Unlike their journey from the seminary, their journey back was eventful, filled with conversations and laughter, something Sethlzaar knew would end the moment they arrived at the seminary.
From the moment they walked through the portcullis Sethlzaar found himself looking around for any sign of his mates as they made their way to the Monsignor's chambers. The meeting was brief and he was made to leave behind his metal bow, the last words of the Monsignor to him as he left being: "You are not a first bow till the day you become a priest of the seminary. And speak what you have seen to no one."
...Maybe because you look like you have a lot of secrets, Canabi's words replayed in Sethlzaar's head, and he couldn't help but think secrets would make up the most of his life
Sethlzaar's mates welcomed him with a flurry of back claps and cheers save Cenam who had saved him a full and complete hug. Narvi, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. Sethlzaar made his way to his bed to find two Maeldunian longswords, black as night from point to hilt lying on his bed.
"Hey, what's this?" Omage asked, snatching Sethlzaar's sack from his shoulder and pulling out the bow.
"Be careful with that."
Sethlzaar's warning was cast to the wind as the others huddled around Omage to see what had caught the boy's attention. Somehow they seemed more like a family than they did before he left and he couldn't help but feel Canabi's death had played a major role in it. Even Soartin smiled more and laughed with them. But Sethlzaar still saw the pain behind every smile, and so did the others. I guess a lot can happen in two months.
Raising his head from the inspection of the blades on his laps Setglzaar's eyes were met Narvi standing at the door, his blonde hair dripping wet. This was new to him. Narvi always dried off his hair, treating it with extreme care, and he never took his bath so late in the night.
"You're back," Narvi said.
Sethlzaar nodded then smiled easily. "I'm back."
"Where did you get this, brother?" Cenam cut in from his place apart from the others. Somehow he'd managed to extricate the bow from their possession.
"Actually, I made it..."
It was a response that was designed to serve as a herald to a tale, one which Sethlzaar delved into, telling a story of how Emeril had taken him into the woods and made him carve out his own bow from a piece of wood but had done the patterns herself. While he told his tale, he noted the scars each of them bore, a close reminder of the many Naelii bore. They served as a reminder of the two months he'd lost with his brothers and a proof of the blacksmith he was not.
"Takaris melded the metals," Alsipin informed him later that night as the others slowly drifted into sleep, "I sharpened the blade and Narvi polished it,"
"Don't you think that's two hands too many?" he asked.
"Maybe..." Alsipin smiled at some memory he was obviously fond of. "Cenam demanded he fix the hilt but squirmed all through," he continued, then laughed. "You should've seen him. The wild is definitely the only place for him."
After a brief moment Alsipin grew somber. "It wasn't all fun and games," he said, catching him staring at the massive burn mark that marred his hand, "there were also bad times. But it was worth it."
I hope so, Sethlzaar thought, sparing Cenam's sleeping form a glance then rose to leave.
"Father Sigael asked us to forge whatever type of sword we wanted for you," Alsipin added after him. "But we made the Maeldun longsword. He said if you want a different weapon made, you should report to him when you get back."
"Sure," Sethlzaar replied with a smile, making his way out of the room. "I'll think about it."
The stairs down the tower left him with a sense of nostalgia. He noted every chip and blemish in the stones as he came down. It felt as if he'd been gone forever. The stones and bricks were a sharp contrast to the tent flaps and the trees of the Sarkish forest. His eye sight had also gotten better in the dark since the village, and he wondered if it had anything to do with how hard he had worked it during his training.
Sethlzaar sighed in frustration as he came upon Soartin at the foot of the stairs. Did he leave a part of himself in him?
"That's the best place to be, brother," he said casually, drawing Soartin's attention as he walked past him, stopping to stand in front of the boy. "If you find yourself missing Father Ordan's flogging, that is," he finished.
Soartin gave him a fleeting smile. "He loved this place," he said. "He loved it a lot, even with all the violence."
"Yeah." Sethlzaar sat beside him. "Maybe because you were in it."
Soartin smiled weakly. "Maybe."
Sethlzaar waited a while, knowing Soartin had something he wanted to say. Like every other child in the seminary, the boy had his own secrets; why he was here and what pasts haunted him. Sethlzaar had learned that with or without persuasion everyone eventually spoke. All he had to do was simply be there.
"Before I came here," Soartin began. "I had a sister. Her name was Lirin..."
"You know you don't have to tell me," Sethlzaar cut him short.
"Yes, but I want to. Do you know what he said to me before he...?"
...He passed, Sethlzaar completed, knowing Soartin wouldn't be able to.
"He asked me to tell someone. So I want to—for him. I just didn't think I'd have to share it with someone who wasn't him."
Sethlzaar, understood a thing or two about giving a word and upholding it, so he kept quiet in hopes that Soartin would continue.
"She was younger than me by two years," Soartin continued after a moment's silence, "and of all my siblings we were closest. We did everything together; played with her dolls, even slept at night. In the time we spent together we isolated ourselves from our other siblings. Once, we were playing in the garden and I sprained my ankle, 'Soartin, look, look. See what I can do.' She was over joyed to show me." He smiled fondly. "She placed her hand over my ankle and in no time I felt better..."
"You are from Alifat," Sethlzaar recalled solemnly.
"Yes," Soartin replied, his smile weakened. "And they don't take too kindly to the touched. And that's what my sister was: touched. I made her promise not to show anybody. A promise she made in sadness. I should have been happier. Even if I couldn't have been, I should've made her believe I was. That was all she wanted; for me to be proud of her."
Sethlzaar gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as a sob escaped him, waiting patiently for when he was ready to continue.
"One day she went to the market with my mother," he continued, the herald of tragedy in his voice unable to be concealed. "Something went wrong, and my mother was seriously wounded. Lirin... she... she did what she had to do... it was her mother... A promise can only limit you for so much..."
There was so much sadness in his words as he stumbled over them. It was almost as if he was begging to be understood; begging that his sister's action be understood.
"There was nothing you could have done," Sethlzaar told him, "you were just a boy."
"Maybe," Soartin mused. "But if I had followed them... if I had not been asleep when they went out...I slept peacefully while my sister saved my mother's life in front of countless Alifats..." he turned to Sethlzaar, eyes clouded in pain and guilt. "I slept peacefully while my sister was attacked on her way back, and had her head bashed in by those bastards." In his pain and guilt there was anger and disgust at his own people. "The next day my father had us gather wood for a pyre in secret and had her body burned... I set the fire..." he met Sethlzaar's eyes, black eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I burned my own sister."
Sethlzaar didn't frown, and he didn't smile. Expressions failed him. "It was all you could do for her. She went to Ayla in peace."
"I was her brother!" There was no doubt the boy spoke in anger, but in his sorrow the words came out as a bare whisper. "... her elder brother," he sobbed, "It was my job to protect her... she didn't have to go to Ayla; I didn't want her to... for Anurn's sake she was only eight years old." He scratched at his face, pulling away his tears, bracing himself for the rest of the tale. "I isolated my family more and more with each passing day. I hated them for not avenging her. For accepting her death and just... moving on."
"Do you think that's what they did?" Sethlzaar asked. "Just moved on, so easily?"
"Maybe not," Soartin conceded. "But at that point that was how it seemed. I became empty; doing what was required of me with no true motivation. It was two years before my father brought me to the seminary. I can't remember ever being so happy to be rid of them. I didn't even know I was a blessed. He said the seminary would help me find my purpose in life again." He scoffed in derision, then smiled in equal disgust. "They did. And it was beautiful. I had one job, brother. One job. And I failed at it. Twice." He looked at the stars in the night sky, no doubt able to name each constellation.
It was not obvious to everyone, but Sethlzaar had often heard him teaching Canabi a few things. Once, he had heard Soartin teach him about Canopus. He'd called it the false star. Sethlzaar never understood why. It was a star in the night sky with a name, how could it still be false?
"Why am I still here, brother?" Soartin asked. "I have no reason to be."
Sethlzaar felt a chill, one not from the night air. It was familiar. He had felt it when Canabi had put on his false smile on his last day.
"Because your brother would want it," he answered softly.
"He was more than a brother to me," Soartin choked out the words. The tears in his eyes as they looked at Sethlzaar told him what he had just heard was a secret that could have his brother burnt at the stake.
I will not send a brother to his death, he scolded his conscience. Not one who has sinned against no man.
"I may not have known much about Canabi," Sethlzaar continued, saying the name his brother was not able to bring himself to say, "but I know a thing or two about what it feels like to care about someone, and I can't bring myself to believe that he would want you to join him anytime soon."
Soartin looked at him with questioning eyes and Sethlzaar knew what he sought.
"Stay with us, brother," he told him, "we will give you a purpose, one you cannot fail. And if we cannot, then I will. And if I cannot, then I will send you to Canabi in a glory that will be the envy of every Blessed to have ever walked the realm. But for tonight, brother, go to bed. The night is not for you to be awake."
It was a while before Soartin responded. He stood and climbed up the stairs with a solemn smile, he paused momentarily, turned, and said, "I am to one day kill the people who share something with my sister that I do not."
Sethlzaar watched him rise up the stairs and thought he saw the darkness shimmer around him, like wisps clinging to him at every edge, if only briefly.
Sethlzaar remained on the stairs a while longer, watching and counting the stars in the dark sky, wondering which one was Canopus, and finding no comfort in the night save the sad knowledge of what awaited them all as priests.
If they lived long enough.
Climbing up the stairs, he made his way into the room, and retired to his bed for whatever brief period of sleep was left to him before beginning a new day in the seminary.
A boy who failed to protect, he thought as sleep claimed him. And a boy who failed to be protected.