‘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.’
Once Yvane had calmed a little she acknowledged, with all the grace and good humour of a bee-stung mule, that the furs were for her visitors. Orisian and the others pulled them on. For the first time in days Orisian began to feel some real warmth coming into his skin as he sat watching the hare char over the flames. Yvane had reluctantly allowed the fire to remain alight, since the animal was already cooking when she returned. They devoured it enthusiastically, heedless of the grease that ran down their chins and the smoke that stung their eyes. Ess’yr cracked a leg bone in two and sucked at the marrow. They melted snow in one of Yvane’s clay pots to quench their thirst.
Afterwards, Ess’yr went to look for her brother. Orisian could not imagine she was worried about him; he suspected it had more to do with a desire to be under open skies once more. Rothe insisted on keeping watch outside, and left Orisian and Anyara alone with the na’kyrim. The shieldman had evidently concluded that however abrasive Yvane might be, she was no grave threat to his charge’s safety.
Orisian hesitated at first, fearing the sharp edge of Yvane’s tongue if she was still in a foul mood, but he doubted there was time to be too careful of her temper.
‘Inurian told us that you would help us. He wanted us to go to Koldihrve, said you could get us there,’ he said quietly.
Yvane, wiping her lips with the sleeve of her jacket, seemed at first not to have heard. Then as she settled herself back against the wall of the chamber and stretched out her legs she fixed him with an attentive gaze.