‘I cried a lot last night,’ Marna said, flatly, making no attempt to hide her own gnawing distress.
‘Maybe I should’ve done the same,’ Gryss said, paus-ing reflectively for a moment. ‘I probably will eventually.’
Marna moved close to him. ‘We’ll have to send for help,’ she said. ‘We can’t just do nothing. What’s happened is awful. The King should be told, his soldiers, his army, should be sent to put things to rights. The proper army.’
Gryss looked concerned. ‘One thing at a time, Marna,’ he said. ‘We need to talk, to clear our thoughts further before we decide about anything. Everything’s different now.’ He felt a sudden need to explain. ‘When I agreed to help Jeorg try to reach the capital, I thought I’d be able to talk him out of any trouble if he got caught, or the worst that could happen was that he might be locked up for a while. Or made to pay a fine of some kind. I didn’t think they’d do anything like this, or…’
Unable to continue for a moment, he fiddled nerv-ously with the bandages.
‘We can’t risk that happening again,’ he went on at last. ‘They’ll kill anyone else they find trying to leave, I’m sure.’
‘If they catch them,’ Marna said.
‘They caught Jeorg easily enough,’ Gryss said, miss-ing the tone of her voice.
‘He was following behind the entire troop,’ Marna pointed out. ‘Now they’re all back at the castle. They’ve probably not even left any guards downland. Someone could be through and away before they even realized what was happening.’
This time Gryss did catch the tone. He looked at her. ‘And suppose they’re not all at the castle. Suppose they have left guards downland. What then, miss?’
‘I could move around them,’ Marna exclaimed, wav-ing her arms. ‘I know everywhere round there. All the streams, the trees, the secret ways…’
‘Marna, for mercy’s sake, stop it!’ Gryss burst out. ‘This isn’t some schoolyard game. We’ve had this conversation before and I told you then the journey to the capital is long and difficult. Almost impossible on foot unless you really know how to live off the land.’
Marna made to speak again, but he held up a hand to stop her. His voice became quiet. ‘As far as I can see, they’d have beaten Jeorg to death if Rannick hadn’t stopped them to play his own game. They’d do far worse to you. Far worse, Marna. Do you understand?’ He sighed. ‘I don’t want to hear any more talk like this. We need to stick together, to rely on one another. You’re near enough an adult now, but you’ve a lot to learn. At times like this, just watch and listen.’
‘There’s never been a time like this before,’ Marna retorted, retreating but defiant. ‘And when you’ve all debated and discussed it’ll come to the same in the end. Someone will have to go for help. If Rannick’s got anything to do with those men, they’ll get worse and worse if no one opposes them. And there’s no one here who can stand against men like that.’
This echo of Katrin’s words struck Gryss like a blow and he turned away sharply and began removing a bandage from Jeorg that he had only just put on. He swore when he saw what he was doing.
‘Damn you, Marna, shut up!’ he said. ‘You may well be right, I wouldn’t pretend to know at the moment. But I know this…’ He pointed at Jeorg. ‘This is the consequence of trying to find help. I shudder to think what they’d do against outright opposition. Jeorg and Farnor need our help right now, and that’s all we need to think about at the moment. The needs of the living must be met before those of the dead, no matter how we feel.’
Marna’s face darkened ominously, and for the first time in many years Gryss felt real black anger well up inside him. It produced no great ranting, however. Instead he fixed her with a penetrating gaze and spoke very softly. ‘Your father’s already lost one person that he loved dearly, Marna. He carries the pain of that still. You can’t see it because you didn’t know him before. But I can. It’s in his eyes whenever he looks at you and sees a distant shimmer of your mother there. Just you remember that when you get the urge even to talk about committing some mindless folly such as trying to reach the capital on your own.’
Marna wilted under this quiet onslaught.
Gryss tapped his head. ‘We mightn’t be able to match these men sword for sword, and certainly we can’t match whatever it is that Rannick has, but we can use our heads, can’t we? Watch and wait. Be patient. Survive. Now help me with Jeorg.’
‘That’s what I thought: watch and wait.’
Both Marna and Gryss started at the voice. They turned to find Farnor standing in the doorway. He was pale and weary-looking and there was a deadness in his eyes.
Gryss looked at him anxiously. Some deep agitation within the young man must have made him overcome the effects of the sleeping draught, but his outward appearance gave no indication of anything other than a great calm. It was not a good sign.
‘You should be resting, Farnor,’ he said. ‘You’ve had a… bad shock.’
‘Watch and wait,’ Farnor repeated, ignoring Gryss’s remark. ‘I’d decided that that was the sensible thing to do. Make my decisions whenever something happened. If anything happened. Wait until it all made some kind of sense. Otherwise I’d go mad, fretting about the next insane thing that might occur. It was quite clear in my mind what I should do.’
Marna moved across to him, but he raised his hand to prevent her coming too close.
‘And while I was up in the woods, watching, waiting… being sensible…’ Marna flinched at the anger and bitterness in his voice. ‘They came and murdered my parents.’
‘We don’t know what happened,’ Gryss said, fearful at the young man’s tone. ‘We don’t know who…’
‘Does it matter who?’ Farnor blasted, banging the edge of his clenched fist against the door frame. ‘They did it! Nilsson’s men. Those so-called gatherers. Them, and whoever they have who can control that murderous creature out there and turn the winds themselves to his own will.’
Gryss made to intervene, but Farnor caught sight of the figure on the bed, and stepped forward, his expres-sion irritable, as if this silent intruder had interrupted him.
‘Who’s this?’ he demanded, bending over and peer-ing closely into Jeorg’s swollen face.
‘It’s Jeorg,’ Gryss told him.
‘Nilsson’s men caught him,’ Marna added. ‘They brought him back yesterday.’
Recognition was dawning in Farnor’s eyes and for a moment he was a bewildered young man again. His fingers twitched nervously at the sheets covering Jeorg, then, like storm clouds closing around the sun, darkness returned again to his face. ‘Yesterday,’ he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if confused. Then he straightened up and said, ‘At least he’s alive.’
Marna bridled at this seeming callousness, but Gryss caught her eye and shook his head.
Farnor returned to the doorway. Reaching it, he leaned heavily against the jamb and yawned noisily. As he finished, he gritted his teeth almost into a snarl as he willed back the slothfulness that Gryss’s sleeping draught was attempting to impose on his body.
‘Where are my parents?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Yakob and I put them in one of the stalls at the farm last night,’ Gryss said. ‘Yakob and Harlen have gone up there now to… to see if they’re all right.’
Farnor left the room. Gryss threw the bandage he was holding on to the bed and, pushing past Marna, ran after him. He was opening the front door when Gryss reached him. The old man laid a restraining hand on his arm.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
Farnor turned to him. Gryss could barely meet the coldness in his eyes. ‘I’m going home,’ he said. ‘To bury my parents.’
He pulled the door open and stepped outside, oblig-ing Gryss to move aside. As the bright sunlight washed over him he paused momentarily, blinking.
His hand took hold of the iron ring, almost as if for support, and he ran his fingers absently along the sharp-etched carving. When he spoke, his voice was expres-sionless.
‘Then I’m going to the castle to find out who’s re-sponsible, and kill him.’
Chapter 33