Things were different after the skirmish. The men had a bounce in their step and an ease to their smiles. After leaving behind the dead churchmen behind we continued north. We no longer relied on Grinning Man for directions. Cleaver seemed to know where we were going. I suppose it had something to do with the boy we had captured as our hostage.

Cleaver didn't trust Tuale with the rest of the men, and I couldn't blame him. I didn't consider myself a mercenary or someone who could kill, and even I had to restrain myself from killing Tuale when I realized who he was. And so, he rode beside us.

I spent a moment looking at Tuale. Then more than a moment, and even longer still, until Tuale spoke up. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of who you reminded me of."

"My brother,” he said.

"Your brother is..." I struggled to find the right word that would describe the devil in him--the way that I hated him.

"A shit?" he replied.

I looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged in response.

"Sometimes I blame him, sometimes I don't. He seems to take after our father."

For some reason, I had never thought that Roth had a family. But I suppose he had to have one somewhere. "And who do you take after?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, and his face furrowed in consideration. "My mother."

"What's she like?"

"Dead," he said. He didn't seem saddened by the statement, but his left eye twitched, and he didn't look at me. "My father killed her. One day I had a mother, and the next I didn't. The guards found her burned to a crisp on the garden floor." Tuale stared ahead, and his eyes had a strange, glassy look. "No one else could have done it but Father. He was not kind to her. He’s not kind to anyone."

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"Since then, Roth hasn't been the same. He is angry. Always angry. And if he doesn't get what he wants, then he uses his gift."

"His gift?"

Tuale looked at me for a moment, and I could tell he was surprised that I had asked the question. "Each noble born is given the gift." Tuale brought his hands to a black necklace around his neck. I almost missed the gesture, but as I stared at the necklace, something about the sheen of the metal reminded me of the sword. "I've never killed a man. Sometimes I wonder what it's like. But I've seen men die, and it's not something I enjoy. So I don't think I'd like doing it."

He looked at me. "Some of my friends died in that battle."

"I know," I said, and I looked away. Something in my voice must have surprised him. Perhaps it was because I didn't care about his men. And how could I?

"And you don't care?"

I thought about the question for a moment. "I suppose not all churchmen deserve to die. But I've never met one who hasn't tried to kill me.”

Tuale frowned. "The church isn't evil. We've helped a lot of people. Cities have been built, and the word has saved many souls who otherwise would have been lost." He said the words like he had rehearsed them many times before.

I sneered at him. "Do you really believe what you say?"

He shrugged, as if he wasn't bothered by my condescension—or perhaps because he didn't believe what he had said. I couldn't tell. Unlike Roth who constantly seemed to be postering, Tuale was hard to read.

"I don't blame you for the way you feel. Roth is not a good person."

I stared ahead, not wanting to show Tuale the emotions that curled in my gut. He was more than not a good person, and there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't replay the events at our farm over and over, wondering if it could have ended differently.

"He killed my father," the words left my mouth, and they felt hollow and weak. I fought against the fierce desire to punch something or someone. My cheeks burned with shame, but when I turned to look at him, I didn't recognize what I saw there.

Roth would have smiled. I knew that. As tears burned my eyes, Tuale reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. He was smiling too, but not in the same way. The unexpected gesture of kindness made me look away.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't blame you for riding with this group. Perhaps I should have done the same a long time ago." He looked away for a moment, at the distant trees and the path winding down through the hills.

“But I know my father, and I know anyone who crosses him will regret it.”