invading foes. Such men were always useful, but more so in times of peace than war.
“Caught them looting this shop,” the captain went on, chin jutting at the domicile behind the Skulls.
“It’s my old gran’s spice shop, my lord,” Cho-ka said. “Just checking to see if the place was still intact.”
Vaelin’s gaze tracked over the various jars and pots clutched in the Skulls’ hands, and the bulging sacks slung over several shoulders.
“That’s a pile of pig shit,” the captain snapped. “The woman who owned this place was known to me for years, and she didn’t have a gutter-scrape for a grandson.”
Seeing a dangerous glint appear in Cho-ka’s gaze, Vaelin stepped between them, offering the captain an approving smile. “You’re to be commended for your diligence, Captain. Rest assured the general will hear of it. For now, I’d be grateful if you’d leave this in my hands. These men were recruited by me, you see? Punishment is my duty, given how dishonoured I feel by their betrayal of my largesse.”
The captain straightened, jaws bunching in frustration. It was clear to Vaelin that he would have liked nothing more than a chance to indulge his law-enforcing instincts with a flogging or even a hanging. Still, mention of the general seemed to serve as ample persuasion, for he gave a stiff bow before marching off, growling at his men to fall in line.
“Is this really your grandmother’s shop?” Vaelin asked Cho-ka after the captain’s company rounded a corner.
“My great-aunt’s, in truth,” the smuggler replied with a shrug. “She was always fond of me though.” He offered Vaelin a grin that faded when it wasn’t returned.
“Put it back,” Vaelin said, nodding at their loot.
“What does it matter now?” one of the Skulls asked in a weary drawl. “Place is gonna be a ruin soon any—”
The man’s words ended abruptly as Cho-ka whirled to deliver a hard cuff to his face. The protestor staggered back, face bloodied, but confined his response to a hard glare as he stood to attention. “Apologies, my lord,” Cho-ka said, bowing to Vaelin. There was a studied neutrality to his expression Vaelin didn’t like, an absence of defiance that told of an urgent need for this confrontation to end.
Vaelin’s gaze flicked to the shop, then back to the still-bowing corporal. “Anything in there I should know about?” he enquired.
“Just a good deal of spice, lord. We got hold of a couple of sides of pork, y’see. Wanted to flavour the meat some.”
The sense that there was more to this persisted, some secret of the criminal fraternity he couldn’t divine, not that he had the time or inclination to at this point. “Even so,” he said. “Put it back, all of it.”
Cho-ka bowed again. “At once, my lord.”
“Watch your back with that one,” Nortah advised as they resumed their progress to the temple. “Outlaws are only so polite when they’re lying.”
“As long as his men keep fighting the way they have, he can lie all he likes.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
At the temple Mother Wehn guided him to the nun’s cell where Jihla had been taken, Vaelin pausing outside the door at the sound of tense voices within.
“I told you,” Luralyn was saying, voice clipped with finality. “I don’t know!”
“My song sings a different tune,” Ahm Lin replied, his own tone more controlled but also insistent.
“Then perhaps your song is addled by your age. Amongst my people a man of your years would have had the decency to get himself killed in battle by now.”
Her voice trailed off as Vaelin entered. They stood on opposite sides of the bed where Jihla lay in unmoving slumber. Luralyn turned her face away from both of them, arms crossed and shoulders set with tension. Ahm Lin’s face betrayed no hurt at her insult, only a hard determination.
“The song is clear,” he told Vaelin. “Something sticks in her mind like a thorn, but she refuses to pluck it free.”
“Oh, leave me be, you old fool!” Luralyn hissed, gaze still averted.
Ahm Lin began to speak again, falling silent as Vaelin shook his head and gestured to the door. When the mason had gone, Vaelin approached the bed, touching a hand to Jihla’s forehead. Her skin was cold but lacking the icy chill from the night before. “Mother Wehn tells me her heart retains a steady rhythm,” he said to Luralyn. “As to when she’ll wake . . .”
“She’s small but strong,” Luralyn said. “She’ll wake soon enough. Though I would have her sleep a while longer.