The sergeant frowned. And then shook his head. ‘I don’t think you do. Hellar is returned to your care. You have found your warhorse, a true destrier. But she needs to walk some on her own, to work out the violence that your touch might well incite all over again. She is to wonder — by your inattention — if she has failed you. Later this day you will go to her and take the saddle, and she will be relieved.

‘Speak to her then, Arathan, words of comfort and satisfaction. She will know their meaning by the breaths upon which those words reach her. To communicate with a horse, think of truth as a river — never fight the current. Ride it into the beast’s heart.’

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Uncertain as to the sergeant’s meaning, Arathan nevertheless nodded.

Raskan handed him the reins. ‘Now, give me that empty plate — it is good to see that you are with appetite — and go to your father. He wishes to speak with you.’

He had known that this moment was coming. As he set out, pulling Besra after him, Raskan said, ‘Hold, Arathan…’ and he took the blanket from the boy’s shoulders. ‘I will tie this up.’ He half smiled. ‘You had the look of a peasant.’

A peasant. Yes. About to stand shamefaced before his lord.

‘Mount up,’ said his father when he reached him. ‘To begin this day, you ride at my side, Arathan.’

‘Yes sir.’

He felt weak pulling himself into the saddle, and as he settled his feet into the stirrups a clammy sweat broke out, and he realized that he was not wearing his armour or his helmet. ‘Sir, I am unarmoured-’

‘For now, yes. Rint has your gear. We shall take the lead on the trail. Come.’

The sensation was strange — to be riding at his father’s side — and he felt hopelessly awkward, displaying none of the ease that seemed so much a part of Draconus.

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‘Sagander owes you his life,’ his father said.

‘Sir?’

‘Twice, in fact. Though stunned by his blow, you still had the wits to pull Hellar away. Your horse would have crushed the fool’s skull with a single stamp, shattering it like an urthen egg. That was well done. But it is the second time you saved his life of which I will speak.’

‘Sir, I misspoke-’

‘You wondered if you were my weakness, Arathan. There is no dishonour in that question. How could there be? The matter concerns your life, after all. Is it not your right to wonder at your place in the world? Furthermore, it was perceptive — and this encourages me.’

Arathan was silent.

After a long moment, Draconus continued. ‘Until now, there is little that has impressed me about you — tell me, do you imagine your gnawing upon your fingers well suits the man you have become? This habit has even damaged your ability with the sword, and should it continue, Arathan, it may well see you killed. The hand holding the sword must be firm, lest what you will is failed by what you achieve.’

‘Yes sir. I am sorry.’

‘That said,’ Draconus grunted, ‘women will appreciate your touch in tender places.’

Something slammed down inside Arathan, and he knew then that Feren had reported to his father. In detail. She had done as her lord commanded. She belonged to Draconus, just as did Rint and Sergeant Raskan — everyone here, except for Arathan himself, was but an extension of his father’s will. Like weapons, and my father’s hand is surely firm. Will is bound to deed and no room for failure. ‘I am sorry that Sagander was injured,’ he said in a dull tone.

‘You have outgrown him, Arathan. Hellar was right in dismissing him — she knew your mind before you did. Remember that, and in the future trust in it.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Have you pain in your head, Arathan? I believe Rint has some willow bark.’

‘No, sir. No pain at all.’

‘You are quick to recover, then. Perhaps that is yet another of your gifts, so well hidden until now.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Understand, Arathan. If you were to have remained at my keep, you would have been vulnerable. I have enemies. Your half-sisters, however, are protected. Though their mother is no longer with us, her family is powerful. The same cannot be said for your mother. To get to me, my enemies could well look to you. Especially now, as you come of age.’

‘Sir, would it not have been easier to kill me when I was a child, unskilled with the blade, too trusting in adults?’

Draconus glanced across at him. ‘I was not speaking of direct violence, Arathan. Your being dead would remove the vulnerability that you pose to me and my interests.’

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