The sun had set; its light thin. Heden could see a few stars in the sky and the rust-colored Dusk Moon hanging over the trees. Small, turning slowly. Three times an hour, just like the Dawn Moon. No one in the city paid the two moons any attention, but they still used the word ‘turn’ to mean a third of an hour. Most didn’t think about where the word came from.
Out of habit, he marked the facing of the moon, so he could count the turns, and know how much time had passed. Though only appearing, and at its brightest, during dusk, it would still be visible for several hours, only disappearing at midnight.
It had not yet been a full turn since he left the priory. He hadn’t moved. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew he wasn’t going home yet. He was thinking about heading to the Keep, against his own judgment, to see if he could help.
The knights in the priory argued loudly. It meant nothing to Heden. He didn’t know what they were arguing about, and didn’t care.
He heard the absence of sound behind him that indicated someone was inexpertly trying to be quiet, and turned around.
Aderyn was standing behind him, watching him watching the moon.
Heden turned back to the Dusk Moon, twirling slowly in the sky.
“You didn’t finish the pavilion,” he observed.
She sniffed, but otherwise did not move. He could feel her eyes on him.
“The jousting field is complete,” she said. “The melee is staked off. But the tent…Lady Isobel declared there would be no tournament.”
Heden thought about what this meant. What it meant for Isobel to make such a decision, whether Brys objected. He heard the knights inside, arguing.
“I guess they’ve got enough to fight over,” he said.
Aderyn watched him. Her attention was difficult to bear, he wasn’t sure why. It was like a shaft of sunlight bearing down on only him, and he didn’t feel worthy of it. He sensed that her attitude toward him had shifted and there was something akin to sympathy and interest in her gaze. He decided to test that.
“I asked you a question earlier,” Heden said, turning to look at her in the moonlight. “About the giant. If it bothered you that Sir Nudd took matters into his own hands.” Aderyn looked away. “You told me he wouldn’t have done that before Kavalen’s death.”
She nodded, eyes cast down.
“But you didn’t tell me everything. You were ashamed by Nudd’s behavior…”
Her head whipped up and he thought she was going to chastise him again for not using the knight’s full title. But he’d underestimated her.
“It was a cowardly attack!” she admitted, as much to herself as Heden. Her face looked possessed in the starlight.
Heden nodded, he understood. The attack had an impact on her, because of what it meant about the Order. She wasn’t just angry at Sir Nudd, wasn’t just ashamed, she was afraid.
“Stabbed from behind,” Heden said.
“And with no warning. No declaration, no mercy, no chance to surrender or quit the field.”
“I’ve known a lot of knights,” Heden said, “I’m not sure any of them…”
“We are not ‘any’ knights,” Aderyn hissed. “We are the Green Order. Not even Dywel would have done such a thing before the Commander’s death.”
Just saying that pained her. Heden wondered what kind of knights these men and women were, before Kavalen’s death, to inspire such loyalty. He had no idea. They must have been close to magnificent. Part of him would have liked to see that, see these knights who kept to the traditions for a thousand years. Part of him didn’t believe it.
“Well,” Heden said, embarrassed somewhat by the silence and the strength of Aderyn’s reaction. “If I leave, then no one replaces Kavalen. And then no one to lead you, and the order dies.”
He tried to say it smoothly, dramatically. Like Gwiddon would have. Aderyn didn’t respond. Heden took a breath and looked south, thinking of home.
“Why do you not ride to the Keep?” Aderyn asked, curious. “You were a Prelate. Does your service as an Arrogate forbid…”
At the sound of his title, Heden interrupted her.
“It’s not that easy,” he said.
She frowned at him. He turned and saw her confusion.
“You think I ride down there and bless their soldiers, heal the wounded. Maybe do some fighting myself.”
She looked in the direction of the Keep, and then back to him. It was obvious he thought her idea was worthless, and equally obvious she didn’t know why.
“Right now, fear is the only hope those people have.”
“I do not understand,” Aderyn admitted.
“Every day more people flee the Keep. Flee their neighbors, maybe even their families. They’ve been thinking about running for weeks, but they’re afraid of being called cowards. Even traitors, for abandoning their friends.
“But those people,” Heden said nodding southwest, “the ones who shit themselves at the idea of having their heads cut off and spit upon pikes by rampaging urmen, the ones who run. They’re the ones who’ll survive. The people who stay at the Keep are the ones who’ll be eviscerated.
“And what happens if I show up?” Heden said. He turned to Aderyn to make sure she understood this was not a rhetorical question.
“What happens if a Prelate of Cavall shows up and announces he’s going to help?”
Aderyn ruefully held his gaze. “The people stop fleeing.”
“And?” Heden asked.
“More people die when the urq come.”
“I can’t stop a whole army by myself,” Heden said. “It takes men to hold a keep, more than me, and more than they’ve got. All I’d do is give those poor bastards enough hope to convince them to stay behind. Fight and die. And for what?”
“I had not considered that,” Aderyn admitted darkly. She found Heden’s reasoning sound, but very distasteful. “I had never considered the virtue of cowardice.”
Heden didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she was mocking him. He thought maybe she had a right. There was a time when he’d have gone to the Keep and damn the consequences. But those principles died a long time ago.
“Anyway,” he said, and kicked the dirt under his boot for no reason. “What are you doing out here?”
“I am to scout the urq,” she said, drawing herself up.
Heden glanced at her, then went back to star watching. He was counting the constellations. For some reason, he couldn’t return her gaze. He felt like he was staring at her when he did so.
“What does that mean?” Heden asked.
He heard her footsteps as she approached him.
“We are a day from the Keep,” she explained. “They are two days from here, but they are an army and move slowly. I can move quickly. I will find them, observe them. They will not see me. And I will report back on their position and movement.”
Heden nodded and looked at her again. She was staring at him. He wondered if she volunteered for this because she knew he was out here.
“Sounds like makework,” he said.
She screwed up her face, trying to understand what he meant.
“If you mean: something to do while the knights do nothing, you are likely correct. But it is my duty, and I will discharge it well.”
She walked in front of him, so he couldn’t ignore her as easily.
She set her shoulders.
“I have decided you will accompany me,” she said.
Heden raised his eyebrows.
“You have?”
“I have,” she said in plain agreement as though there was nothing strange about this.
“What do they think about that?” Heden asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the knights in the priory.
“Well, they are arguing,” she said, as though it wasn’t obvious. Heden thought he got a little sense of what she thought about her idols’ indecision.
With a sigh Heden slung his pack over one shoulder.
“Beats heading to the Keep,” he said.
She smiled.
“Come, Arrogate,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And see how a squire of the Green comports herself.”
She turned and ran off into the forest. Heden almost missed it, but she spoke a prayer under her breath, and her speed was that of a deer.
Heden sighed and shook his head, put his other arm through the second strap on his pack, tightened the buckles, spoke his own prayer, and ran off after her.
