Tell them all the secrets?

They rode together all day, out of the woods and into an area of high heath where banks of heather and brambles stood tall and rabbits ran out between the horses’ hooves. As the sun set, Hal called a halt and together they pitched camp.

Taliette gathered sticks while Hal made up the fire, blowing into the burning heart of it till it glowed orange and hot and sparks crackled up into the velvet blue sky, mingling with the first soft stars.

"What does Gintas want with an Aden?" she asked as Hal dropped meat and herbs into a pot.

He looked at her. "I shouldn’t be telling you this yet," he said. "What if we’re captured and they torture you? They could find out secrets."

"If someone captured us and tortured me, I hope you’d tell them all the secrets."

Hal didn’t reply. He just stared way down deep into the fire. The dancing light of it coloured his pupils orange, as though there were tiny fires burning deep inside his soul. She noticed all the small scars on his arms and knuckles.

"Seriously though, Hal, you’d tell them all the secrets, right?"

He looked at her with an expression that she had never seen before. The same expression she had seen on the face of the crofter, weighed down by a load too heavy for him.

"Sometimes a man has to make the hard choices," he said. "It’s not always pretty."

"You mean you wouldn't tell them?"

"I mean, it's not always pretty. I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine," she said. "I wouldn't tell them either. I'd hold the pliers."

"Pliers?"

"Pliers are good, for torturing?"

He shook his head. "What world do you live in? Pliers."

“A bone saw then, for lopping bits off.”

“How am I supposed to carry a bone saw? How would you even use that?”

He pulled his knees up and stared into the fire.

“A knife,” he said at last, quietly. “A knife is all you need. It’s not a thing to joke about. Some things you do, and they stay stuck - in your hands and in your eyes - forever. You close your eyes, and you see yourself doing them. Some things you regret.”

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The mood lifted as the stew simmered, and the smell of it filled the campsite.

Hal's pannier lay open near the fire. She dragged it over to the place where she sat. It was a lot heavier than it looked.

"Get off," he said, though his voice carried an edge of amusement.

She ignored him, opened the flaps, and riffled through it. "I wonder. What does Haldane take with him on an important mission to fairyland?" she mused.

There were pots and knives for cooking and several changes of clothes. At the bottom was an oilskin sack tied with rope. Two solid objects clanked together inside it. She undid the knot and pulled out a couple of jacks, much larger than her own. Instead of leather straps, they had three short blades extending from the knuckles. She slid off the leather guards and felt the edges.

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"What are these?" she asked.

"They're called blinders," he said. "Put them down, they're sharp."

She ignored him, slipping them on. They were much too big for her hand and quite heavy. She gripped the iron core and mimed striking at his face. He didn't flinch.

"What do you do with them?"

"You don't do anything with them. You put them back in the bag."

"What does the blade in the middle do?"

"It cracks the nose. If you put a man's eyes out and break his nose too, you won't have any more trouble from him."

She studied him.

"You ever killed a man, Hal?"

He frowned at her. "Sure, a few."

"Ever killed a woman?"

He stared into the fire, and she saw the truth in his eyes. "What, you think because we have fun, everything is nice?" he said. "Everyone is happy, and no one gets hurt?"

"Don’t treat me like a baby, Hal. I know people get hurt."

He turned back to the fire as though he wanted to disappear into it. When he spoke again, his voice was small.

"I'm afraid you might get hurt."

She snorted. "Hurt by a fairy-tale?"

"I'm serious, Tal. They have power. The law of the weave doesn't apply to them, at least not in the stories. If we work magic, there's a cost that makes it not worth the effort. When they do magic, there's no cost. They can do what they like. No one knows what they can do. In the stories, they can burn people with a thought. They can change shape. They can shoot rocks like they were arrows. They can fly up and smash a city wall like it's nothing. They can summon up dragons right out of the ground."

She rolled her eyes.

"So, Did Gintas show you inside his box yet?" said Hal. "You never answered."

She remembered Gintas leaning in, the lid swinging wider than wide, and inside...

It had been almost like a dream, like a starry void and all the world pouring away into it. Just pouring, forever and ever, and she had been so small, forever and far away.

“Nothing much to look at,” she shrugged, staring him in the eye, deliberately slowly.

"Heh, your kidding, did you see inside?"

It had been an impossible thing, like a piece of folded sky, full of light and nothing. It had soaked up the world and she had watched and drowned in it.

“Some sort of sword or something,” she shrugged again. "Not really sure what the fuss was about."

He scowled at her. "A sword? A handle of a broken sword. A sword handle as long as a man."

"Meh, I’ve seen better."

"Better?" He spluttered at her. "Can you imagine what could have wielded it? Can you imagine,” his voice grew hushed, a whisper in the firelight. “Can you imagine what could have broken it?”

She took a minute to stare at him, eyes half closed, soft hands, amused.

"You some sort of Aden fan, Haldane?"

She ignored the croaking, splittering sounds coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a funny bit of metal, nothing to get excited about." But in her mind she remembered it, sound of oceans, eater of worlds.

“Pfffft,” She waved a hand dismissively, but secretly she felt a shiver go down her spine. She turned away from him so he wouldn't see her grinning.

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Much later, once all the food was eaten, and the fire had burned down, they crawled into their bedrolls and lay looking up at the stars.

"When we get there," she said sleepily," and we find the Aden, I’m going to make friends with them, what will you be doing?"

"I’m not going with you."

She rolled over to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I’m to drop you off, then go further North and meet Gintas at Laxxness."

"Will I see you again?"

"Go to sleep."

"You won't leave me," she said lazily, tracing a constellation with her finger. Or if you do, you'll come back again."

"I'm going to drop you off on the edge of the forest."

"You'll come back for me."

"I might not."

"You'll come back because you're in love with me."

He spluttered at that. "I am not," he said, but he sounded unconvinced.

"Yes, you are," she said matter of factly, "but you shouldn't be, you really shouldn't. I'm not in love with you."

"Go to sleep."

After a minute, she reached out and held his hand. He squeezed back, and they interlaced fingers.

"It's going to be alright," he said, but she heard the hesitation in his voice.

She pictured the pannier full of arrows. The thrill that rose up in her chest warred with the warmth that rose up her arm from his hand, and neither won.

"Hal, once you drop me off, don't come back and get me. I don't want you around when I do whatever it is Gintas wants me to do."

He squeezed her fingers. "It's going to be alright."

"I don't think it will be," she said. "I really don't think it will."