by Stuart Daly
‘So we’re like hunting ferrets sent down rabbit holes,’ Roland said with a grin.
The Master’s expression was deadpan. ‘In a matter of speaking, yes.’
‘Why the secrecy of the Brotherhood?’ Kilt asked.
‘The last thing we want is to advertise that royal Dray burials contain magical weapons,’ Morgan replied. ‘Our armies are in desperate need of them. Although it is forbidden to enter Dray burial sites, rival treasure hunters do exist. The tombs are riddled with traps, so few who enter ever return. But others do make it out alive, and some Dray artefacts appear on the black market. We want to keep a monopoly on such relics.’
Sara placed her tankard on the table. ‘What happens at the end of our three months of training, sir?’
‘You’ll be required to pass a few tests. Then, and only then, will you be sent off on missions.’
‘There’s no chance of dropping any hints as to what the tests will involve, sir?’ Roland winked at the Master.
Morgan scowled. ‘No.’
Roland gave a wounded look and slumped in his seat.
The Master beckoned Gramidge forward. ‘You have an hour to take the recruits on a quick tour of the building and show them to their rooms. Make sure they see the latrines, archives, laundry, the offices and storerooms before you bring them down to the Great Hall for dinner. Oh, and ensure they see the training yard. They’ll have their first lesson with Master Scott there tomorrow morning.’ He turned to them. ‘Get a good night’s rest. You’re going to need it. Now, I must attend a meeting with the Duke.’
He exited the hall, leaving the apprentices with the steward.
After their tour of the House of Whispers, Gramidge escorted the recruits to their private quarters, where they had half an hour to unpack and freshen up. The steward then took them down to the Great Hall, where he announced that he had some chores to complete and bid the recruits farewell.
The hall was dominated by a large central table, upon which was spread a selection of hot and cold meats, bowls of fruit and berries, baskets full of warm, freshly baked bread and jugs of mulled honey cider. It was a far cry from the bland, spartan meals Caspan had been forced to forage for back in Floran. He sat eagerly with his fellow recruits and devoured two platefuls before he finally lounged back in his seat, rubbing his belly contentedly.
Roland grinned at him from across the table. ‘You look like the proverbial cat that drunk the milk. You like your food?’
Caspan nodded. ‘I don’t think “like” is a powerful enough word to describe it. I love food so much I could marry a kitchen.’
Roland laughed. ‘I’m not going to argue with that.’ He pointed his fork at the cloak slung over Caspan’s seat. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask: you’re not from one of the cadet academies, are you?’
Caspan poured himself a tankard of cider. He took a long draught and let it swash about in his mouth before swallowing it. He’d been wondering how long it would take before he was asked this question. So far the cadets had been accepting of him. Now was the critical moment when he would reveal his past. Caspan hoped it would go down well.
He glanced expectantly at Roland. ‘I’m a former member of the Black Hand, the thieves’ guild of Floran.’ He had contemplated making up a more socially acceptable background, but the Masters knew his past. It would only be a matter of time before his fellow recruits learned the truth.
Roland’s eyes grew wide with surprise. ‘No way! The Black Hand is arguably the most famous thieves’ guild in the realm.’
Caspan was about to take another drink, but left his tankard hovering near his lips. ‘I was lucky to have had a chance encounter with a member of the Brotherhood, and she gave me a letter of introduction.’
‘And now you’re here.’ Roland shook his head in wonder. ‘Well, I’m glad to have you on our team.’
‘Really?’ Caspan looked quizzically at him. This was going far better than he had expected.
‘Who better than a former thief to join a company of treasure hunters? I know who I’ll want covering my back when we start entering tombs.’ Roland stared at Caspan with open admiration. ‘A former member of the Black Hand. Who would have thought it? Mind you, I knew there was something different about you by the way you shot across that porch.’
Caspan couldn’t help but smile proudly. Acceptance was a powerful stimulus.
‘So what was it like?’ Roland asked.
Caspan took another drink, his thoughts flashing back to the alleyways, rooftops and sewers of Floran. It was a memory that left a sour taste in his mouth. ‘Lonely, cold and hungry.’
He wished he could have glamorised the life for Roland’s sake, entertaining him with tales of his daring escapades, but it was the truth. It was a life that had been forced upon Caspan, and he was glad to have broken free from its shackles.
Roland gave him a deflated look and motioned with his fork at the spread before them. ‘At least now I know why you eat so much.’
Caspan sighed and nursed his drink on his lap. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I saw food like this. So where are you from?’
‘A small fishing village in Randerlonia.’
‘I don’t picture you as the fishing type.’
Roland shook his head. ‘I’m not, much to my mother’s and brothers’ annoyance.’ He trailed his finger along a line on the table, a distant look in his eyes. ‘My father is an officer in one of Andalon’s armies. Ever since I can remember, all I’ve wanted to do is to follow in his footsteps and go on grand adventures.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll never forget the first time I saw him draw his sword. We were coming back from the local markets, and he brushed shoulders with two men – wandering swords-for-hire – in a narrow lane. Heated words were exchanged, and the next thing I knew blades were drawn. The altercation ended with both sell-swords running away, nursing injuries.’
‘You must have been terrified.’
Roland grinned merrily. ‘Not in the least. Even at such a young age it stirred something deep within me. It provided a glimpse into the world in which my father lived. It wasn’t full of fishing boats and nets, of hard work and toil, but of swirling cloaks and slashing blades. From that day onwards, I idolised my father.’
Caspan fidgeted with the collar of his doublet, relieving it from where it chafed his neck. ‘What unit does he belong to?’
‘The Iron Guards.’
Caspan whistled, impressed. ‘They’re one of Andalon’s finest fighting forces. I’m surprised you didn’t ask your father to transfer you across to his unit at the end of your cadet training. You would have got your fair dose of adventure then. I know that’s what I would have done had I been in your shoes.’
‘I thought about it. But I wanted to see how far I could get on my own merits.’ Roland’s eyes glistened with determination and he sat up straight. ‘All I’ve ever dreamed about is joining an elite military order. And now that I’m here, I’m going to try my hardest to become one of the Brotherhood Masters. In a few years, I’ll be training the new recruits, just you wait and see.’
Caspan pursed his lips. ‘You set yourself high goals. I thought that being here was a big enough achievement.’
Roland shrugged. ‘Why settle for the top of the mountain when you can aim for the stars? Mind you, my mother will be more shocked than anybody when I write to tell her that I’ve been recruited into an elite unit.’ He took another sip of his drink and chuckled quietly. ‘She thinks I’m a natural clown and should have joined a group of travelling jesters.’ The black-haired boy smiled and swirled his tankard slowly in his hands. ‘So what’s your room like?’
Caspan’s eyes lit up. ‘Absolutely awesome. I can’t believe we’ve been given private rooms.’ He thought back to the stone floor he called his bed back in the Black Hand hideout. A thin layer of manure-stained straw was a pitiful substitute for a mattress; a filthy, scrunched-up tunic a worse excuse for a pillow. He had always kept a hand on his stiletto, should any of his fellow thieves t
ry rummaging through his pockets whilst he slept.
‘I know. How good is that? It’s far better than having to share a dormitory with twenty other boys.’ Roland’s grin was contagious. ‘There was this one boy back at my academy who always ate too much before bed. He’d toss and turn all night, groaning and belching. He made more noise than a cow suffering from severe flatulence. One night it got so bad I had to shove one of my dirty socks in his mouth.’
Caspan laughed, and next to him Sara turned to look at Roland, a shocked expression on her face. She had been chatting to Lachlan and Kilt, but her ears must have pricked up when she overheard Roland’s comment. ‘Belching?’ she asked. ‘Boys actually do that in their sleep?’
Roland’s eyes glistened mischievously. ‘Only during full moons.’
Kilt, who was sitting on Roland’s left, glanced at him and cocked her head to the side sarcastically. ‘Oh, really? And is that before or after they sprout wings?’
‘After, of course.’ Roland smirked, and she rolled her eyes in return. ‘I take it you have no brothers?’
She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled loudly. ‘No, thank goodness.’
Roland pulled a playful, hurt expression. ‘That’s a bit harsh. We’re not that bad, you know.’
‘Really? So you think it’s okay to leave your dirty clothes on the ground, speak with your mouth full, tell crude jokes and constantly wrestle and tease one another? And don’t get me started on your personal hygiene … or lack thereof.’
Roland nodded. ‘It seems perfectly normal to me.’ He glanced at Caspan. ‘What do you think?’
‘Perfectly normal.’
Kilt moaned in frustration and flung her hands exasperatedly in the air. ‘Argh! Boys, you’re all the same.’
Lachlan looked past Kilt to get Caspan’s attention. ‘I overheard what Roland said, and I hate to spoil the party, but I should tell you I’ve been known to snore. I think I’m in the room next to you. My apologies if I keep you awake.’
Caspan waved his concern aside. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think it will be an issue. These walls seem thick enough. I’m sure they’ll keep the noise out.’
Roland reached over to one of the baskets, took two pieces of bread and handed them to Caspan. ‘Shove these in your ears, just to be on the safe side.’ He smirked as he pointed at Lachlan. ‘Look at the size of him! I wouldn’t be taking any chances.’ He shook his head in wonder at the boy’s muscle-corded arms. ‘Not even my thighs are that big! What on earth did your parents feed you as a child?’
‘Several cows for every meal, by the looks of it,’ Kilt said.
Roland chortled into his drink. ‘And a cartload of milk.’
‘I wasn’t always this big,’ Lachlan explained. ‘I have five older brothers. I was picked on every day.’
Kilt rolled her eyes and glanced at Roland and Caspan. ‘You see what I mean? Argh, boys! You should all be rounded up and shipped off to an island to live by yourselves.’
Caspan regarded Lachlan. ‘I can’t imagine anybody picking on you.’
‘Nobody does now. If they do, they get a quick introduction to Bruiser and Basher.’ Lachlan raised his clenched fists, and the recruits chuckled.
‘Well, it looks as if you’ll have the final laugh at your brothers,’ Sara said. ‘I bet none of them were offered positions in elite military orders.’
Lachlan nodded grimly. ‘I know. I can’t wait till I get the chance to go home and rub it in their faces.’ He looked quizzically at Caspan’s clothing. ‘So what cadet school are you from?’
‘He’s not from one,’ Roland said before Caspan had a chance to respond. ‘He’s a former member of the Black Hand.’
Lachlan blinked in surprise. ‘I thought we were all boring old cadets.’
Sara glanced up at Caspan with a look of sudden understanding. ‘Now it all makes sense. The way you climbed that statue earlier this evening was amazing.’
Roland clicked his fingers at her. ‘And don’t go thinking about having him as your partner if we’re forced to pair up.’ He placed an arm around Caspan’s shoulder. ‘He’s all mine.’
The recruits laughed as Caspan grinned and pulled away from Roland, but Kilt didn’t seem to share their humour. She folded her arms and regarded Caspan warily. Only Caspan seemed to notice her reaction, but he didn’t respond. For someone who had feared that he wouldn’t be accepted by a single soul, three out of four wasn’t a bad start.
Sara returned to prodding the remains of her meal with her fork. Caspan observed that she’d been doing this for some time. Thinking about it now, he realised that she’d been reserved since their meeting with Duke Connal.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.
She put down her fork, pushed aside her plate and looked up. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I feel honoured to have passed the Brotherhood’s test, but I’d always thought that I’d have a month to spend with my family after completing my year of cadet training. I barely had time to write my parents a letter – it all happened so fast.’
Roland nodded empathically. ‘I know what you mean. I feel cheated, too. I was really looking forward to going home and hanging out with my brothers and sister for a few weeks.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, well, we can’t have everything our own way, can we?’
Lachlan gave Sara an encouraging look. ‘Cheer up. Things aren’t that bad. You obviously didn’t hear what Gramidge said when he was showing us around the House of Whispers.’ Sara gave him a blank look. ‘We’ll be granted a fortnight’s leave after three months.’
Caspan wasn’t particularly keen on this period of leave. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to return to, and he had no family to visit. Although he’d only been in the House of Whispers for a few hours, he already considered it home.
Sara’s face lit up. ‘Did he really?’
Lachlan nodded. Sara smiled briefly, and her expression became forlorn.
Kilt snickered. ‘What’s wrong now?’
‘Three months is such a long time to have to wait. It’s a lifetime away.’
‘Not if you’re a sea turtle,’ Roland said. When the recruits gave him baffled looks, he explained, ‘They live for well over two hundred years. Three months would pass within the blink of an eye.’
‘Which is all fine if you’re a sea turtle,’ Sara mumbled dourly.
‘Well, sea turtles or not, I’m sure we’re going to be so busy here that three months will slip by in no time,’ Caspan said. ‘You’ll be back with your family before you know it.’
Kilt snickered. ‘I don’t miss my family one bit.’
For someone who would give anything to have his parents back, Caspan found this a little hard to believe. ‘Yeah, right,’ he scoffed.
Kilt looked him up and down, her top lip curling in distaste. She turned to Sara. ‘I’m dead serious. The year I spent at the cadet academy was the best year of my life. I couldn’t wait to escape from my parents. And now that I’m here, I’m happier than ever.’
Sara was shocked. ‘How can you say such a thing? That’s terrible.’
‘It’s the truth,’ Kilt said bluntly. ‘I’ve had enough of my parents telling me what to do. This is the first thing I’ve ever done for myself. The secrecy of this organisation is just what I needed. My parents will never know where to find me.’
Sara shook her head. ‘I’ll be going home to see my family the first chance I get.’ She gazed absentmindedly at the wall. ‘My father’s an archivist in the Library of Briston. I’ve spent my entire life amongst books and scrolls, following in his footsteps.’ She sniffed and smiled longingly. ‘Every time I smell an old parchment it reminds me of home.’
‘You obviously don’t have parents like mine. They suck the life and enjoyment out of everything. This is the first time I’ve felt truly alive.’ Kilt scowled at Caspan. ‘I bet your parents are really proud of you.’ She made no effort to mask the sarcasm in her voice.
The words stung like a slap. Caspan held her stare for a moment then lowered
his gaze.
Sara shot Kilt a reprimanding look before smiling at him. ‘I’m sure they are.’
Caspan was moved by the sincerity in her voice, and he was filled with a warm sensation of acceptance. Kilt obviously disliked him, but he wasn’t going to let that ruin his new life.
Roland cleared his throat before raising his tankard. He waited for the others to raise theirs in a symbolic act of union, then announced, ‘Here’s to our future with the Brotherhood. To new friends.’
The recruits repeated the toast and clanked their tankards together. Roland banged his too hard against Kilt’s, forcing cider to spill over her hand and sleeve. He apologised profusely, then, when she was angrily wiping her hand, smirked wolfishly and winked at Caspan.
Caspan smiled in return.
Dawn draped a gossamer shroud of mist over the land.
Wrapped tightly in the grey training cloaks they had found in their rooms, the recruits stamped their feet and blew warmth into their hands. They had assembled in the central training ground, an extensive courtyard surrounded on three sides by the House of Whispers. To the south, a rolling green field dipped towards the forest. A colonnaded walkway was off to the left, beneath which were racks full of wooden training swords, defensive jackets known as gambesons, and helmets lined up against the wall of the manor house.
Caspan couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so soundly, and he awoke reinvigorated, eager to begin his first day of training with the Brotherhood. He had also had a bath the night before, relaxing in the tub for over an hour, lulled by the warm water, which lapped around his neck and soothed his cramped thigh muscles. He had then changed into a fresh set of clothes. For the first time in seven years, Caspan hadn’t smelled of the gutter. He had felt like a new person.