Some that Erij said of him he owned for the truth: younger brother against the older, bastard against the heir-sons, he had not always stayed by the terms of honor. And they had laid ambushes of their own, the more so after his nurse died and he came to take up residence in the fortress of Ra-morij.
That was, he recalled, the time when they had ceased to be brothers: when he came to live in the fortress, and they perceived him not as poor relation, but as rival. He had not understood clearly how it was at the time. He had been nine.
Erij was twelve, Kandrys thirteen: it was at that age that boys could be most mindfully, mindlessly cruel.
“We were children,” Vanye said. “Things were different.”
“When you killed Kandrys,” said Erij, “you were plain enough.”
“I did not want to kill him,” Vanye protested. “Father said he never struck to kill, but I did not know that. Erij, he drove at me: you saw, you saw it. And I never would have struck for you.”
Erij stared at him, cold and void. “Except that my hand chanced to be shielding him after he had got his death-wound. He was down, bastard brother.”
“I was too pressed to think. I was wrong. I am guilty. I do penance for it.”
“Actually,” said Erij, “Kandrys meant to mar you somewhat: he never liked you, not at all. He did not find it to his liking that you were given a place among the warriors: he said that he would see you own that you had no right there. Myself, it was neither here nor there with me; but that was how it was: Kandrys was my brother. If he had decided to cut your throat, he was heir to the Nhi and I would have considered that too. Pity we aimed at so little. You were better with that blade than we thought you were, else Kandrys would not have baited you in the casual way he did. I have to give you due credit, bastard brother: you were good.”
Vanye reached for the cup, swallowed the last, the wine souring in his mouth. “Father had a fine choice of heirs, did he not? Three would-be murderers.”
“Father was the best of all,” said Erij. “He killed our mother: I am sure of it. He pushed Kandrys to his death, favoring you as much as he did once. No wonder he saw ghosts.”
“Then purify this hall of them. Let me ride out of here. Our father was no better to you than he was to me. Let me go from here.”
“You keep asking; I refuse. Why do you not try to escape?”
“I thought that you expected me to keep my given word,” he said. “Besides, I would never reach the ground floor of Ra-morij.”
“You might be sorry later that you missed the chance.”
“You want to frighten me. I know the game, Erij. You were always expert at that. I always believed the things you told me, and I always trusted you more than I did Kandrys. I always wanted to think that there was some sense of honor in you— whatever it was that he was lacking.”
“You hated the both of us.”
“I was sorry about you; I was even sorry about Kandrys.”
Erij smiled and rose from the table, walked near the fire, where it was warm. Vanye joined him there. Erij still had his cup in hand, and took his accustomed chair, while Vanye settled on the warm stones. There was silence between them for a long time, almost peace. Two more cups of wine passed from Erij’s cup, and his tanned face grew flushed and his breathing heavy.
“You drink too much,” said Vanye at last. ‘This evening and last—you drink too much.”
Erij lifted the stump of his arm. “This—pains me of cold evenings. For a long time I drank to ease my sleep at night. Probably I shall have to stop it, or come to what Father did. It was the wine that helped ruin him, I well know that. When he drank, which was constantly after Kandrys died, he grew unreasonable. When he would get drunk he would go out and sit by his tomb and see ghosts. I should hate to die like that.”