Chapter Eighteen: A New Quest

  The climb down was easier than the climb up. Gravity worked in their favor and triumph kept the others’ spirits high, even through a brief snowstorm. Ean and Leo did not talk of politics; instead, there was frivolous talk of food, rest, and slothfulness when they returned from their quest. A few songs were whistled and hummed. Jokes were told. Snowballs were thrown.

  Ean held back from the merriment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join, or that he still felt like an outsider, rather his crime had been laid bare last night. The shame lingered, and beyond that, his assumptions about the world had been challenged. He wasn’t convinced that Leo was right, but he had made a few sound arguments. Ean tried his best to disprove them, staying up late by the fire, rehearsing debates in his head. He wished that Felix was there. He had a way of untangling Ean’s twisted trail of thoughts, and he was good at defending the profession that had their oath. And part of Ean wished he could ask him again: ‘Why did you kill my mother? Did she really deserve to die?’

  If Ean could just catch that damned arrow, he’d have access to that charge.

  His head throbbed. It kept him from sleeping and in the morning, Flora remarked at the dark circles under his eyes. He attributed the headache to the thin atmosphere, and she made him a tincture to drink. He pretended it helped.

  He was relieved when they reached the Northern Villa late the third evening. Cirocco greeted them with a smile and invited them into the dining room for an impromptu dinner. Ean furthered his descent into dishonor by abandoning his post at Leo’s side and retreated to their rooms. He burrowed under a pile of blankets and slept.

  *   *   *

  The door flung open.

  “Ean! Ean, wake up!”

  Ean jerked up, pulling his wrist knives from their sheaths and scanning the room for danger, but there wasn’t any. There was only Leo, standing in the doorway, a goblet in his hand.

  Ean scrubbed a hand over his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “You didn’t come celebrate with us,” Leo said petulantly.

  Ean blinked at him stupidly. He was used to being pulled out of sleep to fight a battle, not to hold a conversation. His body always woke up faster than his brain. “What?”

  “We celebrated tonight,” Leo repeated, slumping against the doorframe. He took a gulp from his goblet. He was drunk, Ean realized.

  A burst of laughter sounded from the main room, loud and raucous.

  “Some of us are trying to sleep!” Ean yelled out the open door.

  “You’re a sad bastard, Ean!” Chadwick yelled back, a slur to his words.

  Ean heard Asali giggle.

  “Don’t be mean!” Flora reprimanded them.

  “Is it because you’re mad at me?” Leo asked.

  “You’re drunk,” Ean said, ignoring the question.

  Leo slumped even further. “Come celebrate with us. You missed dinner and you should have been there.”

  “I was tired. I’m still tired.”

  “You’re still mad,” Leo corrected. “Can’t you… stop for a couple of minutes?”

  “Ean! Come out and have fun!” Flora called, ending with a shriek and giggle at something unseen.

  “He doesn’t know how to have fun,” Chadwick retorted.

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  It was obvious they were going to be obnoxious, and even more obvious that Ean wasn’t going to get back to sleep.

  “Fine,” he said, sheathing his knives.

  Leo grinned, sunny and happy, all trace of petulance forgotten. He slung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him out of the bedroom. The others, sprawled on the sofas and chairs around the fireplace, cheered as Ean emerged, raising their cups in his direction. Ean had guessed that Chadwick and Flora were drunk from their shouting, but he was surprised to see that Asali was as well. Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she lolled against the arm of her chair.

  “Are all of you sloshed?” he demanded. “In a foreign village? Surrounded by people who are sworn enemies of our kingdom?”

  “If they wanted us dead, they wouldn’t have thrown us a party,” Asali said with a loose shrug.

  “We brought you food,” Flora placated. She gestured to the platter on the low table in the middle of the couches holding meat, cheeses, bread, and fruit. A smaller platter held a few sweetmeats. It was a thoughtful gesture, and now that Ean was looking at it, his stomach grumbled, reminding him he’d only eaten travel rations over the past week. He hopped over the back of the sofa and helped himself to the meal.

  Leo walked around to the fireplace. In this light, Ean could see his face and neck were flushed from the wine. He cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to say a few words.”

  Chadwick let out a groan. Asali shushed him.

  Leo ignored them both and stared at the group with surprising intensity considering his inebriated state. “When we started this journey, I thought it might be impossible. The Eld sword was a nothing more legend; our information nothing more than rumor. Still, we set out, hoping and praying for success. We came across unexpected hardships, and lost a friend along the way, but ultimately, we have completed our mission. In a few days, we’ll head back to Eastmere, the Eld sword with us. I cannot put into words what a service you have done for your kingdom, or how much I owe every one of you. So, I’d like to give a toast.”

  Asali slid a goblet in Ean’s direction. “You do toast, right?”

  Ean was allowed to toast, but he usually didn’t. He drank too infrequently to acclimate to the burn of alcohol. This, however, seemed to be the occasion for it. He took the goblet.

  Leo raised his. “Courage, you have proved. Loyalty, you have kept. Honor, you have shown. And friends we have become. May fate keep us.”

  “Fate keep us,” Ean echoed with the others and clinked his goblet to theirs.

  He took a sip of the wine to be polite, and grimaced at the bitter bite of it. The others drank deeper. Chadwick downed his goblet and poured another. Asali held out hers to be topped off. Ean exchanged his for water.

  The others seemed content to stay up all night laughing and drinking, and as it was clear that they’d not be leaving tomorrow, Ean stayed up as well, polishing off the food they’d brought him. As far as drunken parties went, they managed to stay entertaining, and only occasionally slipped into irritating. Flora got clumsier as she drank, knocking over Ean’s water glass and sending a few bread rolls to the floor. Chadwick got more animated. He got up to act out the stories he told with surprising fervor and accuracy. Asali got smug, curling up in her chair and offering cutting rejoinders while hiding behind her goblet. Leo got pinker, and showed a few moments of peevishness, usually when Chadwick told an embarrassing story at his expense. It spoke of a strange combination of insecurity and authority. It was an insight that humanized him.

  Ean was talked into playing a few songs on the hand-flute, but he vetoed the worst of the suggestions. And as was the only one that hadn’t been drinking, it meant he got to drag them all to bed when the conversation faltered, and the wine won out.

  He slipped out the next morning to join Phong and his trainees for an early jog and then they sat together over breakfast. Phong told Ean about the history of the Scholars, and Ean told him as much shadow-walker history as he could remember. There were a few legends that overlapped their sects.

  He took a breakfast platter and a pot of strong tea back to the room. The others didn’t stir until mid-morning, and when they did, they were bedraggled and bleary-eyed. Chadwick fell back asleep at the table; Leo flinched anytime someone spoke louder than a whisper. Breakfast went a long way in sobering them up and then an attendant arrived to take them bathing in the hot springs.

  A large pool was dedicated for public bathing, and several smaller ones for individual use. The walls of the pools had been lined with a rock shelf for ease of entry, as well as offering the option to sit in the bath. After a week of freezing on the mountains, the hot, bubbling water was an indulgence that bordered on hedonistic. Ean soaked until his skin wrinkled.

  The attendant provided clean robes for them to wear, the brown and lavender garments that most of the Scholars wore. After they dressed, they were taken to Cirocco’s study.

  He smiled over his desk at them. “Congratulations on your success. When do you plan on heading back to Eastmere?”

  “Tomorrow, if possible,” Leo said.

  “And where will the sword reside while it is held in Eastmere?”

  “The royal vaults.”

  Ean grimaced, not liking that answer. The vaults were well-guarded, but they’d been robbed before.

  “Those aren’t impenetrable,” Cirocco said, echoing his thoughts.

  “We need to keep the sword close so Westenvale knows it isn’t an empty threat, and that’s the safest place we have.”

  Cirocco steepled his fingers. “What if you could destroy it?” There was something in his voice that told Ean it wasn’t an idle question.