Torian

“Wait a minute.” I stared from the enormous knife in Gerd’s hand to Zal, all my danger alarms pinging at once. “What does he mean, proof?”

Zal let his pack fall next to his feet and placed his hands on my shoulders. “He needs to cut off my braids”—his hands spasmed on my shoulders and he swallowed—“and take them back to the city.”

His braids? My fingers went numb. Without his braids, Zal would be practically a pariah, his shorn hair a physical manifestation of wrongdoing.

But at least he would be alive and out of the Trine’s reach.

“That will convince them you’re… you’re dead? They don’t need to see the body? How? Why?”

“I’m a condemned prisoner who ran from justice, love.”

“You’re not,” I said hotly. “You’re not.”

“As things stand now, that’s exactly what I am, and as such, I’m not worthy of a sacred pyre.”

“Sacred pyre? What does that even mean?”

“It means I can tell them I returned his body to the Earth without the Sun’s blessing,” Gerd said, his mouth set in a grim line. “No one will question it, but we’d best get on with it.”

Although Zal had gone nearly gray, he nodded and then kissed my forehead and released my shoulders.

I pressed my knuckles against my lips as Zal unlaced his jerkin and pulled it over his head, followed by his shirt. My hands didn’t muffle my whimper when I saw the scrapes and lacerations on his arms.

He knelt in front of Gerd and shot a glance at me. “It’ll be okay, love.”

Then he bowed his head and Gerd lifted one of Zal’s long plaits and raised his knife.

The blade flashed in the sunlight and an instant later, one of Zal’s braids lay on the ground by Gerd’s feet. Then another. Then another. My legs gave way and I dropped gracelessly to the ground because Zal… Zal was trembling, his fists clenched at his sides, keening low in his throat.

Did Gerd have to cut so close to Zal’s scalp? The knife was sharp enough that he didn’t have to saw at the plaits, but Zal had probably never had his hair cut before. Pain wasn’t always physical. Gerd was removing Zal’s life, or at least the testament to his years. He could have left something.

When the last braid fell atop the pile of its fellows, limp and somehow forlorn between Zal’s knees and Gerd’s feet, Gerd stood back.

“It is done,” he said.

Zal’s fingers uncurled, and one hand crept toward the mound before falling to his side. He raised his head and took a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Gerd shook his head. “Do not thank me. Your road will be hard with your Stone in splinters and the mark of your disgrace for all to see.”

“I thank you because you’ve returned choice to us. You’ve given us a chance. And above all, you’ve kept Torian out of their hands. That is a favor I can never repay.”

Gerd helped Zal to his feet, steadying him when he wobbled. “All I ask is that you keep looking. Find the proof I need. Although, if I were you, I would have a care with whom I placed my trust. We don’t know how far this conspiracy might reach, especially among mages, if it was indeed intended to raise us above the seigneurs.”

“We’ll be careful.”

“Good.” He turned away and began gathering Zal’s braids, plaiting them together into a thick rope.

Zal watched him, shoulders slumped, listing to one side as though he couldn’t quite adjust his balance. With every braid Gerd collected, Zal tilted more until I couldn’t stand it.

I pushed myself to my feet and hurried forward.

“Let me help.” I reached for the topmost braid.

“No,” Zal and Gerd both barked at once.

“Zal may not touch them now, or the others will know he still lives. And no one but me may touch them or they’ll suspect a ruse.”

I glared at Gerd. “Do they keep count of everyone’s braids? Inventory the hair on your heads?”

Gerd’s eyebrows rose at the same time his lips turned down. “Of course not.”

“Then I’m keeping this.” With two fingers, careful not to touch any others, I lifted a braid from the pile.

“Why?” Gerd sounded truly mystified.

“Because…” I turned away as I twined the thick plait around my hand. “Because he doesn’t deserve to lose everything. Not for me.”

By the time I’d stowed the coil in my waistcoat pocket and turned back, Gerd had finished, the thick rope of Zal’s hair hanging off his belt like some kind of hunting trophy.

He and Zal stared at one another, unmoving, until Gerd nodded sharply.

“Go with the Sun,” he said.

“And you,” Zal replied.

Gerd turned and disappeared through the brambles. A moment later, the tunnel door rumbled shut once more.

Zal sighed and then picked up his shirt. Before he could pull it over his head, I touched his injured arm with a fingertip.

“You’re hurt.”

His smile flickered once and then died. “’Tis naught. A few scrapes.”

I extended a tentative hand toward his head. He didn’t pull away, so I rested my palm there, the nubs of the shorn braids almost sharp against my skin.

“Will it be very bad?” I let my hand fall.

“A shearing is the sign of guilt. The shorter the shear, the more severe the crime.” He smiled a little crookedly as he donned his shirt. “Looking like this, folk couldn’t be blamed for thinking me a murderer.” He winced. “Shite. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Let’s just say you won’t be the one drawing the most attention on our travels any longer. Although…” He frowned as he pulled his jerkin over his head and laced it up. “I confess, Torian, I have no notion where we’re to travel to. We can’t very well go back to my cottage, nor can we go to any of the villages on my circuit, where folk know me. Word would certainly get back to the Trine that I’d been seen.” He shivered. “And now I wish you hadn’t talked me into leaving my cloak at the inn. Wherever we go, and it’ll have to be somewhere in the hinterlands, we’re deep in the bowels of winter now. With no money, and needing to say out of sight, we—”

“Psst. Torian?” The bushes rustled behind us and I whirled around to see Darej peering out between the few remaining brown leaves still clinging to the branches of a bush. “Is the Scale gone? Is it safe to come out?”

“Yes.” I gestured for them to join us. “Although when you get back home, you should pass the word that Gerd is the one mage you can trust at the moment.”

“I’ll let Mam know. She’ll make sure of it.” Darej emerged from their hiding place and shyly handed Zal his cloak. “I spread it in the sun, like Torian said.”

Zal bowed and solemnly accepted the cloak. “I thank you, young Darej.”

Darej flushed and bobbed their head and then handed over my pack. “I put in another pot of the clawfruit stain, in case you need to go in disguise again.” They glanced up at Zal’s head, their eyes wide. “There’s more wool, too, and another snood, but I didn’t think we’d need more pins.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Zal said. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

They ducked back behind the bush and returned with Zal’s creel, our bedrolls, and a basket with a long leather strap.

“How did you carry all this out without the guards noticing?” I said in wonder.

“Maer and Lafi helped. One of the guards is sweet on Maer.” Darej snorted. “Not that it’ll do him any good. Maer’s got her eye on someone else. But she distracted him while Lafi and I made a trip or two.” They wrinkled their nose. “We had to gather some clawfruit to keep up the ruse, but it won’t go to waste.”

“Very clever,” Zal said, admiration in his tone.

Darej flushed again and pointed to the basket. “Mam sent along some bread and a few of those dulaberry tarts, since she said you wouldn’t be able to manage those on the trail.”

Heat built behind my eyes, as though I were about to cry. Fuck. I hated crying. I had no idea it could ambush you for reasons other than grief.

What was swirling in my chest and sending odd signals along my neural pathways wasn’t grief. I had insufficient data for a full analysis, but there were several discrete components.

Gratitude. Determination. Hope.

Despite the plots and plans of people like Edric, Obeila, and Brylun, despite thugs like Farren and his gang, there were still good people, kind people, people who deserved to have their way of life preserved. One way or another, I intended to see that happened.

“Thank your mam for me. Thank your whole family and all your friends who helped us. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Darej looked down at the city and then back at us, a bit wistfully. “Couldn’t I come with you?”

I shook my head. “Although I’d be glad of your companionship, I doubt your mother would thank us for taking you away. Besides, we don’t know what we’ll be facing, so it’s best if you go home.”

“Will you come back?”

I didn’t want to lie, so I just said, “Perhaps.”

Then I smiled and began to sing. “Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques.”

Darej brightened, joining in at the right spot, surprisingly on key, and by the time we’d run through the round three times, they were smiling.

Still humming, they headed down the path toward the main road, turning once to wave at us.

“By the Sun, love,” Zal said, draping his arm over my shoulders, “you’ve changed another life.”

I shrugged, but leaned into Zal’s warmth. “I just taught them a song. It wasn’t much.”

Zal kissed the top of my head. “Unless I miss my guess, it might just be everything.”

I glanced up at the sky. “We should probably get moving before it gets much darker. We don’t want our campfire to be visible from the battlements.”

Zal sighed and shook his head. “Moving where, Torian? I still have no idea where we can go.”

“Don’t you?” I looked up at him. “Tenner’s End.”

“Tenner’s End? How do you know about Tenner’s End? I’m not even sure it still exists.”

“Do you know where it was purported to be?”

He waggled one hand. “More or less. But that doesn’t explain why we should barge around in the wilderness looking for it.”

I dug the scrap of paper out of the belt pouch that was part of my clerk livery, grateful I’d been able to keep it. I smoothed it out in my palm and gazed down at the printed alphabet.

“Because of this. The name of that village was the only thing the person who gave this to me said. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to find out why?”

Zal’s brows lowered in thought. “I suppose so.” His expression cleared. “And it’s not as though I have any better ideas. Let’s get these packs sorted and we’ll be off.”

Zal began rearranging things in his usual manner, giving himself most of the burden. When he reached for Jocosa’s basket, I pulled it away.

“Absolutely not. I’m carrying that one myself.” I grinned at him. “I don’t trust you around those dulaberry tarts.”

As I hoped, he laughed. “Very well.” He pointed to the northwest. “I believe we should head that way.”

“All right. One moment. I need to change into my other boots.” Zal sat next to me as I switched over my footwear. “This is likely to be a long march, love.”

I glanced up from lacing my left boot. “I know.”

“So we’ll need a way to pass the time.”

“You mean other than slogging through mud, sleet, and snow?” I laced the second boot and stood.

Zal chuckled as he shouldered his pack and lifted his walking stick. “Aye.”

I looped the strap of Jocosa’s basket across my chest, slid into my pack, and flung my cloak over my shoulders. “What do you suggest?”

“I think”—he nudged me with his elbow—“you should teach me a song.”

I stared at him a moment and then burst out laughing.

So as we headed deeper into the forest, we startled more than one coney and at least two flights of birds as we filled the air with round after round of “Frère Jacques.”