“That’ll be the boys,” Helos said.
The boys. Their soldiers, back from battle.
Venick cast his gaze through dark tavern windows. He couldn’t see the soldiers yet, but he knew what that singing meant. “They’ve taken prisoners.”
“Yes. There will be an execution.”
The way Helos said it. Venick saw this moment as these councillors must. So normal, so perfectly traditional. When soldiers returned home from war, they usually captured a few prisoners for this very purpose. Victory on the battlefield was celebrated with a public execution of their enemy.
Venick pushed through the tavern doors just in time to watch the soldiers march into view. Forty, maybe fifty men total. His heart hitched to see that familiar armor, the steel weapons. Judging by the group’s small size—and by the fact that they were on foot and not horseback—this battalion had likely come from a skirmish in the northern marshlands. Though,wherehardly mattered. There was always some battle to be fought, some enemy to be defeated. Send enough men, the generals would say, and battle will find them.
The prisoners came next, their hands and feet bound with rope. Not many. Three men and a woman. Venick caught a glimpse of their tawny hair and knew them to be highlanders.
He returned to the tavern where the councillors had fallen back into conversation. Venick’s mind felt trapped in slow motion. He knew what he was about to say, had enough time to think,don’t.
Then he did.
“You can’t execute them.”
All eyes turned on him. Theledus scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“We need to start forming alliances,” Venick insisted. “How can we do that if we’re still cutting each other’s throats?”
“We don’t cut our prisoner’s throats anymore,” Theledus answered, still incredulous. “We throw them into a pit of fire. They burn alive. It’s better, you see, because it takes longer.”
Venick couldn’t hide his horror. He looked at his mother. “You support this?”
“Of course she supports it,” Theledus interjected, “as should you. Or did we misunderstand your promises to prove where your true loyalties lie?”
Venick ground his teeth. “When?”
“Whenwhat, Venick?”
“When will they be executed?”
Theledus’ lips flattened into a grim smile. “As soon as the fire is hot enough.”
???
Venick trudged back through the forest to where their army had made camp. The night was muggy, the wind mild. Beads of sweat snaked down his back.
Rahven was the first to greet him. The chronicler took one look at Venick’s face and said, “Things went poorly, then?” When Venick merely shrugged, Rahven pressed, “Were you not granted redemption?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly?” Rahven fell into step at Venick’s side, and Venick had to fight the urge to say something sharp. He didn’t want to have this conversation with Rahven right now. Didn’t really want to have this conversation with anyone right now.
“I need to find Dourin,” Venick said curtly. “Have you seen him?”
The elf spread his hands. No, he hadn’t.
Neither had anyone else. Venick walked the camp, dodging questions about his redemption, asking after Dourin’s whereabouts. The elves apologized. No one had seen Dourin in hours, they said. Not since he’d left to accompany Venick into the city. They didn’t know where he’d gone.
“He was supposed to come back here with Branton and Lin Lill,” Venick told a trio of soldiers he’d stopped near the camp’s center. “You’re telling me he never did?”
The elves exchanged glances. They shook their heads.
“And you didn’t think to go looking for him?” Venick glared from face to face. “Have I not taught youanything?He could be hurt. He could be—”
