Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [18]
“How did you remove the warding key?” the Elder asked again.
There was something awful in his tone, something that compelled Caelan to answer. Casting a resentful glance at the proctors, he scowled and tucked his hands inside his sleeves. “I entered severance and pulled the key off the gate. I just wanted out.”
“You were not injured from touching the key?”
Caelan shook his head. “My hand felt burned, but it really wasn’t. That’s the way severance is supposed to work, isn’t it? So for once I did it right.”
The Elder did not meet his gaze directly. “You show no remorse for this action.”
“Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to leave the hold unprotected. The soldiers could have come looting, I guess. But they didn’t.” As he spoke, he looked up with a question in his gaze.
“No, they didn’t,” the Elder said heavily. “We have nothing here which they would consider of value.”
Caelan nodded. “So it worked out. Except for—” He broke off, remembering.
“Yes, except for the fact that you were attacked and nearly killed.”
“I—” But there was nothing for Caelan to say. He thought about the soldiers who had jeered at him, robbed him, then tried to kill him for sport. Their laughter still rang in his ears. Humiliation still burned inside him, fueled by his shame.
“We are responsible for your life while you are entrusted to our care,” the Elder said sternly. “We keep you inside our walls for a reason, to guarantee your safety.”
“I’m not a baby,” Caelan said. “I don’t need—”
“Help?” the Elder said softly.
Caelan bit his lip and scuffed his toe against the floor. “I guess I did need some.”
“We have warding keys for good reason. How you twisted the purity of severance to shatter the spell of a key is blasphemous enough.”
“But—”
“You have done far worse. You left us vulnerable to attack, whether from this world or the other. You exposed our throats, and only by the grace of Gault were we not attacked.”
Shame filled Caelan. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Running away to join the army,” the Elder said, contempt like ice in his voice. “Wanting to become a butcher, a defiler, a taker of life. This is abhorrent to us and all we stand for.”
“But I—”
The Elder lifted his hand for silence. “If you had died out there in the forest, what could we have said to your father? How could we explain our mistake in letting harm befall you?”
“It wasn’t your responsibility,” Caelan said. “I chose to leave. I took the risk, and I’ll—”
“It is our responsibility. You are underage, and we are entrusted with your safety. You put us in an untenable position.”
Feeling cornered, Caelan turned and pointed at the proctors. “Your proctor locked me outdoors for the night. What was I supposed to do, freeze or be clawed by wind spirits? I chose neither. Blame your proctors as much as me.”
“You would not have been left outside all night,” the Elder said dismissively.
“How was I to know that?”
“At Taul Bell your absence was discovered. Harmony was broken. Disorder filled the darkness. The serfs had to brave the night to search the hold for you. The proctors found the open gate. That told its own story, and by the quick wits of your cousin we were able to determine which direction you had fled.”
The Elder came around his desk, frowning with daunting severity. He pointed his finger at Caelan. “Men risked their lives to find you in the dark forest. They searched all night, before at last you were found, half-dead of exposure and blood loss.”
Remorse touched Caelan. “I didn’t mean to put anyone at risk,” he said softly. “I just wanted to get away.”
“You were brought in at dawn. Master Grigori and Master Hierst labored hard within severance to save your life. Had anyone been lost to lurkers or worse out there, what could you have done to repay your debt to them?”
“I don’t know,” Caelan said miserably. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology is not enough.” The Elder beckoned