Chapter 5

Five and a Half Years Later...

Sharn bathed himself after a hard day’s ride on Raisa. He wistfully remembered it was his tenth birthday. For all the attention his family had paid him this morning, it was easy to forget. Even his beloved sister Samantia was now distant with him, having grown into a proper Lady of House Jenni, as required by their mother. She would be getting married soon and the House was a dither about that, not even bothering to pay attention to Sharn anymore. He slept at House Jenni and he took his morning meals with the members of House Jenni, but he no longer considered himself of House Jenni. By his reckoning, House Jenni lost any right to his affections and loyalty when he was given into the care of the men of the cavalry at age 3. It took him a while to get the whole story out of the men, and the speculation that went on when they were discovered by the officers, but he now knew his mother sent him there to be killed and the tears his sister shed as she did their mother’s bidding dried up years ago. His sister Sammy was the last to hold any love for or from Sharn and she killed that love by neglect as easily as any of the other women in his House with their malice.

Sharn sighed and shook that off, hurrying so that Sergeant Kaykyssa could bring him home before dark. Not that anyone commented or worried if he failed to show up. They had not worried or commented when he broke his arm at age five or sliced his hand with a sabre left carelessly around the stable at age seven. Nobody even noticed the splint or bandage.

And now his birthday had gone unnoticed.

Sharn clambered out of the crude barrel tub and dried off before putting his good clothes back on and bundling up the riding clothes the men made sure he changed into. On his way out of the stable office, he dumped the riding clothes in the bin left there for him by the cleaning servants who laundered them with the men’s clothes. He made his way through the balmy stables, patting the occasional cheek stuck out for him to caress by the horses he passed. When he came to Raisa’s stall, he had to spend an extra minute patting her and running his hand through her mane before turning the corner to the main part of the stable.

Where he stopped.

Standing around the aisle of the stable were all of the men currently in barracks at the compound, including his foster father, Kaykyssa, and Commander Vaelossa. The men were all grinning as Kaykyssa motioned him forward. “Come on, boy. We don’t have all evening! I have to get you home soon, but before you go, we have a birthday gift for you,” the Sergeant said jovially even as he waved Corporal Mellari out as well. “Since we couldn’t get you anything that might get you in trouble if you brought it home, we decided on something that would have to stay here. Something that you will need, if you want to survive beyond thirteen.”

Sharn slowly stumbled forward to stand numbly five paces away from the Sergeant and the empathetic Commander who was watching him with pity and pride warring in his eyes. “You did not have to get me anything, Sergeant. It’s not like the Council pays you handsomely for your service!”

“Ah, ah, watch your tongue, young Sharn,” Commander Vaelossa warned chidingly. “Get in practice of keeping a loyally obedient face to the Council or they and their minions, whom we happen to be officially among, will engineer your end. Especially since you were not supposed to live this long as it is, as I am sure I need not tell you. I am sure you have ferreted the whole sorry tale out of your cohorts.”

The young man nodded even as his eyes widened with disbelief as Corporal Mellari stepped forward with a wrapped bundle that could only be a sword. Or more precisely, a sabre! “We tried to get you something you could use now, but the Sergeant suggested anything like that would be pointless as you would want to take it home and that wouldn’t do. So, instead of that, we got you something more useful that you can work on, now that you know everything about riding and horses and campaigning that we could teach you without actually taking you to the marches to play with the savages yourself.”

Mellari held out the wrapped sabre with two hands and Sharn carefully took it in the same almost-ceremonial fashion before sitting on a nearby bench to attack the plain paper-and-twine wrapping. A discreet snick-snick by a helpful private’s knife and the wrapping was gone, revealing a beautifully crafted, though functionally utilitarian, sabre basket hilt and scabbard. Sharn stood and drew the blade, shocked at how heavy it was. The blade was nearly as tall as he was but he was entranced with it. He held it in two hands and saw the tooling and lines in the metal indicating it was a high-quality, folded steel blade worth more than any cavalry trooper could hope to see in a career. Along two-thirds the length of the thin, gently curving blade were Ce’al runes that made him glance at Kaykyssa askance.