‘I thought there were eleven here?’ Yvane said, and her voice brought Hammarn back to himself.
‘Ah, indeed,’ he said sadly. ‘Brenna fell asleep in the very hour of Winterbirth, two years gone. No waking from such an ill-omened slumber.’
Yvane nodded. ‘It is a long time since I was here. Who is First Watchman, Hammarn? We should speak with him, I suppose. Strangers always cause a stir.’
‘Oh, still Tomas,’ said Hammarn, and distaste was apparent in his tone. ‘Vile Tomas,’ he whispered conspiratorially, ‘but tell not I said it.’
He looked earnestly at them, and Orisian found himself nodding in assent.
‘He’ll know you’re here well enough,’ Hammarn mused.
Yvane grunted and glanced at Orisian and Anyara. ‘Unless Tomas is a changed man, it would probably be better if you kept out of his way. Koldihrve is a rough place, and unlikely to be any gentler if they know they have the ruling line of Lannis-Haig in their midst.’
‘Not changed a whit,’ Hammarn was saying. ‘Always vile. No friend of the Glas valley, that’s for certain.’ He cast a nervous glance at Yvane, and hesitated before continuing. ‘A fool, but not a great friend of yours either, sweet lady. Not sure he’d be best pleased to see you.’
Yvane frowned, but realisation quickly followed. ‘Still angry? It’s been, what, four years?’
Hammarn shrugged and grinned.
‘I had a disagreement with this Tomas the last time I was here,’ Yvane explained. ‘One of the fisherwomen bore a na’kyrim baby, and he was making a lot of noise about wanting to know who the father was. He was, and no doubt still is, drunk on his little scent of power, and I told him so. He didn’t take it kindly. Well, makes no odds to me if I never see the loathsome man again.’
She looked pointedly from Orisian to Anyara with an almost mischievous smile. ‘And if you should run into him, you can always just pretend to be the children of a woodsman from Anlane or somewhere similar. Shouldn’t be a difficult lie: you’ve collected enough dirt and scratches to pass for beggars.’
Anyara and Orisian looked down at their hands and garments. It was true enough, of course. Grime covered their skin; their clothes were filthy and full of rents. Their travels since Winterbirth had left marks outside just as they had within.
When he asked for somewhere to wash, Orisian was directed to a tub of icy water outside, against the seaward wall of the hut. As he made his way to it, he noted a pair of bulky men leaning on quarterstaffs in the road. They watched him quite openly as he disappeared behind the shack.
He pulled off his tunic and dunked his head into the barrel. The water was an invigorating shock and set his face tingling. He shook his head, chill droplets spraying his shoulders and back and making him shiver. He scooped handfuls of water on to his chest and neck and rubbed at the ingrained dirt.
Looking out over the crude fencing, he could see the Tal Dyreen ship rocking gently at its anchor. None of the other vessels along the shore could match it. One or two of them might be fit for the journey around Dol Harigaig to Kolglas or Glasbridge, but at this time of year, when the cold winds came in hard on the coast from the empty reaches of the western oceans, none would be a fast or truly safe choice.
The Tal Dyreen vessel was an altogether different proposition. It could carry them south with ease, and it must be bound in that direction anyway. There was nothing to the north save Kyrinin clans. The far distant ports of the Black Road Bloods were guarded by storm, ice and the Wrecking Cape, and even the seamen of Tal Dyre did not dare follow that route.
As he gazed out, a fish-hawk arrowed into the water between land and ship. It vanished for a moment in a plume of spray, then its great wings were levering it skyward again. As it beat away, empty-clawed, it shook itself and shed a shower of seawater.
‘No luck,’ said Hammarn behind him. ‘Poor bird.’
The na’kyrim offered Orisian a cloth to dry himself with. ‘Found it,’ he said, as if in explanation of something.
‘There are men watching your house,’ Orisian said as he scrubbed at his hair with the cloth.
‘Yes, yes. Saw them. Sent by Tomas. Men of his Watch, his club-men. Told you, didn’t I, he’d know you were here.’ He gave an exaggerated laugh. ‘They’re not here to watch me, that’s sure.’
Orisian patted his arms and chest dry. Since Hammarn did not seem overly concerned about the clubmen, he saw no point in spending his own worries on them. He nodded in the direction of the ship.
‘Do you know where the captain is?’
‘Captain? Oh yes, very grand. They’re Tal Dyre, you know. Sniffing about after furs, rooting about in our stores.’ He cast a glance over each shoulder, leaned a fraction closer to Orisian. ‘Don’t much take to them, myself. Not to Tal Dyres, I mean. Always coin, with them, never value. They’ll not take my woodtwines. No coin in it.’
‘Never mind,’ said Orisian. ‘You’d not want to sell them to someone who didn’t appreciate them anyway, would you?’
Hammarn gave him a broad grin. ‘Right,’ the na’kyrim said. ‘Quite right.’
‘Do you know where the captain is?’ Orisian asked again as he handed the damp cloth back. ‘On his boat or onshore?’
Hammarn shrugged. ‘Couldn’t say. Well, onshore I’d say, since I saw him here yesterday. But now? Who knows? Alehouse, most likely.’
‘We’ll look for him there, then.’
‘Yes,’ Hammarn agreed emphatically. ‘You won’t . . . you won’t let the sweet lady meet Tomas, will you?’
The look of concern on the old na’kyrim’s face was acute.
‘Yvane? Well I don’t think she wants to, does she? It doesn’t sound as if it would be a good idea.’
‘No, indeed. She’s a fine lady, but ... a fine lady. A good friend, no doubt of that, but not quite gentle. Can be rough. Got stickles on her tongue, if you know what I mean?’
‘I do,’ smiled Orisian.
‘Good, good. Wouldn’t like trouble. I do like it quiet.’ He shot a sudden, curious look at Orisian. ‘Not going to be trouble, is there?’
‘I hope not,’ said Orisian.
‘Ah. Good. Only I hear things, you know. There’s talk. The Fox aren’t happy, not at all.’
‘We heard there are White Owls in the Car Criagar.’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, them, but worse too. Mail shirts and crossbows, horses. That must be trouble, mustn’t it? When the Road’s on the march?’
Orisian felt a twist in his gut, and wanted for a moment to take hold of the na’kyrim.
‘You mean the Black Road ?’ he asked. ‘You mean they’re in the mountains too?’
Hammarn nodded glumly. ‘The Black Road, yes. That must be trouble, mustn’t it?’
Yvane, after a display of reluctance, allowed Hammarn to take her off to visit some of the other Koldihrve na’kyrim. Orisian went with Rothe and Anyara to find the Tal Dyreen captain. All of them noted, without saying anything to one another, the thickset men armed with staffs who openly followed them as they made their way back into the centre of the town.
Warm air carried stale smells out from the gloomy interior of the drinking house. There were places much like this in the poorer quarters of Glasbridge or Anduran, but neither Orisian nor Anyara had ever been inside one. It was not the sort of establishment a Thane’s family would frequent. They paused on the boardwalk in front. Rothe stepped forwards without hesitation.
‘Try not to look anyone in the eye,’ he muttered over his shoulder. ‘But don’t make it obvious.’
Anyara rolled her eyes at Orisian.
There were few customers within, and several of those that were present were slumped in stupor or asleep over tables. A tired-looking serving girl, thin and sallow-skinned, watched them enter but made no move to greet them or offer them anything. The floor-boards creaked beneath Orisian’s tread.