Megan Lindholm - Wolf's Brother

Heckram said nothing. He glanced at the boy's empty blankets, then dressed in silence. He held his sprained fingers out from the rest of his hand, fastened his clothing awkwardly. He opened the travelling chest, rummaged inside it for a moment. He settled a knife in his belt, a knife she had never seen before. Bronze gleamed in the dim light. 'How long has he been gone?' he asked in the awful stillness. Tillu shrugged helplessly.

'Then ... where would he go?'

Tillu shrugged again, hating the gesture. 'With Carp dead, he has nowhere to go.'

Heckram considered what he knew of the boy. 'I think he would still go to Carp first.

Would death stop him?'

It took Tillu a moment to gather his meaning. 'No. No, it wouldn't have stopped him last night. He'll go seeking Carp.'

Heckram nodded. 'But he won't have an easy time finding him. It's the worst kind of luck to look on a najd's grave. The Elders know that. They'd put Carp in a secret place, a place herdfolk never venture, not even by accident.'

'There cannot be many such places.' Tillu frowned to herself, trying to think of even one.

'You'd be surprised. It needn't be close by. And someone could be found to take him there. But Kerlew wouldn't know about that. He'd go to where he last saw Carp.'

'His tent.'

Heckram shook his head slowly. 'Joboam's tent.'

Tillu's breath caught. Her first premonition came back, gaining strength. 'He'll kill him. Kerlew will challenge him and Joboam will kill him.'

Heckram's face set suddenly. 'Only after he kills me. I don't plan on that. Stay here.

I'll be back,' Heckram promised as he left the tent. She ignored his command, stretching her legs to keep up with his stride. He glanced at her and saw the uselessness of objecting. Together they hurried through the just-stirring village. For the first time, Tillu wondered why Joboam had pitched his tent so far from Capiam's, instead of claiming his usual place of honor beside it. And why had Carp, so conscious of status, been content to camp on the edge of the village instead of in its center?

Tillu's heart was thundering as they drew near the two large tents, but Heckram didn't hesitate. He pushed his way boldly into Carp's tent. She followed more cautiously.

His wealth staggered her. The tent was not floored with bear or reindeer hides, but with soft lush pelts of fox and wolf. Not one, but two travelling chests stood casually open. Garments of wool and soft leather hung over their edges, draped with strings of amber and ivory beads. A tumble of garments and jewelry and tools surrounded the chests. She wondered what use Carp would have had for the large bronze cook pots that sprawled by the hearth. A fine bow and a quiver of black arrows were strewn across the furs. Many of the shafts had been snapped, the broken pieces flung wide. Her fingers stole out to run along one black arrow. A memory stirred. 'Black arrow ... like that one that hit Lasse that day ...'

Heckram rounded on her. 'I thought you had shot Lasse.'

'Me?' Outrage touched her face. 'I told you that day, there was another hunter on the hillside, shooting from the cover of a fallen tree.'

For a long instant they stared at each other, remembering that day and the difficulty of speaking then. Heckram gave a snort of disgust. 'Then add another stroke to the tally of what I owe Joboam. For that is his bow and his quiver. And these chests belonged to his parents. I remember his mother wearing those ivory beads when I was very small.'

Panic squeezed Tillu's heart. 'Are we in the wrong tent?'

'No. This was Carp's place. Though why Joboam would have given him all these things I do not know. There are things here I would have sworn he would never part with.'

'Unless forced.' Tillu finished the thought. 'And he wouldn't long tolerate being forced to give up such things.'

'Kerlew isn't here. But he's been here. I wonder what he was looking for?'

Tillu shook her head helplessly. 'There is no sense to what Kerlew does. He has no reasons, no logic ...'

Heckram shook his head in disagreement. 'More and more, I believe he has reasons and logic of his own, ones we would find as strange as he finds ours. He is like a foreigner from a far land. Just because we cannot understand his words does not mean he speaks nonsense.'

'Kerlew has been a foreigner to this world since he was born,' Tillu said, between bitterness and pain.

'Come.' Heckram drew her close for a minute and then took her hand. 'We do no good lingering here. Let's find him.'

'Joboam's tent,' Tillu whispered.

Heckram nodded solemnly, and then flashed an incongruous grin, white teeth in his bronze beard. 'Joboam's tent.'

She followed him out of the tent, stepping softly. The morning was brighter, more and more folk emerging to greet the day. As they drew closer to Joboam's tent, her feet dragged. She could not forget the way the man towered over her, the coldness in his eyes. But Heckram stepped forward easily, not bothering to announce himself but pushing his way into Joboam's silent tent. Tillu seized her courage and followed him.

'Where's Kerlew?' Heckram demanded.

Joboam came to his feet in a frantic movement that spilled the pot of water before him. He was dressed only in a loin wrap and his hair was tousled from sleep. His hands were dripping and for an instant his eyes were empty. Then fury filled them. 'What do you mean by entering my tent this way?' he roared.

'I'm looking for Kerlew. I believe he's been here.' Heckram's voice was tight, demanding.

Joboam laughed. 'The najd's little demon spawn isn't here. No one's seen him since the day before yesterday. Better luck to us!' he added challengingly.

'You're lying.' Heckram spoke with certainty that Tillu didn't share.

Joboam shook the water from his hands, wincing as he did so. 'I'm not. But it doesn't matter,' he said quietly. 'Even if the boy comes back, it doesn't matter. Things are changing. The healer and her son won't be tolerated any longer. Folks have been asking where all this bad luck comes from. They think they know. And Capiam's herdfolk are tired of a leader who doesn't keep them from harm. They look to me now. Even if I killed you, no one would say it was without cause. You are part of the ill luck that has befallen us. It was you who first met the healer and her demon son, you were joined to Elsa when she died. You found the najd and brought him to our village, you brought Kerlew back just when we were well rid of him. I could strike you down now and no one would mourn you.'

'Try it,' Heckram invited. He drew his knife.

'No!'' Tillu cried, but he stepped clear of her. Joboam wavered an instant before Heckram's rigid grin. Then he snatched up his own knife and came forward, hunched like a bear, snarling like a wolverine.

'Ketla wants you, Joboam. The healer's son, mad Kerlew, threatens Capiam!' The words tumbled from Pirtsi as he pushed in the door. Heckram and Joboam both turned to him while Tillu stood frozen. 'You? Here?' He exclaimed in wonder as his eyes darted from Tillu to Heckram. In an instant more, his eyes had taken in the drawn blade, the attitudes of the two men. He backed hastily, his eyes darting from one to the other. In the entry he hesitated. 'The boy holds a knife to Capiam's throat!' He flung the words as he fled.

'Good!' Joboam breathed recklessly.

Tillu ran from the hut. Heckram looked from her to the waiting Joboam. 'Soon!' he promised him, and spun to follow her.

'Coward!' He heard Joboam's roar of frustration behind him, heard something flung to strike the tent's inner walls. The name burned, but he knew well that if Kerlew killed Capiam, Joboam would be pleased. Nothing could save the boy then. Or Tillu or himself. He stretched his long legs, caught up and passed Tillu, and then Pirtsi. Thin hysterical screams guided him to the herdlord's tent. He pushed through the folk that ringed it, ignored his name called out with distaste and anger. He burst into the tent, crashed against men who gripped him and held him back. He didn't struggle against them, but stared in disbelief.