Night of Long Shadows

EPILOGUE

Dawn

Cutter opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The familiar ball of lead was still there, still sitting in his stomach like a cancerous growth devouring him from the inside.

Wren had been right. The pain didn’t go away with Tiel’s death. It just meant Cutter didn’t have anywhere to channel it, that he had to face it.

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

He’d been willing to die in pursuit of his revenge. He hadn’t cared if he lived or died, just as long as he avenged Rowen’s death. But now that it was over, now that he had killed Tiel, something had changed. He found that he actually wanted to live. He wanted to remember Rowen, to make sure no one ever forgot her. But to do that, he needed to get over her death, to move on with his life.

And he couldn’t do that where he was.

He looked around the room. His belongings would fit into his leather rucksack. He could go now-today-if he wanted to.

So why didn’t he?

He looked out the window at the steady rain. Nothing was holding him here, nothing except the ghost of Rowen.

She would want him to go, to make something else of his life.

He sat up and rubbed his face. The leather satchel was hanging over the bedpost. He grabbed it and stuffed his clothes inside, then opened the chest and took out what little money he had left. He left the books; they weren’t his.

All he had of Rowen’s belongings was a simple silver necklace. It was her favorite. She said once that she intended to give it to her first daughter. That wouldn’t happen now, but Cutter thought that if he ever had children, ever had a daughter, he would give it to her. Rowen would have liked that.

He paused with one hand on the door handle, taking one last look around the soulless room.

Goodbye, Rowen.

He pulled open the door and walked out, closing it quietly behind him. He didn’t know where he was going, but he felt lighter, the heaviness in his stomach less pervasive.

He would simply see where the road took him.

Wren knocked on the door and waited impatiently. He glanced around, shivering in the unseasonably chill air. The rain fell in a fine mist that coated everything, seeping into the very bones. The past few days had been exhausting. The Watch Commander had wanted to arrest him and Cutter for the deaths of his men. It had taken the intervention of Col to get them off the hook, and he only managed it when he put together a file on the dead men and their association with Jana.

Unfortunately, Col had also been responsible for having the entire story swept under the carpet. Admittedly, he was acting on orders from higher up, but he’d told Wren and Cutter that they didn’t want the true tale getting out. They were afraid that letting the general population learn that a mad warforged had nearly killed tens of thousands of people would lead to riots, with all the other warforged being blamed for the actions of one.

Wren hated to admit it, but they were probably right. That didn’t stop it from chafing, though. He should have been invited to sup with the king after what he had done. They. What they had done. He couldn’t take all the credit himself. Just most of it.

Although, he had received a rather intriguing dinner invitation from Savia Portellas yesterday. So maybe it wasn’t such a well-kept secret.

He leaned forward and knocked on the door, harder this time.

A moment later it was opened by a bleary-eyed Kayla. She frowned at him, stifling a yawn.

Wren smiled widely. “My apologies, Kayla. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, Master Wren. It’s just gone six.”

“My goodness. Really? How naughty of me.” He turned his head. “Torin, why didn’t you tell me it was so early?”

Torin walked slowly around the side of the house, supporting his weight on a walking stick. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot you couldn’t tell the time.”

“How dare you!” Wren snapped. “You can’t speak to me like that! Respect your betters!”

Torin squinted at him. “Oh, I will.” He frowned and looked around. “When you show them to me, that is.”

Kayla gasped in fear and tried to slam the door shut on Wren. The half-elf stuck his foot in the door as a dark figure appeared from nowhere and barged up to the house.

Wren opened his mouth to chastise the impudent dwarf with a suitably withering retort just as Col pushed past, yanking Kayla into the street. Wren held up a hand to stop Torin from saying anything more, and leaned down so he was level with Kayla’s ear.

“You’re lucky he managed to crawl out of that office, Kayla,” he whispered coldly. “If he hadn’t been taken to a healer in time …” He paused to make sure he had control of his voice. “I would have found out it was you. Understand? I would have hunted you down, Kayla. No matter where you went, it wouldn’t have been far enough.”

“I was just doing what Xavien told me!” she wailed. “He made me do it.”

Wren straightened up. “We all have choices, Kayla. And now you have to live with yours.” He nodded at Col. The Dark Lantern inclined his head and led her away into the mist.

Wren watched them go, then turned to Torin. The dwarf was staring at him with something approaching sorrow on his face.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped. “And why are you still using that walking stick? There’s nothing wrong with you, you big baby.”

Torin scowled at Wren. “Shouldn’t you be getting your hair done or something?”

Wren frowned at Torin. “Whatever for?”

“Your date. You told me you promised to take that dwarf sergeant out for dinner. You weren’t planning on pulling out I hope. She’d be very disappointed.”

Wren sucked thoughtfully on his upper lip. “No,” he said. “No, I’ll take her. Poor thing. It will probably be the most exciting thing that’s happened to her all year.”

They turned from the door and walked slowly up the street. After a few steps, Torin stumbled, his walking stick slipping on the wet cobbles.

Wren quickly put an arm out to steady his friend.

Neither said anything, and Wren kept his arm around Torin’s shoulders as they walked slowly into the gray drizzle.