the horrors of the day, but it was a confidence Vaelin didn’t share. “He has contrived to surprise us at every turn,” he said. “It would be folly to assume he doesn’t have another prepared. And our losses . . .”
“I need no reminder, my lord.” There was a shadow to Sho Tsai’s gaze and Vaelin knew the loss of the Red Scouts weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He and Tsai Lin were all that remained of the Scouts and they had not been the only regiment wiped out. Governor Neshim, assiduous in his accounting if nothing else, now reported their full strength at little over ten thousand. A great many more Stahlhast and Redeemed had surely fallen, but the Darkblade’s army remained strong and its unnatural devotion unbroken.
“This trap is also his, don’t forget that,” Sho Tsai went on. “If he were a rational man, he would have marched on, or at least left sufficient numbers to contain us whilst he moves south. But here he stays with his entire army, all so he can lay claim to a sister that hates him.”
A sister with a thorn in her mind, Vaelin thought. Or is that why he wants her back so badly? Does he fear what secrets she’ll spill when it’s plucked?
“Here,” Sherin said, handing Sho Tsai a small bottle. “For the pain. Two drops in a cup of water three times throughout the day.”
“I can’t have my senses dulled . . .” the general said, making to return the bottle.
“Just take it and spare me your posturing,” Sherin ordered with a tired sigh. She moved to a bowl of water and began scrubbing her hands. “There’s a sergeant on a stretcher outside with an axe wound to the gut. I need the room.”
Vaelin sensed that the pain on Sho Tsai’s face had little to do with his cuts. He made no effort to rise, continuing to stare at Sherin’s unyielding back. It was clear to Vaelin that more was about to be said in this room and, feeling no desire to witness it, voiced a murmured excuse about checking the sentries and left.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
He found Eresa and Jihla guarding the door to Luralyn’s cell. The younger woman surprised Vaelin with a warm embrace whilst Eresa continued to regard him with the frowning bafflement that had become typical since surviving her touch.
“We regret we cannot let you in, my lord,” Jihla said. Apart from the dark circles beneath her eyes and a somewhat pallid complexion, she seemed fully recovered, although the forced aspect to her smile told of a profound grief. “Our mistress’s order.”
“You’re not supposed to call her that,” Vaelin reminded her, glancing at the closed door. “She seeks the True Dream?”
“She does,” Eresa confirmed. “It may take hours, or even a day or more. There’s no way to tell.”
“You’re welcome to stay with us,” Jihla offered. “Varij has gone to fetch some food.”
He replied with a polite refusal and went to the shrine where his companions sat sharing a stew of Ellese’s concoction, which smelt surprisingly appetising. “It turns out horse meat benefits from an excess of spices,” she said, handing him a bowl.
“Horse?” he asked, now regarding the stew with dubious eyes.
“The governor forgot to transport the salted pork to the upper tier,” Nortah explained. “Meat is in short supply. Eat up, brother. We’ve certainly had worse.”
Seeing Tsai Lin sitting apart from the others, Vaelin had Ellese pour out another bowl of stew and took it to him. “Your father’s wounds are slight,” he said, handing the Dai Lo the bowl and sitting down next to him on the steps of the shrine.
Tsai Lin gave a nod and stared wordlessly at the stew before setting it aside. He hadn’t yet removed his armour, which still bore the dirt of battle, as did his face. “Losing men is hard . . .” Vaelin began.
“A life lost in a righteous cause is to be celebrated, not mourned,” Tsai Lin cut in. His voice was mostly toneless but Vaelin caught the formal note that indicated this to be a quotation.
“Kuan-Shi?” he asked.
Tsai Lin shook his head. “A line from one of the Mystic Scrolls, a collection of lore that dates back to long before the rise of the Emerald Empire. My principal teacher was always fond of employing them in his lessons. The Mystic Scrolls make mention of a race of people with oddly coloured hair and skin that were once carried across the western seas