my chest, and I tell him as simply as I can what I know: that Lief was in Lormere when the Sleeping Prince attacked, that we’ve heard nothing since. But that I think he’s still alive.
Kirin doesn’t look relieved by my words though. In fact his entire face falls; he looks ancient, tired and ruined; it seems as though the bones beneath his skin are shifting and making him someone else, someone new. I see him age before me, losing the last of his boyishness, the spark in his eyes dulling.
“Errin,” he says, and I know that tone; it’s exactly the same one Silas uses whenever I talk of Lief. And I’m tired of it.
“Don’t,” I say, before he can tell me how unlikely it is my brother lives. “You know Lief. You know him as well as I do. Do you honestly think he would have let himself get into any situation that might have got him killed?”
“Then where is he?”
“I … I don’t know. Maybe he’s hurt somewhere, or trapped. But I know he’s alive, Kirin, I feel it. He wouldn’t leave us. He’ll be on his way back, as soon as he can. I know he will.”
“I’ve heard the reports that have come out of Lormere, and—”
“So have I. And I’ve asked every refugee I’ve seen and none of them has heard of a Tregellian being caught up in it all.” I don’t let him speak, talking loudly over every attempt to protest. “My theory is that he got injured escaping from the castle and is holed up somewhere, recovering.”
“Then why hasn’t he sent word?” Kirin’s tone is maddeningly gentle.
“Maybe he has. Maybe he’s tried but he hasn’t managed to get through yet. And the border is closed now. We might not hear from him for ages.”
“I don’t think he’d leave you here,” he says quietly, his eyes full of pity. “Not if he could help it. Errin, you have to face facts. It’s almost certain Lief is dead.”
“No.” There’s a horrible buzzing in my ears, as though I’ve rested my head against a wall full of wasps.
“I don’t want to believe he’s gone either,” Kirin begins.
“Then don’t,” I snap at him, raising my hands to cover my ears like a child.
We both fall silent.
“Do you live in Almwyk? In one of those shacks?” Kirin asks after a moment.
I lower my hands, which did nothing to shut him out anyway, and nod, forcing words past the scream that’s become a knot in my throat. “Yes. Lief found it for us.”
I don’t miss the frown that crosses his face, but before he can speak the sound of shouts reaches us.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, trying to stand. “Come.”
And though I’m angry with him for being so doubtful, I tuck my arm under his right one and help haul him to his feet, ignoring the whimper he makes when his left foot presses into the ground.
“When did you join the army?” I ask as we make slow progress towards the centre of Almwyk. Back in Tremayne, he’d been apprenticing, as I had, but with the blacksmith. It had been his dream, to have his own smithy. He would have been due to apply for his guild licence this harvest.
“I’m doing my duty,” he says, his voice curiously flat.
“Your duty? Since when has it been your duty to be a soldier?”
He stops beside one of the abandoned huts, his breathing laboured, and looks down at me, soft brown eyes now hard, his mouth a line. “I was drafted,” he says finally. “Every fit man between eighteen and forty has been. The call to muster was mandatory for the fit and able, across the whole of Tregellan.”
I blink while I take in this news. “How? How can they make it mandatory?”
“Arrest and imprisonment for those who refuse. Confiscation of land, property and goods. Family be damned. If you don’t fight, you’ll be arrested, and your family evicted from their home.”
“But that’s wrong. That’s not our way. It sounds like something the Lormerians would do.”
Kirin raises an eyebrow. “It’s an old law. It was never repealed. Every household must provide at least one man for military duty when ordered by the ruler of the land. Last time it was used was during the war with Lormere. The Council has revived it. The Justices are enforcing it.”
“Can they do that?”
“Clearly.” Kirin’s voice is dark. “Though if you can prove you’re religious, you can be exempted.”