out back towards the lake, but now they moved so quietly that once the bushes again concealed them only the warning growls of the gentry moving further away told Mihn they were leaving the area.
It took almost a quarter of an hour before there was quiet again, long enough for him to feel the chill settling in his bones. He headed back inside at last, intending to bar the door as soon as he was in, but he stopped short at the sight of Isak, sitting on the edge of his bed. His long legs were stretched out and Eolis rested across his knees. The right knee had been the last of his injuries to heal. Considering the damage, Mihn was expecting Isak to walk with a limp. In spite of the remarkable healing that had taken place, ridges of scarring had changed the shape of the knee entirely.
Mihn stared at the silver sword a while, musing on how it had just appeared from nowhere — from Ghenna. He knew Eolis was bound to Isak’s soul even more than the gifts of the Chosen normally were, but the last time he saw it Xeliath had been attacking the Jailor of the Dark with it. Though it was not now needed, the weapon showed no sign of disappearing again. It looked as real, as solid as anything else in the room, however out of place it might be.
Isak suddenly looked up at Mihn, his face so mournful and anguished that Mihn felt the guilt strike him like a kick to the chest.
‘It hurts,’ the white-eye whispered in a hoarse voice.
Mihn was too stunned to speak for a moment. ‘What hurts?’ he said eventually.
‘Everything,’ Isak replied. ‘The echo is everywhere.’
Mihn opened his mouth to reply, but Isak turned away and lay down on his bed, Eolis still clutched in his hand. The puppy trotted over, unconcerned, and clambered up too, settling himself on Isak’s feet.
Oh Gods, Mihn thought with a heavy heart, does he remember the pain of the Dark Place? How could any man live with that echo in his bones?
Mihn slept badly and woke with the dawn. From the taut stillness of Isak’s body he guessed the white-eye was also awake, but he still faced the wall, and he did not respond when addressed. Mihn left him alone and wrapped himself in his heavy coat to attend the stove. The sky was overcast and a cold, whipping wind stung his cheeks, but as he watched the puppy bound out to the shore, nose pressed against the ground, Mihn feel the gladness of life again.
He left the dog to his explorations and used the outhouse, then went to check his rabbit snares in the trees. He hadn’t caught anything — something had knocked the snare aside without being snagged — so he reset it and returned to drop a line in the lake.
When he reached the cottage he found Isak standing at the water’s edge, his robe fluttering in the wind. Without speaking, Mihn went to stand by his side. For a long while they stood and stared down at the rippling water. Despite his desperate desire to hear Isak speak again, Mihn knew the man couldn’t be rushed: his mind might not have been broken in Ghenna, but that didn’t mean Isak was quite the same man as the one Lord Styrax had killed.
‘How long?’ Isak said at last in a croaking voice.
‘For me or you?’
There was no reply. Mihn continued to watch the steady movement of the water at his feet. The wind was blowing from behind them, and it carried the whisper of leaves.
‘Am I alive?’
‘Yes, Isak,’ Mihn said firmly, ‘you are.’
‘I don’t feel alive.’
Mihn turned and saw puzzlement and pain on Isak’s face, the sort of disbelief Mihn had seen on the faces of the mortally wounded as they stared at the haft of the spear or blade that had killed them.
‘It will take time, that much is certain,’ he said softly. ‘Do not expect too much of yourself. What you have experienced would have broken a lesser man.’
‘I am not broken?’ Isak replied in a whisper that struck at Mihn’s heart, but before he could respond there was a gasp from behind them.
Mihn turned quickly, stepping in front of Isak protectively until he saw Chera, a girl who lived in the nearest village, standing by the tree-line. She had several times brought supplies from the witch, though she had never entered the cottage. Now she stared