Chapter 4

Day Two – Evening

The arming cap and short brown gambeson Zaber always wore had lessened the damage from the crash. He also knew how to break a fall and protect his vitals when faced with defeat, to prevent the worst. Still, a cut above his brow had bled into his left eye and his brain got rattled. Torm tended to Zaber’s wounds with an old piece of cloth and water from the barrel. The lacerations had finally closed and Zaber sought wisdom from the Stars in a clouded night. It looked like rain.

“Should we pack and move?” asked Torm. “Maybe hide?”

The altar room was back in order. Spring was still on the rise and a fire was needed to not freeze. The knights didn’t steal anything, but all rooms were probed. The boy and the bum sat on the ground, with their belts and gear resting at the side. What’s left of their ale would not survive this evening, for sure.

“No,” said Zaber. His eye twitched from a strong headache and he struggled to focus. “They didn’t come to kill or arrest us. Either could have done that with ease. Airich–” He squinted to regain sight. “Airich’s secret is holding up. I have the upper hand… still.”

After finishing up Zaber’s wounds, Torm ripped a piece of bread from a new loaf. It switched hands a few times, as did old mugs. No smiles, no laughter. Just thoughts and voices.

“It’s all about Airich, isn’t it?” asked Torm. “Ever since we came here.”

“Ever since we left the regiment.” With only some Stars of Bear visible, Zaber found himself unable to see much behind the thin veil and clouds. Even the waxing Red Sister and waning White Sister were hiding from him. “You don’t know who he was,” lamented Zaber. “For the better. He made sure everything was about him.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. “And it still is.”

“You made sure we never met,” said Torm and ran his hands through his hair. He averted Zaber’s eyes and followed his gaze into the sky. “I might get it now.”

“No you don’t,” Zaber said. “If you ever do, I failed.”

Frustration built up in Torm and it showed by how he chewed on another piece of bread. Fixing his hair over and over and rubbing his fists, he waited for a real answer. For an explanation. For anything. To be a part of this. To help the man who had helped him so much.

“Is it about the chest? They have all this wealth already, what would they even do–” Torm kicked a log into the kindling.

Zaber took another bite. “It’s about all of it. Men like me ain’t supposed to have it.” His voice was softer than usual. Even thoughtful, if it wasn’t for the smacks and chews. “It’s the power they hold over us and those who they allow to get a piece of it.”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Torm stood up and walked on the spot, stomping his feet. “Are we not in this together? I am sick of–”

“Shut up and trust me, ‘aight?” Zaber looked at Torm. He tried to get on his feet, but he had not regained proper control over his knees. “It’s best if only I know. And we ain’t leaving Teblen. Asher is here. Buron and Breg are just around. Do you want to leave Kell and Sagir and the other’s behind? We have made good friends This is a good place.”

“You agree with Asher, don’t you? You also don’t believe I’m up to it,” said Torm and poured himself another drink. An attempt to calm down. “I’ll be eighteen in four constellations. A year ago, I could have joined a free or the princely banner already. Or sought out the guilds.”

Zaber stared at his apprentice long and good with no emotions to show. Waiting to get Torm’s full attention back and not a word before that. “If you ever think about that again, I am going to break your legs.”

Torm chugged his mug in one go. “Not in your current condition,” he smirked.

“Listen,” said Zaber and tried to get up again. “Guards ain’t taking you. Margrave’s regiment ain’t taking you either. And the Sellsword Guild wants some reputation or experience first. With my name attached, all of them would refuse. And the next free banner, I think, is two earldoms over.” Zaber smirked too, through the pain. “And I never taught you how to ride good.”

“It’s good enough, I’m a quick learner.” Torm reached out to his mentor and helped him up. “But please, let me help you next time. I can do mor–”

“Psht.” Zaber’s ears shifted through the room and his eyes followed along.

“Don’t psht me! You can’t treat me like a kid forev–”

The greasy and unkempt man went for a wall to brace himself on. “Folk are coming.”

There weren’t many visitors to this Starforsaken place since the duo had moved in. Other homeless men and women had used it for shelter before. A kestrel nested in the remnants of Sun or Moon Towers once a year, around this time. The ruins smelled moldy and gloom had befallen them. If someone came here, they were either friend or foe, no in-between.

The boy’s head snapped towards the entrance. He jumped to their weapons but his belt was all tangled up. Zaber’s, though, was perfectly in order for quick access to the lange messer. Fucking nothing this man owned was ever in order, except…

“We need to talk,” said a female voice with a subtle accent. “Not fight.”

From the darkness stepped forth a woman in a loose black dress, a veil wrapped around her head and neck. A glimpse of her black hair peeked out above her forehead. An old stab scar through her cheek stood out, with a nose as strong as her eyes. Her face was chiseled like sandstone.

“Damned you be, Hanifa,” said Zaber, and Torm let go of the steel. “We are bus–”

The woman quickened her pace to step right in front of the pair, each step harsher than the last. Around Zaber’s age, Hanifa was not alone. Her companion, at least twice as old as she was, stayed back and said nothing. Hairy and stout, with arms like tree trunks and a belly like a barrel. Clad in long, elegant robes that were held together by a cloth belt.

“Damned me? Damned you!” snapped Hanifa. Her backhand trembled, withholding a slap. “They got Sagir. Because of you, they took Sagir.”

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Silence swept through the room. The fire illuminated Hanifa’s face and highlighted every furious wrinkle. Every remnant of tears that were shed. Confronted with this news, from this woman, Torm’s mouth opened but no gasp left. The shock chained his lungs. The looming threat behind Hanifa shared a facial expression with Zaber, after the veteran heard the news. Like stone, every muscle hardened and his eyes were filled with a boiling heat. The voice flooded every fiber of his consciousness.

“What?” was the only word Torm and Zaber were able to express. Both sounded vastly different. Confused and aggressive. Restrained and unbound.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me.” Hanifa’s face came closer and closer, her hand trembling next to Zaber’s cheek. “You brought him to that beyazı ale house. You couldn’t resist yourself,” she huffed. “You smashed that guard’s head.”

Torm’s eyes widened. “That’s why they were here,” he uttered.

“You will attend our Maǧlis tomorrow. Two candles after sunrise,” ordered Hanifa. “Understood?”

“Yes.” Zaber affirmed the order without a second thought. The answer was as clear as lake Teblen.

Unease radiated from the man waiting at the entrance. Torm saw that he had a hulking piece of timber with him, hidden around the corner. The Yesilians in the city were free to move in daylight, but never leave Teblen’s walls behind or go out after dark. A breach of the curfew like this, though, wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Among their kind were some who dabbled in the shades to help their community to survive. Without much compensation – if any. Whether there was one thing the Yesilians of Teblen were known for, it was that they stuck together.

Torm stepped forward. “He is wounded, I can come in his stea–”

“Am I talking to you, boy?” Hanifa didn’t even look at Torm. She was still fighting the itch in her hand. “He did it and by your and our Stars, he will come. If it weren’t for your help in the past, I would have Kovada carry metal, not wood.”

The boy swallowed and froze. Everybody in the ruined temple awaited her to strike, and Zaber would have welcomed it. The intensity of his stare was unlike anything Torm was used to. Never had he seen Zaber like this. Never did he imagine him so close to…

“I’ll be there. I will come and I will fix this.” Zaber nodded but lost balance and Torm rushed to his side. “By your Stars and by mine.”

“Promise me,” said Hanifa and lowered her hand. “You have kept all your promises. Promise me one more time…” She averted her eyes and looked up at the veiled firmament. “He will not join Ceyhan among the Stars.”

“He will not,” said Zaber. “I’ll not let him meet his brother yet.”

Hanifa bit her lips in pain before she lowered her gaze. Torm glimpsed into what she held back and it was contagious. He let Zaber brace himself onto his shoulder and made a promise too. To himself. Sagir was his friend too, even more so than he was Zaber’s.

The unexpected visitor turned around and moved. “Tomorrow. Two candles after sunrise”, she repeated. Near the entrance, she paused but did not turn. “You look like shit… go to sleep.”

The big man, Kovada, made room for Hanifa to pass by but remained behind. No words or emotions to read. Nothing but vigor. He grabbed his timber, plain and heavy, and made away with it.

Zaber’s eyes were fixated on the altar and his apprentice saw the gears shifting behind them. When the veteran took an unsteady step towards it, the boy held him back.

“You were bitching at me,” said Torm. “I was going overboard? Me? What happened?!”

As if he didn’t notice, Zaber walked on. Staggered, yet determined. Still filled with anger, Torm couldn’t bear to see him like this and came to help.

“How could this happen? What was going on in your ugly noggin?”, the boy yelled on, through Zaber continuing. Torm grabbed him once more, restraining him before he touched the hatch to the cellar. Shouting into his ear. “Listen to me! Damned, stubborn, blasted…”

“You need to talk to Kell when I’m meeting with Hanifa tomorrow,” said Zaber, lost in thought. Stepping forward, it was hard to tell if he was shaking from injury or turmoil.

“Are you even listening?!”

“I will get you enough coin for horses. Buy, don’t rent.” The greasy and unkempt man was unable to pull up the hatch, so Torm gave him another hand.

“Stop ignoring me! Stop it!” The boy yelled into his mentor’s ear. “How could this happen to you?!”

Out of nowhere, the tense veteran regained his consciousness and lashed out, pushing Torm away with one arm. Both their chest were pumping and their postures were boasted. They stood front to front. Filled with anger. Ready to…

“I said I will fix this!” Zaber’s fists clenched. “I punched us into this, and I will punch us out.” His teeth were grinding and his head was nothing but the voice.

“No you won’t! We will do it. You are not doing this alone,” said Torm and came nose to nose with Zaber. Both huffed their anger at each other.

“I know,” said Zaber. “I will get Asher, Breg and Buron involved. I will fix this.”

“And me. You and I, we will do this together.” Torm’s knuckles went all white and red before he threw his arms up. He and Zaber squeezed each other, so hard. With closed eyes, they padded each other on the back. “You won’t leave me behind.”

“I ain’t. I’ll never do that to you.”