Messenger’s Legacy. Peter V. Brett

nodded, grimacing.

      ‘Three breaths,’ Relan said again. ‘Take them now.’ He sucked in a breath, inviting Briar to follow. He did, filling his lungs, then breathing out with his father. Again Relan drew, and Briar followed.

      He knew it was meant to calm him, but the deep breathing only seemed to make the pressure worse. He was sure his father must be able to see it, but Relan gave no sign. ‘Do you know why your mother and I named you Briar?’

      Briar shook his head, feeling his face heat with the strain.

      ‘There was once a boy in Krasia who was abandoned by his parents for being weak and sickly,’ Relan said. ‘He could not keep up with the herds they followed to survive, and his father, who already had many sons, cast him out.’

      Tears began to stream down Briar’s cheeks. Would his father cast him out as well, if he wet himself in fear?

      ‘A pack of nightwolves that had been following the herd were frightened of the family’s spears, but when they caught the boy’s scent, alone and unprotected, they began to stalk him,’ Relan continued. ‘But the boy led them into a briar patch, and when one of the wolves followed him in, it became stuck in the sharp thorns. The boy waited until it was caught fast, then dashed its head in with a stone. When he returned to his father with the wolf’s pelt around his shoulders, his father fell on his knees and begged Everam’s forgiveness for doubting his son.’

      Relan squeezed Briar’s shoulders again. ‘Your brothers and sisters may tease you for your name, but wear it proudly. Briar patches thrive in places no other plants can survive, and even the alagai respect their thorns.’

      The need to empty his water did not go away, but Briar felt the urgency fade, and he straightened, standing with his father as they watched the sky fill with colour. The remaining demon faded into mist, sinking into the ground before the first sliver of the sun crested the horizon. Relan put his arm around Briar as they watched sunrise shimmer across the surface of the lake. Briar leaned in, enjoying the rare moment alone with his father, without the shoving and teasing of his siblings.

      I wish I didn’t have any brothers and sisters, he thought.

      Just then, the sunlight struck him.

      The others were stacking their dishes, but Dawn had left plates for Briar and Relan. Briar sat alone with his father, and felt very special.

      Relan bit into his first strip of bacon and closed his eyes, savouring every chew. ‘The dama used to tell me pig-eaters burned in Nie’s abyss, but by the Creator’s beard, I swear it a fair price.’

      Briar mimicked him, biting into his slice and closing his eyes to savour the grease and salt.

      ‘How come Briarpatch gets to eat after sunup?’ Sky demanded.

      ‘Yeah!’ the twins echoed at once. If there was one thing they agreed with Sky about, it was bullying Briar.

      The smile fell from Relan’s face. ‘Because he eats with me.’ His tone made it clear further questions would be answered with his strap. The old strip of leather hung on the wall by the mantle, a warning all the Damaj children took very seriously. Relan used the strap to whip his mule when it refused a heavy load, but he had not hesitated to take it to Hardey’s backside the time he threw a cat in the lake to see if it could swim. They all remembered their brother’s howls, and lived in terror of that strap.

      Relan paid his other children no further mind, taking a second slice of bacon on his fork and laying it on Briar’s plate.

      ‘Boys, feed the animals and get the dump cart hitched,’ Dawn said, breaking the tension. ‘Girls, get the laundry soaking.’ The children bowed and quickly filed out, leaving Briar alone with his father.

      ‘When a boy first stands before the alagai in Krasia, he is sent to spend the following day in prayer,’ Relan said. He laughed. ‘Though I admit, when I tried it, I soon grew bored. Still, it is wise to think on the experience. After prayers, you may take the rest of the day to walk in the sun.’

      A day to do whatever he wished. Briar knew what to say, though the words seemed insufficient. ‘Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.’

      The Damaj family walked single file to the Holy House. Relan was in the lead, followed by Dawn. Hale came next, a quarter-hour older than Hardey. Sky was a year older than them both, but she was a girl and came after, followed by Sunny. When Briar was nine, he would move ahead of his sisters, but that was years away. He always came last, hurrying to keep up with the brutal pace Relan set.

      They walked double-time today because of their late start. Briar could see in his siblings’ eyes that they would make him pay for that, and for being excused from chores.

      Even with the delay, the Damajes passed through Town Square as many folk were first opening their shutters to greet the morning. The Holy House was nearly empty.

      ‘Disgusting,’ Relan said, taking in the empty pews. A handful of Boggers, mostly elders, had come to pray, but it was only a fraction of those that came on Seventhday, and even that was not everyone in Bogton.

      Briar knew his father’s words before they were said. Relan was apt to rant on this topic for his children’s benefit.

      ‘It is an insult to Everam, that His children pray but once a week.’ Normally, when Relan invoked insult to the Creator, he was apt to spit, but never in the Holy House. ‘In Krasia, the dama would have the other townsfolk given a taste of the alagai tail. The next dawn, the temple would be full again.’

      Aric Bogger, one of the greybeards from Town Square, turned and glared angrily at them. ‘We disgust you so much, mudskin, why don’t you go back to the desert?’

      Relan grimaced, shoulders bunching. He claimed to have been no great warrior in Krasia, but in Bogton he was feared by all, and known to beat men for using that word. No one had dared insult his heritage since Masen Bales and his three brothers had called him a desert rat on Winter Solstice. Relan wasn’t even breathing hard by the time all men were on the ground, moaning in submission.

      But they were in the Holy House, and the man was an elder. Honour dictated that Relan show Aric deference and respect.

      Relan closed his eyes, embracing his anger. His shoulders relaxed. He gave a shallow bow. ‘You do not disgust me, Aric Bogger. You are humble before Everam. I see you here honouring Him every dawn.’

      The words were meant to calm the situation, but they seemed to have the opposite effect as Aric thrust his cane down with a thump, surging to his feet.

      ‘I am humble before the Creator, Relan Damaj.’ Aric shifted his grip on his cane, raising it between them. ‘I spit on your Everam.’

      He hawked his throat, and Relan had enough. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his left hand effortlessly twisting the cane from Aric’s grasp as his right darted in like a hummingbird to flick across the greybeard’s throat.

      Aric coughed as the phlegm caught in his throat, stumbling back a step before he caught himself on the pews. He didn’t seem hurt, but his face went all red as he hacked and wheezed.

      ‘I wish no quarrel with you, Aric son of Aric of the Bogger clan of Bogton,’ Relan said, ‘but I will not stand by and let you spit on the floor of the Creator’s house.’

      Aric looked as if he might lunge at him, but Relan pointed the cane, checking the move.

      ‘What’s going on here?!’ Briar turned to see Tender Heath gripping the front of his brown robes as he strode to the scene. Heath was not a threatening man, round-faced and round-bellied. He brewed the town ale, and was more apt to laugh than