Accompanied by the leaping, fawning dog, Isak joined Mihn and sat. Hulf wedged himself between them for a restless minute before he bounded up again and headed off to make a nuisance of himself with Morghien’s feathered fishing lure.
‘Do the scars still hurt?’ Mihn asked as they watched Morghien playing with Hulf, sending him chasing after the lure with practised flicks of his rod.
‘Without the pain, what would I be?’ Isak replied, his eyes on the far shore.
‘Still yourself, always yourself.’
He turned to look Mihn direct in the face. ‘And what’s that?’
‘A man, blessed and cursed equally,’ Mihn said eventually. Isak had taken to asking questions that Mihn had no real answer for - questions he doubted anyone but the Gods could manage.
‘Blessed? No,’ Isak whispered, pulling his robe tighter around his body as though to hide the scars on his chest and neck. ‘No blessings in the grave, and no curses either, not any more.’
‘So you are just you, then, free of everything that was heaped upon you — the conflicting destinies, the prophecies and expectations, exactly as you intended when you faced Lord Styrax. You are free of obligation now.’
‘All that’s left is me, all of me I have left,’ Isak said, watching Hulf struggle through the water. The ripples raced towards them and although they were a yard or more short of the edge, Isak still drew back his legs protectively. ‘Ripples through the Land, change and consequence unbound — ’
Hulf paddled his way to shore and raced past them, barking furiously at the figures emerging from the forest path, leading a pair of horses. One moved ahead of the others, obviously unafraid of Hulf’s bluster, and Mihn recognised Major Jachen, returning as ordered.
‘Major,’ Mihn called, hurrying over, ‘did you — ?’
But he didn’t bother finishing the sentence as he recognised two of the people following Jachen: the King’s Man, Doranei, looking distinctly puzzled, the other - while Mihn hadn’t actually met her, he could hardly mistake Legana’s piercing emerald eyes, even at that distance. They were as conspicuous as the shadowy handprint at her throat and the seams of copper in her hair. The Mortal-Aspect of a dead Goddess stood awkwardly, using a long oak staff for support. She and Doranei were dressed much alike, in green tunic and breeches, but still her presence screamed for attention.
She cocked her head at him. As they had left the shadow of the trees she had screwed up her eyes against the afternoon sun. As Hulf, finished with the major, edged forward to sniff at her, Legana recoiled at the unexpected movement, and she had a knife in her hand before she caught herself. She tucked it back into her sleeve and hesitantly held her hand out towards the dog, who sniffed again and retreated with his head low, obviously unnerved by her scent. A slight smile appeared on her lips.
‘Welcome, both of you,’ Mihn said.
Doranei looked wary, and older than when Mihn had last seen him. King Emin’s agent look distinctly drained, ragged around the edges.
And for that we call you brother, Mihn thought as they grasped each other’s forearm in greeting. Doranei’s grip at least was a strong as ever, Mihn was glad to discover.
‘Good to see you again,’ Doranei said, unable to stop himself peering over Mihn’s shoulder at Isak. Mihn turned briefly; the white-eye had not moved from his position, or given any sign that he knew someone had arrived.
‘And you,’ Mihn said warmly, ‘as they say in Ter Nol, “Too much has come to pass since last we met”.’
Doranei scowled. ‘Too damn much, aye.’ He released his grip as Morghien arrived and embraced him.
‘Brother,’ Morghien, ‘how fares the king?’
‘As well as can be expected, but the strain’s taking a toll on us all and . . . well.’ He rolled up his sleeve and showed his arm to Morghien. ‘Beyn was in Aroth. He used the wyvern claws to send me an’ Coran this message two days ago.’
Mihn turned his head to read the three words in the Narkang dialect, now scabbed over: We are lost. ‘So Aroth has fallen.’
The King’s Man nodded and looked away. ‘No more word after this. Beyn didn’t respond to my reply. That’s another Brother dead.’
A moment of silence descended before Hulf whimpered and pressed against Mihn’s legs. When he looked, he saw Legana had advanced a few steps. Her face was unreadable, not unexpected, he thought, of one so profoundly touched by the Gods.