After breakfast, it was back to the stable, where Skif mucked out the stalls while the old priest groomed his charges. Even the goats were brushed until their coats shone—as much as the coat of an aged goat could. Then it was time for the noon meal, with more washing-up first, then the old man had him take the couple of horses that were still able to do a little work out to help carry a few loads about the compound. He and his charges hauled firewood to the kitchen, feed grains to bird coops, rubbish out to be sorted, muck to bins where muck collectors would come to buy it.

The place was larger than he’d thought. There were mews for aging or permanently injured hawks and falcons, a loft for similarly injured doves and pigeons, kennels for dogs, a cattery, a chicken yard that supplied the Order with eggs, a small dairy herd of goats, and a place for injured wildlife. It was here that Skif caught sight of a couple of youngsters not much older than he, wearing robes of a pale green, and he realized with a start that these must be the Healer Trainees he’d heard about. It was, quite literally, the first time he had ever seen a Healer of any rank or station, and he couldn’t help but gawp at them like the country bumpkin he was pretending to be.

Then it was time for the evening meal—all meals were very plain, with the noon and evening meal consisting of bread, eggs, cheese, and vegetables, with the addition of soup at the noon meal and fruit at the dinner meal. Then came the same feeding and watering chores he’d had last night, and with a start, he realized that the entire day had flowed past him like a tranquil stream, and he hadn’t given a single thought to anything outside the four walls of the Order.

And realized with an even greater start that he didn’t care, or at least, he hadn’t up until that time.

And he felt a very different sort of fear, then. The place was changing him. And unless he started to fight it, there was a good chance that it wouldn’t be long until no one recognized him. And possibly even more frightening, he had to wonder how long it would be before he wouldn’t even recognize himself.

12

12

Skif decided that no matter how tired he was, he was not going to put off the start of his vendetta any longer. And he wasn’t going to let the deep peace of this place wash away his anger either.

When he finished watering the animals for the night and the old priest tottered back to the Chapter House, he blew out his lantern, but perched himself in the loft window to keep an eye on the rest of the Priory.