Gandrett headed for the bathing rooms and freshened up, changing into the practical linen pants and tunic before she combed through her waist-length hair and braided it back. When she returned to the bedroom, Surel was dressed and ready, her raven hair flowing freely down to her shoulders. Unlike the fighters’ brown belt, she was wearing a pale blue one of the Vala-blessed, symbolizing water.
Gandrett strapped her sword to her hip and stepped into her boots.
As they headed downstairs, she found the house was already buzzing with life, most of the acolytes swarming to the dining hall on the ground floor.
Kaleb waved them over to their usual table in the corner where the three of them were unbothered by the world, his eyes expectant, and straightened a little. But while Surel joined them at the table, Gandrett screened the room for the messy black-gray hair of the housekeeper and, when she didn’t find her, trudged to the kitchens across the hall where Nahir hid her secret stash of cookies.
“It is either that time of the month, or the talk with that visitor didn’t go well.”
Gandrett stopped her hand midair, reaching for the cookies, and turned around to find Nahir leaning at the stove, apron white with flour in places, a cup of tea in her hand, and gave her a knowing look. “Which one is it?”
The housekeeper pushed away from the stove and set down the cup before she brushed off her hands in the rag on her shoulder, immediately hurrying to the cupboard at the other end of the sun-lit room.
“I moved them,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled a small, wooden footstool toward her with her toes then stepped onto it, too short to reach the top shelf without the extra inches. “Kids are starting to sneak in here during the night and emptying the box.” She produced a round, wooden container from the cupboard and shook it, which resulted in a soft rattle as if to prove a point.
She spoke in her heavy accent. The accent of the Nasha nomads, a people that had been living and striving in these lands long before Calma had turned into a desert. These days, the few Nasha left had retreated to the south to live at the feet of the mountains.
“With the new kids coming in in a couple of days, I’ll need to triple my production, or I won’t be able to do a thing for them when they’re homesick.” Nahir’s chubby cheeks raised as she smiled broadly, the gesture filling Gandrett’s stomach with mixed feelings.
The new ones… The novices. Each year, on Vala’s Day—the Fest of Blossoms as they called it in the north—when day and night were equally long, the four new ones were brought in. And every year, the crying and whimpering filled the residential building for days, if not weeks. There was nothing much anyone could do… other than to help Nahir hand out cookies and soothing words.
Gandrett did it every year since that first anniversary of her consecration. It didn’t change the fact that another four kids were torn from their homes and committed to a lifetime of service, but it helped her deal with the melancholy that hit every year as if someone set a timer for it.
Nahir reached into the box and handed her a cookie. “Don’t tell the others where I’m hiding them,” she whispered and pulled out two more cookies and put them on a small plate, which she placed on the counter, “For later,” before she stowed the box back on the shelf.
The comforting taste of sweetness and familiarity filled Gandrett’s mouth, wiping away the heavier thoughts—for now.
“The visitor,” she finally said, earning a knowing look from Nahir.
“I knew the second you marched him past the guards that he was trouble.”
Gandrett cocked her head, wondering if there was something she hadn’t noticed. But again, the elderly woman nodded and gave her that look.
“If you’d been wandering the lands for as long as I have—if you’d seen what the world is like outside those walls,” she nodded toward the window beside the shelf that gave a clear view of the western gate and the cobbled roads that led past the citadel to where she had locked Nehelon up, “you’d know that there is more to him than just that pretty face.”
Gandrett felt her brows rise.
“And I am not necessarily speaking about the good kind of more.” Nahir pushed the plate of cookies toward Gandrett, who hadn’t noticed she had finished the palm-sized one she’d held in her hand a moment earlier. “That man has secrets.” She gave Gandrett a conspiring glance.
The next cookie was gone in two bites.
Gandrett was aware that it was one thing to tell Surel about the Meister’s intentions to lend her to Nehelon, but to tell Nahir… Even if she loved the woman like a mother—because of the lack of the latter. Nahir was the only person living and working in Everrun not because she’d been sacrificed, but because she chose to. She had spent her childhood with the nomads at the border to Phornes, and at some point—she had never shared the full story, but Gandrett suspected a man had something to do with it—she had shown up at the order’s doorstep, and the Meister had taken her in, given her this job, this new life. For all that is worth, the Meister had a humane side buried deep down somewhere. She had seen it with Nahir, and she had seen it with Nehelon the night before.
“The Meister seems to trust him,” was all that Gandrett said.
And the shrug she earned from Nahir was enough to tell her she didn’t.
The blond-curled boy wasn’t at the gate this time, but the second one was and had, together with a broad-built acolyte, taken up their positions in the narrow towers.
The sight, familiar as it was, made him sick. Children. Even if they were almost of age by human standards, by his own standards, they were little more than fledglings. Even if they had trained for ten years within these walls, none of them had seen a battlefield. None of them had killed or seen their loved ones being slaughtered. Nehelon’s face hardened as if it could change the memories in his head.
“Nehelon, guest of the Meister.” He inclined his head an inch, unpacking his manners for a moment.
While the new guard returned his nod and waved him forward, the other one scowled. He remembered that yesterday he had behaved like scum—only to challenge Gandrett, to see how she handled things. But the guard didn’t know that.
“So I’ve heard,” the boy said, voice more controlled than his face, and pulled the mechanism to open the gate.
A gust of wind followed Nehelon and the horses into the priory where everyone had taken up their chores once more. While some acolytes were sawing grains, water mages were manipulating the rainwater in the soil to pool around the seedlings. It brought back memories of his years in Everrun, in this very priory. A time when the Meister had just started his own journey in the Order of Vala.
Nehelon didn’t bother climbing off the horse as he steered the mare toward the stables on the right, followed by the second horse, nose close by his thigh. No one asked why he was here, or why he had brought two horses, as he halted and slid off his mare then led both animals inside. Instead, two acolytes were ready to take the reins, leading each mount into a shack with stacks of hay and buckets of water. The Meister had probably instructed them. Nehelon smiled.
He hadn’t had to sneak out this morning. The guards would have let him pass to get his things and his horses, but it was so much more fun to sneak out like the old days. He caught one of the acolytes returning his smile and barked something at him, sending the boy running off with his mare’s bridle.