppose, since we can get right to business without my interrupting anything. Pity, though. I was so looking forward to a good sermoning and my adjutants tell me I’m in something of a hurry now.’ The prince began to walk through the temple. He had six men with him; Berren was startled to see that one of them was Master Sy. The thief-taker’s face was taut. ‘Keep your little dragons handy too, Your Holiness,’ laughed the prince as he strode to
They were short, too. Short and wiry like him and Master Sy, not heavy and muscle-bound like most of the prince’s soldiers at the Watchman’s Arms. With a slight shock he realised that the last one was a women, every bit as unreadable as the men. He watched them all go past. They each had two small curved swords strapped across their backs. The light of the sun reached the ground; across the city and the river Arr, the horizon burst into an orange fire. The temple doors fell back and for a moment, a golden light washed over the advancing monks, casting them into silhouette. Berren blinked and rubbed his eyes. From behind they looked a lot like the man he’d seen in the scent garden.
He shook himself. It stood to reason that the killer had been short and carried a sword over his back. Short people were better at climbing and creeping and hiding. And you wouldn’t want a great long sword hanging from your belt for quiet work. A smallsword, that’s what anyone would take if they thought about it. Strapped across his back to keep it out of the way.
Or across her back. For some reason, that thought had never crossed his mind until now. It filled him up with a strange excitement.
‘Off you go then, lad.’
Berren followed the monks through the temple gate. He threw Master Sy an idle salute and then ran all the way to the temple and sat down at the back where no one would notice. Other novices crowded in, priests too, and then the monks walked sedately past to stand in the centre of the temple, ringing the altar while the Sunherald of Deephaven himself walked in slow circles around them, droning on about something. Berren even tried to pay attention, but he might as well not have bothered. He was too far away to hear properly and even the words he caught didn’t make much sense. The ceremonies were strange and exciting at first, but as they wore on and on all through the morning, Berren’s head began to feel heavy. The nights awake in the scent garden caught up with him. Before long he was asleep.
He woke up again to find the temple in silence. The Sunherald was still there and so were the monks, but they were all as still as statues. With a little gasp of horror, Berren saw the sun on the altar. It was nearly midday! He’d been asleep for the whole morning! Oh gods, what if The Worm had seen him? Had he been snoring? What if any of the other teachers had seen him? What if the monks had seen him? Someone must have seen him! Sooner or later Sterm would find out. Sleeping in temple was just a fraction short of spitting at the altar. Khrozus! He’d be working penances for the whole rest of the year for this!
Everyone was very still. They were all staring at him, or at least that was how it seemed at first. Slowly, though, he realised that they were staring past him, to the great doors behind. He turned around to look.
‘Well don’t stop just for me,’ called a voice from among the silhouettes at the door. Berren knew the voice at once – the prince.
There was a long pause. ‘And there ends today’s lesson,’ snapped the Sunherald from the altar. Berren’s brow furrowed. He checked the angle of the light on the altar again. Not far from midday but not quite there yet.
‘Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been preaching away all morning and I happen to have the foul luck to show up just in time for the half-hour recess before you start all over again? Fortunate in a way, I suppose, since we can get right to business without my interrupting anything. Pity, though. I was so looking forward to a good sermoning and my adjutants tell me I’m in something of a hurry now.’ The prince began to walk through the temple. He had six men with him; Berren was startled to see that one of them was Master Sy. The thief-taker’s face was taut. ‘Keep your little dragons handy too, Your Holiness,’ laughed the prince as he strode to
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