Can I do this? Vaelin asked himself. Can I condemn him to this? The answer came to him within a heart beat. At least he had a choice. He chose to come here. And what will I condemn him to if I send him away?

“What do you know of the Faith?” Vaelin asked him.

“’S what people believe ‘appens when you die.”

“And what does happen when you die?”

“You join the other Departed and they, y’know, help us.”

Hardly the Catechism of Faith but succinctly put. “Do you believe it?”

Frentis shrugged. “’Spose.”

Vaelin leaned down and looked him in the eye, fixing him. “When the Aspect asks you, don’t suppose, be certain. The Order fights for the Faith before it fights for the Realm.” He straightened. “Let’s go and find him.”

“You’re gonna tell ‘im to let me in?”

May my mother’s soul forgive me. “Yes.”

“Great!” Frentis surged to his feet and ran to the door. “Thanks…”

“Don’t ever thank me for this,” Vaelin told him. “Not ever.”

Frentis gave him a quizzical look. “Alright. So when do I get a sword?”

It would be another three months before the next intake of recruits so Frentis was put to work. He ran errands, laboured in the kitchens or the orchard and swept the stables. They gave him a bunk in their north tower room, the Aspect felt leaving him alone in one of the other rooms would be a poor welcome to the Order.

“This is Frentis,” Vaelin introduced him to the others. “A novice brother. He’ll bunk with us until the turn of the year.”

“Is he old enough?” Barkus asked, looking Frentis up and down. “He’s just rag and bone.”

“Up yours fatso!” Frentis snarled in response, drawing back.

“How charming,” Nortah observed. “An urchin of our very own.”

“Why’s he bunking with us?” Dentos wanted to know.

“Because the Aspect commands it, and because I owe him a debt. And so do you brother,” he said to Nortah. “If he hadn’t helped me you’d be swinging in a wall cage.”

Nortah inclined his head but said no more.

“He’s the one you knocked out,” Frentis said. “The one that knifed that Blackhawk in the leg. Proper sharp that was. Are we allowed to knife Realm Guard then?”

“No!” Vaelin tugged him to his bunk, Mikehl’s old bed which had lain unused in the years since his death. “This is yours. You’ll get bedding from Master Grealin in the vaults, I’ll take you there soon.”

“Do I get a sword from him?”

The others laughed. “Oh you’ll get a sword, right enough,” Dentos said. “Finest blade ash can make.”

“Wanna proper sword,” Frentis insisted sullenly.

“You’ll have to earn it,” Vaelin told him. “Like the rest of us. Now, I want to talk to you about thieving.”

“I ain’t gonna thieve nothin’. I’m done with that, I swear.”

More laughter from the others. “Fine brother he’ll make,” Barkus said.

“Thieving is…” Vaelin fumbled for the right words, “accepted here, but there are rules. You never steal from any of us and you never steal from the Masters.”

Frentis gave him a suspicious look. “Is this one of them tests?”

Vaelin gritted his teeth. He was starting to understand why Master Sollis was so fond of his cane. “No. You can steal from others in the Order provided they aren’t a master and their not in your group.”

“What? And no-one cares?”

“Oh no, they’ll tan the hide off you if you get caught but that’s for getting caught, not for stealing.”

A very small smile appeared on Frentis’s lips. “I only ever got caught once. Won’t happen again.”

If Vaelin had expected Frentis to be quickly disillusioned by the rigours of Order life he was to be disappointed. The boy happily scampered to every task given him, moving like a blur around the House, watching attentively during practice sessions and pestering them to teach him their skills. Mostly they were happy to oblige, training him in sword play and unarmed combat. He needed little instruction in knife throwing and soon began to rival Dentos and Nortah at the game. Seeing an opportunity they quickly arranged a knives tournament and reaped a tidy sum in blades which were shared out equally.

“How come I can’t keep ‘em?” Frentis whined as they counted the winnings.

“’Cos you’re not a real brother yet,” Dentos told him. “When you are you’ll get to keep all you win. Till then we all get a share, payment for our kind tutoring.”

The most surprising thing was Frentis's complete lack of fear when dealing with Scratch. Where the other boys were wary he was playful, wrestling the animal with happy abandon, giggling when the dog threw him around with ease. Vaelin had been concerned at first but saw that Scratch was exercising his own brand of caution, Frentis was never nipped or scratched.

“To him the boy’s a cub,” Master Jeklin explained. “Probably thinks he’s one of yours. Sees himself as an older brother.”

Frentis also earned the distinction of being the only boy to never receive a beating from Master Rensial. For some reason the stable master never raised his hand to him, simply pointing him towards his allotted tasks and watching silently until they were complete, his expression even odder than usual; a curious mix of puzzlement and regret that made Vaelin resolve to keep Frentis out of the stables as much as possible.

“What’s wrong with Master Rensial?” Frentis asked one evening as Vaelin taught him the basics of the parry. “Is ‘e funny in the head?”

“I know little about him,” Vaelin replied. “He knows his horses that’s for sure. As for what goes on in his head, it’s clear that the hardships of a life in the Order can do strange things to a man’s mind.”

“Think it’ll happen to you one day?”

Vaelin didn’t answer, instead he sent an overhand swipe at Frentis’s head which the boy only just managed to block with his wooden blade. “Pay attention,” Vaelin snapped. “You won’t find the masters as forgiving as me.”

The months with Frentis passed quickly, his energy and blind enthusiasm making them forget their woes, even Nortah seemed enlivened by his time with the boy, taking on the task of showing him the bow. As with his tutelage of Dentos before the Test of Knowledge Vaelin noted once again Nortah’s facility for teaching, where the other boys would occasionally make their frustration with Frentis obvious, particularly Barkus, Nortah seemed to possess an abundance of patience.

“Good,” he said as Frentis managed to get his shaft within a yard of the target. “Try pushing the stave at the same time as you pull the string, the bow will bend easier.”

It was thanks to Nortah that Frentis was able to begin his training as the only boy to hit the target during his first formal practice.

“Can’t I stay with you lot?” Frentis had asked the night before he was due to move to the room he would share with his group.

“You must be in a group,” Vaelin said. They were in the kennels, watching Scratch as he stood guard over his heavily pregnant bitch. No one else was allowed near his pen now, his mate’s condition making him violently protective, even Master Jeklin was likely to provoke an attack if he came too close.

“Why?” Frentis said, the whine in his voice had abated somewhat but was still noticeable.

“Because we cannot be with you throughout your training,” Vaelin told him. “You will find brothers amongst the boys you meet tomorrow. Together you will help each other face the tests. It is how things are done in the Order.”