Winterbirth (51 page)

Wain was watching him. 'You are Thane now,' she whispered. 'Do not go into the Car Criagar. Your place is here.'

'No, Wain. Would you make me a liar to our father? When I meet him again in the renewed world, I don't want the first thing I tell him at the start of that second life to be that I failed our promise to him.

Without their deaths, everything that we hold now will be taken away again. Others might forget, but so long as even one of their line remains, they will never stop trying to recover this land. The Thane is the Blood. You know that.'

'You should be proclaimed as Thane,' she said. 'We must...'

'When I come back. Not until then.' For once, he was the firmer. 'I will not be away for long. And you know as well as I that I am not truly needed here. This army is yours to lead as much as it is mine. I and my fifty warriors would make no difference in whatever you may face in my absence: we always knew that all of this would come to nothing if the other Bloods did not march to our aid in the end,' he said. 'If it is to nothing that we are headed, so be it, but I will not go there without at least trying to finish with Lannis-Haig.'

He picked up the fragile vial of Anduran's dust that lay on the table and held it out to her.

'I was going to send this to our father. Send it to Ragnor oc Gyre instead. Tell him that the Horin-Gyre Blood holds the Glas valley for him, and awaits his return to claim what is his.'

She smiled faintly, and he planted a soft kiss upon her forehead.

'INURIAN IS DEAD, then,' Yvane said, after she was told all that had happened.

'We are not certain,' said Orisian.

'I think you know it as well as I do,' the
na'kyrim
said. 'And I do know it.' She was staring into the fire, stirring it with a stick. Embers danced upwards.

The chamber lay at the end of a short passageway; it was warm and close. Without Yvane to guide them they might not have found it. She had brought them to the base of the cliffs that soared above the ruins, led them clambering over a mass of huge boulders up to a flat platform deep in the shade of the rock face and into the narrow opening of the tunnel that brought them here.

The
na'kyrim
had brewed an infusion of herbs while they told her their stories. They passed it around and each took a few heartening sips. The fire crackled between them and the entranceway. Crude figures had been painted on the walls. The abstracted forms of animals and people processed across the stone, given life by the flickering firelight. The wind moaned across the cave's mouth.

When he thought he could do so without being noticed, Orisian examined their host. Yvane had the same part-Kyrinin features he had come to recognise in Inurian, though her eyes were still more unlike a human's than his had been. Her hands and fingers seemed every bit as lean and long as Ess'yr's. They bore calluses here and there, the legacy of hard years amongst the rocks of the Car Criagar. That time had left its imprint upon her face, too. Her skin was weathered, roughened to a coarser grain than he would have expected in a
na'kyrim.
Her short hair had the sheen of a Kyrinin's but it was a reddish brown: a shade that could only have come from her Huanin parent. Had she been human, Orisian would have guessed that she was well into her fifth decade of life; since she was
na'kyrim,
he knew she must be older.

'Stay rockside of the fire,' she said. 'The smoke is drawn out through the passageway. And it's best to keep the flames between you and any visitors.'

'What kind of visitors?' demanded Rothe.

'Huanin, Kyrinin, animals. Bears,' she flashed the shieldman a harsh smile that had barely formed upon her lips before it was gone again. 'In winter it's bears scavenging here; in summer, your people from the valley. Treasure hunters and boys who think they're men because they've got some hair on their crotch.

They scare off more easily than the beasts do.'

'Not all of us,' muttered Rothe.

Yvane gave no sign that she had heard, continuing to probe at the fire.

'Inurian said you would help us get safely away from here,' Anyara said.

The
na'kyrim
gave a soft laugh. 'You Huanin are so hasty,' she said. She waved the smouldering stick at Ess'yr and Varryn. 'See, your Kyrinin friends are perfect guests. They are still, and quiet, saving talk until host and visitor have taken the measure of one another.'

'I did not mean any offence,' said Anyara, neatly blending contrition and irritation in her tone.

Yvane shrugged. 'None was taken,' she said. 'Some Kyrinin make poor guests as well. For children of the God Who Laughed, they can be rather dour.'

No flicker of a response crossed the faces of Ess'yr and Varryn.

'I imagine your Fox friends are less than comfortable here,' Yvane mused. 'They tell foolish stories about me in their camps. Talking with the dead and the like.'

Orisian could not tell whether or not they were welcome here. All of Yvane's words were spoken in a casual tone, yet there was an edge to them.

'This is where you live? This cave, I mean,' he asked.

Yvane glanced around as if examining her surroundings for the first time.

'I've not used this place in a while. You were wandering this way anyway, so you might have found it yourselves.'

'You were watching us,' Orisian said.

'More or less,' said Yvane. 'When I felt Inurian die I had a suspicion that my peace would not last long.

Intuition, if you like; the Shared, if you prefer. I'll admit you're a more unusual little group than I expected.

Lannis-Haig and Fox travelling together has never been a common sight. Rarer than a flat calm off the Wrecking Cape, in fact.'

She lapsed into silence, and after a few moments the quiet settled so heavily across the group that it would have been a strain to break it. Orisian found the hush less uncomfortable than the talk that had gone before. The fire hissed and popped. The wind rumbled.

Orisian's head nodded. It became too difficult to stay awake. He stirred once, looking around with half-open eyes. Anyara had slumped against Rothe's shoulder and fallen asleep. Ess'yr and Varryn had passed into slumber where they sat, their backs against the stone wall. Only Rothe remained stubbornly alert, his exhausted eyes fixed upon the
na'kyrim
woman who, pointedly ignoring his gaze, was stretching herself out by the fire. Orisian saw no more but wondered, as his mind floated down, how long Rothe would keep his vigil for.

When Orisian woke, the fire was near-dead ashes. A thread of daylight reached in from the outside world. He moistened his lips. They had dried and cracked in the night. There were two dark shapes curled on the floor to his right: Rothe and Anyara. He looked for the Kyrinin, but could see no sign.

Yvane too was gone from her place by the fire. In those first few moments of wakefulness, he was nagged by the thought that something was missing. It was only as he rose to his feet that he realised that the monotonous, constant voice of the wind had fallen silent. Walking a little clumsily, since numbness had stolen his legs from under him, he made his way out into the open.

Even without any wind, the cold air brought tears to his sleep-crusted eyes. It was early morning, and he was amazed that he had slept so soundly for so long. The ruined city sprawled out before him, a stark net of rock cast over the even white snow that had fallen in the night.

He started as Ess'yr appeared beneath the edge of the platform, vaulting up from amongst the boulders.

He held out his hand and pulled her up. She felt weightless, her hand soft in his.

'You slept well?' she asked, and he nodded.

'Where's Yvane?' he said.

Ess'yr sniffed. 'Went at the first light,' she said.

'And Varryn?'

'Hunting. There are hare tracks in the snow.'

'I suppose we just wait for him and Yvane to come back, then,' said Orisian.

And wait they did. Rothe and Anyara woke, cold and grumbling and hungry. There was dry wood beneath some sacking in a corner of the chamber, and Rothe managed to rekindle the fire. They huddled about it.

Ess'yr would not settle. Again and again she rose to go outside for a few moments. When she came back in, rather than sit by the fire she circled about it, examining the crude paintings upon the walls. When Orisian asked her what the matter was, she mumbled something he did not catch. This tiny cavern was as far as it was possible to get from the forests and open skies the Kyrinin loved, he supposed.

After an hour or two Varryn reappeared, clutching a white hare in one hand. He grimaced as he threw his bloody catch to the ground. With a gesture towards his eyes he spun around and went outside again.

'There's not enough wind to pull the smoke out,' said Rothe.

Now that his attention was drawn to it, Orisian's own eyes began to burn and weep. After a few moments he headed out on to the broad ledge and sat cross-legged, huddled up to try to keep some warmth in his body. There was no sign of Varryn. Rothe followed him out and sat beside him. The big man clearly wanted to say something, but could not quite bring himself to do so.

'I wonder where Yvane has gone,' said Orisian.

'Best not to enquire too deeply into the doings of her kind,' said Rothe. 'More woodwight than human, that one.'

'She's a friend, I think,' Orisian said gently. 'Inurian thought she would be.'

'You will go to Koldihrve, then?' Rothe asked.

'Inurian said it is what we should do.'

I know you loved him, Orisian, and it's fitting you should give weight to his words, but are you sure? It's not that I don't trust him, or doubt his wisdom. I know he understood things people like you and me don't.'

The ageing warrior looked him in the eye, and Orisian saw quite clearly the love and care that lay just beneath the surface. He saw, as well, that there was grey in the man's beard that had not been there a few weeks ago.

'Orisian . . .' Rothe started, and then had to pause to clear his throat. 'Orisian, it may be that you are the Thane now. I think that is most likely the way of it.'

It was the thought that Orisian had steadfastly ignored since Anyara told him what had happened in Anduran. He had known he would have to face it, but had hoped for a little more time.

'We can hope not,' he murmured, casting his eyes down. Fariel came into his mind. His brother would have made a fine Thane. But no; he set his mind against that thought. It would not help him now. There was no point in imagining a world that would never be.

'Of course, of course,' Rothe said hurriedly. 'Perhaps Croesan, or Naradin, or even the baby, still live.

But perhaps they do not.'

'I know it as well as you do, Rothe.'

'Yes. I'm sorry,' said the shieldman.

Orisian laid a hand upon Rothe's arm. 'It's only that I have no wish to be Thane.'

'That's only sense. It's a fool who can't see it's easier to give an oath than be given it.'

Perhaps, Orisian thought. But who really did the harder thing: Kylane who made an oath that cost him his life, or me, by being the object of it?

He smiled at his shieldman. 'I had an idea you were close to putting aside your sword, before all of this happened. Was I wrong?'

Rothe looked uncomfortable, like nothing so much as a man reminded of some childhood foolishness.

'I had that thought,' he said, 'or half the thought. Perhaps a farm, like the one I grew up on; just somewhere to rest a while, to let the last years be quieter.' His voice hardened, stiffening against the hint of tranquillity: 'The thought is gone now, Orisian. Never doubt it. I would not leave your side now even if you pelted me with stones. Not so long as I've the strength to lift a sword.'

Orisian smiled. 'Oh, I know that well enough, Rothe.'

They did not say anything for a time. The smell of cooking meat drifted out and teased at them.

'Tell me what it is you think I should do,' Orisian said eventually.

'I will follow wherever you go, but if it were mine to choose I would say we must go to Glasbridge. If you are their Thane, the people must rally to you. You are their strength and you must be amongst them.

And if Anyara is right that Horin-Gyre is in the van of our enemies, that is where they will go. Their roots lie there; they must try for it.'

Orisian hung his head. He knew that Rothe would indeed follow wherever he led, and would lay down his life in whatever cause Orisian chose. As Kylane had already done. As — a fearful thought - many more would willingly do if he was truly now Thane of the Blood.

'My heart tells me the same thing,' he said softly. 'But Inurian seemed so certain this was our only chance. I don't think Ess'yr and Varryn would have agreed to come this way if. . .'

A sudden sound distracted him. Yvane had appeared, bearing a great bundle of furs bound up with twine. Orisian and Rothe stood up. There was a scowl upon the
na'kyrim's
face that cowed even Rothe before she said a word. 'I smell smoke,' she snapped.

'We lit a fire,' Orisian said. He and Rothe took a step back as she flung the furs to the ground and came stamping towards them.

'Have you no imagination?' she demanded. 'Did it not occur to you that firewood may be a little harder to come by here than in your comfortable castles?'

She encompassed the entire snowy, rocky panorama before them with an extravagant sweep of her arm.

'Do you see any trees?' she demanded.

Orisian looked around. Rothe did the same thing. Yvane gave a groan of deep exasperation and stormed into the passageway. Rothe and Orisian glanced at one another with raised eyebrows. They heard the
na'kyrim's
irate greeting of Ess'yr and Anyara.

'Doesn't do to have one of her kind angry with you,' sighed Rothe, puffing out his cheeks. Orisian nodded pensively, but already his attention was elsewhere. He eyed the pile of furs that Yvane had abandoned upon the ledge. He rubbed his upper arms briskly against the cold.

'Do you think those furs are for us?' he wondered.

'I dare to hope,' said Rothe, 'but let's wait until she tells us so.'