looked up and nodded. “The Huntress says I have had time enough to explain. Now my crimes must be dragged out into the light for inspecting.”
With Binabik rendering the proceedings into the Westerling tongue, everything seemed to happen much more quickly. Sometimes it seemed he repeated what was spoken word for word, other times long speeches would be dispatched in a quick summation. Although Binabik seemed to regain a little of his familiar energy as he went about the business of translating, there was no mistaking the perilousness of his situation.
“Binabik, apprentice to the Singing Man, great Ookequk, you are held as an oath-breaker.” Uammannaq the Herder leaned forward, twisting his thin beard fretfully, as though he found the proceedings upsetting. “Do you deny this?”
There was a long silence after Binabik finished translating the Herder’s question. After a moment, he turned from his friends to face the lords of Yiqanuc. “I have no denial,” he said at last. “I will offer the full truth, though, if you will be hearing it, Sharpest of Eye and Surest of Rein.”
Nunuuika leaned back on her cushions. “There will be time for that.” She turned to her husband. “He does not deny it.”
“So,” Uammannaq responded heavily, “Binabik is charged. You, Croohok,” he swiveled his round head toward Sludig, “are accused of being of an outlaw race who have attacked and injured our people since time out of mind. That you are a Rimmersman no one can deny, so your charge remains as spoken.”
As the Herder’s words were translated, Sludig began an angry retort, but Binabik raised a hand to silence him. Surprisingly, Sludig complied.
“There can be no real justice between old enemies, it seems,” the northerner murmured to Simon. His fierce glare became an unhappy frown. “Still, there are trollkind who have had less chance at the hands of my kinsmen than I have here.”
“Let those who have reason to accuse now speak,” Uammannaq said.
A certain expectant stillness filled the cavern. The herald stepped forward, his necklaces rattling and shivering. From the eyes of his ram skull he looked at Binabik with undisguised contempt, then lifted his hand and spoke in a thick, harsh voice.
“Qangolik the Spirit Caller says that the Singing Man Ookekuq did not appear at the Ice House on the Winter Lastday, as has been the law of our people since Sedda gave us these mountains,” Binabik translated. His own voice had taken on some of the unpleasant tone of his accuser’s. “Qangolik says that Binabik, the Singing Man’s apprentice, also did not come to the Ice House.”
Simon could almost feel the hatred flowing between his friend and the masked troll. There seemed little doubt that there was some rivalry or dispute of long standing between the two.
The Spirit Caller continued. “Since Ookequk’s apprentice did not come to his duty—to sing the Rite of Quickening—the Ice House still has not melted. Because the Ice House is unmelted, Winter will not leave Yiqanuc. Through his treachery, Binabik has doomed his people to a bitter season. The summer will not come and many will die.
“Qangolik calls him oath-breaker.”
There was a rush of angry talk through the cavern. The Spirit Caller had already squatted down once more before Binabik finished putting his words into Westerling.
Nunuuika looked about with ritual deliberateness. “Does anyone else here accuse Binbinaqegabenik?”
The unknown young woman, whom Simon had nearly forgotten in the furor of Qangolik’s words, got up slowly from her seat on the topmost step. Her eyes were demurely lowered and her voice was quiet. She spoke for only a few brief moments.
Binabik did not immediately explain her words, though they set off a great rustle of whispering among the gathered trolls. He wore an expression Simon had never seen before on his friend’s face: complete and utter unhappiness. Binabik stared at the young woman with grim
With Binabik rendering the proceedings into the Westerling tongue, everything seemed to happen much more quickly. Sometimes it seemed he repeated what was spoken word for word, other times long speeches would be dispatched in a quick summation. Although Binabik seemed to regain a little of his familiar energy as he went about the business of translating, there was no mistaking the perilousness of his situation.
“Binabik, apprentice to the Singing Man, great Ookequk, you are held as an oath-breaker.” Uammannaq the Herder leaned forward, twisting his thin beard fretfully, as though he found the proceedings upsetting. “Do you deny this?”
There was a long silence after Binabik finished translating the Herder’s question. After a moment, he turned from his friends to face the lords of Yiqanuc. “I have no denial,” he said at last. “I will offer the full truth, though, if you will be hearing it, Sharpest of Eye and Surest of Rein.”
Nunuuika leaned back on her cushions. “There will be time for that.” She turned to her husband. “He does not deny it.”
“So,” Uammannaq responded heavily, “Binabik is charged. You, Croohok,” he swiveled his round head toward Sludig, “are accused of being of an outlaw race who have attacked and injured our people since time out of mind. That you are a Rimmersman no one can deny, so your charge remains as spoken.”
As the Herder’s words were translated, Sludig began an angry retort, but Binabik raised a hand to silence him. Surprisingly, Sludig complied.
“There can be no real justice between old enemies, it seems,” the northerner murmured to Simon. His fierce glare became an unhappy frown. “Still, there are trollkind who have had less chance at the hands of my kinsmen than I have here.”
“Let those who have reason to accuse now speak,” Uammannaq said.
A certain expectant stillness filled the cavern. The herald stepped forward, his necklaces rattling and shivering. From the eyes of his ram skull he looked at Binabik with undisguised contempt, then lifted his hand and spoke in a thick, harsh voice.
“Qangolik the Spirit Caller says that the Singing Man Ookekuq did not appear at the Ice House on the Winter Lastday, as has been the law of our people since Sedda gave us these mountains,” Binabik translated. His own voice had taken on some of the unpleasant tone of his accuser’s. “Qangolik says that Binabik, the Singing Man’s apprentice, also did not come to the Ice House.”
Simon could almost feel the hatred flowing between his friend and the masked troll. There seemed little doubt that there was some rivalry or dispute of long standing between the two.
The Spirit Caller continued. “Since Ookequk’s apprentice did not come to his duty—to sing the Rite of Quickening—the Ice House still has not melted. Because the Ice House is unmelted, Winter will not leave Yiqanuc. Through his treachery, Binabik has doomed his people to a bitter season. The summer will not come and many will die.
“Qangolik calls him oath-breaker.”
There was a rush of angry talk through the cavern. The Spirit Caller had already squatted down once more before Binabik finished putting his words into Westerling.
Nunuuika looked about with ritual deliberateness. “Does anyone else here accuse Binbinaqegabenik?”
The unknown young woman, whom Simon had nearly forgotten in the furor of Qangolik’s words, got up slowly from her seat on the topmost step. Her eyes were demurely lowered and her voice was quiet. She spoke for only a few brief moments.
Binabik did not immediately explain her words, though they set off a great rustle of whispering among the gathered trolls. He wore an expression Simon had never seen before on his friend’s face: complete and utter unhappiness. Binabik stared at the young woman with grim
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