The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing (23 page)

The men guffawed. Tamio slung himself onto an empty
stool across the storyteller.

“Quite a dirty old man, aren’t you, Uncle?” Tamio
said.

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s not often I meet an honored elder who is so
depraved,” Tamio said, still with mock severity.

“Bugger off if you don’t like it.”

“Fa, and miss learning a new trick?”

Tamio grinned. The men laughed, no one harder than
the silver-haired rogue. He handed Tamio the jug of beer, and Tamio
helped himself to a hearty swig.

“I’m Vumo the One-Horned Aurochs.” Vumo gestured
downward to indicate which horn his name honored. “Have a seat and
learn from the best. There’s not a woman alive I couldn’t talk into
bed if I had a mind to have her.”

“Bold boast,” said Tamio. “I may have had less years
than you to notch my stick, but I have a few conquests of mine
own.”

“You little prick. I like you already.”

“I’m actually here to avenge my fallen kin,” Tamio
said.

“Don’t look to me for that, I’m not even from Orange
Canyon,” said Vumo. “Rainbow Labyrinth.”

“Same here.”

“There you go, then, we’re practically family. If
you want, later, I can point you in the direction of some of
sheep-bunters around here who can help you spill blood, theirs or
yours. But first, let’s do something more important: get completely
pissed. Promise that man there something valuable so he’ll bring us
more beer and let’s swap tips and tales.”

Well. This was unexpected.

Hadi stood in the middle of a crowd of hundreds of
his vile foes, clutching the black arrows that he was supposed to
redeem in their blood, ignored.

He had no idea how to find an opponent with a blood
debt of his own to redeem. Surely they didn’t expect Hadi to hawk
his revenge like a bag of corn for barter?

Feeling like an utter fool, he wandered aimlessly
around, hoping someone would tell him who to kill, and also hoping
someone wouldn’t. Come to think of it the longer he could go
without having to fight another man, the longer he would not have
to worry about dying in a spurt of humiliating agony.

The Orange Canyon folk were clever crafters. In
addition to the fleeces and blankets he expected to find, they also
made wonderful rugs, with a strange shaggy pile of threads, unlike
anything he’d seen before. The Weavers sold the rugs, for
exorbitant prices, and he had nothing worth the trade. He pet a rug
like fur until the auntie selling it glared at him so fiercely he
slunk away.

Nearby, Hadi saw a man offering sheepskin boots. The
fluffy white fleece faced inside, to cuddle the foot as gently as a
mother snuggled her babe. The skin, tanned and greased, facing
outward, repelled water and snow. The thick sole was sewn to the
two sidepieces with neat stitches planted like rows of corn. Hadi’s
cold, sore feet
ached
for those boots. They even
smelled
comfortable. A pity he had nothing to barter.
Anyway, he was here to make a different kind of trade: A life for a
life. Blood for blood. And all that muck. How much more he would
have preferred to have come with a basket of ground corn on his
back, to exchange for a pair of boots. But no, because idiots from
this tribe had attacked his clanhold, his own people would be lucky
if they had enough corn for their own bellies this year, never mind
enough surplus to trade. Orange Canyon attacked his people, so he
had to attack them back. What a waste, he thought, what a stupid
waste. A pity he was the only one to think so.

Someone shoved him from behind. Hadi sprawled in the
dirt.

Immediately, as always happened in this sort of
situation, a crowd gathered in a loose circle around him. It was
the avid expressions of the onlookers which told Hadi the shove had
been no accident, even before the crowd began to chant, “Shegar
Wolf Killer! Shegar Wolf Killer!”

“Get on your feet, you spitless coward!” growled a
voice, which sounded deep and menacing.

Hadi turned around and saw that the man to whom the
voice belonged was exactly the kind of man one tried to avoid
affronting or confronting. He was big and burly, neither bearded
nor shaven, but scraggly of chin and whisker. He wore a filthy
fleece sideways over a bare chest, despite the cold. Hadi could
smell the ripe body odor even from his position groveling in the
dirt.

Oh, muc
k, thought Hadi.
This lunatic is
going to pick a fight with me
.

He couldn’t help but notice Shegar had very nice
boots.

It was less nice when one of the boots kicked toward
his face. Hadi rolled away and jumped to his feet.

“You have a black arrow!” roared Shegar. “What a
happy coincidence! So do I! Will you meet me in mortal combat or
will you piss yourself with fear and run away like a little
girl?”

“Well…” Hadi smiled weakly and backed up a step.
“Since you put it that way…”

He ran as fast as he could in the other
direction.

Hadi made it to the stone wall and clambered over,
but Shegar was on his heels the whole time.

Shegar ran pretty fast for such a big fellow.
Outside the wall, he ran Hadi down, grabbed him by the back of the
neck and threw him to the ground. Hadi threw up his arms, expecting
to be mashed into the mud. At least there was no crowd here to
witness his humiliation. He could get beaten to death in
privacy.

“You’ll have to do better than that the day of our
duel or no one will buy it,” said Shegar.

“I really don’t want to fight you.”

“Oh, but you do. Because you’re going to win.”

“Your confidence in me is unnervingly insane.”

Shegar held out a hand to help Hadi to his feet.
Hadi accepted, though he still expected Shegar to punch him in the
face on the way up.

“Here’s the thing. Better clever than brave,” said
Shegar. “A while back, I was in charge of the sheep and I found the
body of a dead wolf. It had died of old age or a lion attack or a
fight with another wolf—who cares? The important thing is, it was
dead. So I took that wolf back to my clanhold and said I killed it,
defending the sheep.”

“Um. Interesting,” said Hadi. How did this relate to
him?

“It was great,” said Shegar. “Girls who had ignored
me before flocked to me. Blokes who wouldn’t give me spit before
bought me beer. It was great, that is, until another wolf started
attacking the sheep. And everyone expected me to kill it, because I
was the great Wolf Killer.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. That was
not
so great. I did kill that
wolf. Barely escaped with my own hide. That kill just made things
worse. Now my Shining Name was so big, clanholders from other clans
began to seek me out to help them with wolves attacking their
flocks.

“And then the war with Green Woods came. I guess our
boys tore up your place good. Do you know how many wolf attacks
we’ve had since then?”

Hadi shook his head.

“Dozens. The wildlings don’t go for sheep, either.
They want man-flesh. Or they take the girls. Now guess who everyone
is coming to for help?”

“Shegar the Wolf Killer,” said Hadi.

“Right.”

Hadi scratched his head. “I can see your problem.
But what can
I
do about it?”

“You can kill me in a fight.” Shegar laughed at his
expression. “We’ll fake it. Then I’ll leave, and start somewhere
else with a new name. One with no Shine.”

“Why me?”

“I’m no Tavaedi, but I can see a glow around folks
sometimes. Tells me things about them. Soon as I set eyes on you, I
could tell you didn’t want to be here. You don’t want a real fight
any more than I do. You’re a coward. Just like me. And us cowards
got to stick together. We’re the only sane ones.”

Shegar held out his hand, and Hadi clasped it. He
didn’t feel sure of this plan at all, nor of Shegar. The man was a
confessed liar. Who was to say that the real trick wouldn’t be on
Hadi? What better way to get an easy win in a fight than to
convince your opponent the whole thing was fake?

Dindi watched in horror as Umbral effortlessly
massacred the hobgoblins.

I sent them all to their deaths
.

All because she had wanted to keep her word to
Umbral… without
truly
keeping it. It had seemed the perfect
solution to let the faeries kill the Deathsworn for her. All it had
cost her was a bite from her arm, a tear to her blouse and a dance.
Kavio would have been avenged.

She should have known better than to try to trick
innocent fae into doing her dirty work for her. She should have
known that Umbral could not be defeated so easily.

What would he do to her now?

The attack had infuriated him. As soon as the last
hobgoblin fell to his spear, he closed the distance to the clanhold
in a few swift leaps. His face was livid.

“Dindi!” he shouted. “
Dindi!
”

She could run, but he would catch her. She could
hide, but he would find her.

Rather than cower, she stepped boldly into the
clearing between the rows of sod houses to meet him.

“I am here,” she said.

His final steps drew him to a sharp stop in front of
her. He held spear and dagger, still, and the fluorescent orange
ichor of fae blood dripped from his cheek and caked his black
leather.

“Thank Lady Mercy!” he said. “I feared the little
beasts had killed you.”

He sheathed his dagger in his belt and dropped his
spear, to take her arm.

“Your shirt is ripped. They attacked you too! How
did you escape?”

She swallowed. He held the arm she had sliced. Blood
stained the bandage.

“They seemed more interested in attacking a
Deathsworn than me,” she said.

“How did they know I was here?”

“They guessed.”

It was not
exactly
a lie. Yes, she had goaded
them to guess. She had led them to the river of the truth, but the
hobgoblins had still had to put the oar to the water.

“They must have sensed my presence. I should have
gone farther from the clanhold,” he said. “I put you in danger. I’m
sorry.”

He looked so remorseful, she could not help herself,
she touched his face with her hand. “It’s not your fault,
Kavio.”

Only when she saw the expression on his face did she
catch her slip. She snatched away her hand.

“I mean, Umbral. Of course.”

“So you still see his face on me. Even after all
these days.”

“Yes,” she said stiffly.

“I’m sorry. I know it bothers you. I told you, I
don’t—”

“You don’t control how I see you. I know. You’ve
told me. Why should you care what bothers me? You plan to kill me.
As easily as you killed all the hobgoblins. Except they will come
back to life tomorrow morning. I won’t.”

It started to rain again.

“Wonderful,” muttered Umbral. “Could this night get
any better.”

The rain pasted her hair to her ears and her clothes
to her body. She shivered.

“I left my parka in Turtleback’s home.”

“Maybe we should sleep there for the night, get out
of this rain. The hobgoblins will wake again at dawn, and with my
luck, attack me all over again, but in the meantime, we might as
well take advantage of their hospitality.”

“You might find hobgoblin huts a trifle snug.”

“I think the house at the end is the largest. Get
your warm clothes and meet me there.”

Dindi ran to Turtleback’s house, gathered the bundle
of her clothes, and grabbed one of the baskets to hold off the rain
when she went out again. Umbral waited for her at the hole in the
sod of the large hill at the end of the two rows.

The interior of this house was much larger and more
elegant than Turtleback’s hole in the dirt. It was a true lodge.
The rectangular chamber was not quite as big as the Great Lodge in
the Winter Warrens of the Green Woods tribehold, but the floor plan
was similar. The generous height of the room allowed both of them
to stand with span to spare. The sod walls were supported by wooden
posts, and the floor and ceiling were lined with wood planks. The
wood had been carved and painted into fantastic forms. Woolen
tapestries were pinned to the walls, and benches lined either side,
leading up to a raised wooden dais that might have been an eating
platform, a sleeping platform, or both. In front of the platform,
there was a real hearth pit, lined with stones, beneath a
smoke-hole in the roof. Though the paint was faded and tiny holes
riddled the posts and tapestries, the architecture was still
beautiful.

“This was not built by hobgoblins.” Umbral said.
“Aelfae lived here.”

“The hobgoblins called it the Big House.”

Umbral unpacked their things, including moss and
flint to light a fire. He broke up one of the more decrepit benches
to add wood to the flames. Dindi moved to warm herself before the
hearth. Her wet clothes still clung to her body.

Umbral glanced up at her, cleared his throat and
looked away.

“It might not make sense to you, but it
is
important,” he said.

“What is important?”

“Whether I…bother you. I have to kill you because it
is my duty. It is for the sake of all humankind. But I don’t
pretend that gives me the right to behave badly in…other ways. I
have no wish to hurt you. I am the blade of death. I am a murderer,
I don’t deny it, but…”

“And a liar and a thief.”

“A thief?”

“You steal other people’s faces and memories and
magic.”

He inclined his head. “A thief too then.”

“So you admit you take pleasure in being a
monster.”

“I take no pleasure in it, but neither can I change
it. I cannot be more than I am. But I try not to be less.”

Dindi rubbed her arms. She had goosebumps.

“You should take off those wet clothes.”

And be alone with him in this luxurious room stark
naked?