The Shattered Circle

2. The Heartless Rescue

I only made it back to my tent much later in the day, after Hallen's very public groveling. The tent was a structure far less grand than that of my master. If I had asked, he would have given me such magic-fueled comfort in an instant, but I found I preferred the simplicity and roughness. Inside, I had a single low table with a detailed map of the region spread across it, a stand for my armor, a basin for washing, and a thick bedroll spread on the hard ground with enough blankets to keep the chill off. That was all I needed. The opulence of the Sanctum was frequently too much for me.

I needed to feel the discomfort‌. It reminded me ‌ I was still alive, even with my life unnaturally lengthened by my connection to the King in Black. I bled and bruised in a way no undead could, just as I could feel emotions that were beyond their reach.

Vex and Brydris were mopping up the last of the dying on the field, ushering them into their new life of service as undead. They were the two most likely to trouble me with news, but I had seen neither hide nor hair of them for hours, which meant they were still prowling the killing fields.

If I had any illusions that I would be alone for the evening, however, I was sorely mistaken.

Naltheme was waiting for me just inside. She'd seated herself on the ground near my low table, fingers dancing across the painstakingly drawn lines of the map. My cartography had grown quite proficient, drawn from the images she could conjure with her scrying spells. Young as she was, the arcanist was an invaluable asset and my ally more often than not, mostly because being connected to me protected her from the carnal appetites of Varys. Not that he truly would have dared lay a finger on her for fear of the King in Black. Our master prized his apprentice above most others.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I drawled as I stepped in, settling my helm onto the armor rack in its proper place. It needed cleaning after the day's battle. Next, I laid Woe across the table in its scabbard besides the series of whetstones I used to hone its edge.

"Must there be a reason for me to pay you a visit?" Naltheme asked, smiling faintly in my direction. Her smiles were always strained, mostly from a lack of practice. She had always been serious and studious, even as a little girl.

I set to work on undoing my armor. It was easier when Vex was here to help me, but I could do it myself. "Neither of us are people who relish the company of others."

"Maric is still raging about Hallen."

"Let him snap and snarl." My cool indifference had settled back in as the duel faded behind me. "He knows what will happen if he goes too far."

"And Varys?"

My lip curled in distaste. "Must we befoul the evening with the mention of his name?"

The girlish laugh that slipped out from Naltheme's lips sounded genuine. She relaxed slightly, the smile a little less strained. She seemed closer to her actual age for a moment, just barely twenty. "Have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate your bluntness, Aleyr? It's immensely refreshing after dealing with Teth all day."

Teth was an avowed schemer, someone far more dangerous than Maric could ever be. "And easier to follow, I imagine, as I only talk out of one side of my mouth at a time."

"I don't know how she abides General Maric," Naltheme admitted.

"Well, you know what they say about women like Teth," I said mildly as I peeled my breastplate off. My gambeson beneath, smoke-gray silk, was thinner than the padding most needed because of its material. There was no blood on it, mercifully, but it was still sweaty from an entire day of wear. Even in the cold of an unnatural winter brought to bear on the enemy, battle generated a lot of body heat.