filled with an overwhelming sense of being used—that he was a dupe, a catspaw, an unwitting pawn in someone else’s game. Crisen Geruath’s, maybe—or even
mathern-an
Rynert’s. Or General Goth’s, or Prokrator Bruda’s… There were too many players, and evidently insufficient pieces to go round…
He had nothing more to say to Evthan; no questions left to ask, even had he hoped for some half-truthful answers. Because he knew already who the soldiers served—the one called Keel had told him as much—and even why they had come to the old barrow after dark, though that was heavily padded out by guesswork and his own memories. Memories… ? If only he could forget… !
Issaqua comes to find me To take my life and soul
For I am lost
And none can help me now. Issaqua sings the song of desolation And fills the world with Darkness. Bringing fear and madness. Despair and death to all.
As shreds of cloud slid slowly in to mask the moon, Aldric found the fine hairs on his skin prickle at his clothing as if he was cold. Except that he was not cold— or if he was, the weather had nothing to do with it.
----
The gates of the village were shut and barred when they reached them, and Evthan had to shout at the top of his voice several times before someone inside opened up. It was probably, he explained, because the villagers were all asleep by now. Aldric stared at him but said nothing, long past the need to make small talk. He guessed the hunter was probably right but both guess and explanation were completely wrong, as became clear once they were within the palisade.
Instead of darkness there was light. An extravagance of lamps and torches and candles hung outside each house; and most of all around the home of headman Darath. Aldric half-heard Evthan mutter, “A council meeting? Now… ?” but paid no attention as he pushed past the Jouvaine and stepped inside the headman’s house. Maybe half a dozen of those sitting nearest the door looked up as he came in, but the rest were more concerned with their own affairs, an attitude which told him how important those affairs must be. There were no questions about his success—or otherwise—in hunting, no interest at all in the fact that he was smeared and spotted with dry blood and—most curiously—no invitation, polite or otherwise, for him to leave, even though he had expected something of the sort.
Sensing Evthan at his back, Aldric moved to one side, leaned against the wall and listened to a debate which judging both by volume and by passionate gesticulation had been going on for quite some time. Though for the most part they used the Jouvaine language that he knew, there were still enough dialect words flung to and fro across the table for the Alban to need all his concentration if he was to make sense of what they said.
And what they were discussing, if the uproar could be dignified by such a word, was a suggestion that the village be abandoned. Reasons good and bad, for and against, were expounded loudly and at length; but it all boiled down to the same thing—the Beast, and the Beast alone, was the source of all the forest’s troubles. Aldric turned his head, caught Evthan’s eye and raised one doubting eyebrow.
Oh indeed
, he thought;
how little they know
.
One man, a grizzled elder, got to his feet and rapped the table. It was a measure of the respect he commanded that the shouting and argument died away almost at once.
“Say what you will about how long your families have lived here; all of us know what is wrong now and why we can live here no longer. This three months past we have put no silver in the coffers of Valden, though we have taken out as much as—more than—ever we do in Spring. I have looked at the money-chests, and they are
empty
. Nothing remains. Soon we will begin to starve. All this, because six men must do the work of one, for fear of the Beast.”
There was an undertone of condemnation in his voice which provoked a rippling of
mathern-an
Rynert’s. Or General Goth’s, or Prokrator Bruda’s… There were too many players, and evidently insufficient pieces to go round…
He had nothing more to say to Evthan; no questions left to ask, even had he hoped for some half-truthful answers. Because he knew already who the soldiers served—the one called Keel had told him as much—and even why they had come to the old barrow after dark, though that was heavily padded out by guesswork and his own memories. Memories… ? If only he could forget… !
Issaqua comes to find me To take my life and soul
For I am lost
And none can help me now. Issaqua sings the song of desolation And fills the world with Darkness. Bringing fear and madness. Despair and death to all.
As shreds of cloud slid slowly in to mask the moon, Aldric found the fine hairs on his skin prickle at his clothing as if he was cold. Except that he was not cold— or if he was, the weather had nothing to do with it.
----
The gates of the village were shut and barred when they reached them, and Evthan had to shout at the top of his voice several times before someone inside opened up. It was probably, he explained, because the villagers were all asleep by now. Aldric stared at him but said nothing, long past the need to make small talk. He guessed the hunter was probably right but both guess and explanation were completely wrong, as became clear once they were within the palisade.
Instead of darkness there was light. An extravagance of lamps and torches and candles hung outside each house; and most of all around the home of headman Darath. Aldric half-heard Evthan mutter, “A council meeting? Now… ?” but paid no attention as he pushed past the Jouvaine and stepped inside the headman’s house. Maybe half a dozen of those sitting nearest the door looked up as he came in, but the rest were more concerned with their own affairs, an attitude which told him how important those affairs must be. There were no questions about his success—or otherwise—in hunting, no interest at all in the fact that he was smeared and spotted with dry blood and—most curiously—no invitation, polite or otherwise, for him to leave, even though he had expected something of the sort.
Sensing Evthan at his back, Aldric moved to one side, leaned against the wall and listened to a debate which judging both by volume and by passionate gesticulation had been going on for quite some time. Though for the most part they used the Jouvaine language that he knew, there were still enough dialect words flung to and fro across the table for the Alban to need all his concentration if he was to make sense of what they said.
And what they were discussing, if the uproar could be dignified by such a word, was a suggestion that the village be abandoned. Reasons good and bad, for and against, were expounded loudly and at length; but it all boiled down to the same thing—the Beast, and the Beast alone, was the source of all the forest’s troubles. Aldric turned his head, caught Evthan’s eye and raised one doubting eyebrow.
Oh indeed
, he thought;
how little they know
.
One man, a grizzled elder, got to his feet and rapped the table. It was a measure of the respect he commanded that the shouting and argument died away almost at once.
“Say what you will about how long your families have lived here; all of us know what is wrong now and why we can live here no longer. This three months past we have put no silver in the coffers of Valden, though we have taken out as much as—more than—ever we do in Spring. I have looked at the money-chests, and they are
empty
. Nothing remains. Soon we will begin to starve. All this, because six men must do the work of one, for fear of the Beast.”
There was an undertone of condemnation in his voice which provoked a rippling of
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