Across the Face of the World (11 page)

The gathering broke up into smaller knots of people, some seeking comfort, others giving it.

A lone piper played a mournful tune. People began filing down the narrow brick path that led back to the village. Two men, one old and stooped, the other large and short of breath, went aside from the others and stood together in a corner of the small graveyard.

The Haufuth laid a hand on the shoulder of his companion. Kurr glanced up at the fat headman with steely eyes.

'Two funerals in two days!' the big man sighed, shaking his head. 'I would have spoken to you yesterday, but. ..' He groped for words. 'I'm so sorry about Tinei.'

'Nothing anyone could have done,' said Kurr shortly. 'Once the fever took hold it was only a matter of time.' He lifted his chin and gave the village headman a hard-eyed stare, as though trying to prove the loss of his wife was not capable of moving him. But his red-rimmed eyes gave him the lie.

The Haufuth was no good at times like these. He was torn between trying to say something comforting or placing a consoling arm around the old man, so did neither.

'Do you know what finally finished her? Mustering those sheep on the morning of Midwinter's Eve - the sheep on which you and I and the whole village feasted just three days ago - that's what did it. I'm getting old and I can't move that many sheep on my own. She knew that.' He swallowed, and when he resumed speaking his voice came out thinly, as though being forced past a constric¬tion in his throat.

'Haufuth, I asked the men of the village for help but no one came. The only one to lend a hand was Mahnum's boy.' He pointed back over his shoulder to the mounds of fresh earth.

'Tinei found out that no one was coming to my aid. Then fool¬ishly I told her that the villagers were gossiping about me. She insisted on getting out of bed and helping. Stubborn woman! While I was in the village, she rounded up the sheep by herself. By the time Mahnum's boy and I arrived she had finished and gone back to her bed.' His voice lowered.

'She never got up again.'

'Kurr, I'm sorry,' came the lame reply.

'Sorry? The villagers weren't sorry! They only came to the funeral to see if I'd turn up. Only came to gloat, to mock the old fool. Some of 'em probably thought I'd done her in!' He turned and spat on the ground. 'At least these two boys today were given some respect.'

The Haufuth beckoned the old farmer towards the shadow of a tall, dark hedge. 'I must talk with you about those boys. I need your help.'

Kurr laughed bitterly in reply, the shrug of his shoulders shaking his skeletal frame.

'No, listen to me!' the Haufuth continued. 'I am in earnest. No one else can help me. Please! I listened to your little Midwinter speech, but thought nothing of it until the next morning when I heard something that - if it is true - is more important than you, or 1, or even this whole village. I trust no one else to keep this knowledge safe. Please listen.' His eyes pleaded with the old man.

Kurr heard the concern in the Haufuth's voice. He grunted and nodded his head ungraciously.

'Good!' Grinning weakly with relief, the Haufuth wiped the palms of his hands on his tunic, then led the farmer behind the hedge to a low tree stump. There was just enough room for both of them to be seated.

The big man took a deep breath. The villagers believe that a group of brigands descended upon the village the morning after Midwinter, kidnapped Indrett for some foul purpose and burned down the house, killing the boys. At least, that is what I told them. But there is much more to it than that.

'I don't sleep very well, on account of - well, you know, men my size find it difficult. On the morning after Midwinter, about an hour before dawn, I was woken by the sound of horses being ridden hard down the lane. I heard their riding gear, you under¬stand. I mean, horses don't make much noise in the snow. Still, I suppose you would know that, having horses.

Well, I rose to find out what was happening. I had just opened my front door when four horsemen swept past, riding like a gale through the village and off along the Westway.'

Kurr closed his eyes. He ached to be walking the hills of Swill Down, not listening to the Haufuth's gossip. But in spite of himself he stayed where he was.

'Anyway, I followed their tracks back through the village to see where they had been. When I got to the end of the lane, I found Mahnum and Indrett's house ablaze, with the front door broken down and everything a mess. I rushed inside. It was still hard to see, you understand, in the half-light and with the smoke, so I didn't notice the boys for some time. When I found them I pulled them out, but I couldn't find Indrett. Anyway, the fire was taking hold, and I searched as long as I could, but I had to stop eventu-ally for fear of the flames.

'I shouted for help but no one heard. Of all the times for some-thing like this to happen, it had to be the morning after Midwinter, when everyone was sleeping off their excesses of the night before. Anyway, I finally ran out of the house and went over to the boys. Leith was as still as death, bleeding from a blow to the forehead. Hal, however, was conscious, and began to talk to me.'

'What?' the farmer exclaimed, forgetting about all else. 'Hal was alive?' The Haufuth motioned for him to be silent.

'Hal told me that his father had returned the previous night. At first I thought he was delirious, but then I recalled seeing a caped figure over near Indrett after the Play, and she and her boys left with him almost immediately.'

'Yes, I saw him,' said Kurr, scratching his chin. 'I thought. .. I can't remember what I thought.'

The memories of that night had been washed away by the discovery he had made on his return home.

The Haufuth continued: 'I remember thinking at the time that it was odd! Anyway, Hal told me that Mahnum had been pursued all the way from Bhrudwo by evil men because he had learned something that placed all Falthans in peril. He said that these men had broken into the house and abducted his parents. Then these men had set fire to the house and left the boys for dead. It was these horsemen with their captives that I heard riding through our village that morning.'

'And the boys,' Kurr asked, now wide-eyed and alert, 'how did they die?'

'They didn't,' the Haufuth replied simply. 'They're still alive.'

'Alive? Then who . .. ?' He glanced confusedly in the direction of the twin graves.

'No one. A necessary fiction. Hal convinced me that Mahnum knew something important, important enough for killers to come halfway across the world to try to snuff out that knowledge. If the horsemen learned that Hal and Leith were still alive, they might come back and kill them, and the entire village along with them, to preserve whatever secret Mahnum had discovered. So I decided that their deaths should be feigned, for the sake of the village. It would be easy enough to pretend that the boys had been killed and their bodies consumed in the fire. For a while I thought of pretending that Indrett had also perished in the blaze, but I was afraid that someone else might have seen the horsemen, and might ask difficult questions.

So I decided to tell at least some of the truth.'

'And the secret? What did Mahnum find out in Bhrudwo?' the old man asked impatiently.

'Why don't you ask the boys? I took them home, and there they have remained, recovering from their wounds. Come to my house. Hal has a story that you must hear. And, in return, you have some horses that we may have need of.'

'You're asking my help? After all that's been done to me?'

'Yes,' came the simple reply. 'Because of your Midwinter speech. Would you warn us of danger and then pull back when that danger threatens?'

'Why should I help anyone in this village?' the old man repeated stubbornly.

'Because you're a good man. A man with a past, perhaps - no, I don't want to know what it is,'

he added hastily as Kurr made to reply. 'I don't care about that. You're a fair man, one who won't stand for any nonsense. One who will act to see that right wins out. I've heard what the men around these parts say about you, and it's not what you think. Stubborn, yes; because you won't let go of something until you've bent it to your will. If some people mistake determination for fierceness, that's their lookout. I know better.

'Now, I've entrusted you with a secret that no one else in the village knows. Will you trust me, and come and hear the boys' story?'

The farmer stood up and looked down at the Haufuth, the dead-ness banished to the corners of his eyes. 'Let's hear what the boys have to say. It may be that I can supply something even more valuable than horses.'

They found Leith and Hal engrossed in a spirited game of Stickslap, a simple but rather exhausting amusement. Leith appeared to be winning, but Hal was making a good fist of it even though he had to sit awkwardly. Looking the brothers over, Kurr saw that Leith's head wound had subsided to little more than a nasty bruise and some broken skin: he had likely been caught with the flat of a blade. Hmmm. That was deliberate, a blow to stun, not to kill.

They must have wanted him to suffer, so they could taunt Mahnum and Indrett with the knowledge that their boys had been burned alive. Hal was able to stand unaided, though the bruising on his leg was an ugly blue-brown, and must be giving him pain.

Kurr drew a couple of ragged breaths. It was a strange feeling to see alive two people who, he had supposed, had only just been laid to rest. He looked at Hal, and for a dizzying moment he thought of Tinei: his eyes darted left and right, half hoping that she, too, was somewhere in the house.

'They look much better now than they did yesterday,' rumbled the Haufuth. 'Leith and Hal,' he said, turning to the boys, 'Kurr has agreed to help us. Tell him your story, then we will discuss what can be done.'

Hal looked into the eyes of the farmer. 'I was sorry to hear of your wife's passing,' he said,

'and sorrier that none of our family could honour Tinei at her funeral.'

The old man grunted and sat down. 'What's past is past, boy,' he answered. 'Nothing to be done about it now. Other things, I am told, may prove to be of more importance than an old man's sorrow.'

Heartless, thought Leith. What a cruel man. Why would the Haufuth involve him?

The village headman opened the shutters of a window facing away from the street, and the four of them settled down in the pallid sunshine to talk.

* * *

The story Kurr heard that afternoon surprised even the worldly-wise farmer. When Hal related Mahnum's adventures in Andratan, the old man's eyes widened. He nodded grimly as Hal told him of Bhrudwo's preparations for war, as though the news confirmed something he had suspected. He grunted, frowning over steepled fingers as he heard how the Trader had been pursued and of the ruthlessness of the horsemen. Merin, the Haufuth's wife, came in with refreshments as Leith and Hal tried to describe the moments of terror as their parents were taken. As the boys related the improbable tale, Kurr found the words reawakening long-dead parts of his mind, as though the years were being stripped away and he was young again, sword arm aching with exhaustion, rallying his men, shouts echoing in the narrow streets, himself in the forefront. . . The clatter of Merin's tray broke the spell.

'Time for something to eat!' the Haufuth said cheerfully, leaning over towards the food. 'You'd better be quick,' he added un¬necessarily.

'Time to decide what to do,' corrected Kurr. 'Now, it seems to me—'

'Wait a moment!' complained the Haufuth, talking through a mouthful of bread. 'Sensible decisions come after stomachs are satisfied! Pass the bread around. What's in the jug?'

Kurr muttered something inaudible and gave the man a hard stare.

A few minutes later the Haufuth looked up. 'Now, Kurr, you were saying?'

'Are you sure you are quite comfortable?' growled the old farmer.

'Yes,' replied the headman innocently.

'Very well. You have asked me here, taken me into your confi¬dence, because you think I can aid you. And you were wise to do so, for I can offer you both advice and practical help.'

'So you believe their story?' the headman inquired gently, arching his eyebrows. 'I thought you would take some persuading.'

'Of course 1 believe it!' the old farmer snapped, with a touch of his normal asperity. 'It fits with the little I have been able to glean about events in the outside world. I have spent the past two years wondering why Mahnum was sent east, and now I know. It explains a great deal.

Kroptur will need to be told.'

'Explains what?' The Haufuth leaned forward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

'I thought Mahnum had been sent on a wild goose chase but, strangely, the King's fears have turned out to be true. I have heard of dark and murderous deeds in Rammr. Just rumours, mind, but rumours that may nevertheless prove to be true. Loyal subjects of the old King have disappeared. Who is behind all this? To my mind, it had to be one with the ear of the King, albeit a king in his dotage. One who has just now acceded to Regent, ruling in the place of an admittedly under-age Prince.'

'Wisula!' exclaimed the Haufuth.

'Exactly. A nastier man I have never heard of, if even half of what is said is true. He's been waiting his chance for years now, trying to steer Firanes into outright war against the Lankangas, so Kroptur says. It is more certain than sheep grow wool that Wisula was one of the names given to Mahnum by the Voice of Andratan. We can expect no help from the Firanes Court. Wisula will be in no hurry to rescue someone who he imagines is a threat.

More likely he would clap the lot of us in irons and leave us to rot in his deepest dungeon.'

Leith stared hard at the farmer, puzzled. The old man's slurred North March drawl seemed to be dissolving as he spoke, to be replaced by the clipped tones of someone accustomed to wielding power. What is going on? No one else appeared to notice.

'But the Firanes Court sent Mahnum in the first place. Why would they not give his story credence now?' The Haufuth scratched his head.

'The Firanes Court which sent Mahnum to Bhrudwo is different from the Firanes Court of today. Wisula has seen to that. If he is a Bhrudwan puppet, he would not want talk of invasion being whispered about the palace.'