Krothair. I've been around the world fifty times if you've
been around it once. I've been to the Vapor.” He lifted his shirt
to reveal a scar across his ribs. The thing was jagged like a
lightning bolt and the hair that seemed to grow everywhere on
Germon's chest pulled back from the scar as if it were poison.
Krothair's eyes widened.
“Rumors would have you believe that this
gash from a Foglin claw gives me magical powers. That's horseshit.
What it's given me is pain every day for the last forty years.”
“Why are you showing this
to me?” asked Krothair. For a moment he completely forgot about his
Kingsguard paper. Germon has been to
the Vapor ?
“I'm showing you the
consequences of what happens when lesser men try their hand at the
Vaporgaard.” Germon sighed. “You're a better fighter than I ever
was Krothair and that's hard for me to admit, especially
considering your age. A position in the Kingsguard is admirable.
Shit, you won't find anyone more revered than those twelve. But
they don't need you, Krothair, and I say that with as much respect
as I can. Yorn Darmon once took eight arrows to the chest and
laughed about it the next day, showing them off like
trophies still stuck in his
flesh. ”
“I've heard that story,” Krothair said.
Despite his best efforts his eyes began to water and his throat
tightened. The hope he'd had was draining away. “So. Is this what
you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked. “Serving on the
Vaporgaard?”
Germon shrugged slightly as his shirt fell
back into place. “You're looking for your place. I can see it in
your eyes every day. And let's face it – we're not as important out
here as we used to be. The hill is quiet. We get the occasional
thief to catch, the occasional animal gone bat-shit crazy, the
occasional territory dispute to see to. But the war . . . the war
is over for now. You've never even seen true action here. I've
forgotten what it was like. I've been ordered to lighten our
personnel. You are one of the ones that I am going to let go.”
“More wandering?” asked Krothair. “Should I
just wander down to the Vapor and have at it?” He couldn't tell if
he was mad or not. He knew he was hurt, but couldn't tell what type
of hurt. A father: that was something Krothair had forgotten about
long ago. But Germon had been . . . close. And now, as much as he
had wanted to go gallivanting off to the Kingsguard he was now
frightened of the prospect of leaving this place.
Germon had taken him in.
Germon had shown him off to the others. Like he was proud of me . . .
“No,” Germon said. “They don't take
untrained wretches down there on the Vapor. No, if you didn't get
proper training you'd be Foglin food within the hour. Even with
training it took me little over a month to get slashed. Anyway, I
pulled some old, fraying strings and arranged for you to train with
Ti'Shed Hawkethorn in Haroma. You can leave within the hour if you
like.”
So Germon had set the whole
thing up already. Krothair had always been able to choose his own
path, and he supposed he still was able to, but something about the
name Ti'Shed was familiar. “Germon,” Krothair said, realizing.
“Ti'Shed was the one who trained both Kelin and Telin Lightbearer.”
“Well, not exclusively, of course, but the
man was definitely involved. He also trained me. He still owes me a
few favors so I'm calling them in. I want you to be careful,
though. I've told him of your prowess and he may push you
incredibly hard, but if you come out of the training, you will be
ready to serve the Vaporgaard with honor.” Germon set an envelope
on his desk. “Directions to Ti'Shed's house along with my
seal.”
“Do you have a horse for me?” the boy asked,
stepping forward to grasp the envelope in a sweaty hand.
“I do,” Germon nodded. “You've taken to this
idea quickly. But I knew you would.” The older man's brow wrinkled.
He stood, came to Krothair, and laid a heavy, rough hand on