now.” He tried to step past Rune to get it.
Rune turned his shoulder, trapping this ferret of a man into a corner. “I asked you
a question. Where did you get this tapestry?”
The eremitt darted his eyes to the doorway, blocked, of course, by Rune’s companion. Thunder clapped again, driving a wash of rain into the shack. The eremitt began to panic.
“I ain’t dun no wrongin’, I ain’t. Murgo traded six skins fair. Nevur tricked on no
one, I dint.”
“Murgo. This is your name, yes?”
“Aye,” said Murgo. “Whassit to you?”
Rune Haakunen did not reply. He ripped the tapestry off the wall sending bone pins scattering over the floor. “How long ago did this trade take place?”
Murgo shrugged. “I don’t be rememb’rin’ easy.”
“Well, let’s see if my friend can help you.”
There was a glint of light by the doorway. Rune’s companion lifted a sword. It was as long as the space between him and the eremitt. He touched
its point to Murgo’s throat, lifting the terrified man by the chin till he was on tip-toe to avoid being cut. The fur fell
away from the captive’s shoulder. Unremarkably, his memory came back.
“Two moons. Two moons it were.”
“With a Nomaad trader?”
“Nomaad, urr.”
“Where did he get it?”
“Wunt say whereun ’e goddit. Dint ask on it, I dint. You can ’ave it. Be takin’ it – bread an’ all. Murgo don’t want bother
with Taans.”
Rune examined the piece. In the bottomright corner was a knot of yellow wool. To the untrained eye it looked like a bunchof poorly-stitched flowers. To a fatherdesperate to find his daughter, it was asignature. “This place,” he said. “Theshack in the drawing. Where can I findit?”
“I not be knowin’.”
The sword made a dent in Murgo’s
throat.
“I be truthin’,” he squeaked through a bubble of drool. Stupidly, he shook his head. A small nick appeared in his jaundiced skin. A trickle of blood burst out of a vein. One of his hands began to shake. “Nomaad be ev’rywhere, wide as
thuh sky. Keeps usselves to usselves we
do.”
For some reason, this angered Rune’scompanion. He twisted the sword. Theblood ran thicker.
Rune laid a hand on his friend’s strongarm. “Easy, Truve. He’s no use to usdead.” He turned to the eremitt again. “Myfriend is a farmer, more used to ploughinga field than torturing weevils who callthemselves men. He’s travelled far and his
grip is tired, his hand could slip at any moment. He wields the sword because his
wife and son were murdered by a villain who raided his krofft and took sewing materials. The rogue answered the description of a typical Nomaad. For all my friend knows, it could have been you.”
“Not me! Not Murgo!”
“Then you have no need to fear us,” said Rune. He picked a hair off one of the rabbit skins. “Tell us what we want and
we’ll leave you in peace.” He looked Murgo hard in the eye. “The man we are hunting has left a trail of tapestries in other dwellings. Two of your countrymen were kind enough to… donate his wares to us, but not his likely whereabouts. I’m sure you won’t be as unhelpful as they were.” He held up another tapestry cloth, but I could only see the reverse of it. “Do you recognise the hills in the background of this picture?”
The prisoner’s eyebrows pinched together. “Greybacks.”
Rune nodded and held up another cloth.
“The same shack, from a different angle. The Greybacks are shown both here and here. You could save our horses a lot of
effort by telling us the best way to reach this ridge, the one with the moon above it.” He gestured Truve to pull the sword back.
The eremitt doubled up, coughingspittle. He put a hand to his neck andlooked at the red smears greasing hisfingers. “Murgo dunnee no wrong.”
“The ridge,” said Truve. “Or I’ll chopoff your ears.”
“I showee on the morn,” Murgo saiddefiantly. He threw up a hand. “Toomurked now, even fer stars.”
Rune and Truve exchanged a glance. “Sunrise it is, then,” Rune said firmly.
“Now, all that remains are the sleeping arrangements.” He grabbed Murgo and threw him to Truve. “Tie him to a tree. If
he’s struck by lightning, that’s too bad.”
Murgo’s protest was startlingly loud. “No, Taan! No.” He did his best to scrabble free.
A slap to the back of his head stoppedhim wriggling. “Shut up,” said Truve. “Or I’ll bind you feet upward and watch yourtiny brains dribble out of your ears.”
Rune unclasped his knife belt and threwit down. “We’ve paid for your hospitality,eremitt. We’ll be taking the shack. There’sno room for three. A drop of rain mightfreshen your memory.”
Thunder rattled the shack once more,making all the rabbit skins swing.
“T’ain’t the rain,” said Murgo. “Rain
be nowt.”
That was clear from the drips fallingthrough the ceiling. Carpentry was not askill the Nomaad were known for.
“What then?” Rune asked, mildly
intrigued.
“Rummers. There be rummers knockin’
in the woods.”
I saw Truve scowl.
Rune walked to the window. “Rumours
of what?” He looked out, as if checking for the first flowers of spring.
“A villhund, roamin’.”
Stygg. My heart leaped. The shock of it made the katt give a hiss. It flicked its tail, rattling the traps. Rune flicked a glance at my hiding place but probably assumed it
was just a mouse; their black pellet droppings were everywhere.
“Villhund?” Truve gave a scornful snort. The dogs, though vicious, rarely attacked men. He pressed the eremitt against the door frame, forcing his hands behind his back.
“Thissun ain’t nat’rul,” Murgo spluttered. “Large, they say. Big as a man. Cursed. Not proper. Not dog-like, no. Beast wi’ the fire o’ dragons in its eyes.”
Truve and Rune exchanged another glance. Though neither of them seemed quite ready to believe it, neither could they disbelieve the story fully. But the shack was small. And the eremitt stank.
And the two Taan men were tired and
soaked. “You say you’ve heard talk of this
beast?” asked Rune.
Murgo gave a fretful nod.
“So you were lying when you said youkeep your own company?”
Lines of guilt swept across the eremitt’sface.
“Take him out,” said Rune. “The night air should straighten his tongue by morning.”
“No!” cried Murgo. “It be all on the wind. I’ve ’eard its ’owl. I be truthin’! I
be truthin’!”
But it was done and the eremitt was
dragged outside. I watched Rune for a moment, knocking his fist on the window frame. Then taking a chance that he didn’t mind katts, I slipped out of hiding and leaped onto a box so I could see outside.
He heard me and whipped around,reaching for his knife. I made the kattmeow. Rune relaxed and caressed my fur. How strange it felt, being stroked by thefather of the girl whose fate I was here tofollow.
He was rubbing my ears when Truvecame back. “It seems we are threefold
after all.”
“Let’s hope it keeps the pests from our rations,” Truve grunted, aiming his boot at a skinny mouse scuttling through the shadows. He was clearly not fond of katts (or mice), but not so averse that he wanted to toss me into the storm. “I tied him to a
dead tree. He’s sheltered well enough. I gagged him to stop his pathetic whining. You won’t be hearing screams if his
villhund comes. At least we should get some sleep tonight, even in this miserable, stinking dump.”
Rune frowned and said, “I will never truly rest until I know about Grella.” He stretched out Murgo’s tapestry again.
“Leave it till the morning light,” said Truve. “I’ll persuade this Nomaad to talk.”
If he was still alive by morning. Beyondthe horses, through the rain, I could see Murgo pulling against his ties. His eyeswere as big as two grey pebbles.
Another thunderclap drew my gaze intothe room. “This is our man. I’m sure of it,”said Rune. He tapped a finger on theimage of Stygg. “This is the villain whomurdered your family. What do you make
of this line of silver stitches running from
the shack towards the barn at the back?”
“A chain, perhaps?”
Rune nodded grimly. “They’re holding her here. They’re holding my daughter, chained, like a dog.” He rolled the cloths and put them away.
“Get some rest,” Truve said, kindly. He was younger than Rune by a good five years. A swatch of dark hair above his top lip could not disguise his youthfulness. “When we find this rogue I’ll cut out his heart. But what of
your
heart, brave elder? You rode with me intent on punishing Grella for not upholding your bargain of trust. Surely these messages have turned your head? Every new tapestry shows her plight. All of them a plea for her father’s
help. Who in Taan would reprimand you now for saving
your
daughter from a Nomaad captor?”
Rune took off his boots and tossed them
aside. “Let us not forget she pledged her allegiance to a child born with darkness in its soul. I still fear Voss’s hand in this.”
Truve sighed. He also removed hisboots. One of his socks was soaked
through, and stank. It left its print on the grubby floor as he shuffled round, looking for a place to settle. “We are doomed, Rune, if we stare into our souls and find no hint of forgiveness there. Promise you will talk with me before you strike.”
Rune lay down, closing his eyes. “My sword won’t be making any rash decisions. On this, you have my word.”
And so they slept. When I returned tothe katt the next morning, daylight was justabout to drive away their snores. Runewas first to open his eyes. He knocked amouse off his chest and sat up wearily,loosening a pocket of wind from his gut. He nudged Truve. The younger man wokewith a start.
“Still raining,” Truve groaned, hearing it drumming. He sank his head against the pillow of his coat, stretching and flexing his barely dried toes.
Rune grunted in the affirmative. “The storm has settled. The clouds are emptying their last. Riding conditions will be poor today. I’ll check the horses.”
He pulled on his boots and went to the door. My katt was on the box where it had
been the night before, now with a mouse tail by its paws.
Smiling at me, Rune opened the door. The smell of drenched earth crawled into
the shack, mixed with the clammy permanence of rain. I dropped to the floor and followed him out, settling myself just under the porch. I could see the whole clearing easily from here. The horses blinked and nuzzled Rune’s hand. He
patted their necks and took a piece of bread from a loaf in his saddle bag. He looked across the puddled earth towards the dead tree. Murgo had his head slumped into his chest.
Rune walked over and slapped him awake.
“Uh?” The Nomaad jerked himself
upright. He’d spent a trail of urine down his legs. Even from where I was sitting he now stank worse than he had before.
“Breakfast,” Rune said, ignoring the stench. He tore the gag free and pushed the bread into the eremitt’s mouth. “Eat. Far
fresher than yours, I think.”
Murgo chewed on it a couple of times and swallowed the rest in a slobbering lump. “Lemme go, Taan.”
Rune shook his head. “Tell me what
you know about this trader first.”
“I knows nuthin’.”
“I want a name, Murgo.”
“Not knowin’ a name.”
“I think you do. Tell me his name and the way to the ridge, then you can go back to snaring rabbits.”
“Why shud I trustee?”
Rune pursed his lips. He looked over at
the shack. “We are honourable men.”
“Pah!” said the eremitt and spat in his
face.
Rune Haakunen sighed. He took a ragfrom his pocket and cleaned his cheek,taking more time than he needed to. Without making any overt threat, he pulledout a knife and polished the blade using Murgo’s spit. He folded the rag and put itaway. Then, in a sudden flash of fury, hedrove the knife towards the Nomaad’s
belly, pressing his body up behind the thrust. Murgo squealed and exploded breadcrumbs, but the knife was in the flesh of the tree, not him.
“His name,” Rune Haakunen growled.
He pulled the knife out and held it close to Murgo’s nose. “I might not be so carefulnext time.”
“N-no,” said Murgo, shaking his head. He appeared distracted by something in the clearing.
“Look at me,” said Rune. He gripped Murgo’s chin and held it fast. “I
will
kill you, and slowly, if you don’t speak true.”