A month after the test of self they grew out of their induced silence. Sethlzaar, growing out of his earlier, maintained the silence not to offend his brothers.
The month saw him awake at night to the sounds of cries and sudden night terrors, and the occasional creaking consolation of Soartin or Canabi's bed. Surprisingly, the darkness visited his dreams the least now. Notwithstanding, their training continued under the priests, their performance showing obvious progress.
It was a month and two weeks after the test that a new dread haunted them. Everyone had grown out of the test and returned to their daily lives, but Canabi always seemed to pretend to have grown out of his. Sethlzaar often caught him staring at nothing, lost in thoughts as they engaged in friendly banter before they were required to put out the light.
On one night while returning from his escapades he ran into Canabi at the foot of the tower stairs, staring into the darkness of the night.
"You do know that's the best way to get caught and punished, right?" he said as he approached the stairs.
"A nice night to you, too, brother."
Canabi was fond of calling everyone brother, just like the rest of them, except for Soartin whom he always called by his name. It made such an address a normal one to Sethlzaar.
Finding himself with nothing else to do Sethlzaar propped himself on one of the steps beside Canabi, joining him in his survey of the night.
"You and Cenam are quite close," Canabi said into the night after what seemed a thoughtful while.
Sethlzaar wasn't certain how to react to the boy's statement. It was an obvious fact. Canabi bringing it up proved no more troubling than if Father Ordan himself had brought it up.
"Yes," he replied, thumbing the medallion hanging from his neck. "I guess you could say that."
"Ever wondered what life would be like without him?"
The question puzzled Sethlzaar but he played along. "Sometimes."
He knew he cared for Cenam, as Fen had cared for him, but he could live his life easily were the boy not in it.
"I see." Canabi smiles. "Soartin is a good person, even though he often gets carried away when he sets his mind to something. He's strong... you're all strong; you've all gotten over the mist, as expected. But I still can't. There were things I never wanted to see again... things I..."
Sethlzaar understood the concept of never wanting to see something again. But what he never wanted to see again had a habit of always wanting to see him. And he had no say in the matter. At least, I'll never be alone in the dark.
"When I was little," Canabi continued after a while, "my dad left me and my mother for another woman. We suffered a while before she started bringing in money for the house. She would often be gone the whole night. When she came back, she would smell of alcohol. Soon, she started bringing her work home; one man after the other. One man every week. Sometimes two. They would keep me up at night, making noise while they lay together. She enjoyed it, y'know..." He let out a mock laugh. "She lost her soul to depravity. I had to listen as three... sometimes four men would lay with her. The good thing was we at least never had want for food. Then one night, one of them came into my room. I struggled and screamed but no one came."
Tears rolled down Canabi's cheeks as he looked at Sethlzaar. "You have to understand, there was nothing I could do. I was just a boy, and he was a grown man."
Sethlzaar knew of men who laid with other men in the Conisoir, but none of them boys. Canabi was fragile but Sethlzaar wouldn't have guessed the life the boy was telling him was his own. He always just seemed timid. Although, as the boy grew in the seminary he grew into features that were unbecoming of a boy, seeming effeminate, with a certain sway to his step.
"The next time he came," Canabi went on, "he came with some of his friends. And when night came they came into my room with my mother. 'Be sure to give the nice sir what he wants, dear.'" It was a mock imitation filled with disgust of what Sethlzaar could only imagine was his mother. "That night I was made to lay with all of them, including my mother. They did horrible things to me. It continued for weeks before the man took us to his home where he had an only son just a few years older than I was. I came to dread every night. Instead of him it was he son that came. I felt a little relieved, until he came to prove himself a more depraved boy than his father. Two years, Seth. Two years."
Seth?
Sethlzaar's anger boiled in the recess of his mind. He held it, like a man on a rampaging horse would hold its reins. He knew the reason for his anger but did not understand it. He forced himself to understand why the boy had used it. Canabi was baring his soul to him, and all he could do was listen. He felt perhaps he owed it to the boy. So he bit down on the anger that continued to swell within him. Tonight, he would let it lie. But if it happened tomorrow, his brother would bleed. Nobody held a right to call him Seth. Nobody but one.
"I don't know when I decided it had gone too far," Canabi was saying, "but at some point I did. My mother who was meant to protect me served me up to those monsters herself and would console me with words like 'You'll get used to it my dear, even come to love it like I do.' I ran away from home one day and was lucky enough to run into a priest. I told him my story and he brought me here. It was nice, and I met Soartin on my first day."
For the first time in a while Canabi smiled. "For some reason he kept me company without saying a word. He only spoke about what I wanted to speak about. He was really nice; I don't think I would have been able to come this far without him. But he has his weaknesses, and he needs someone to look out for him, something I can't do..."
The way he spoke of Soartin drew the face of Saelin to Sethlzaar's memory and he found it disconcerting that a brother's talk of a fellow brother would draw her to his mind.
He frowned, unable to hold his puzzlement back any longer. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked.
"I don't know..." Canabi replied. "Maybe because you got over the mist long before the others. Or maybe because you look like you have a lot of secrets. Sometimes all the light in the world cannot save us from the darkness. Keep my secret from everyone, brother. Especially Soartin. I don't want him to know who I was before I met him, and I don't want him to remember me for what the mist has made of me."
Remember you? Sethlzaar found he did not like his brother's choice of words.
"Promise me," Canabi pleaded.
Nodding in agreement, Sethlzaar acquiesced. Canabi rose, and retreated up the stairs, leaving him to ponder on what he had told him. Still, Sethlzaar didn't see the point to it. They were brothers. It was their duty to look out for each other. And he would look out for Soartin the best he could. Canabi did not need to ask it of him.
Canabi was a different person the next day, happy and jovial, playing and talking with everyone to the point of making Cenam the most uncomfortable Sethlzaar had ever seen the brother. But for him Canabi only spared a few words in each passing.
Sethlzaar saw the sadness in each smile and couldn't help but feel Soartin saw it too. He wondered how long their brother could keep up the pretense.
When night came, Canabi spent it in Soartin's bed in forced peace, offering him false happiness until they all slept. Somewhere in Sethlzaar's dream he was certain he had heard the words "Thank you".
At first light one of the younger children found Canabi seated against the wall of a building in one of the courtyards that was used for sword practice. It was the one they had ceased to use since the completion of their test of the path.
The boy found their brother peaceful, clothed in the full regalia of grey....
Dead.
Canabi had slit his wrists with his hunting knife. When they saw the body, he was smiling. It was the most peaceful Sethlzaar had ever seen him.
They built a pyre themselves in that courtyard under the instructions of Father Ordan. The work of gathering the freshly cut timber and transporting it saw their practice for the day forfeit. Although it was the day of Synsahel, Sethlzaar found no sadness in being unable to practice the bow, finding there was plenty sadness amongst his brothers to consume him in what had happened.
On the completion of the pyre the priests came carrying Canabi, clad in the official black regalia of the seminary they would wear once they are ordained, and placed him on the pyre. Then they gave way for the Monsignor.
"Today, we gather together to put an end to Canabi Nuvere, our brother, and a Blessed of Truth," Shrowl announced, his croaked voice neither strained nor elevated but, as always, carrying itself around the children for them to hear with a grace enough to baffle Sethlzaar. "He fought and trained alongside us, and now he has moved on from this life. And so we are here to see his journey ended. He may not have gone through it all, but he is one of us, a brother of the seminary, a seminarian of the holy church, and may he find his way to join our fallen brothers of the seminary who have left their vessels for greatness in Truth; greatness that will eventually come to us all."
A moment of silence was observed. Father Antuas brought Narvi a flaming torch; an acknowledgement of his place as their leader, it seemed. The silence coming to its end, Narvi offered the torch to Soartin who stepped up to the pyre and—after a moment's hesitation—set it ablaze. In all the motions of the ceremony Sethlzaar could not help but feel it was not the brother's first time.
With the rising flames came the smell of incense before its mixture with burning flesh. Together it churned Sethlzaar's stomach.
The credence believed that those who take their own lives rarely ever made it back to Truth, their souls rotting with their body as Ayla took her gifts without mercy, the force of her anger so fierce that the soul would bear no power and, laying with the body, engage in its rot. Thanking the Monsignor for wishing Canabi a safe journey beyond it, Sethlzaar found himself praying. May you find in Truth the peace you couldn't find here.
They went through the rest of the day in silence, eating their meals and retiring to their rooms after. Soartin shed no tear the entire day, from the moment they saw Canabi's body to the moment it was consumed on the pyre. Sethlzaar knew Soartin had seen the boy's smile and knew as well as he did that he was happiest in that moment. It was an odd knowledge to possess, but somehow Sethlzaar knew Soartin would be happy to have Canabi haunt him for the rest of his life if Ayla allowed him wander the world.
When night came and darkness fell, they all sat awake in the dark in silent consolation. Watching, waiting. Through it, Soartin wept. To the seminary, Canabi died on one of their courtyards. To Soartin, he died where they had their first meeting.
Would things have been different if I had said something to him that night? Sethlzaar asked himself, plagued not for the first time by the thought. Would it have been different if I had not kept my word, and told Soartin?
Regardless of the concept of hindsight, one thing was an absolute truth: he would never know.
A week after Canabi's death Father Ordan introduced them to Father Sigael, the blacksmith of the seminary. He was a rather small man, yet he seemed to exude a strength despite his frame. He possessed burn marks old enough to be nothing but scars now, leaving Sethlzaar wondering just how much pain the man had been in during each infliction.
"Yer will work with Father Sigael in the forgin' of yer veils," Ordan told them. "The next two weeks will be spen' under his guidance, an' yer will all make blades that will serve as yer companions until yer service to the credence is complete."
"Come with me," Sigael instructed after Ordan's conclusion, turning to leave without ceremony or delay, as a man with better things to do would.
He did not seem like a man who said much. Sethlzaar had grown to understand that the more silent the priest, the more torturous the punishments they were capable of doling out.
"Sorlan, you come with me." The command from Ordan caused heads to turn, Narvi's and Cenam's to be precise.
Sethlzaar left his group and headed after Ordan; separated from his brothers.