I've been writing this for a year now, an entire year!

Many thanks once again to ashtynqueen for their great betaing skills.

"And then he be that I couldn't fit a whole apple in my mouth, and I told him I couldn't in one piece but I could if I cut it up and he said that wouldn't count and I said it would still be a whole apple so.."

Khalad's tutors had decided that he was progressing well in his studies and had begun to send him out on messenger duty to nearby towns and cities, often accompanied by a younger novice. It was something he was more than capable of, and he could see the value in a young man taking on this relatively minor responsibility before moving on to grander things, so he decided not to be offended that he had to also complete this duty.

"Sir Krolig said that I needed to be lighter on my feet! Me! He didn't even hear me when I first entered his classroom and he wants me to tread lighter! He is all about the footwork – he would be better as a dance teacher really, I haven't even held a sword for weeks... "

And he couldn't deny that that he had learnt a good deal about the roads surrounding Cimmura and knowledge of any sort wasn't to be sniffed at. All novices had a stint at messenger duty and this was just another thing that Khalad was going to prove himself capable of.

"I'm getting really good at reading though. Not Styric, I haven't started that yet but it can't be that much harder right?"

This time his partner was in fact his brother and in the last two days they had more conversation than the rest of the summer. Talen had done most of the talking and Khalad was pleased at how – despite his grumbling - Talen had thrown himself into his own studies, leaving the pickpocket and street urchin behind. There would always be that aura of barely suppressed mischief around the youngest of Kurik's sons which attracted him many friends.

Khalad wondered if he would suffer the same questioning at the end of this trip as the others: a Knight would take him aside and pepper him with questions about what he had seen and heard when delivering his message: how well it had been received and so forth. He was also asked about the accompanying novice – asked to evaluate how he had acted when not under the imposing eye of a fully spurred Pandion. Not first time it crossed Khalad's mind that this was a very efficient way to evaluate not just the novice but his own evaluation of the novice.

"Where is this inn anyway? This isn't a big town." Talen had at last given up complaining and was practically standing in his stirrups to try and see their destination.

"Should be around here somewhere."

"Why did we have to make the detour here? Couldn't Berit just come back to the Chapterhouse on his own? He doesn't need an escort from us. I'm tired of riding."

Maybe not totally given up complaining then. Constantly questions orders, is what Khalad would say when asked about his brother. But they were always relevant questions at least – Talen was far from stupid.

"I have no idea." Khalad admitted. He had no idea what Berit had been up to recently, apart from spending little time in the Chapterhouse, on Sparhawks' orders no doubt. There was no evidence that Berit had been given the opportunity for those conversations they had talked about, even if he had the will do to it. Which Khalad thought Berit had, but some things were easier to commit to than carry out.

Something tickled at Khalad's nose, different from the usual stink of horse and man that made up a thriving town – the scent of char on the air.

"The inn's down this one." Khalad nodded to an upcoming side street. Turning the corner they were met with a scene of devastation – the inn they had expected to rest at was little more than a shell. The stone walls were intact on three sides, but the roof was completely gone: empty windows framing rubble that was piled inside.

Most of the street was filled with the normal rush of traders and their customers, but there was a group of men standing with hands on hips inspecting the ruins. It was one of these that Khalad approached.

"What happened here?" Khalad's authoritative tone overriding the moments hesitation that the man had at being questioned by a complete stranger. Either that or he was just one of the people who liked to hear himself speak.

"There was a fight in one of the upper rooms and we think someone must have knocked over a lamp or something, but the whole building just went up so quickly. Old man Jenkins is going to rebuild of course, but first we have to clear this away, and where do you find good timber at this time of year? Well that's his problem I suppose, but I told him, 'why don't you do all stone instead? Then there's nothing to burn.' Well, he didn't like that and…."

"We were meant to meet a friend here" Talen piped up, thankfully stopping the incessant flow of words. "Where might he have gone?"

For the first time the man took in the symbol of the Church that was emblazoned on the shield that hung off Khalad's saddle and shifted uncertainly. "Was he a Pandion too... my Lord?" He added after a moment's hesitation.

"Yes."

"Then I'm very sorry my Lord. The children were trapped, calling from the windows and... he went in again and again … the last one he had to throw out to caught and then... and then the floors collapsed and the fire was too hot and it burned for almost a full day and we had to work so hard just to keep the fire from spreading because it could have taken the whole town and it only just cooled down enough to go near and... I'm sorry, but he's dead." The man stammered to a stop, at last running out of words and breath.

"Have you found him yet?"

"No... but…."

Khalad held up a hand to stop the man from saying anything further, trying to guess the weight of the inn that was tumbled in front of them. A lot, but hopefully not too much. Of course Berit would run into a burning building if there were children in danger. He would have done it before, he would have just done it quicker now.

"Just show me where he would have been." And the man pointed silently to one corner.

Khalad removed his cloak and pulled out a pair of heavy gloves – Talen did the same with a grim expression.

"He'll be ok, trust me." Talen shot him a sharp glare that Khalad accepted. Those words must seem an empty cliché to someone who didn't know and it had become clear that Talen didn't. Khalad didn't like to share secrets that weren't his own but he might not have any choice today. If Berit wasn't sufficiently sorry about the hell his little brother was going through, well. He would be.

A small crowd gathered to watch them work, the mood solemn as Khalad and Talen shifted charred beams, the remains of heavy furniture and negotiated pieces of collapsed roof. The brothers were silent at the worked baring a brief 'help me with this' or 'watch your feet'. Talen clearly wasn't in the mood for talking, full of fear thinking his friend badly injured - or worse - and Khalad didn't know what to say that might be believable. The townsfolk probably thought it was out of grief so out of respect, they maintained their own silence.

The work was hard, the debris heavy. They had to frequently pause to wipe the sweat from their eyes or shift their footing to something more stable. Smaller pieces they could throw with ease, larger needed the both of them to manoeuvre out of the way. They slowly excavated a crater that marked the passage of time and exhaustion snuck closer as their efforts yielded nothing.

"Maybe he was trying to make his way out at the time?" Talen suggested.

"That implies a degree of sense, but you could be right. Where were the stairs?" Khalad called to the spectators. Several arms raised, pointing in unison.

Moving to the new area Khalad and Talen set to it. Though daylight was starting to fade Khalad had no intention of stopping and remained resolute against yet another mountain of stone. This time their persistence was rewarded: the movement of what might once have been a door revealed the face of their heroically idiotic friend, pale under a coating of dust and soot.

"You fool." Khalad would have called back the words, but they were instinctive under circumstances like this. It was a bad habit he was trying to break as no matter how appropriate, his observations were rarely well received. He heard his brother faintly gasp and then scrabble over to get a bit closer.

Berit's eyes were tightly closed and his jaw clenched, but he gave no response to Khalad's greeting in either word or movement. His breathing was barely noticeable. A quick study of the wreckage still to be moved and Khalad thought he had found the problem: a rather worrying roof beam sticking out from where Berit's chest would be.