“I didn’t kill him,” Vaelin offered when the silence became unbearable.

“Because Brother Frentis stopped you,” she replied, eyes flashing at him.

She was right, of course. If Frentis hadn’t stopped him he would have continued to beat Brother Iltis to death on the quayside. The other brothers from the Fourth Order had unwisely begun reaching for their weapons when Vaelin’s first blow sent the man sprawling to the ground, quickly finding themselves disarmed by the surrounding Wolfrunners. They could only stand and watch helplessly as Vaelin continued to smash his fist into Iltis’s increasingly bloody and distorted face, deaf to Sherin’s pleading and leaving off only when Frentis hauled him away.

“What is this?” he snarled, wrenching himself free. “How could you allow this?”

Frentis looked more shamed and miserable than Vaelin could remember. “The Aspect’s orders, brother,” he replied in a soft murmur.

“Excuse me!” Sherin jangled her chains, glaring at Vaelin. “Do you think I might be freed to tend to our brother before he bleeds to death?”

And so she had tended to Brother Commander Iltis, ordering her chest be carried from the ship and applying balms and salves to his cuts before stitching the gash Vaelin had left in his brow when he pounded his forehead against the cobbles. She worked in silence, her deft hands doing their work with the clean efficiency he remembered, but there was a sharpness to her movements that bespoke a restrained anger.

She didn’t like seeing it, Vaelin realised. Didn’t like seeing the killer in me.

“Get this lot to the gaol,” he told Frentis, waving a hand at the Fourth Order brothers. “If they give you any trouble, flog them.”

Frentis nodded, hesitating. “Brother, about the sister…”

“We’ll talk later, brother.”

Frentis nodded again and moved away to take command of the prisoners.

Nearby, Captain Nurin cleared his throat. “What?” Vaelin demanded.

“Your word, my lord,” the wiry captain said. He was unnerved by the display of violence but refused to be daunted, forcing himself to meet Vaelin’s glare. “Our arrangement, as noted before witnesses.”

“Oh.” Vaelin tugged the bag containing the bluestone from his belt and tossed it to Nurin. “Spend it wisely. Sergeant!”

The Wolfrunner sergeant quickly snapped to attention. “My lord!”

“Captain Nurin and his crew are to be detained with the other sailors. Search the ship thoroughly to ensure none are hiding aboard.”

The sergeant saluted smartly and moved off, shouting orders.

“Detained, my lord?” Nurin raised his eyes reluctantly from the bluestone now grasped tightly in his fist. “But I have urgent business...”

“I’m sure you do, captain. However, the presence of the Red Hand in the city requires you remain with us a little longer.”

The greed in the captain’s eyes transformed abruptly into naked fear and he took a few rapid backward steps. “The Red Hand? Here?”

Vaelin turned back to Sister Sherin, watching her tie off the suture and snip away the stray threads with a small pair of scissors. “Yes,” he murmured. “But, I suspect, not for much longer.”

“I told you once,” Sherin said as they paused on the track to the governor’s mansion, “no-one is going to die on my account. And I meant it, Vaelin.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprised at his sincerity. He had hurt her, made her feel every blow he landed on Iltis, made her see the killer.

She sighed, some of the anger leeching from her face. “Tell me about the Red Hand. How many have died?”

“So far, only Sister Gilma and a maid at the Governor’s mansion. His daughter still lingers, although she may have expired by now.”

“No other cases? No sign of it anywhere else in the city?”

He shook his head. “We followed Sister Gilma’s instructions to the letter.”

“Then she may have saved the city by acting so quickly.”

They came to the mansion gate where one of the guards rang the bell to call the governor. Vaelin eyed the mansion’s dim windows as they waited. Since Sister Gilma’s passing the place had taken on a sinister aspect, made worse by the shabby appearance of the untended gardens. He was half-expecting no-one to answer the bell, for the Red Hand to have finally run rampant through the house, leaving it an empty husk awaiting the torch. He was ashamed to find himself almost hoping it was over, with no outbreaks elsewhere in the city it could end here and there would be no need to send Sherin into danger.

“Is that the Governor?” she asked.

“That it is.” Vaelin’s shameful hope faded as Governor Aruan’s portly form emerged from the mansion. “He hates us but he loves his daughter. It’s how I got him to surrender the city.”

“You threatened her?” Sherin gaped at him. “Faith, this war has made you a monster.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt her…”

“Don’t say any more, Vaelin.” She shook her head, eyes closed in disgust, turning away from him. “Just stop talking, please.”

They stood in icy silence as the governor approached, the guards scrupulously looking elsewhere and Vaelin feeling Sherin’s anger like a knife. When the governor arrived Vaelin made the introductions and worked the key in the heavy padlock securing the gate. “She grows weaker,” Aruan said, hauling the gate open, his voice frantic with hope and desperation. “She was still talking last night, but this morning…”

“Then we’d best not linger, my lord. If you could help me with this.”

Vaelin set the chest down and Sister Sherin and the governor hefted it together and started back towards the mansion. She offered no word of farewell.

“How long will this take, sister?” he asked.

She halted, glancing back, her face devoid of emotion. “The curative requires several hours preparation. Once administered the improvement should be immediate. Come back in the morning.” She turned away again.

“Why were you shackled?” he demanded before she could leave. “Why were you under guard?”

She didn’t turn back, her answer so soft he almost missed it. “Because I tried to save you.”

He sent the guards away and settled down to wait, lighting a fire and huddling in his cloak, the onset of winter added a chill to the wind sweeping in from the sea. The hours stretched as he pondered Sherin’s words and brooded on her anger. I tried to save you…

Frentis appeared as the sun faded towards the horizon, sitting opposite and adding some wood to the fire. Vaelin glanced up at him but said nothing.

“Brother Commander Iltis will live,” Frentis said, his tone deliberately light. “More’s the pity. Can’t talk yet though, just grunts and moans on account of his jaw. No great loss, heard enough of his guff during the voyage.”

“You said the Aspect ordered you to allow her to be treated like that,” Vaelin said. “Why?”

Frentis’s expression was pained, reluctant to share what he knew would be unwelcome information. “Sister Sherin is a convicted traitor to the Realm and a Denier of the Faith.”

Sherin in the Blackhold. The thought of it sent waves of guilt and worry coursing through him. What had she suffered there?

“I went straight to Aspect Elera when we docked,” Frentis continued. “Like you told me. When she heard what I had to say we went to Aspect Arlyn. He was able to talk the king into releasing the sister from the palace.”

“The palace? She wasn’t in the Blackhold?”

“Seems she was kept there when the Fourth Order first arrested her but Princess Lyrna got her out. Apparently she just marched in and demanded they release the sister to her custody. The warden thought she was acting on the king’s orders so handed her over. Rumour is Aspect Al Tendris was hopping mad when he heard, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sister Sherin was still a prisoner anyway, just had a nicer prison.”