(Chapter 14: The Shrine, cont.)

  “Shit—damn—fuck,” he swore in quick succession, the initial surprise turning into pain which was swallowed by frustration. He pulled his hand to his chest.

  “Shit,” Asali echoed.

  She ran over and grabbed his wrist. Ean tamped down the urge to shove her away and snarl like an injured animal. He took in a breath instead. Pain is constant. Pain is a companion. He unclenched his fingers and surveyed the damage with her. The arrow had cut across the fleshy base of his thumb. It was a deep cut, but short and clean.

  “That’ll need stitches,” Asali said.

  Ean groaned but followed her back to camp where Flora was starting breakfast. She took note of the blood and quickly dropped the pan. “What did you do?”

  Ean held out his hand to show her. Once she ascertained the damage wasn’t serious, she heaved a mighty sigh and grabbed her medical bag. It only took three stitches, but she scolded him the entire time, making him feel like he was a child again.

  Leo leaned against one of the pillars. He’d been watching the proceedings in silence, but when Flora finally stopped her tirade, he crossed his arms. “What happened?”

  He sounded, unnervingly, like Felix in that moment.

  Ean flushed. “I tried catching an arrow.”

  Leo glanced over at Asali, but Ean shook his head.

  “It was my fault. I was distracted.”

  “Maybe it would be best to not invite any more accidents on this trip,” Leo said.

  He pushed off from the pillar, snagged the water skins, and strode off through the orchard. An unexpected flash of understanding swept over Ean. He ran after the Prince.

  “We’re a bit ridiculous,” he said, once he’d caught up. “You with your sword, and me with my arrow. You can’t stop searching for it, even though we don’t have any directions, and I can’t stop trying to catch an arrow, even if it means I get shot through the hand.”

  “You could stop,” Leo said.

  “No, I can’t. The arrow is my Eld sword. I will keep trying to catch it because it’s important to me. And if people don’t agree with me, well, it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  They reached the river. Leo paused and looked down at the water.

  “Don’t doubt yourself just because I have doubts,” Ean told him. “And don’t let anyone else make you doubt yourself either.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?”

  Ean shrugged, not sure himself. “Get better at telling people off?”

  Leo laughed, the first time in days. “A prince needs to have some decorum.”

  “Some,” Ean allowed. “But what’s the fun of being a prince if you can’t offend a few people here and there?”

  Leo shook his head and tossed him a water skin. Ean uncorked the cap and started filling it.

  “I don’t doubt my mission.” Leo knelt to fill his own. “I doubt my ability to lead. And you… you are very opinionated.”

  “Still using your decorum, I reckon.”

  “Friends deserve decorum,” he countered.

  Ean paused for a moment. Leo thought they were friends?

  Leo continued, not noticing his surprise. “You make up your mind quickly and then you speak your mind. Loudly. And insistently.” He gave Ean a smile. “That’s me calling you an ass, if you don’t speak diplomat.”

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  Ean grinned back. “I figured that one out, thanks.”

  “Decisions don’t come easily to me,” Leo admitted. He took a couple swallows from his waterskin, then dunked it again to top it off. “When I do finally decide on a course of action, I second-guess myself endlessly. It aggravates father to no end.”

  Ean pictured the King, stern and decisive, and remembered what Asali had stopped herself from saying. He could see the King being frustrated by his overly cautious son and could see Leo getting more flustered and apprehensive with each disapproving stare.

  Leo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I keep thinking about all the things I might be doing wrong.”

  “You can’t climb a mountain from the top down,” Ean said. Leo glanced over in confusion, so he elaborated. “It’s something Felix says. At the top of a mountain, you can see your path and all the wrong turns you made, but you don’t have that knowledge until you reach the top.”

  Leo grimaced. “Sometimes I feel that’s what is expected of me.”

  Ean didn’t know what to say to that.

  Leo took in a breath and let it out slowly, like he was preparing himself for battle.

  “Well, I won’t tell anyone if you do make a mistake,” Ean said lamely.

  Leo gave a small nod. “Your discretion is appreciated.”

  They headed back to camp. Ean didn’t think they had completely resolved their differences, but at least the tension was gone. They ate breakfast and Leo returned to the altar. Ean took himself to the open sanctuary because it was his day for meditation. He sat on one of the low stone benches, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

  It might have been the meal, or the conversation with Leo, but his mind was already peaceful. It was easy to slip into the blank spaces between breaths. His thoughts drifted and he let them go where they pleased, careful not to get tangled in their tails. He could feel his heartbeat slow. His breathing spaced out, further and further. His body sunk deeper into tranquility. Master shadow-walkers could meditate so completely their body temperature dropped and they could be mistaken for dead. He didn’t go that deep now. He could still feel the sun on his skin, could still smell the scent of the flowers and meadow-grass. He could still hear the voices in the pavilion, clear but distant.

  “The path of man is profound?” Flora asked. “Or maybe fate directs it?”

  Something stirred in the back of Ean’s head. A wisp of a half-thought. He didn’t pull at it, pulling would only cause it slip through his fingers.

  “How does the path of man take us to the sky?” Leo returned.

  The wisp in his head doubled in on itself, becoming more substantial.

  “Profound,” said Flora. “This word doesn’t match the others. It’s too abstract.”

  “And ‘fate’ isn’t?” Leo asked.

  “I was translating that as ‘heavens’,” Flora said.

  The memory solidified. He was young, maybe ten or eleven. He’d been watching Felix practice, and had asked, “Where did the dances come from?”

  Felix had paused his steps to answer. “The four strata of the world. Weren’t you paying attention to Teacher Badar?”

  “But who picked the strata?”

  “No one picked them; they are the four foundations of life. And man is the only creature that walks through all four. There’s an old saying, ‘Formed in the deep to walk upon the earth, and by the spirit, we ascend to the heavens’. Do you know what that is?”

  In his memory, Ean shook his head.

  In the present moment, he opened his eyes as he heard Felix’s voice say, “The road of life.”

  Ean jumped up, legs stiff from having sat for too long. Leo and Flora were at the altar, still frowning over the tiles.

  He ran over. “It’s the road of life!”

  Leo and Flora looked up, confusion on their faces.

  “The road of life,” Ean repeated, and then shrugged. “Or the path of man, whatever you want to call it. It’s what we base our dances on.”

  “The strata,” Flora recalled.

  Ean nodded. “Shadow-walkers believe that we’re the only creatures who walk through all four strata. Our souls are formed in the depths, our body walks the earth, our spirit lives in the air, and when we die, we ascend to the heavens. Water, earth, sky, heavens.”

  “There isn’t a water tile,” Flora said.

  Leo picked up the blue tile. “In Archaic, profound and ocean share the same root. It’s not an exact translation, but it’s close.” He put the blue tile into the bottom slot.

  Flora placed the green tile above the blue. “Nature could be translated to earth.”

  “And this is sky,” Leo said, fitting the lavender tile in next.

  “And then fate, or the heavens.” Flora slotted the yellow tile at the top.

  They looked down at the map that was revealed. There was nothing to suggest that this was the correct map to follow, nothing that differentiated it from the others. It was simply one option out of twenty-four.

  “Do we think that an ancient pacifist religion follows the same belief system as a guild of assassins?” Flora asked. “No offense, Ean.”

  Ean wasn’t offended. He didn’t know if he was right either.

  “The Scholars of the Cardinal Fane pre-date written history,” said Leo. He gave Ean a speculative glance. “It’s possible that some teachings have carried over into different sects.” He nodded to himself. “When Chadwick returns, if he hasn’t found anything, we’ll take this path first. If it doesn’t work, we can always start over.”

  Flora didn’t look convinced, but Leo seemed to relax. He even left the pavilion for the rest of the day. Ean found himself hoping he’d discovered the right path. He didn’t want to disappoint Leo.