Chains of Water and Stone by Katherine Hurley

Author:Katherine Hurley [Hurley, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-04-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

LOGAN

WHEN ASTARTI AND I reach the square courtyard, Polemarc Clitus is waiting by the fountain. The rain has stopped. Clitus is dressed for the training field in his leather breastplate and greaves, though they are wet from the recent rain, and his boots squelch as he approaches us. The sword hanging at his waist makes me long for one of my own. I feel naked without the weight of one. The one I had, which Belos broke, was given to me by Clitus.

He is stocky, his hair cut short for combat. His face is serious, even grim, but he is a good man. He was the only man who was able to put aside his fear of a strange boy and give that boy something to do. He found me, when I was living with the fisherman’s family, and brought me home. But that isn’t the reason I love him. During a time when I could not find the will or courage to speak, he gave me action instead. He taught me the sword, taught me to do something with myself. If not for that, I might have willed myself to die. He saved my life the day he handed me a sword. More than that, he let me grow into a man, let me become a Warden when it should not have been permitted. In many ways, he was more a father to me than Arathos was.

Clitus extends his hand, and we clasp forearms.

“Thank the Old Ones,” he says.

“It was not the Old Ones who saved me.”

Clitus dips his chin at Astarti. Like everyone here, he is wary of Drifters, but he is also a military commander, and he knows that actions are a better gauge of a man—or woman—than anything else.

He says, “I did not get a chance to speak with you after the battle. You fought well.”

Astarti, unaccustomed to praise, shifts her weight. “Thanks.”

Clitus returns his attention to me. “Your brother and I would speak with you.”

I know that his questions, even Aron’s questions, will be valid, driven by need, but I still cringe inwardly at the thought of reporting on my captivity.

Clitus darts a look at Astarti. “It might be best if she does not come.”

Astarti bristles. “And why is that?”

“I’m afraid you make the Arcon...tense. It would be best for everyone concerned if there were as few distractions from the matter at hand as possible.”

Mostly because I want to spare Astarti an encounter with Aron, I tell her, “I’ll find you when it’s over.”

She stiffens slightly. “If that’s what you want.”

I want to tell her it’s not what I want, but it’s better to let her believe that. She would not leave if she knew I asked it only to spare her. Besides, though Astarti’s presence comforts me, I am neither a child nor a coward.

I’m relieved to find Bran with Aron in his study. They’re arguing across Aron’s desk. Arguing, that is, in the way that Bran “argues,” which only means quietly speaking his mind.

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