black,
speaking with a newly modulated voice and manner, and adopting the
clan chiefs authority along with his clothes and his horse.
Raif massaged his wrist where Drey had
gripped it. It wasn't even worth asking how Mace had come to ride
home upon his foster father's gelding. Mace Blackhail wasn't going to
be caught out this late in the game.
"Raif."
Drey's voice brought Raif back to the
meet. Looking into his brother's face, Raif saw how tired his brother
looked. It had been a long six days for both of them, yet it was Drey
who had carried a greater portion of the weight on the journey back,
Drey who had spent an extra hour each night stripping logs down to
the heartwood so the fire wouldn't burn out while they slept.
"You two lads need to come
inside." It was Shor Gormalin, speaking in his soft burr. The
small, fair-haired man, whose quiet ways disguised the fiercest
swordsman in the clan, looked from Drey to Raif as he spoke. "You've
walked a long way, and had a hard journey, and seen things that none
here would wish to see. And no matter what was the right and wrong of
what you did, you stayed and saw to our dead. For that alone we owe
you more than any here can repay."
Shor paused. Everyone in the meet party
either nodded or murmured, "Aye." A muffled sob escaped
from Merritt Ganlow's lips.
"So come wi' me now. Let Inigar
grind some guidestone for your tines, and let us warm you and feed
you and welcome you home. You are clan, and you are needed, and you
must tell us of our kin."
The swordsman's words had a profound
effect on the faces of the meet party. Orwin Shank closed his eyes
and held a fist to his heart. Seeing their father's actions, the two
Shank yearmen did likewise. Other yearmen followed, and within
seconds the entire meet party sat high on their saddles, eyes closed
or cast down, paying due respect to those who were dead. Raina
Blackhail trotted her horse over to Shor Gormalin's side and laid her
hand on the swordsman's arm.
Out of the corner of his eye, Raif saw
Mace Blackhail look up and take note of the contact. His eyes caught
and reflected a thin break of sunlight, and for an instant they shone
yellow like a wolfs.
Forcing aside his unease, Raif stepped
toward his brother. Drey was waiting for him and brought up his arm
straightaway, wrapping it around Raif's shoulder. He didn't speak,
and Raif was glad of it. There was little choice here: Raif loved his
brother and respected Shor Gormalin too much to hold out against
them.
Shor Gormalin vaulted from his horse
with the speed and agility that never failed to surprise Raif, even
though he had seen the swordsman do so many times before. A moment
later Corbie Meese also dismounted, and the two clansmen came
forward, offering Drey and Raif their mounts. Mace Blackhail trotted
his horse down the slope, positioning himself to be head rider when
the meet party turned for home.
Shor Gormalin's blue eyes looked
straight at Raif as he handed him his reins. " 'Tis a good thing
you did, lad, you and your brother. We are Blackhail, the first of
all clans. We must be and act as one in this."
Raif took the reins. Although he didn't
say it outright, Shor Gormalin spoke of war.
The party of twenty-six rode in single
and double file down the slope toward the roundhouse. As the wind had
turned and quickened, they were forced to ride through the
roundhouse's smoke. Raif didn't mind. The smoke was warm and smelled
of good, honest things like resinous wood, charred mutton, and shale
oil. The darkness it created hid his face.
"Not well. She seemed…"
Raina shook her head, searched for the right word. "Angry. She
ran away, and for the longest time no one could find her. We tore the
roundhouse apart looking. Corbie Meese and Longhead arranged a search
party. Letty and the girls lit torches and walked the length of the
graze. Orwin Shank's two eldest rode as far as the Wedge. It was Shor
Gormalin who found her in the end—tucked in the corner of
speaking with a newly modulated voice and manner, and adopting the
clan chiefs authority along with his clothes and his horse.
Raif massaged his wrist where Drey had
gripped it. It wasn't even worth asking how Mace had come to ride
home upon his foster father's gelding. Mace Blackhail wasn't going to
be caught out this late in the game.
"Raif."
Drey's voice brought Raif back to the
meet. Looking into his brother's face, Raif saw how tired his brother
looked. It had been a long six days for both of them, yet it was Drey
who had carried a greater portion of the weight on the journey back,
Drey who had spent an extra hour each night stripping logs down to
the heartwood so the fire wouldn't burn out while they slept.
"You two lads need to come
inside." It was Shor Gormalin, speaking in his soft burr. The
small, fair-haired man, whose quiet ways disguised the fiercest
swordsman in the clan, looked from Drey to Raif as he spoke. "You've
walked a long way, and had a hard journey, and seen things that none
here would wish to see. And no matter what was the right and wrong of
what you did, you stayed and saw to our dead. For that alone we owe
you more than any here can repay."
Shor paused. Everyone in the meet party
either nodded or murmured, "Aye." A muffled sob escaped
from Merritt Ganlow's lips.
"So come wi' me now. Let Inigar
grind some guidestone for your tines, and let us warm you and feed
you and welcome you home. You are clan, and you are needed, and you
must tell us of our kin."
The swordsman's words had a profound
effect on the faces of the meet party. Orwin Shank closed his eyes
and held a fist to his heart. Seeing their father's actions, the two
Shank yearmen did likewise. Other yearmen followed, and within
seconds the entire meet party sat high on their saddles, eyes closed
or cast down, paying due respect to those who were dead. Raina
Blackhail trotted her horse over to Shor Gormalin's side and laid her
hand on the swordsman's arm.
Out of the corner of his eye, Raif saw
Mace Blackhail look up and take note of the contact. His eyes caught
and reflected a thin break of sunlight, and for an instant they shone
yellow like a wolfs.
Forcing aside his unease, Raif stepped
toward his brother. Drey was waiting for him and brought up his arm
straightaway, wrapping it around Raif's shoulder. He didn't speak,
and Raif was glad of it. There was little choice here: Raif loved his
brother and respected Shor Gormalin too much to hold out against
them.
Shor Gormalin vaulted from his horse
with the speed and agility that never failed to surprise Raif, even
though he had seen the swordsman do so many times before. A moment
later Corbie Meese also dismounted, and the two clansmen came
forward, offering Drey and Raif their mounts. Mace Blackhail trotted
his horse down the slope, positioning himself to be head rider when
the meet party turned for home.
Shor Gormalin's blue eyes looked
straight at Raif as he handed him his reins. " 'Tis a good thing
you did, lad, you and your brother. We are Blackhail, the first of
all clans. We must be and act as one in this."
Raif took the reins. Although he didn't
say it outright, Shor Gormalin spoke of war.
The party of twenty-six rode in single
and double file down the slope toward the roundhouse. As the wind had
turned and quickened, they were forced to ride through the
roundhouse's smoke. Raif didn't mind. The smoke was warm and smelled
of good, honest things like resinous wood, charred mutton, and shale
oil. The darkness it created hid his face.
"Not well. She seemed…"
Raina shook her head, searched for the right word. "Angry. She
ran away, and for the longest time no one could find her. We tore the
roundhouse apart looking. Corbie Meese and Longhead arranged a search
party. Letty and the girls lit torches and walked the length of the
graze. Orwin Shank's two eldest rode as far as the Wedge. It was Shor
Gormalin who found her in the end—tucked in the corner of
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