Bray didn’t answer, his attention diverted to cutting up the meat.
“Gurple’s taken a bit of a shine to her too,” continued the old man. “Think she needs a friend right now, though. It can’t be easy; you know, what she’s gone through.”
Bray could feel him staring as he stirred the fork of meat into the gravy and wished he would shut up. He was in no mood to talk and most certainly didn’t want to discuss the girl. But his wishes were rarely granted and Norgie wasn’t about to break the tradition.
“Poor lass. A good night’s sleep is what she needs. She’s dog tired but insists on staying up until you had finished your business with Prince Dylap. She wants to speak with you.”
Bray put the fork in his mouth and forced himself to chew, his appetite lost before he even swallowed.
“Might do you both some good, you know, to chat. You’re both about the same age.”
Bray dropped the fork on the plate. “What makes you think I need to chat?” he asked, coldly.
Norgie scratched his head and finally glanced away. “Well, it’s just. In your line of work.” Bray glared at him, willing him to stop. “You know, judging people; all that killing. It’s got to play on your mind hasn’t it?”
“Does the sea care when it drowns a sailor? Does fire need to talk after burning a village? Will a sword shed a tear after taking a husband, a father, mother or child?”
Norgie shook his head. “They don’t think or mull things over. And a sword is simply a tool, an inanimate object until somebody picks it up. They don’t have feelings.”
“I’m a Shaigun. I don’t have feelings,” he said, keeping his tone level although wanting to scream it at the old man.
“That’s not true Bray,” argued the caretaker as he rose from his chair and wandered to the oven, taking a pan from a cupboard and pouring milk into it before placing it on the hob. “What about Gurple? Diagus ordered you to kill him, didn’t he? If you were just his tool and had no feelings, he wouldn’t be breathing now.”
“His judgment was that he couldn’t be seen by human eyes. Is that not what has happened?”
“You know how the Shadojak works. If it can’t be sent back it must be terminated. Don’t tell me you didn’t persuade him to let Gurple stay here with me. I was there, remember? I saw the look in your eyes when he told you to kill him.”
Bray remembered it well. They’d found Gurple in a skip outside a supermarket; cold, scared and alone. His fur was matted and stained with the rotten food. It had been pity he had felt for the defenceless creature. But their orders were simple. Terminate anything that didn’t belong. They had killed many beasts and nasties that had penetrated the barrier. Judging, executing and sparing only the very few that were of some use. And hadn’t he done some dark tasks even before becoming a Shaigun?
There were reasons he was trained to suppress feelings, becoming like the wind passing through a village, empty and uncaring. That’s what it was to be Shaigun, to be Shadojak. Yet he had suggested that Gurple, a harmless wood troll, could serve his life out with Norgie. Aiding him with keeping the house secure and stocked with supplies. He had expected Diagus to disagree with his suggestion, but thought he caught a softness to the Shadojak’s good eye. His other was dead, a pure white pearl that replaced the eye that had been torn out in a long-ago fight.
The Pearly White was a name he had heard whispered about the barracks as he grew up. A name to put fear into young boys that misbehaved or threats to new recruits that if they didn’t look sharp they’d have the stare of the Pearly White upon them. A threat that would bestow a coldness to the blood and dread in the heart. He had felt the stare himself plenty of times after becoming Shaigun to him yet came to realise that there was a gentleness to the man beyond the blind pearl and it had shown that day when he relented to his wishes. Maybe there was something to Norgie’s words then. But could he afford to delay her judgement until Diagus returned? Prince Dylap didn’t think so. There was a link between Elora and the ever-weakening barrier and there could only be one outcome, one judgment.
A painful gasp from Norgie brought Bray out of his contemplation as he watched the old man splash himself with boiling milk.
“Damn it. That’s the second time I’ve done that today,” Norgie said, running his wrist under the cold tap. “I’m getting too bloody old.”
The act wasn’t lost on Bray as he watched a bead of hot milk trail down the front of the iron Aga. He had seen that pattern somewhere before, but it hadn’t been milk.
“She can’t live here Norgie. The reasons go beyond your knowledge. She must be judged and soon. And you’re not so old that you can’t clean up after your accidents.”
Norgie’s brow raised. “Will you not wait until Diagus returns? Give the poor girl a chance.”
“If Diagus was here she would be dead already. No. It has to be soon, has to be this evening.” Bray turned his gaze from the spilt milk.
Softly, Norgie’s voice eased from the sink. “For a Shaigun that doesn’t feel, your fist is clenched tight enough.”
Bray looked at his fist, the knuckles turned bone white and willed himself to open his fingers. He spread them on the table and pushed himself up. Once you’ve made up your mind to do a difficult task, you simply had to act it out.
He reached the door before Norgie’s hand fell on his shoulder.
“Give her this,” he said, putting a steaming mug of hot chocolate in his hand. “And don’t do anything that can’t be undone. You may come to regret it later.” Bray didn’t reply as he left the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
The door to the living room swung open with an ominous creak, the noise startling Gurple who had been curled up at Elora’s bare feet. She appeared fresher, having taken a shower, her dark hair hanging loose to her shoulders and now dressed in a pair of his jeans and an old shirt. Norgie would have found these for her earlier.
The wood troll regarded him suspiciously as he entered the softly lit room, his eyes following him to the fireplace where he took the poker in hand and pushed the glowing coals about.
“It’s time for bed, Gurple,” he said, throwing a log onto the coals and sending a burst of sparks up the chimney. Gurple sat up, rubbing a paw over his wrinkled face.
“Stay,” he grumbled.
Bray put the poker back on its stand and tickled the troll behind his ear, making him lean against his hand, a grin spreading wide in pleasure and displaying large sharp teeth.
“No Gurple. It really is time for bed,” he said, adding more authority to his voice. Gurple reluctantly rose and gave Elora’s leg a squeeze before wandering across the room.
“Goodnight Gurple, pleasant dreams,” Elora said as Gurple closed the door behind him. Then her violet eyes rolled to him, narrowing with mistrust. Bray saw the flames reflected in them and realised that they shone with fury. “Is that hot chocolate for me?”
He nodded, feeling a pang of uneasiness under her gaze and held the mug out for her to take, turning it around so she may take it handle first.
She took it but didn’t drink. “So, are you going to kill me now?” she asked, flatly.
The question took him off guard and he took a step back feeling the tinge of shame burning through him. Had he come in here to kill her? Only a few moments ago he would have said yes. But now, stood in front of her, he realised he wouldn’t go through with it. Maybe it was Norgie’s words “don’t do what can’t be undone”, or maybe it wasn’t. Just a certainty that it wouldn’t happen. He was as sure as the emotions that he had been feeling earlier in the day. Feelings he had suppressed for a long time and that had been sparked somehow by the girl in front of him.
“No,” he finally answered.
“So, this isn’t poisoned?”
He shook. And when she still didn’t drink, he knelt and placing his hands around hers, raised them and guided the mug to his own lips and swallowed a mouthful of the hot chocolate. Her gaze never once left his, the fire it held didn’t diminish as he leaned away from her, feeling an awkwardness at the close contact.
