Page 90 of Grave Situation

Hearne’s eyes narrow. “Indeed. It seems the temples may be keeping secrets.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jaimin cautions, but I can see he’s been thinking the same thing. “I’ll fetch Arimen, but I must remind you that we need to travel with him, and things are already… unsettled.”

“I’ll go,” Coryn says, speaking for the first time. He lays a hand on my shoulder as he passes, and I long for one of his hugs. When the riders have gone, perhaps.

I glance over toward the tent where Tia lies and start to stand. “I think I might?—”

Master’s hand clamps around my arm, and he pulls me back down. “You need to face him sooner or later, Talon. He’ll be traveling with you. And this is part of the story you may need to know.” A gentle telepathic tap precedes his next comment.“I’d also like the stone to advise us of the truth of what he’s saying, but I don’t think it wise to have it on display right now.”

Bitterly, I damn him. Not only do I need to face the acolyte, I also must communicate with the stone?

I say nothing but remain seated. Never let it be said that I shirked my duty.

Coryn returns a few minutes later, leading the acolyte. Although, it looks a little like he’s almost dragging him. The young man’s ginger hair is a mess, and his face is pale and, frankly, terrified.

“See? We’re just talking, and the dragons are all the way over there,” Coryn says, as though Leicht isn’t a mere twenty feet away. “Nothing to be afraid of. Sit down.”

The boy practically collapses as his knees fold under him, and I see Jaimin and Master exchange a look. Kanesha’s thoughts are written all over her face, and I’m struck by how similar her expression of disdain is to Tia’s. Do riders get taught that look of haughty derision?

“Arimen,” Jaimin begins gently, “you remember I introduced our guests earlier—Rider Master Hearne and Rider Kanesha? And Master Samoine.”

Bright green eyes dart nervously from face to face, and he nods rapidly.

“They have some questions now, about what happened yesterday.”

I hadn’t thought it was possible for him to pale even further, but he does.

“You’re not in trouble,” Hearne says gruffly, obviously having more sympathy for the sister-killer than I do. “We know acolytes don’t have enough seniority to cause that kind of trouble.”

Arimen visibly swallows, then says, barely above a whisper, “I’ll answer what I can, sir.”

The stone’s approval vibrates through me, and I resist the urge to yank it from around my neck and throw it in the fire.

“You’re in service to the Temple of Wasianth, correct?” Hearne begins, and Arimen nods. “For how long?”

The boy blinks his big eyes. “Until I die, sir.”

I resist the urge to call him an idiot. “The rider master meant how long have you been in service,” I snap, and he shrinks back.

Jaimin comes to stand behind me and clamps a hand on my shoulder. I get the feeling that if I yell again, I’m going to end up with bruises. At least they’ll hurt him as much as they do me… and at least his hand is on me. It’s ridiculous how comforting I find that small touch.

“I-I-I… th-three years.”

That makes us all frown. The temples, like the academies, don’t take acolytes until they’re of legal age—which on the continent is eighteen. I find it hard to believe this boy is twenty-one. Even if he has a natural baby face, surely he should have a little more confidence and self-assurance by now? Not to mention, there’s only one stripe on the shoulder of his robe. If he’s been an acolyte for three years, shouldn’t he be past the first level?

“You’ve been an acolyte for three years?” Master repeats, and Arimen nods. “How old are you?”

“S-S-Seventeen this past summer.”

“Seventeen?” Kanesha shouts, and Arimen falls backward off the log in his scramble to get away.

“Let me help you.” Coryn all but lifts him back into place, then pats his shoulder gently. “You’ve got nothing to worryabout here. We’re just trying to understand. I have some toffees in my saddlebag that I got in Josanin, and when we’re done here, we can melt them until they’re gooey and have toffee bread.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, and from the perplexed expression on Arimen’s face, neither does he, but at least he seems less panicky.

Really, though—toffee bread? That doesn’t sound half bad.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” Kanesha says, and her tone is softer than any I’ve ever heard from her before. “Just to be sure I understand, you joined the temple as an acolyte when you were fourteen?”

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