Cradle Song

The days of childlike joy had passed early; days of adulthood were approaching fast, crimson grooves of steel whistling in the wind.

And I was given to the Hallowed, their hair like fire, eyes like ice, skin as white and cracked as marble—cruel in their beauty. The living statues studied the disgraced child of the blood with great curiosity.

Their eyes were fixed on humanity—caring and indifferent. They deemed the child fit to wage war.

The Third took great delight in the ambitions of the one that I was becoming and had already been. War teacher he was! Elf eater! The brother of the First offered all secrets of martiality, devised stratagems of bloodstained beauty, took ashamed flesh and sculpted it into ideals of steel.

Hero! He has to ride into battle. He becomes who he is and I am him, even if his presence strips mere men of virtue, leaving desires to fester like the bodies this man keeps piling up.

There was no past. Blood had to be shed. Where had I been?

A melody prevented me from finding an answer. This cradle song… I wasn't alone. I hadn’t been alone. I had to stop myself from dreaming.

I knew this room. Moonlight streamed through the window, dispelling the darkness, far from that place that never felt like home until it did.

A woman was sitting by my bed, on my bed. Her hair cascaded down, so long and radiant in the light. She leaned back on her hands, with her right leg crossed over her left.

This lithe creature leaned there so scantily clad—downright indecent by Ingeonish standards—revealing so much of her skin. Skin marred by so many burns and scars.

She was the songstress chanting this lullaby—the witch. Was it even a lullaby, a serenade? I didn’t know this tongue of hers, just lying there, watching and listening.

“Inomar,” the woman spoke after a long pause that had lasted many moments between the end of the song and the mention of my name.

“Monfion it was? Your name.”

“It is.”

“That song, what was it about?”

“Death.”

“It sounded beautiful to me.”

The witch remained silent.

“Why are you here, Fion?”

“That isn’t my… to convey a message!”

Now it was I who remained silent.

“The Blacks have hired me once again. Not Atten though. It is their alderman who pays me to be here in this moment.”

“Atten? Alderman?”

“The fleetmaster. You met him in that warehouse on Whitalay. He is supposed to secure the Blacks’ position by force and the alderman takes care of the trade.”

“What difference does it make who of them hired you?”

“Atten is out of control, and Zalta, the alderman, wants to make peace with you and the Churls.”

“And what does he have to offer me?”

“If you want to bring something to or from Funa without the Mareeve's knight’s knowledge, you can't do it without the Blacks’ help. And, of course, they have deep pockets.”

“So they want to buy my allegiance?”

“No, they want to buy your complicity.”

I sat up in bed and was surprised to feel no sharp pain.

“Complicity in what?” I asked, feeling my stomach where the club had hit me.

“Taking care of Atten. They'd pay you to take down one of your enemies.”

Yes, there was still some tenderness near my ribs, but it seemed to have healed well. Just how long had I been asleep?

“An offer right up my alley. What was this alderman's name again?”

I couldn't afford to show any weakness.

“Zalta, Boyoung Zalta—a scoundrel of a trader and as trustworthy as a starving pig.”

“Wasn't I the pig?”

“You were demoted to piglet,” said the witch with a smile that was anything but girlish.

“I'm in, if the Blacks’ meet one additional demand.”

“And what would that be?”

“Sharing information about who all that steel has been delivered to over the past few months.”

“I'll pass that along and get back to you. Expect Zalta wanting to meet with you very soon to finalize the deal.”

Fion got up from my bed, but I held her right arm, running my right index finger over a long scar that stretched from her elbow to her wrist.

Completely taken by surprise, she spun around, knocked my hand away, and glared at me with fury.

“Don't you want to stay a little longer? Sing me another song?”

The witch had regained her composure and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Back to pig it is!”

We looked into each other's eyes. I couldn't figure this woman out yet, and without another word, she was gone.

My sword, my dagger! A little too hastily, I got out of bed and, feeling slightly dizzy, opened my wooden chest. Yes, there it was. Everything.

After taking a few moments to compose myself, I got dressed and staggered, feeling a little unsteady on my feet, down to the entrance area of the inn.

It seemed like no one was awake anymore. A bath—yes, I had to take a bath, but where at this hour?

And then there was Carver. That boy had saved my life. And I needed information. What had happened in the meantime? What had become of the Churls, the Golden, and... the trolls?

My thoughts were racing.

“Sir thane?”

I whirled around. The innkeeper’s wife was standing in the doorway to the dining hall with a gleaming lantern.

The fire. The juggler. It all came back to me.

“Back to bed, good sir! Face so pale as if you'd seen a ghost… That isn’t good at all!”

“Excuse me, ma'am, could you answer a few questions for me?”

“Oh, leave me alone with these questions! My good husband will answer everything in time. I'll send him up to see you right away! Now hurry up and get back to bed!”

I decided to comply with the woman's insolent reprimand. She cared? This somehow felt nice.

I was standing in my room, looking out the window and gazing at the moons.

It wasn't long before the innkeeper knocked and came in.

“You're really awake already. We were so worried, sir thane! What a relief!”

He cared too?

“I really want to thank you all for your hospitality. Please call me Inomar.”

“Then call me Gospor, Inomar!” the man beamed at me.

“Please tell me how long I slept, good Gospor.”

“Just a little longer than a day.”

“Just a day? How?”

“The Cantish woman of course. I was surprised that you count one of the Treefolk among your friends.”

“She did what?!”

“Oh, was that a mistake on our part? The woman was already waiting for you when Carver showed up here with you. The boy was very suspicious at first, but we left the three of you alone in your room, and after a short while he left us. Since then, the woman cared for you and wouldn’t leave your side.”

Why?

“Sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. Has Carver shown up again after that?”

“He was there at noon and asked for you. But the woman shooed him away. He wanted to stop by again at the same time tomorrow. It seemed urgent to him. You really made some good friends in this city in no time!”

“It almost seems that way… please forgive me for keeping you from getting a good night's sleep.”

“Don't worry. I’ll just be as bold—and from now on, I'm counting myself among your friends.”

“Do you have any idea where I could take a bath at this hour, Gospor?”

“Other than the tub in the yard, no.”

“Is it really okay for me to do so this late?”

“Just try to be as quiet as possible.”

“I owe you, Gospor. Good night…”

“Good night, Inomar… Oh! Rembri has warmed up some soup for you. Just help yourself from the pot in the kitchen. You must be starving.”

I washed up, ate from the hearty soup, felt ready to keep fighting, struggling and striving.

I decided to exercise a little in my room, took long breaks in between, and then lay down for a bit until the sun finally rose.

It was once again time to stroll through the market, to sample all kinds of meat at several stalls and then for a visit at the bathhouse.

Noon was still a while away when I returned to the inn, but when I arrived, I saw Carver already loitering outside.

“Ino!” he exclaimed, his face showing great surprise, which then turned into a broad grin.

“Good to see you, Carver. Is everything okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that! But let's talk before we go in. The others just went in to ask the innkeeper if you’ve woken up yet.”

“The other?”

“Hern, Stooke and Gerner.”

Gerner, sure. But why were even Herning and Stooke here?

“Don’t worry! At first, they were a little annoyed by all the commotion, but your actions led to an unexpected turn of events that worked in their favor. Let me…”

The door behind the boy opened, and out walked the three churls in question.

According to Carver, the Churls were in good spirits, and I had acquired a wealth of new information about the Golden and the Blacks.

It was time to shine.