Chapter 10

Anna walked with me over another two bridges and through the central parts of the city before she left. We were about a mile out from The Mule and Mare when she turned around and let me go the rest of the way alone. I now stood just outside the Inn, staring down the old wooden door.

Once upon a time, I’m sure it was painted a bright colour, red or blue maybe, but it had now turned to a faded grey.

I let myself in.

The darkened room greeted me the same as before. The same crack of light shone through the centre and the low bacran murmurs of the patrons, deep in their cups, ringed off the walls. The thick smell of stale ale seemed even stronger than last time. I could almost taste it before putting any to my lips.

The serving boy approached. This time with a cocked eye. He looked beyond me as if he expected me to be accompanied by someone. Most likely he thought to see one of the twins with me. If that was the case, then he remembered me. I tried to weigh up in my mind whether that was a good thing or bad. I supposed it didn’t matter. The plan would either work or it wouldn’t. He would have little to do with it.

The boy ushered me to the same seats as before with not so much as a word. Not that I would have understood him if he did speak, we both were aware of that, and it was probably best he kept quiet. I took a seat and breathed deeply. The boy bowed and then left.

Almost instantly I noticed a set of blue eyes glaring at me from the table opposite. I recognised him, with dark black hair and short dark stubble around his chin. Ghasken. The small man who was counting the jewellery for Ottom. The one who told Ottom that our load was light. The one who had a blade to my neck. He smiled a cruel smile when we met eyes. leaning back on his chair, he raised his tankard to me in a mock salute. I knew they would be watching but it still gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to see a Helm in plain sight. My blood started to tingle. It was the first one I had seen in a week that wasn’t trying to hide from me.

The serving boy came back and planted a tankard on the table. I took a large gulp. There was nothing to do now but wait.

*

When I was a boy, my father took me hunting. Caine was with us as were my uncles, Gen, and Reb. It was the first hunt my brother and I were allowed to go on and we were giddy with excitement as hunting for a Bervian, meant manhood. Caine was earning his manhood late, and I was earning mine early. It was the akerin forest migration, which meant the air was warm and the beasts were plentiful. A perfect hunt to come of age to.

We were on the side of a hill. My father had just finished setting the last of the rabbit traps. His brown skin shone with sweat from the burning Bervian sun. The mark of the deer on its hind legs was planted across his chest. The black outline of the antlers spread from his right shoulder, the front hooves across his right peck, and the rear along the left hip. It was customary for tribe chiefs to have the biggest mark. It was a sign of stature and respect.

“That should do it,” he said grunting as he pulled the trap into place.

My uncle Gen, a small and rough-looking man, muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” My father asked.

“I said this is Pointless brother, A bacran doesn’t focus on mice when deer are at play, why should we?” Gen’s voice was low and husky.

“So, you compare our wisdom to that of dogs?”

“It’s Akerin season Treb, if there is one time in a generation that you don’t have to lay traps it’s now.” “And yet I still do.” My father circled the trap with a keen eye. Inspecting every inch. He nodded to himself with satisfaction and then turned to my brother and me.

“We're nearly there. Are you two ready?”

“Yes father,” said Caine.

We followed eagerly as the three giant men who were our elders took long strides to the top of a hill. Its steepness was hard for me. Being the young age I was, my breathing was not yet accustomed to such endurance, and my thighs protested with every stride. I could feel sweat glisten through my then, curly hair, and the heat from the sun burned my back fiercely. We were midway when I felt like stopping. I almost did until Caine pulled my arm and urged me to keep going. He was told to look after me and wasn’t about to miss his chance at manhood. I was glad that he pressed me so. It was a gruelling task, but I made it. Even at that young age, I wouldn’t have been able to bear the shame if I had listened to my weaker self and stopped.

When we reached the summit, my hands went to my knees in exhaustion. I felt the heat rush to my face and drops of sweat dripped onto the soft grass beneath my feet. I was panting heavily and was desperate to be out of the unrelenting heat.

“Tired?” Uncle Reb asked with a grin as he knelt beside me. In one hand, he had a rag, in the other, a waterskin.

“No!” I said, snatching the waterskin from him.

“Good,” he said, “then stand up and take it in, you’re missing it.”

The rolling mounds of the Bervian hills spread across the midday horizon like large lush green knuckles on a clenched fist. The cool wind rushed and swirled underneath my arms and changed direction more often than a flying insect. It was a cool and welcoming sensation.

“Look there,” Uncle Reb pointed off into the distance.

It took me a moment to see it, but there it was. A thin line of grey smoke rose in the air meeting the white clouds above.

“Our camp?” I asked.

“Indeed,” he said.

I stood there for a moment in fascination, “I have never seen it from this far away before.”

“Well, I should hope not, a boy who’s not yet a man should not be traveling this far from his camp. A boy who’s becoming a man, however, will have no trouble climbing the next hill and will not need his older brother to help him along the way.” He gave me a knowing smile, and it made me feel as if I had failed some sort of test. I later found this to be the way of Uncle Reb. He was teasing me and at the time I was too young to realise. Reb was thinner than both his brothers and by some margin. And although the youngest, he had the least hair on his head. Both were signs of ill health to Bervians and so some in the camp were weary that his features would rub off on them. Still, if it ever bothered him, he never let it show. He was the most cheerful of the three, and most easy to talk to. He never courted or took a wife of his own. It wasn’t until years later I realised what that meant.

He turned and pointed in another direction. “And over there are the tribes of the rooster, it’s faint, but can you see their smoke?”

I nodded “It’s very far.”

“It’s not as far as it looks, that’s the beauty of our homeland, the hills can be slow to climb but they’re quick to go down. Much like how the bird takes more time to find its stick than it does to build its nest, we take time to climb but when the climb is done then it’s all downhill.”

“Stop giving the boy those shaman philosophy lessons Reb and bring him over here, the akerin on the move,” said Uncle Gen.

A loud yelp echoed off the hilly landscape. Uncle Reb grinned one last time and then ushered me to the other side. We stood beside one another and looked down.

The migration of akerin was in full effect. My heart thumped at the site. I was in awe. I had never seen anything like them before. Brownish-grey beasts the size of trees in their thousands roamed majestically across the green hills. Their hooved feet rumbled the ground from which I could feel the faint vibrations even from up high and far away. On all fours, they were horse-like in appearance except their legs were thick and trunk-like. They had large sword-like spines that ran from their head to their long spindly tails. The sounds they made were like war horns, and they would yell when they brushed across one another with pointed tusks.

“We... we are to hunt them?” Questioned Caine in a high voice. My father looked at us both and nodded, his long black hair waved in the wind.

“How?” I asked, my voice matching My brothers.

“With rope and arrows, how else?” Said my Uncle Gen with a high chin, “You boys aren’t scared, are you?”

“N... No,” said Caine.

“Are you sure? Because today you become men and we can’t have you freezing on us like some boys would. It makes things dangerous.”

“It looks dangerous,” I said nervously. “They look more protected than the men in the east and north do with their clothes made of metal.”

My father chuckled lightly, “You’re not wrong there boy, but your uncle is also right. If you feel afraid, it's better to embrace it than let it consume you. Let it tune your mind and make it sharp and loose rather than stiff and still. One akerin kill will feed us and the surrounding tribes for a month.”

“So why aren’t the surrounding tribes helping?” Complained Caine.

My father clipped him around the back of the head, “We do not share glory if we can help it. Let the other tribes see that the deer tribe of the western hills are the greatest hunters.” Father looked out onto the herd. “We are to move around them and head them off in that valley before they reach the forest. There we can pick our target.”

The brothers nodded in agreement.

The next few hours were spent trudging the vast landscape. We went up one side of a hill and down the other, keeping at a pace that my father set. I suspected that he would usually move quicker but slowed himself for the benefit of my brother and me. The blistering Bervian sun of Telafa made his way slowly down to the horizon by the time we halted, and I was exhausted when my father finally raised a hand that signalled us to stop. I could not have been more thankful. My whole lower body ached, and my legs burned as if they had been whipped. I looked at Caine who was standing upright and panting. He tried better to mask his tiredness than me, but it was written on his face more clearly than the ink on Kwawan papers.

“This should do it,” said my father, “Jeb, Caine, come to me.”

We gave a glance at each other and then slowly walked over to him.

He knelt beside us and pointed. “You see there, how the bottom of the hills starts to line up with one another to create a valley?”

We both nodded.

“That’s our spot, that’s where we get them. You see when these akerin are scared they are like water. They flee, choosing the path of least resistance and so they keep to the low ground. Your uncles and I will get them agitated until they get into a feared frenzy. Eventually one will bolt, and when one does, they all will. Do you understand?”

“Yes father,” said Caine.

He looked at me, “And you Jeb?”

I nodded, “Yes father.”

“Good, then before we commence the hunt. Let us pray. Gen, get the Kwawan won’t you?”

With a grunt, my uncle pulled out a small wooden board from his knapsack, no bigger than a clay plate, and unrolled the Kwawan on it. The five of us knelt around it in a circle. Our heads bowed.

No one spoke, but we all knew what to say in our minds. We all knew the words.

Telafa, you of the sun, may your light always shine brightly on us. Fanarah, you of the Moon, may you rise every evening to show that you are protecting us from the dark. Henarlta, Great ancestor of the Hunt. May you guide us to the food we need. May you keep our eyes fine, our noses keen, and our ears sharp as always.

After saying the phrase in our minds, we then spoke to our gods about whatever we wanted. This was Bervian custom. The first part of prayer is spoken in silent unison. The second part is between you and your gods.

When I had ended my prayer, I lifted my head to find I was the last to finish. My father smiled at that and then said. “Reb, pass me the equipment will you.”

My uncle, springing to action, unbuttoned another knapsack and gave it to Father. Father pulled out a long, thick rope and a pair of stakes. He inspected them deeply, checking for any cracks or fraying. When he was satisfied, he said, “Jeb, you are on this side, Caine you are on the other. Here, take this with you.”

He handed my brother a stake.

“Why am I over there?” Caine asked.

“Because you’re the oldest and because I said so, now go!”

Caine took it and walked to the other side of the valley. About halfway up, he looked back to see my father’s signal.

“Get into position opposite your brother on this side of the valley. Hammer this stake into the ground.”

I did as commanded. Or at least tried to. The ground was harder than it looked, and my man strength wasn’t there yet. It took me more whacks with the mallet than it should to embed it, and in the end, my Uncle Gen came over and gave it a final hit. He then pulled on it to make sure it wouldn’t come out.

“Paint!” He called.

Reb appeared with a bucket and knelt beside me, “You see this stuff,” he pointed to the greyish powder in the bucket. “Strong stuff this is. Mix it with water and give it time to dry and it will be as hard as a rock, harder even. It becomes so strong that an akerin couldn’t break it. You catch my meaning?”

I nodded slowly. Gen poured water from his skin, drowning the powder. Together, the brothers carefully mixed it and then smeared it at the base of the stake.

“That should do it,” said Gen folding his arms. “It won’t take long to dry.”

He then took the bucket, and both went to Caine.

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My father came over with the rope. He started to tie it around the stake.

“Now, on my signal, you pull on this part of the rope understand? That will spring the trap and we’ll be able to snare us some akerin.”

I nodded.

“Only pull it on my signal, otherwise this whole journey will be a waste of time.”

I nodded again.

He looked at me sternly before setting off to set up Caine’s side. Now I waited.

The sky became a purplish glow as the sun began to fall behind the hilly landscape. Caine and I had been sitting in our positions for hours. So much so that my back began to tighten, and I would find myself arching it to relieve some of its aches. My brother and I would stare at each other now and then, occasionally pulling funny faces, but mainly we kept to our own thoughts. Being younger than I probably should have been on an akerin hunt, my thoughts were about whether my mother would let me play with the other children when I got back to camp. And what games in particular. Hare chasing was always fun, or maybe bush jumping.

What I didn’t understand was that the last time I would play those sorts of games had already passed. I was a man now, and a hunter at that. It would have been unseemly of me. It was tough meat to swallow when I found that out, but it was one I took without a whimper.

I heard it. In the distance at first. And then gradually closer, like nightfall after a setting sun. The ground began to shake violently. It wasn’t the soft-sounding hum like before. Now it was quick rigid beats like a horse in a gallop. My heart began to race. I looked over at Caine, he had stiffened upright. His eyes were wide, his nerves, visible all over his face.

“HORAH.... HORAH, MOVE YOU BEASTS!” Uncle Gen’s raspy voice echoed across the hills.

I braced myself for the inevitable, clenching my toes in anticipation. The tusks of the beasts shimmered and shined off the setting sun, almost blinding me as the herd began to show themselves on top of the mound and charge down the valley in panic. My heart punched against my chest, and I felt the urge to flee further up the hill. I closed my eyes tightly and held a firm grip on the rope. I felt the wind brush past me as the first of the Akerin rushed into the valley. The signal, the signal, wait for the signal. The thought ran through my mind like a spinning wheel. I opened my eyes a peep. The sight was surreal. A mass of beasts ran at lightning speed just below me like a violent rush of a river. I looked over at Caine. He was shaking with tears streaming across his face, but his hand was on his rope. It gave me strength. Then, through all the madness, a single flaming arrow flew through the air, lighting the hills in their entirety. I pulled the rope and Caine pulled his. The trap sprung. The ground rumbled in a crash and the horn-like yelps from the Akerin grew louder as I ran for my life up the steep hillside. Only when I reached the top, did I look back. The panic of the Akerin from the rope caused them to pile up and now they all struggled to make it to their feet. I saw my father and his two brothers run from over the hill, each with their bows drawn. In sequence, they shot their rope arrows. The arrows snared an Akerin, and the three brothers pulled tight. Hammering their individual stakes into the ground.

“REB, NOW. IT WON’T HOLD FOR LONG!” My father bellowed as my uncle ran in between the stampeding herd.

He dodged and dived, evading the beasts by a hairline. One false move and he’d be a broken pile of blood and bones. I had never seen such bravery and such madness. When he was close to the pierced akerin, he cast a net he had tucked under his arms.

“QUICKLY! WATCH THE SPINES!” Shouted Gen.

The three brothers surrounded the downed Akerin and then hammered more stakes into the net making it secure. Each of them moved with cat-like reflexes whenever a stampeding Akerin came too close. The beast caught in the net yelped and struggled but to no avail. The net was too strong. After they finished securing the net, they ran back up atop the hill on Caine’s side and let the rest pass in peace. My father signalled me to check I was all right and I signalled back to let him know I was.

As he had said, the beasts were like water, they evaded the downed akerin and moved around it, indifferent to its yelping. I looked down at my hands to see they were shaking. The herd of beasts began to slow their panicked sprint. If they had any remorse for their trapped comrade, they failed to show it. The vibration on the ground began to settle and slow as the last of the Akerin passed through the valley.

What followed was laughter. My father and my uncles had grins as wide as crescent moons as they made their way down the hill. I met them at the foot of the valley where the yelping Akerin lay.

“You did good boys.” My father said as he rustled both our heads.

“Not good enough,” said Gen.

“Jeb, you pulled your trap later than Caine and that could have caused the rope to retract or ricochet.” My heart sank a little. I hated being faulted, especially by my father or uncles whom I greatly admired.

“Oh, quit teasing Gen,” said Reb. “They did fine, let us not forget how it turned out on your first time.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling them now. This is a dangerous hunt, and they need to do things right.”

The uncles bantered and argued with one another, their voices raising to a familiar pitch that was somewhat comforting in its own way. Everyone in our camp was used to them bickering. My father rolled his eyes at his brothers and then took Caine over to the beast to check on the netting and console in him privately.

That’s when we heard something we shouldn’t have. Another horn-like yell. This time alone. Everyone stopped what they were doing. My father stiffened. My uncles ceased arguing. Their eyes shot to the top of the hill like a husk of hares when sensing a bacran.

It was an akerin. Split from the herd. The bull.

In a flash, it charged down the mound in furious frenzy.

Dust kicked up into the air around me as the hunting party sprinted up either side of the hill. Everyone darted for safety except me. I couldn’t move. I stood there, scared stiff. I could see the rage in its black eyes.

“JEB MOVE!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY NOW.”

I heard them scream from above. I heard the terror in their voices. But still, I couldn’t, I wanted to and knew I should, but I couldn’t.

It was on me now. I closed my eyes and stood there. Frozen. Waiting for death. The horn-like yell was loud. louder than I had heard before, so loud that my ears began to ring in pain. Death was upon me, and suddenly, it didn’t seem so frightening. I was ready for it.

The yell faded. There was no crash, no feeling of my head being crushed or sounds of my bones breaking. No waking up to the plains of Henralta and joining the great hunt.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes, and a grassy hill was in front of me. I looked behind and saw the bull running along the valley, not looking back to see if it had hit its target. It scampered off into the distance and joined the rest of the herd.

The next few moments were a blur. If I had any reaction to what just happened, I couldn’t remember it. Perhaps I was in shock.

I was struck by my father in a gripping embrace. He nearly threw me off my feet. He squeezed me so tight that I couldn’t breathe. Needless to say, he did more damage to me than the beast. After a moment, he went down on one knee and gripped me by the shoulders. He looked me up and down, panting heavily. His eyes were wide and distant. I had never seen him so rattled.

“Why didn’t you run?” He breathed.

Before I could answer, he turned to Gen. “How did you miss the bull!?”

There was anger in his voice. A tone I rarely heard.

“I didn’t,” Gen replied sharply, “it wasn’t there Treb, you were with me.”

“Well where did it come from?”

Gen said nothing.

My father looked back at me, “Are you all right?”

I nodded slowly.

My uncle Reb knelt on one knee next to my father and started to inspect me up and down. His face was puzzled. Disturbed. Like he had seen a dead thing move.

“How did it not strike you down?”

My father hugged me again, this time less tightly than the last, “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It was a clear path,” Reb continued. “Jeb should have been trampled.”

“The beast must have missed,” said Gen folding his arms.

Reb shook his head, “It couldn’t have, we saw it. It was heading directly for him. Jeb should be…”

He trailed off, “It bares not thinking about.”

A silence that loomed over us. I looked over at Caine who stood next to Gen. His face was blank.

My father rose to his feet, “It doesn’t matter now, we’ll take this as a gift from Henralta and let it be.” Gen nodded in acceptance.

Reb’s face remained puzzled.

The sun god Telafa had faded fully behind the hilly horizon now, leaving a small glow in his wake. The stars, disciples of Fanarah, began showing themselves in the purplish sky. I was the first to see the other tribe approach from atop the hills.

I roused the rest of the hunting party.

“Well met Treb!” The chief called as he trudged towards my father.

He was a large, portly man with a wide belly that had a black rooster covering it in its entirety. A friendly grin painted his face.

“Well met,” my father returned with a waving hand.

There were five of them in all, and much like us, each had the mark of their tribe animal on them. The rooster tribe were foragers and tent builders. Useful people in their own right. And loyal allies. But they were not hunters like us. And so, traditions were formed.

The chief looked over at the downed akerin. The beast’s yelping had simmered down to a whimper, its soul slowly leaving its body.

The chief whistled with a loud reverence. “A fine catch,” he said.

“Indeed,” said my father. “Did you bring the equipment?”

“Yes, yes, of course, and as a tradition. When the meat is carved and shared, the deer tribe will receive the largest portion.”

“Good, then we are almost done… Caine, come here!”

My brother walked over to my father and the chief. The chief of the rooster tribe grinned warmly at Caine and pulled out a blade from his belt.

It was a dagger like I had never seen before. A jewelled piece, with red stones on its silver handle. It had a bright gold razor, with a crescent cut out just before the tip. A rarity for the hills. It was most likely from the Namin or somewhere further, clearly not meant for anything too practical.

The chief held it to the sky. My father, uncles, and the rest of the rooster tribe bowed their heads. I did the same.

“With the dagger of Telafa, the rooster, the deer, and the boar tribes unite in feast.” The chief chanted.

“With a dagger of Telafa, the rooster, the deer, and the boar tribes unite in feast.” The rest repeated.

“With the dagger of Telafa, we say we are allies and kin.”

“With the dagger of Telafa, we say we are allies and kin.”

“With the dagger of Telafa, we will eat together, live together, and die together.”

“With the dagger of Telafa, we will eat together, live together and die together.”

Everybody raised their heads and the Chief continued, “Now, as custom to show respect from one tribe to another. I, Shen-of-three-feathers, bestow the dagger of the Telafa to you, Caine-first-of-deer to cut the throat of the Akerin as a display of manhood.”

Shen put the dagger in my brother’s hands. Caine looked blankly at the blade at first. Then his eyes widened as realisation set in, neither he nor I was expecting this.

He turned to my father, “I...I-“

The look on Father’s face was calm, and also pitying, “Don’t be afraid son, it’s a passage we all must go through as men.”

“It gets easier as time goes on,” said Reb.

“It has to die for us to eat, it’s only right that you do it. The blade is as sharp as they come, it will go through its neck with ease,” Added Gen.

“But father I-“

“It must be done Caine; we won’t be leaving until it is.”

Even at that age, I could tell that my father and uncles had rehearsed that part.

Out of respect, the men of the rooster tribe began to turn their backs on Caine and the Akerin.

“Turn yourself around as well Jeb,” said Uncle Reb. “This is something he must do alone.”

I turned and focused on the stars in the sky.

I could hear my brother snivel as he moved with slow steps to the now quiet beast. It seemed the akerin had given up on making noise altogether. Perhaps it knew its fate. A long silence fell. Then came the loud horn-like screech as the life went from the beast.

*

The door swung open and Gerert stumbled through. He leaned on its handle to steady his balance. He shifted his weight and staggered to his usual seat. His hair was matted, untidy, and unrecognisable from its sober counterpart. His eyelids were low, and his eyes were a distant haze. In my head, I credited his façade. He was so convincing that I had trouble telling if he was acting or if he actually was drunk.

The serving boy didn’t even bother to see what he wanted this time. Instead, he went straight to the back and brought him out a tankard in quick timing.

He will have two. I thought as I looked over at Ghasken. The Helm had taken to leaning forward and staring at me straight-faced with his elbows on the table. I took a sip of ale and pretended to not notice.

*

Not long ago, I was getting ready for a feast that I was reluctant to attend because it was for a courtship that I had no interest in. It was my mother’s bidding that I do so, and she was a keen matchmaker for the tribe. To her annoyance, Caine and I were her hardest prospects. Something she had no issue with reminding us of every chance she got.

“You need to take a wife soon Jeb.” She said. "You are past your age, and we need to make our families strong.”

“I look like a fool,” I said, gazing along the hilly sunset.

I was dressed in Bervian ceremonial wear, which was an itchy sheepskin kaftan of a light blue colour. My arms and legs had also been dipped in blue paint. The colour was the sign of availability and fertility in our culture. And some Bervians, mainly the desperate, were seen wearing it frequently to signify their desire for a partner.

“Hush now,” Mother said. “You look handsome. This is sure to make Inela of the boar tribe consider you a suiter.”

“She looks like a boar,” I said.

My mother gave me one of her many clips around the back of the head. “We’ll have none of that this evening. You understand?”

I smiled, “It’s the nose, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” She whispered.

My mother wasn’t a beautiful woman, not in the traditional sense at least. But she had beauty in an imperfect way. Her brown eyes shone with a welcomeness that would make the wariest of people feel comforted, and she had a smile that told you everything was fine no matter how hard it might be. I missed her the most. She was the only one who could make me feel better, even when she was the one giving me the bad news.

The tent doors flapped open, and my father stepped out. He looked me up and down and folded his arms, “Is he ready?”

“As he’ll ever be.” said my mother.

He smirked, “You hate this don’t you?”

I sighed, “It seems pointless and ineffective, what does the boar tribe have to offer us what we can’t get ourselves.”

My father shrugged, “At the very worst they offer friendship. No doubt you have heard of the speak from the outer tribes, especially the boars. The men from the north and the west are at the base of our hills. It’s only a matter of time before they set foot on our lands. Now is the time for alliances Jeb.”

I frowned, “so, rather than grab our spears, we grab our courtship gowns and marry one another? And what of Caine? Why is it that he can decline Inela, but I must bow my head to her?”

He looked over at my mother “I remember asking the same questions about you. It’s trying for a man of his age.” He turned back to me, “But these are even more trying times than then. Son, the boar tribe is our furthest alley and lives the closest to where our land ends and the foreign man’s land begins. One quick message from them could mean the difference between our tribe living or being slaughtered and enslaved. Remember I have seen the men of the outside. Ate with them, hunted, and fought with them. In some places their soldiers’ number greater than the Akerin herds. If they were to turn their eyes on our hills, then we’d have no choice but to run.”

“And go where?”

“We’d go north. Where I went before. There are cities north, giant gatherings of people from all walks of life living in tents made of stone. It would be a long journey and living would be hard, but we’d be safe. Safer than here anyway.”

I let out a long breath, “But why Inela?”

*

Gerert slammed his second tankard down. He got up abruptly from his chair, staggered to the door, and opened it with a drunken lean. He saluted the serving boy before shutting it behind him.

This was it.

Time to follow.

I looked over at Ghasken. The Helm man sipped his tankard without taking his eyes off me. I clenched my jaw and then stood, leaving a coin on the table for the ale.

I made my way out of the Inn.

The light from the afternoon sun blinded me for a moment. I lost sight of Gerert at first but then noticed him trotting down the stony path heading east along the riverbank. I waited a little while before following because although we both knew what was to come, I still had to act as if I was pursuing Gerert for the first time. Helms were most likely watching.

When I deemed it right, I made my way from the Inn and went after him.

Up ahead, Gerert crossed paths with two high-born ladies. Both of them were wearing silk-woven dresses and fine, colourful jewels around their wrists and neck. One of them looked in his direction and then averted her eyes immediately. A sneer grew on her face. His drunken stumbling clearly frightened her. He moved in between them and I lost sight of him.

As they passed me, her face grew sourer. I was well aware of what many of the locals thought of my people. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a look like that. I ignored her and carried on with my pursuit.

Gerert came back into sight when I was on the adjacent path to the river. He walked as if he was limping. Swaying from one side of the path to another in a clumsy, diagonal trudge that looked uncomfortable even from the distance I was. If I didn’t know it was an act, I would have feared he would fall in the river. He even stopped at one point to lean over and vomit into the water. That was a surprise even for me. The man was committed to his role.

A fisherman carrying his catch across his shoulder walked past. Gerert almost bumped into him, but then lethargically swayed out of the way at the last moment. The man cursed loudly and threatened the drunkard with the back of his hand. Gerert shrugged his shoulders in his apology. The fisherman let it go but muttered fiercely under his breath. I kept my head down as he passed me.

The drunkard came off the riverbank path and made his way up a set of marbled steps.

We were close. I could feel it within myself. I stalked him slowly, gripping the hilt of my dagger that was tucked within my breeches.

I saw it. In the distance. The white tree with blue leaves. A sudden sinking feeling went through me. It was larger than I imagined. Its pale branches twisted and tangled into endless spires that went off in all directions. The leaves themselves seemed to glow and pulse with light and dark shades of blue as they glimmered off the shining sun. As I neared It, I saw that its white trunk had an engraving of a horse on its hind legs etched into it.

Gerert stumbled over to it and vomited again. My heart started pumping vigorously in my chest and my hands clammed up with sweat. It was time. I quickened my pace. My mind tuned out any intruding thoughts of fear or anxiety and instead, I became a predator on helpless prey.

I whistled loudly. Gerert turned. A dumbfounded look was written across his face as if he had never seen me before. I moved quickly. In a matter of moments, I was close enough to feel his breath on my chin. It stunk of ale and vomit. I grabbed his left shoulder with my right hand tightly and plunged my dagger through his chest. It was a perfect hit. Just as we had been practicing in the crypts. Gerert played his part brilliantly. He let out a dying breath and then dropped to the floor limply. He made it look as if the light had gone from his eyes. Pig’s blood spewed from his waterskin, and he began to fidget and fit.

“YOU THERE!” The guard's voice made me jump at first but then was also welcoming.

His timing was just perfect. Before I could think I had a spearhead pointing at my neck. I almost smiled in relief at how well it all went.

That was until I realised.

Black hair, blue eyes, green tunic under his breastplate.

That was what I was expecting the guard to look like.

Grey hair, green eyes, red tunic under his breastplate.

That was what was in front of me.

When the realisation set in, I nearly wet myself.

I was just about to bolt when a blunt force hit the back of my head.

Everything went dark.