The Crowded Shadows (36 page)

Christopher looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “We are spies, lass,” he said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “We’re already spies. The only reason we were permitted here at all is because Ashkr wanted Sólmundr to survive, and because Embla has taken a heat for Razi. Úlfnaor would never have brought you here if he were free to choose. He’s too noble a man. But the Caoirigh
…”
Christopher huffed bitterly. “The Caoirigh wanted Razi, and what the Caoirigh
want
, the Caoirigh
get
.” There was a moment of tense silence as Christopher glared into the corner. “But they never intended for us to go on with them,” he said softly. “And now they know you don’t support the old ways, well, they would have driven you out tomorrow anyway. Good omen or not, they would never risk you staying for the
…”
he trailed off. Then his grey eyes narrowed as something occurred to him. He glanced at Razi. “What did you say to Sólmundr to get him talking about spies?”

Razi s colour deepened. “I tried to take advantage of his confusion to garner some information about those papers.”

Christopher’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Oh, aye?” he said. “I bet you got a shock, eh? Bet that warm smile of his dropped a fair measure below freezing when he caught you out.”

“Sólmundr said they would blood-eagle him,” whispered Wynter. “If they suspected that Razi was a spy, the Merron would blood-eagle him.”

Christopher nodded. “I don’t doubt it,” he said quietly. “Do you know what Sólmundr is, Razi… No? That man ain’t just Ashkr’s
croí-eile
. He is what these kind of people used to call
Fear Fada
. He is a holy warrior, trained from childhood. His sole purpose in life is to keep the Caoirigh safe. If Sólmundr had thought that you meant Ashkr or Embla any harm, he would have slit you from breastbone to groin—both of you—and had you pegged out for the crows to eat your hearts. You’re lucky, Razi, you and our girl, you’re lucky that Sólmundr is an intelligent man, and not some mindless zealot like most of the
Fadaí.
Otherwise they’d have blood-eagled us long ago and we’d already have had our ribcages cracked, and be wearing our lungs as wings.”

“Oh, Christopher,” moaned Wynter. “Please don’t.”

There was a long, tense silence.

“What do you think of my plan?” asked Christopher eventually, staring at Razi.

To Wynter’s immense surprise, Razi glanced at her, wordlessly asking her opinion. “I worry about those dogs,” she said. “But still, I think it is the best that we can hope for under the circumstances. don’t you?”

Razi nodded. “Aye,” he said. “I agree. Chris, we leave in the morning, as you have advised. And we will return, as you suggest, in two days. We shall see then where our luck takes us.”

Wynter felt Christopher sag with relief. “Oh, thank Frith,” he whispered. Sighing, he kissed Wynter’s hand and tucked it affectionately under his chin.

Razi looked from their clasped hands to his friend’s face. He took a deep breath.

“There are other things we must discuss,” he said softly.

Wynter looked at him. Comprehension dawned. “The Wolves?” she said. “Yes, they are still a threat.”

Razi glanced at her, then met Christopher’s eye again. There was a lot of meaning in that look, and Wynter frowned. “What?” she said.

Christopher pressed his chin down onto Wynter’s hand, clutching her fingers against the soft warm flesh of his throat, as if afraid she’d draw away. He did not take his eyes from Razi’s. “Tonight,” he said. “My People declare Frith. I want to enjoy it, Razi. I want to dance it with a clean heart. Everything else
…”
Christopher blew sharply into his free hand and fluttered his fingers up into the air as if casting a handful of ash to the wind. He stared at Razi. “I want it forgotten, Razi. That’s all. I just want it forgotten.”

Razi’s dark eyes filled with doubt, and his mouth twisted. “Christopher,” he began, his eyes slipping to Wynter.

“Let
…”
interrupted Christopher quickly, holding his hand up. “Let me tell you what the dances mean, shall I? So you can understand a little of what you will see tonight?”

“I think that would be lovely, Christopher,” said Wynter, tearing her eyes from Razi and turning to their friend. “I should like that very much!”

Christopher smiled at her. “Would you?” he said. “Will I show you now?”

She nodded and Razi sat back, his face stiff with uncertainty.

“I will show you as much as I can before they come to get us for dinner,” said Christopher, limping to the centre of the floor space “You won’t have to remember the steps or aught; you won’t be expected to dance.”

Wynter leant in to Razi. “We can deal with the Wolves, brother,” she said softly. “There is no need to make him discuss it.”

Razi just frowned, and silently turned his attention to their friend as he began the slow movement of the Merron dance, explaining each gesture as he did.

To Wynter’s surprise, dinner was not a private affair. When they got to Ashkr’s tent, the front of the
puballmór
had been opened outwards and suspended on poles, so that the occupants of the interior could be included in the activities outside. The entire company of Merron was ranged about outside the tent, sitting on mats and blankets, sharing many small cook fires and chatting. Embla, Úlfnaor, Ashkr and Sólmundr were inside the tent.

Razi came to a halt in front of the awning and bowed. He addressed himself solely to Úlfnaor, and Wynter saw subtle approval brighten the faces of the lord’s party. “I regret we come without gifts to such generous company,” said Razi formally. “It shames me that I cannot add to your bounty.”

Úlfnaor nodded a gracious forgiveness.

Embla, who had been watching Razi as he crossed the camp, rose to her feet with a smile. “Your company is generosity enough, Tabiyb,” she said. “It warm us more than any gift.”

Ashkr, lounging on the floor by Sólmundr’s side of the bed, his attention on a half-played game of chess, clucked like a broody hen and Embla tossed her hair back with tolerant forbearance.

“Forgive my brother,” she said with feline composure. “His brains are in his trousers.”

Ashkr chuckled and lifted his eyes to smile at the guests. Sólmundr, lying on his side under the furs, one arm cushioning his head, the other draped across Ashkr’s lap, laughed quietly.

Úlfnaor shook his head in paternal disapproval at the lords’ childish behaviour. He rose to his feet, a small bowl in his hand, and gestured to Christopher and Wynter that they could take his place by Embla’s side. They bowed in thanks, and the Aoire edged around them, moving to crouch by the fire with Wari and Hallvor.

To Wynter’s immense surprise, the big shepherd began shaping little patties of dough from the bowl in his hand and laying them on the flat irons. He was making griddle cakes! The great and haughty Aoire was making griddle cakes! Wynter shook her head in disbelief. These Merron were incredible. She could not fathom them at all.

At the warm, sweet perfume of freshly baking chestnut dough, Christopher paused on the threshold. He stood looking down at the Aoire, his face wistful.

“
Scòn
,” he said softly.

Úlfnaor smiled. “This not be long now. Then we eat.”

Christopher went and crouched by the fire, watching the cooking, and Wynter drifted to stand behind him, enjoying the aroma of roasted fish and fowl.

Úlfnaor’s dogs lay obediently on the periphery of the fire, following every move of the cook’s hands. The rest of the warhounds were within the tent, sprawled casually around their masters, their big brown eyes silently assessing the new arrivals. Sólmundr actually had one of the creatures on the bed beside him, its huge head resting on his hip.

“Tabiyb,” Embla extended her hand to Razi, inviting him to her side.

He glanced at Wynter and Christopher. Wynter grinned teasingly at him, while Christopher kept his attention on the cooking Razi hesitated, then he abruptly ducked his head and entered the tent. Embla took Razi’s face between her hands and kissed him on the mouth. He shamelessly pressed himself to her kiss, his hand drifting to her hip. They remained locked deeply together for an embarrassing length of time, and pulled away only when Ashkr tutted loudly. Razi broke into a blushing grin. The pale lady licked her lips, grinned in return and pulled her pirate down to sit beside her on her little pallet of rugs. She leant comfortably against him, and he slipped his arm around her waist.

“Who is winning?” he murmured, his eyes on the chessboard.

“I am,” she said smugly. “Ashkr hope you distract me. He hope I, too, think only with my trousers!”

Ashkr rolled his eyes, and smoothly made what looked to be a very damaging move. Razi and Embla frowned and leant forward as one, their faces identically absorbed. Sólmundr snorted with mirth, and the dog at his hip opened its eyes briefly and sighed.

“Coinín?” Christopher tore his gaze from Razi. Úlfnaor was holding out a freshly baked cake, his eyes kind. “You look hungry,” he said softly.

Christopher took the little cake with a polite smile. He gasped and immediately began tossing it from hand to hand, blowing on his fingers. Wynter laughed, thinking he was being dramatic. Úlfnaor glanced at her. “And you?” he held up another. Wynter took it, squeaked and duplicated Christopher’s desperate juggling act. The cake was, indeed, much too hot to hold. Úlfnaor must have fingers like stone. The Merron chuckled. Úlfnaor grinned.

“You are wicked!” laughed Wynter, and took a bite. “
Jesu!
” she said, amazed at the smoky deliciousness. “But that is
wonderful
!”

Christopher broke his cake in two, releasing a cloud of sweet steam. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “Mmmmm,” he said.

“Good?” asked Úlfnaor. Christopher nodded, gazing at the cake.

“Coinín.” At Sólmundr’s soft voice, Wynter felt Christopher tense. He glanced reluctantly into the tent and Sólmundr smiled at him. “Come sit by me?” he invited warmly. “Talk for while? You and me?”

Ashkr briefly lifted his eyes to Christopher, then turned his attention back to the chessboard. Embla kept her gaze fixed on the game, her hands clenched in her lap. Razi frowned unhappily and his eyes slid away.

Christopher looked down for a moment, his face blank. Then he carefully laid his uneaten
scòn
on the fire stones and got to his feet. “It would be my pleasure,” he said.

As Christopher ducked into the tent, Sólmundr shifted painfully, trying to push the hound from his hip, and hoisted himself up against the stuffed deer hide at his back. Ashkr and Razi leapt to aid him.

“
Amach leat, Boro!
” said Ashkr, pushing the unwilling hound from the bed. It ducked its shaggy head in a futile attempt to make itself invisible, and wormed its way back to Sólmundr’s side.

Sólmundr chuckled breathlessly and scrubbed between the dog’s sharp ears The dog butted its head up into his caress, licking his toughened fingers and scarred wrists. “Stupid fellow,” murmured Sólmundr. “I can tie him, if you want?” He waved his hand, indicating a pair of posts that were embedded in the ground behind the bed. Wynter had assumed they acted as a support for the cushions, but now she saw that there was a hoop-and-pin at the top of each where the hound’s chain could be secured.

Christopher shook his head. “I ain’t scared of him,” he said.

Carefully, Sólmundr manoeuvred himself to face away from the others. He settled heavily into the deer hide cushion and patted the blankets. Christopher crawled across the bed and sat down beside him. The warhound placed one massive paw on Christopher’s lap, and, with a gusty sigh, laid its head back against Sólmundr’s stomach. “What do you want to talk to me about?” said Christopher quietly. Sólmundr leaned in, and their soft conversation was lost to hearing as Ashkr suddenly disputed a move and Embla took noisy exception.

“Úlfnaor,” said Wynter quietly, watching as the Merron finished their cooking. “I have no desire to cause offence
…”
she let her voice trail off, waiting for Úlfnaor to give his consent for her to continue. At court, this sentence was a signal that you were offering what might be unwanted advice or information. Everything hinged on the response. If the reply was “
Then do nothing to offend
” you had been told that your advice was not wanted. If the reply was along the lines of, “
Good intentions are never an insult
”, then you had been given an invitation to proceed. Wynter crouched uncertainly by the fire and squinted through the smoke.

“I not offended,
lucha
,” assured Úlfnaor. “You good.”

Wynter hesitated, knowing that he hadn’t understood. Razi was, as usual, paying attention to everything, and without looking up from the chessboard, he said, “My sister would like to discuss something, Úlfnaor. But she does not wish to cause offence in the asking.”

Úlfnaor smiled in wry amusement. “You ask me what you need,
lucha
. I promise, I not set my dogs on you.”

“This food you have trapped and caught?” Wynter waved her hand at the meal. Úlfnaor looked at her, suddenly alert. “And this wood that you have gathered to cook it on? It is not legal. If the cavalry came upon you they would—”

“We need licence?” he asked softly, his face sad.

Wynter nodded.

“Even here?” he asked, waving at the deeply forested land around them.