A battle was coming, and these were the people who were going to fight. These people against the Dark. He had seen how seriously they took their duty. Carver had fought through agony to show his mastery over the Dark influence. In only a month, Cyprian would take the same test. At sixteen, he would become the youngest Steward to drink from the Cup.
The Lady’s medallion was around Will’s neck. He could feel its tangible weight. He reached up and closed his fingers over it, remembering that his mother’s old servant Matthew had died to give it to him. You must go to the Stewards, Matthew had said. He had believed in Will’s destiny, his part in the upcoming battle.
‘You’re not celebrating with the others,’ said the Elder Steward.
She arrived as a companionable presence, quietly climbing the stairs to the balcony. Her eyes were kind as she looked out with him at the celebrations below. A distant burst of laughter drifted up to them, and he glimpsed Carver, white flowers around his neck, speaking to his new shieldmate. Will’s fingers tightened around the medallion.
‘Everyone says Carver took his test earlier than he should have,’ said Will.
She looked at Will, acknowledging his words. ‘His test is a year early. I ordered it brought forward, though it greatly increased the chance that he might fail.’
‘Why?’
‘I won’t lie to you. Your training is very important. We have very little time. You must succeed in summoning your power.’ Her attention turned back to the soft glow of lights below. ‘As for the Stewards, we will need all our forces at the ready.’
‘You think Simon’s about to make his move,’ said Will. ‘No, it’s more than that, isn’t it. There’s something you aren’t telling me.’
As the far-off sounds of the revelry filtered up to them, he saw secrets in her eyes.
‘You should go down and celebrate with the others,’ she said. ‘Time is short. Enjoy these moments of high spirits while you can.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HE WOKE TO Violet tugging his shoulder. ‘Something’s happening.’
He came groggily out of sleep, and she’d already hauled him half out of bed, propelling him stumbling through a mess of bedding towards the window.
She was right. There was something happening on the walls. He could see the cluster of Stewards gathered in the dark without torches. He thought he glimpsed the figure of Jannick, the High Janissary. ‘Come on. We can find out what’s going on.’ Violet thrust his novitiate tunic towards him.
The halls were deserted: it was the dead of night. Outside, they crouched in the frozen cold behind a cart, hidden in the dark. Will could see the High Janissary waiting in his long blue robes, and beside him, the smaller, thinner figure of the Elder Steward in her white cloak. There were six other Stewards gathered with them, including Leda the captain. All of them had their eyes fixed on the gate.
White horses and their white-clad Steward riders appeared like visions in the archway. A secret expedition, thought Will. He had seen Stewards return from missions before, but never in the dead of night, while the heads of the Order waited for them in the dark without torches. As he watched, he saw that the returning Stewards were badly injured, two slumped in the saddle, the other three barely riding upright. And of two dozen white horses, only the first five bore Stewards. The other horses were riderless, carrying grey sacks that were the wrong shape for packs.
Leda rushed forward to take Justice’s weight as he slid down from his horse in obvious pain. She lifted a flask to his lips, administering the waters of Oridhes. Others were doing the same to help Stewards covered in blood. Will looked again at the riderless horses and realised to his horror what he was looking at.
The grey sacks were not packs. They were wrapped bodies.
‘Marcus?’ said Jannick, and Justice, looking more defeated than Will had ever seen him, shook his head.
‘So you came back without him,’ said a voice. Will turned to see Cyprian standing on the steps to the Hall. He must have woken up and come to see what was happening. But Cyprian wasn’t creeping around hiding behind carts like Will and Violet. He had come like a blazon to challenge Justice directly. His lip curled. ‘Again.’
‘Cyprian,’ said High Janissary Jannick, stepping forward. ‘This isn’t the time.’
‘But of course you survived. You’re good at surviving while you leave my brother behind—’
‘I said that is enough, Cyprian—’ said the High Janissary.
‘No,’ said Justice, pushing himself up out of Leda’s hold to stand by himself. ‘He deserves to hear.’