Roger Taylor - Whistler

‘You were going to show me something with it?’ Darke said.

Vredech put the knife back in its sheath clumsily. ‘Yes,’ he said, then, using his hand he offered it to Darke’s throat. ‘Like this, I was told,’ he said, demonstrating what Nertha had shown him. ‘It’ll make… a mess… I believe.’

Darke nodded unhappily and as he looked up Vredech saw tears in his eyes. ‘Yes, it will indeed,’ he said hoarsely. ‘But it’s as good a way as any. My heart tells me I should dissuade you, but I can see you’d come to this of your own free will before you met us, and all I can do is to wish you luck.’ He looked away for a moment, then said, ‘It is the right thing to do, I fear, but if I may counsel you briefly, clear your mind of all doubts before you come close. All doubts . And come close before you draw the weapon. Then don’t hesitate, not for even the blink of an eye . It’s the only way. For both of you.’

‘I think I understand,’ Vredech said.

‘I think perhaps you do,’ Darke nodded.

‘What will you do now?’ Vredech asked, suddenly anxious not to pursue the matter further.

‘Perhaps stay a little longer. Learn a little more,’ Darke replied.

Vredech looked nervous. ‘I will act today,’ he said. ‘While I have the resolve and before Cassraw grows even stronger. I’d be more settled in my mind if I knew you were carrying news of these happenings to someone who can understand them.’

Darke stood up. ‘Then we’ll burden you no further,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave immediately.’

Vredech, too, stood up and extended his hand. Darke took it and looked at Vredech intently. ‘I’ll counsel you again, Brother Vredech,’ he said hesitantly, ‘for I can see death in your eyes. The death of the wrong person - you .’ His grip tightened and the hesitancy vanished. ‘You’re at war, Priest. There’s no law for you now except survival, and you must look to survive or you’ll die for sure and perhaps to no avail. Don’t be afraid to look to tomorrow. There’ll be one, and you’ll have much to do in it. There are no endings or beginnings, only change. Remember.’

Vredech did not know how to reply. ‘So many questions,’ he said.

Darke smiled thinly. ‘Always,’ he replied.

Tirec reached out and took Vredech’s hand in both of his. He was more openly concerned than was Darke, but his voice was steady when he spoke. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘Live well, and light be with you.’

Vredech stood watching them as they walked away. Before they faded into the mist, they turned and waved to him.

Then they were gone.

Vredech sat for a long time after the two had left and pondered the strange meeting. What was it Darke had said? ‘Fate, destiny, whatever you choose to call it. Personally I’m quite happy to settle for chance.’

Chance…

Travellers from a far distant land. And bringing such tidings.

But ‘drawn here’, Darke had said. Vredech moved his shoulder as if to ease it, unconsciously mimicking Darke’s movement. Strange word, ‘drawn’, he thought. Like hunters after prey.

Yet they were hunters of a kind those two, for all their quiet words, he decided. They communicated with one another in silence, and Darke had taken the knife from him with breathless, not to say, humiliating ease. And how strange, too, that he should feel more kinship with them than with almost anyone he’d ever known. Perhaps that was what happened to people who had been touched by Him. A deep awareness of a common and awful foe.

And what of his faith? Darke’s revelations should perhaps have shattered it, yet, he felt more whole than ever before.

It surprised him that he was accepting such changes so easily.

What forces were moving beneath the surface here?

He looked down at his hand then lifted and lowered it. He had his free will, as far as he could tell. The question was thus not only unanswerable, it was irrelevant.

‘You’re a warrior, not a priest,’ the Whistler had said. ‘You resort to violence very easily.’ Vredech laid a hand on the knife. ‘You both care about people after your own fashion.’ That remark he understood now. And its deep irony. For true warriors honed their dark skills so that by understanding violence they could better dedicate themselves to its avoidance. He smiled sadly. Turning easily to violence was the prerogative of intemperate priests, and others who were loath to accept the violence inherent in their own natures.

So many questions.

Always.

He walked slowly back to his Meeting House.

There he found Nertha absent and House in a fluster. ‘Those two men have gone,’ House announced. Vredech had to pause for a moment before he recalled Yan-Elter and Iryn. ‘The young man seemed much quieter,’ House said, before he began to feel guilty about this neglect. ‘His brother said they’d come back later to talk.’

‘And Nertha?’

‘She’s looking for you, young man.’ Vredech wilted under the reproach and House rubbed it in. ‘She seemed worried.’

Vredech suddenly felt chilled to his heart. The return to familiar surroundings and House’s concerns had temporarily made him forget the deed he had set himself to do that day. Now it was on him again in all its horror.

‘I didn’t want to wake her,’ he mumbled, moving past House into his office. ‘I have to go out again in a few minutes. Tell her to wait here when she comes back. Tell her not to worry.’

‘What about my worries, Brother Vredech?’ House exclaimed. ‘You coming in wringing wet then going out again straight away. Nertha wandering the town with all this trouble going on, and her wearing those Felden clothes of hers.’

Vredech stiffened angrily, but managed to think before he spoke. ‘It’s only my cloak that’s wet,’ he said, not entirely succeeding in keeping the effort out of his voice. ‘And I doubt anyone’s going to see Nertha’s clothes under hers. Please don’t concern yourself.’

‘Easy to say,’ House retorted, ‘but there’ll be some scenes today, you mark my words, what with Brother Cassraw speaking in the Heindral and all. I’ll not rest until she’s safe.’

‘Where did you hear that?’ Vredech asked, suddenly urgent.

House waved an airy hand. ‘Everyone’s talking about it. He’s the new Covenant Member, they say. Poor Brother Mueran. So sudden.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Vredech said, as reassuringly as he could. It was an old tradition that a newly-appointed Covenant Member address the Heindral, but for Vredech it was a further measure of the change in Cassraw that he had dismissed such a trifling detail as his election by the Chapter – a matter which was by no means a formality. Far worse than that however, was the prospect of Cassraw having the attention of the Heindral. Almost certainly, every Heinder would be present, and there would be a substantial public crowd as well. And while it was also a tradition that such a speech be bland and uncontroversial, he knew that for Cassraw this was simply an opportunity to subject an important audience to his powerful, binding oratory. Undoubtedly, too, he would perform some ‘miracle’ to convince any waverers of the truth of his claim to be Ishryth’s Chosen One. Rational debate was rare in the Heindral under normal circumstances and it certainly wouldn’t be able to make itself heard over Cassraw’s ranting emotion.

Vredech became very calm. Now at least he did not have to look for Cassraw. And his assessment of what was likely to happen had made his planned assassination even more imperative.

‘I’ll get your other cloak if you’re going out again.’ House’s injured tone interrupted his reverie, and with a hasty thanks, Vredech retreated into his office.