death and the day when he had started to let his appearance go. It made him a little sad to think it, but he felt oddly contemptuous toward his past self. Weak and self-pitying, drowning his sorrows in cheap wine. Too naïve to see what was going on, too submissive to fight back.
Well, that time was over now, and he was glad.
He sat down at the table with his parents, and ate the food Cardock offered him. It tasted wonderful.
“Son, what happened?” said Cardock, once Arren had taken the edge off his appetite and slowed down a little. “How did you get out of there?”
“It’s”—Arren paused—“complicated.”
“Tell us,” said Annir.
“What did Bran tell you?”
“He said—” Cardock took in a deep breath. “He said that as far as he knows, you got out of the cage on your own, and that afterwards you went to the Arena and did something. He didn’t know what, but he said the word was something bad had happened there and you were being blamed. He said he was going home after a late shift and got roped in to help look for you, and when he was searching the market district you suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They chased you to the edge of the city, and then you surrendered, but you fell off the edge. He said they’d started a search for your body and that it’d be brought here to us when they found it, and he gave us that.” He nodded at the robe, which was draped over the back of a chair. “You left it behind in that cage.”
“But what really happened?” said Annir. “Was Bran lying?”
Arren was silent for a long time. “No,” he said at last. “He was telling the truth.”
“You mean you really did fall all that way?” said Cardock. “For gods’ sakes, how did you survive?”
“I bounced off the side of the mountain,” Arren lied. “And then I landed in the lake. I woke up on the bank.”
“Arenadd, that . . .”
Arren looked up anxiously.
“That’s incredible,” Cardock said at last.
“It was a miracle,” said Annir.
“The moon was up when you fell,” said Cardock. “The Night God protected you, didn’t she? She must have.” He smiled, a soft, joyful smile that was most unlike him. “Do you believe me now, Arenadd?”
Arren remembered the moon and how it had shone down on him as he died, and a hint of doubt entered his mind. Had it done something? Had it been the thing that brought him back? But if so, why had Darkheart been there? Had he sat there all night watching over him? He felt a little twinge of guilt, but only briefly.
“I think . . . maybe I do,” he said. “I mean, I never saw anything, but I . . .”
“What is it, Arren?” said Annir.
“I prayed,” said Arren. “To the moon. The night before I went into the Arena. I asked it to protect me.”
“And it did,” said Cardock. He leant over and hugged him quickly. “I’m grateful,” he said, settling back into his seat, “to the Night God. I’ve had faith in her my entire life, and now she’s repaid me by giving me back my son.”
“She repaid both of us,” said Annir.
Arren stood up. “I want to stay with you,” he said, “and I’m sorry that I can’t. There’s something I have to ask you. Something I need you to do for me.”
“Anything, Arren,” said Annir.
Arren breathed in deeply. “I need you to leave here,” he said. “Leave Idun. For good.”
“Why?” Cardock asked.
“Because if you stay you’ll be in danger,” said Arren. “And I can’t let that happen.”
“We’re all right, Arren,” said Annir. “No-one bothers us.”
“You’re not in danger now,” said Arren. “But you will be. That’s why I need you to go before that happens. If I can, I’ll catch up with you.”
“Arenadd, what are you talking about?” said Cardock. “Why do we have to go? And why wouldn’t you come with us?”
Arren picked up the black robe. “I’ve made a choice,” he said. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He put it on, pulling the sleeves over his arms, and did up the fastenings. It fitted perfectly.
“Thank you for making this for me,” he said. “I think it’ll be useful.” He faced them resolutely. “I’m going to leave now,” he said. “But not before you promise me that you’ll go. Today. Be out of the village before the sun goes down. Head north, toward Norton, and don’t tell anyone where