They passed by the gaol. Above its gate half a dozen heads were displayed. The birds had been working on them. These were the Tarbains whose drunken intervention had made the Lannis-Haig girl’s escape possible. Most of the tribesmen he had brought south were scattered across the valley now, and he did not care what havoc they wrought so long as they did not interfere with his own foraging and scouting parties. Within Anduran the rules were different, and since Anyara’s escape the few Tarbains left in the city had learned that indiscipline would no longer be tolerated.
The little company of riders crossed the great square. The smithy that survived there was the focus of furious industry. Horses were gathered about it in tightly marshalled groups. Every animal fit for war duty had been brought in from the countryside and many of them needed new shoes. Some huge Lannis work-horses were there, too. They were useless for riding or battle—they would not tolerate a man upon their back—but they would be worked harder than any, hauling material to the city walls for the repair works.
They rode on, weaving through a section of the city that had been ravaged by fire. Kanin glimpsed a rat scurrying amongst the blackened timbers. Whatever else might come to pass, he thought with small satisfaction, the Lannis-Haig Blood was humbled. Rats picked over the corpse of its pride. Still, it was not enough. He had promised his father, and himself, more.
At the city’s edge a gang of dishevelled workers—townsfolk pressed into the service of their conquerors—was labouring on a section of the wall, overseen by Horin-Gyre guards. All around Anduran’s perimeter, similar groups were toiling to make good the neglect of many years. It might make a difference, should Kanin find himself beset here by the Haig Bloods; it might even buy enough time for aid to come to him. Within hours of the castle’s fall, he had sent word north to Hakkan. He knew that Shraeve had sent both birds and riders bearing the same news to the precincts of the Inkallim in Kan Dredar. By one route or another, Ragnor oc Gyre would know that the Horin-Gyre Blood had achieved the impossible. It must surely be enough to stir the High Thane from his sloth.
As he rode past the workgang, a few grimy faces were lifted towards him. They probably knew who he was. He thought he caught a glimpse of hatred, of unsubdued arrogance, in some of those sullen visages. The perversity of their silent defiance now, after they had shown so little appetite for the defence of their city, annoyed Kanin. Had he not been about other business, he might have paused and ordered the punishment of those who looked at him most directly. As it was, one of the guards barked a command and the workers returned to their labours.
They went out into the fields. As they drew closer to the sprawling expanse of deerhide tents that the White Owls had thrown up, Kanin could see that there were more than the three hundred or so warriors his scouts had last reported. It was an uncomfortable thought, that so many would flock to Aeglyss.
Grey eyes followed them as they made their way towards the centre of the camp. They found Aeglyss there in the yard of a great farmhouse. Part-fortified in the style favoured by some of Anduran’s wealthy farming families, the building was the hub around which the Kyrinin company had arrayed itself. The stock animals had fled, or been rounded up by Kanin’s foraging parties. One at least must have remained, though, for they found Aeglyss seated with a group of Kyrinin beneath the gutted, flayed carcass of a cow strung up on a wooden frame. Everywhere that Kanin looked, individual Kyrinin were sitting in silence as others pricked their faces with long, fine thorns bearing dye. Across the skin of scores of faces, dark blue whorls were emerging amongst tiny beads of blood. As they approached, Aeglyss rose to his feet.
‘What are they doing?’ asked Kanin, looking around distastefully.
Aeglyss followed his gaze. ‘Kin’thyn. There can be no going back now.’ A mirthless smile tweaked at the corner of Aeglyss’ lips. ‘You would not understand, of course. Well, Bloodheir, this is the harvest of all that we set in motion. There is to be war on the Fox, such as there has not been in generations.’
Kanin stared at the na’kyrim in incredulity. ‘War on the Fox?’ he cried.
Aeglyss appeared oblivious of the Bloodheir’s mood. ‘You are watching a terrible history being forged here. These warriors are being honoured without yet having earned the honour. Not one of those you see being marked can return from Fox lands without drawing the blood of an enemy. So many have not gone to war since before there were Bloods; and every one of them must kill. We are unleashing a storm.’
Kanin swung himself rigidly out of the saddle. It took an effort of will to unlock his fingers from the reins, and to restrict himself to a single pace towards Aeglyss. Something in his manner or movement was enough to at least send a flicker of doubt across the na’kyrim’ s brow.
‘Three White Owls were killed by the river, by Fox,’ Aeglyss said. ‘There must be payment for that. I have . . . convinced them that we must seize the moment, now when so many spears are gathered together, to strike a blow the Fox will never forget.’
‘And you think I care about any of this?’ hissed Kanin.
‘Well. . . the White Owls could not be here in such numbers if you had not broken Anduran. They…’
Kanin took another, longer stride forwards. Aeglyss fell silent. The Bloodheir was distantly aware that a stillness was spreading out around them; Kyrinin heads were turning, eyes were settling upon them.
‘Your wights should be marching south,’ he said. ‘They should be in Anlane, lying on the flank of any advance against us, not disappearing into the Car Criagar to settle old scores with the Fox.’
‘It’s hardly fitting for a scion of the Gyre Bloods to belittle the settling of old quarrels,’ muttered Aeglyss, but the uncertainty in his voice undercut the pointed words.
Without taking his eyes off the na’kyrim, Kanin made a sweeping gesture with his arm. He heard horses moving in response. His Shield were spreading themselves in a loose arc around him.
‘What happened at the Falls?’ he demanded.
Aeglyss looked away at once, a brief dart of his eyes to the ground and back. It was enough to convince Kanin that whatever came next would be a lie, or a half-truth at best.
‘Inurian died. The others—we do not know. We found Inurian alone. The others were gone, up into the mountains.’
‘What others?’ pressed Kanin. Another step closer to the half-breed. Some of the nearest of the White Owls were standing up. They appeared relaxed, detached observers, but Kanin could not be sure. Aeglyss shrank a fraction away from the Bloodheir. He was almost backed up against the suspended carcass of the cow.
‘Did you leave off the pursuit as soon as you had the halfbreed?’ Kanin said. ‘Was the boy there? Kennet’s son, from Kolglas?’
Aeglyss spread his hands. ‘I don’t know that.’ His voice held Kanin for a moment. It was inside the Bloodheir’s head, stilling in just that fraction of a second all the fires burning there; a cooling whisper. ‘There were others, but I couldn’t say if the boy was amongst them. I’d’ve gone on if I could, but the White Owls would not.’
And Kanin could not move. His mind drifted, turning in idle circles. All the anger that had been in him was forgotten, and all he could think was, Yes. Of course.
‘I doubt the White Owls would turn back if you had wished otherwise,’ came Shraeve’s voice, sharp, precise and cold.