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Authors: Tim Stretton

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The woman blanched, peered into Beauceron’s face. She quickly turned away. ‘Arren!’ She turned to the boy. ‘Run along, son, attend to the cesspit.’

‘But it does not need—’

‘Do as I say,’ she said in a low voice which brooked no dissent. ‘I do not expect to see you for an hour.’

‘What of the raider?’

‘He is no raider; just a traveller.’

The lad looked sullenly at the pair of them, scowling at Beauceron as the agent of his unexpected cesspit duty.

‘Will you not climb down, Arren?’

Beauceron stepped down and tethered his gallumpher to a post.

Eilla brushed a hair out of her eyes. Her face was tanned from outdoor work and her hair had streaks of grey in places, but Beauceron could still see the girl he had loved the long years
ago.

By unspoken agreement they walked around the farm, away from the house.

‘You look well, Eilla. After Thaume exiled you, I did not think to see you here. I never thought to see you at all.’

‘I was never banished, Arren. They say Sir Langlan counselled Lord Thaume to mercy.’

‘I would have returned,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘If I had known you were here, no ban of Thaume’s would have stopped me.’

‘The Wheel turns as it will, Arren. I learned that long ago.’

They walked on in silence. Beauceron had nothing to say on the subjects of the Wheel or the Way.

‘You have the wolf’s head on your surcoat,’ she said. ‘You are one of them.’

Beauceron gave a steady look into her face. ‘I had few choices, Eilla. If we had – I had always been going to support us through arms, you remember.’

‘How long ago those days were,’ she said, her voice controlled.

‘There has never been a day I have not thought of that evening,’ he said. ‘I had always dreamed to see you again.’

From nowhere Eilla laughed. ‘The Patient Suitor! You took your time.’

Beauceron gave a sad smile. ‘I swore I would return, but you were not there to hear.’

‘I always thought you would come back,’ she said. ‘I did not expect to wait twelve years to see you.’

‘The boy – he is your son, of course.’

‘I have three,’ she said, with a shy smile.

‘You are wed, then.’

She gave him a look of surprise. ‘How could it be otherwise? I waited; you did not return. In due course I married Chandry.’

‘Chandry?’

‘Do not say anything, Arren. You were not there. He is a good man and a good father.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘In the city. Oricien requires the men to give two days a week to rebuilding. Do not reproach me, Arren.’

Beauceron was conscious of a heaviness in his heart. Had he expected her to wait? Eilla had always been a pragmatic girl. He smiled.

‘I am in no position to reproach anyone, Eilla. I have not used the intervening years in a way calculated to secure your approval.’

She reached out and touched the wolf’s head on his chest. ‘You have served the Dog of the North.’

Beauceron could not control a quick high laugh. ‘Eilla, I
am
the Dog of the North.’

Her jaw sagged. ‘You are Beauceron?’

‘To you I will always be Arren; to the world, yes, I am Beauceron.’

She shook her head and looked at him again in marvelling wonder. ‘You have done this to Croad?’

Beauceron paused for a moment. ‘I had much to avenge.’

‘You did all this, destroyed all this – for me?’

Beauceron gave his head a rapid shake. ‘For us. The rage was all mine. I did not think to make you a present of the ashes of Croad.’

‘I did not ask this,’ she said. Thaume and his family wronged you and they wronged me; but I never asked their destruction.’ Her eyes were full.

‘There is no guilt for you, Eilla. The responsibility is mine. I humbled the house of Thaume, not you.’

‘And has it mended anything? All you lost remains lost: even me.’

Beauceron shook his head. ‘Especially you. Some part of me longed to return, to claim you after so long. Instead I find you wed with three children.’

Eilla said nothing.

‘And no,’ he continued, ‘it has mended nothing. Thaume escaped my vengeance; I let Siedra go to save a more deserving lady from a worse fate; I let Oricien live in shame rather
than kill him when I had the chance. I have destroyed his city; but bringing him down has not raised me up.’

She touched his cheek. ‘The Way is not always a straight road,’ she said. ‘You have far to go. I wish you fair speed. If you would learn from experience and my advice, do not
try to find Siedra again. You will not bring yourself peace.’

Suddenly Beauceron smiled. ‘Do you remember when we used to play raiders?’

Eilla laughed. ‘And now you are truly King of the Raiders.’

At least I have never stolen a cow.’

‘I have enough of my own now,’ she said. ‘I no longer need to dare such extravagance.’

They had returned to where Beauceron’s gallumpher was tethered. ‘I should leave now, Eilla: my men are far ahead and I must join them. I am glad I have seen you.’

‘Even though you have not found what you hoped to find.’

Beauceron leaned forward and embraced her one last time. ‘I have found you safe, healthy, happy. I do not think we shall meet again: it gladdens me to think of you like this. Goodbye,
Eilla.’

She reached out and took his hand as he mounted the gallumpher. ‘Goodbye, Arren,’ she said through a voice choked with tears.

Beauceron gently spurred his gallumpher into motion. As the track turned away into the wood he looked back to see her watching his departure with an unreadable expression. With a hand raised in
salute he dug his heels into the gal-lumpher’s side and Eilla was lost from view.

Eilla walked back to the cesspit, drying her eyes on her sleeve. She called softly: ‘Arren, you can come out now. The raider is gone.’

And young Arren clambered from the pit into his mother’s waiting arms, to wonder at the fervour of the kisses she rained upon his head.

The
DOG
of the
NORTH

Tim Stretton was born on the Isle of Wight in 1967. A graduate in English and American Literature, he now lives in West Sussex.

Acknowledgements

Although there is only one name on the cover, many hands go into the making of a book. Patrick Dusoulier, Paul Rhoads and Steve Sherman all believed in
The Dog of the
North
before it was published, and made many useful suggestions to the early drafts. Greg and Kate Mosse also provided technical advice, encouragement and the suggestion that I submit the book
to Macmillan New Writing. At Macmillan, I’m indebted to my editor Will Atkins, both for having faith in the book in the first place, and for his invaluable editorial comments.

I’d like also to mention Jack Vance, for writing better than anyone else the kind of books I like to read – books that made me realize I wanted to be a writer too. For over a quarter
of a century his writing has inspired and delighted in equal measure.

Finally I should say a big thank you to Sue and Danielle for accepting uncomplainingly the ruthlessness with which I’ve appropriated evenings and weekends in pursuit of my writing, the
most unforgiving and demanding mistress of all.

Principal Characters

Arren

Son of Darrien

Beauceron

‘The Dog of the North’, brigand captain of Mettingloom

Brissio

Heir to the Winter Throne of Mettingloom, son of King Fanrolio

Coppercake

Tutor of mathematics and adviser to Lord Thaume

Cosetta

Companion to Lady Isola

Darrien

Captain of Lord Thaume’s Guard

Davanzato

Under-Chamberlain to King Fanrolio

Eilla

Daughter of Croad’s master mason Jandille

Fanrolio

Winter King of Mettingloom

Goccio

Knight of the Summer Court, Mettingloom

Guigot

Nephew of Lord Thaume

Isola

Daughter of Lord Sprang of Sey

Laertio

Heir to the Summer Throne of Mettingloom, son of King Tardolio

Langlan

Knight of Emmen, adviser to Lord Thaume

Monetto

Beauceron’s lieutenant

Mongrissore

Legulier

Oricien

Son and heir to Lord Thaume

Panarre

Duke of Lynnoc; liege-lord of Lord Thaume

Pinch

Thaumaturge in the service of Lord Thaume

Raugier

Lord High Viator, Emmen

Siedra

Daughter of Lord Thaume

Tardolio

Summer King of Mettingloom

Thaume

Lord of Croad

Virnesto

Captain-General of the Winter Armies, Mettingloom

First published 2008 by Macmillan New Writing

First published in paperback 2009 by Tor

This electronic edition published 2010 by Tor
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-230-73848-5 PDF
ISBN 978-0-230-73847-8 EPUB

Copyright © Tim Stretton 2008

The right of Tim Stretton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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