'Do you know where the captain is?'
'Captain? Oh yes, very grand. They're Tal Dyre, you know. Sniffing about after furs, rooting about in our stores.' He cast a glance over each shoulder, leaned a fraction closer to Orisian. 'Don't much take to them, myself. Not to Tal Dyres, I mean. Always coin, with them, never value. They'll not take my woodtwines. No coin in it.'
'Never mind,' said Orisian. 'You'd not want to sell them to someone who didn't appreciate them anyway, would you?'
Hammarn gave him a broad grin. 'Right,' the na'kyrim said. 'Quite right.'
'Do you know where the captain is?' Orisian asked again as he handed the damp cloth back. 'On his boat or onshore?'
Hammarn shrugged. 'Couldn't say. Well, onshore I'd say, since I saw him here yesterday. But now?
Who knows? Alehouse, most likely.'
'We'll look for him there, then.'
'Yes,' Hammarn agreed emphatically. 'You won't . . . you won't let the sweet lady meet Tomas, will you?'
The look of concern on the old na'kyrim's face was acute.
'Yvane? Well I don't think she wants to, does she? It doesn't sound as if it would be a good idea.'
'No, indeed. She's a fine lady, but ... a fine lady. A good friend, no doubt of that, but not quite gentle.
Can be rough. Got stickles on her tongue, if you know what I mean?'
'I do,' smiled Orisian.
'Good, good. Wouldn't like trouble. I do like it quiet.' He shot a sudden, curious look at Orisian. 'Not going to be trouble, is there?'
'I hope not,' said Orisian.
'Ah. Good. Only I hear things, you know. There's talk. The Fox aren't happy, not at all.'
'We heard there are White Owls in the Car Criagar.'
'Oh, yes. Yes, them, but worse too. Mail shirts and crossbows, horses. That must be trouble, mustn't it?
When the Road's on the march?'
Orisian felt a twist in his gut, and wanted for a moment to take hold of the na'kyrim.
'You mean the Black Road ?' he asked. 'You mean they're in the mountains too?'
Hammarn nodded glumly. 'The Black Road, yes. That must be trouble, mustn't it?'
Yvane, after a display of reluctance, allowed Hammarn to take her off to visit some of the other Koldihrve na'kyrim. Orisian went with Rothe and Anyara to find the Tal Dyreen captain. All of them noted, without saying anything to one another, the thickset men armed with staffs who openly followed them as they made their way back into the centre of the town.
Warm air carried stale smells out from the gloomy interior of the drinking house. There were places much like this in the poorer quarters of Glasbridge or Anduran, but neither Orisian nor Anyara had ever been inside one. It was not the sort of establishment a Thane's family would frequent. They paused on the boardwalk in front. Rothe stepped forwards without hesitation.
'Try not to look anyone in the eye,' he muttered over his shoulder. 'But don't make it obvious.'
Anyara rolled her eyes at Orisian.
There were few customers within, and several of those that were present were slumped in stupor or asleep over tables. A tired-looking serving girl, thin and sallow-skinned, watched them enter but made no move to greet them or offer them anything. The floor-boards creaked beneath Orisian's tread.
Edryn Delyne was less opulently dressed than when Orisian had last seen him in the harbourmaster's house at Glasbridge. Then, on that pine-scented, wine-warmed night before Winterbirth, the Tal Dyreen had been a picture of elegance; now he wore the clothes of a working sailor. Still, his hair was clean and bright, and his beard was as neatly cropped and pointed as it could be.
He was sitting with two of his crew, nursing a pitcher of frothy ale. For just an instant, there was a flicker of surprise in his face as he recognised Orisian.
'An unexpected meeting,' the trader said. The clipped tones of the Tal Dyre cant spilled through into everything he said. 'And if my eyes read the resemblance right, this might be the sister that I heard of?
The last place to find the Lannis-Haig house, this.'
Orisian looked around hurriedly, but no one was paying them any attention. The couple of townsfolk within earshot were in no condition to eavesdrop. Nevertheless, he saw that Rothe was keeping a surreptitious watch on the inn's other patrons.
'I would be grateful if you kept our names to yourself,' he murmured. 'We are not known here, and it would seem best if it stayed that way.'
One of Delyne's pale eyebrows twitched in wry amusement.
'Ill at ease amongst these masterless folk, are we? Some sense in that. Few friends here for Lannis-Haig strays.'
'Perhaps,' said Orisian. 'But we hope we shall not be here much longer. I was surprised to see your ship here, too. I thought you would be long gone on your way back south by now.'
'Ah, would that I was,' said Delyne with an elaborate sigh. 'The music and warm breezes of Tal Dyre are a sweet thought, but trade's an unforgiving master. No rest, no ease, for me and mine until all that needs to be done is done. Since we last met, I ported in Kolkyre. And what did I find in that noble city? A great desire for fine fox fur; the Furriers in despair at the shortage of material. And there am I knowing there's furs to be had in cold Koldihrve, at a price no man would grudge. So one last run it is, in winter's very teeth, before turning for home.'
'You're heading south soon, then,' said Orisian, trying to sound casual.
'Back to Kolkyre,' the Tal Dyreen nodded. 'Not what it once was, some say, but I say a fine city still.'
'And might you have room for passengers?' asked Anyara. Orisian sank back in his chair and watched as the Tal Dyreen captain ran frank, appraising eyes over Anyara's face.
'A load of pelts and hides in my hold,' he mused. 'Little comfort for the likes of you, my lady.'
'We've had no comfort since Winterbirth, captain, and could do without it for a while longer.'
Delyne gave her a brief smile. Orisian noticed for the first time how white his teeth were.
'Aye, no doubt. I heard some little whispers before I left Kolkyre: that ungentle times were come to your lands. Sad days. Still, space taken by you is space untaken by money in the making. A pretty mascot for a voyage you are, but there is none matches the beauty of coin.'
Orisian almost winced, beset by a premonitory image of Anyara emptying the Tal Dyreen's pitcher over his head, but her warming smile barely flickered.
'We understand, of course,' she said. 'You must be paid for board and lodging. That is only fair. We will turn our gratitude into hard coin, once we were safely back in harbour.'
Delyne looked around, taking in as if for the first time the smoke-blackened walls and the splitting and splintered floorboards. He nodded thoughtfully.
'Yes, a cold harbour this for fine folk. Tight corner, too. The wind tells me swords and spears come this way. A tight corner true enough, when there's no boat here fit for the hard pull around the headland. No boat but one, at least.'
Anyara took the sea captain's hand in hers, clutching it tight. 'Indeed. We are in your hands, captain.'
Delyne gently eased himself free, 'Well. Where is it you're heading for?'
'Kolglas, or Glasbridge,' said Orisian. 'It matters more that we go quickly than which one we make for.'
The Tal Dyreen took a long drink of ale, and licked the froth it left behind from his lips. He put on a gloomy face.
'Off my track, those are. Not my planned course at all.'
'Bring that jug with you,' Orisian said. 'We'll fill it with silver after you put us ashore.'
After a moment Delyne gave the slightest of shrugs.
'I'll find a berth, of course, for Lannis-Haig. I cannot be waiting for you, mind. Been here a day longer than wished already, waiting for promised goods. They should be here tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, and we'll be off sharply then.'
'We are in some haste,' said Orisian. 'Gold instead of silver in that jug if we leave tonight.'
The Tal Dyreen affected a look of regret. 'I'v
e men ashore to be gathered. And the passage out to open water from here's a narrow one, not kind to a vessel the size of mine. By choice I'd not attempt it in the dark. For that gold, though, I'll take her out tomorrow, whether my holds are full or not. The tides will be friendly in the afternoon.'
Orisian felt a surge of frustration at the thought of another night's delay. But if a Tal Dyreen said he feared to sail these waters in the dark, it must be right to listen.
'Very well,' he said. 'Send for us. We'll be at the house of a na'kyrim called Hammarn.'
'Truly, it is remarkable company Lannis-Haig is keeping in these times,' smiled Delyne. 'One more matter for agreement: I'll put you ashore wherever you wish, but only if I see safety all about me. A sniff of trouble upon the breeze and I'll not risk one board of my ship or one hair off my men's heads. Not for a hundred jugs filled with coin. You'll ride with us all the way to Kolkyre if I say so.'
The deal was struck and Edryn Delyne took his crewmen away.
'I remembered him rather better from Glasbridge,' Orisian said.
'He probably didn't have so clear a chance of making a profit then,' said Anyara. 'You know what they say: a Tal Dyreen scenting gold is like a bear smelling honey. Best not to come between the two of them. In any case, it makes him reliable, doesn't it?'
'I'd sooner trust to something other than greed,' sighed Orisian, 'but it's a safe enough bargain. Tal Dyreens wouldn't do much trade in Glasbridge, or Kolkyre for that matter, if it was known he'd abandoned us here. He'll be a loyal friend, if for no other reason than that.'
'They also say that the only women safe around a Tal Dyreen are the dead and the dying, and the dying only sometimes,' Rothe observed.
Anyara shrugged at that. 'I can look after myself.'
Orisian smiled at the confidence in her voice. Anyara's mood was lighter now that they were drawing closer to safety. The shadow beneath which they had toiled really might be lifting a little, and for the first time in weeks hope did not seem quite such an unreasonable thing.
No more than half a day's march from Koldihrve, on the northern flank of the Car Criagar, a small hill rose from the thin forest. It was dotted with a few scrawny trees. Kanin had set up his camp on the short turf beneath these ragged sentinels.
The march over the mountains had been hard and fast, though plagued more by cold and snow than by the arrows of woodwights. There had been no sign of the Fox that Kanin had feared might impede their progress. That, he knew, was because of the hundreds of White Owls surging through the Car Criagar.
There were corpses in the forest - tokens of the struggle between the clans - but the cresting wave of savagery was always somewhere ahead of the Horin-Gyre company. Some of the dead Kyrinin they found were mutilated or dismembered. There were men, women and children strung up in trees or impaled upon the ground. A part of Kanin was disgusted at the thought of marching in the tracks of blood-frenzied woodwights. Only the greater need kept his feet on the path: until the children of Kennet nan Lannis-Haig were taken, the task he had promised to undertake was incomplete. The butchery the White Owls spread through the forest served that promise, speeding his descent upon Koldihrve.
On the treeless high ground of the Car Criagar a snowstorm had lashed at them. A slide of rock and snow carried off a few victims. There had been no rest on those hostile slopes, so now, with the peaks behind them, he had ordered a brief pause on this lonely hillock. He did not want to blindly lead weary warriors still further into unknown lands. He sent messengers and scouts racing ahead and waited to see what word they might bring back.
The Thane - he still was not accustomed to thinking of himself as such - was seated on a dusky brown rug, breaking his fast on the same biscuits and gruel that fed his warriors, when a tired-eyed man came scrambling up the hillside and fell to his knees before him. It was one of the sentries posted on the camp's outskirts. Kanin calmly set down his bowl and wiped his lips with his cuff. He waited for the man to speak.
'There is an Inkallim here, lord. One of the Hunt. He would speak with you.'
That caught Kanin's attention.
'Bring him to me, then.'
The man, when he came striding up out of the forest, was accompanied by a great, thick-jawed hound.
The beast loped heavily along at its master's heels. They never leash those creatures, Kanin thought.
However ruthlessly trained they were, the Hunt's dogs always had a feral, threatening air. Of course, if they were leashed it might make people less intimidated by them, and that would not accord with the Hunt's desires.
The Inkallim was relaxed and casual, but that could not hide the signs of a hard journey. He was pale and gaunt, befitting a man who had seen little of rest or food in several days. As he halted before Kanin his hound sat at his side and fixed its dark eyes on the Thane. Kanin did not rise from his rug, and after a moment's pause the Inkallim squatted down on his haunches.
'Lord,' the man said.
'You are one of Cannek's?'
'Of the Hunt, yes. Two of us came on the trail of the Lannis-Haig girl, up over the tops from the falls where the halfbreed was killed.'
'And?'
'There are six of them. Two wights, a na'kyrim, a Lannis warrior, the girl and a youth: most likely her brother.'
Kanin grimaced and rubbed at his eye in frustration.
'So you've failed to kill them,' he muttered.
'My companion made an attempt, as they descended from the mountains. It was unsuccessful. I thought it best to follow at a distance, rather than risk my own death and the loss of their trail.'
'Of course. Where are they now?'
'They entered Koldihrve this morning. Had I not seen your approach, I would have pursued them and made another attempt in the town.'
'Igris!' Kanin shouted, clambering to his feet. His bowl of gruel toppled as he went, spilling its contents across the rug. The Inkallim's hound sprang to its feet and growled.
Kanin's shieldman trotted up from his post a short distance away.
'Find a rider, with a fast horse,' the Thane snapped. 'They're to make for Koldihrve. I want a message given to whoever passes for a ruler there: the Black Road is coming, and if the Lannis-Haig children are not delivered up to me I will raze the town to the ground, I will slaughter their stock and drown every child of their own in the river.'
Igris nodded and turned away.
'And break camp,' Kanin shouted after him. 'Everyone is to be mounted and ready by the time that messenger is on his way. I want us within sight of Koldihrve by tomorrow's first light.'
VI
THE WALLS OF the Lore Inkall's Sanctuary at Kan Dredar enclosed a forest. Hundreds of pine trees stood within their bounds, carpeting the ground with more than a century's needles. They filled the great enclosure with the scent of their sap and the air had a close, embracing feel that only the strongest of winds could disturb. There was seldom any sound beneath their dark green canopy, save the twittering of the small birds that flocked to their shelter in winter or the tolling of a bell to mark some ritual observance. The city in the valley below - the sprawling stronghold of the Gyre Blood - rarely made its presence known. Even the most bullish children of Kan Dredar knew better than to venture over the granite wall of the Sanctuary.
This was Theor's domain, and had been his home for all save the first few years of his life. His parents were a distant memory, almost washed away by time. He had been only five or six — he could not be certain which, since no precise record was kept – when they handed him over to the Inkallim in exchange for a few silver coins. Many others entered the Inkall in the same way. Theor, when he thought of his mother and father at all, was grateful for their decision.
Today, many more people than usual were moving from building to building amongst the Sanctuary's trees. As well as Theor's robed Lore Inkallim, there were warriors of the Battle and grim-faced stalkers and trackers of the Hunt. Such activity was only stirred up by the few formal ceremonies of the year or, as now
, by the gathering of the Firsts in the Roundhall. Theor knew that it was a pale echo of what was happening beyond his walls: Kan Dredar was in ferment, the people roused by rumours of great victories won in the south. The talk on the streets and in the markets was of nothing else.
Theor walked alone towards the Roundhall. When these meetings were held, the Firsts came and went without their attendants. The oaken doors of the hall stood open, awaiting him. A single servant was sweeping the tiled floor of the wide, circular chamber. At Theor's arrival, the man quietly left, averting his eyes. The hall was simple, undecorated. A pool of yellowish light fell from candles burning on a central stand. Three chairs were arrayed around its edge. Theor sat and waited.
Nyve of the Battle was the next to enter. Theor's friend walked silently to his chair. They did not look at one another. Avenn came last. The First of the Hunt was a lean, taut woman, several years younger than the two men. Her face, framed by straight black hair, was pock-marked with the scars of a childhood disease. As she took her seat the doors swung shut and the Firsts were alone in candlelight.
'Beneath the unclosing eyes of the Last God all is seen,' Theor breathed.
'For his eyes are the sun and the moon,' the others said in unison.
'And he sees my heart and my will.'
'There is only the Black Road .'
'Only the Road.'
'Only the Road,' Nyve and Avenn repeated.
Tiny echoes from the hall's bare stone walls filled out their voices.
'Ten men were found, crossing the Vale of Stones,' Theor said. 'They were Horin-Gyre. Old warriors, long settled on farms in the Olon valley; farms they abandoned to go to war.'
'There have been others,' said Nyve, 'even from Ragnor's own garrison here. Three deserters were garrotted this week. They claimed they meant to go south. Anduran's fall has set many to dreaming of the homeland, and of the Kall.'
'The Kall is for the Lore, not the people, to pronounce. This is not the promised renewal.'
'As you say. None would question the Lore's primacy in such a matter.'
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