it is that, amongst all his soldiers, the Merchant King has sent you, for grave is our need and dark the hour . . .”
“It need not be so dark,” Sho Tsai cut in, voice hard in reproach, “if the Keeper of the Gate had lived up to his name.”
The old man drew back, rising from his bow with shock palpable on his face. “This temple is under the authority of the Servants of Heaven,” he sputtered. “Leave to enter is ours to give or deny . . .”
“Because she let you.” Sho Tsai dismounted and called out an order for the Red Scouts to do the same. “And now she’s gone. Step aside, old man. The Merchant King’s authority is all that matters here now, and I haven’t studied at the Temple of Spears for a very long time.” He turned his back on the still-sputtering monk to address his sergeant. “Make camp. Full watch tonight. We’re too far north to allow for any complacency.”
“Of course, Dai Shin.” The man bowed and strode off, orders issuing from his mouth in a commanding torrent typical of sergeants the world over.
Sho Tsai’s jaws bunched before he fixed his features into a rigid mask and turned to Vaelin. “Lord Al Sorna,” he said, gesturing to the gate and the stairway beyond. “Shall we?”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“Brother of the Spear?”
Sho Tsai kept his eyes on the stairs ahead, face as rigid as before. They had climbed in silence for close to a half hour and Vaelin felt no optimism that his question would be answered, so it was a surprise when the captain grunted, “A title given to all who study at the Temple of Spears.”
“It’s a school? A place where warriors are trained?”
“In part. The lessons are . . . varied.” He paused, lowering his gaze with a frown. “But always valuable, even if their wisdom takes time to reveal itself.”
“Do all the Merchant King’s officers attend this school?”
Sho Tsai gave a faint snort. “Hardly. If they did, our current situation would be very different. The monks will accept able-bodied boys or men who present themselves at the gate. After one week they will either ask you to leave or allow you to stay.”
“It must be a hard week.”
“No, it is in fact a very easy week. They give you a mop and bucket, then set you to cleaning the courtyards. The temple has a lot of courtyards. No questions are asked of you and you are permitted no words, with either others or yourself. In my first week there were twenty others, all older than me by several years. I was the only one permitted to stay, and no word of explanation was ever given. Things became . . . more difficult after that, but I have never once regretted stepping through those doors.” He paused to glance at Vaelin, eyes narrowed. “Sherin told me of the school you attended. Can you say the same?”
“It wasn’t a school, it was an Order, one of six in service to the Faith. Brothers of the Sixth were charged with protection of the Faith, and such protection requires use of weapons. I imagine she told you of the many hardships I suffered in its service. As for regrets, I have too many to easily count, but I can no more regret joining the Order than a sailor can regret the storm that sweeps his ship into calmer waters. I was a child. I knew no better.”
A dense wall of mist descended shortly after, reducing the view of the staircase to barely a few feet ahead. Sho Tsai’s steadily climbing form became ghostlike, although Vaelin was able to discern that he moved at a slower, more deliberate pace, maintaining a carefully measured distance between them. Close enough for a swift sword stroke, or a hard shove, he judged, eyes flicking to the edge of the stairway. There was no balustrade or other barrier, and the drop beyond was dizzying in its sheerness. He’ll tell Lian Sha of the unfortunate accident, the clumsy barbarian losing his footing on the way to the High Temple.
“One of your soldiers called Tsai Lin the third egg in your nest,” he said. If they were destined to fight on this mountainside, then he saw only one of two outcomes and therefore little need to restrain his questions. “I assume that means you have two other children.”
The captain’s wraithlike silhouette stiffened a little but he kept walking. “I did. A