The Hob's Bargain(78)

Rook took a deep breath and continued. "It was something he'd done before, though not recently. There were enough former bandits in our midst that those of us who wished to protest were outnumbered. There weren't many." His horse shifted restlessly.

"Bastards!" spat Talon. The smith broke free from the crowd and took several running steps forward. "Killed my brother, who wouldn't hurt a fly."

Kith slipped out of the crowd behind Talon and touched the big man on the shoulder, whispering something to him. I couldn't tell what it was, but Talon relaxed a little. Perhaps Kith had blamed Banar's death on the wildlings.

Rook's gray tossed his head, dancing a bit. When Rook saw Talon had finished, he continued in the same calm voice. "When he saw this valley, the captain decided we'd stay here. It was small with few defenses. He fancied himself lord of the manor, I think. Before anyone could change his mind, the earthquake hit, and we were trapped here."

"If we agree to accept your offer, what guarantee of behavior do we have?" asked Merewich in the long silence following Rook's narrative. "Many of us have lost family to you."

"The hob suggested we camp outside the town for now," replied Rook. "We'll send no more than two men at a time into the village unless there's an alert."

"At which time you fight for us," Merewich stated, the doubt in his voice obvious. "Let me ask those whose families suffered the most from your predations. Jarol? You lost your brothers in the fighting at the manor."

"Aye," replied Jarol's laconic voice from somewhere behind me. I was dizzy, so I didn't turn to look at him. "But I've another brother, a wife, and two children. Happen I would be happy if the fighting stopped."

Jarol was a mild-mannered fanner, slow to anger. A clever man, too. I wasn't surprised by his reply. Nor would Merewich have been. That Merewich called upon him told me the headman wanted this truce, and was too smart to jump enthusiastically at it until the village was behind him.

"Aren?" asked Merewich without looking at me.

He took me by surprise, for I'd no idea he'd noticed me - besides, who would listen to me? "About what, exactly? I just got here." The spirits I held, sensing my preoccupation, chose to fight for their freedom again. I could have drawn on the strength of one and held them all. I felt the power gathered for the asking, but I chose not to ask. Instead, I drew on the remnants of stubbornness that were all mine to use.

"Aren?" Merewich frowned, turning his head.

Kith shouldered his way to my side and gripped my arm, but I shook him off irritably. "They've come to ask for truce," he said. "Their captain is dead, deposed by this man." He nodded toward Rook.

"She's the one who warned us when the creatures attacked us from the hills," said Rook after a moment. "It's because of her actions I thought we stood a chance of sharing this valley."

I nodded my head. That was right. Silly me, they'd killed my family and... I bit my lip to clear my head. The impulse to cry "Kill them all" came from the blood lust of those I held and not from any need I had for revenge. Revenge I would save for the bloodmage. At that thought the spirits grew silent, but there was an eagerness now in their waiting stillness.

For now, I had to think. I was a speaker; that should mean something here, too. If only I could think clearly. I had a talk with Kith once. He'd said something about the men he'd fought with...

"Fighting men learn to follow the man who leads them - not just orders, but obedience." My voice was slurring a bit, and I had to overpronounce everything so my audience could understand me. "They have to know what he wants and do it before he asks - otherwise they will die." That much was true. "They cannot afford to ask themselves if what he wants is right or wrong, not if they want to survive. If they cannot fight together, they will die. Just like Fallbrook."

Poul's mother was there, and I met her gaze. "The deeds of the mercenaries must fall upon their captain's back." Each person is responsible for his actions, I thought. But there was too much guilt here. If we didn't give some of it to the dead, we would all drown in it.

I took a deep breath through my nose. "Their captain was a ravening beast - I saw him slay one of his wounded out of hand. The mercenaries had to follow his lead. Would you blame a herd dog for following the directions of the shepherd?" I looked at Rook. Who would have named a blond man for a raven? Perhaps it was all the sparkly things on his clothes. Steady, Aren, I thought, keep your mind on the business at hand.

"This man is a decent man. I have seen that." I paused, looking at the smith's wife, Poul's mother, and the others who'd been in the yard when I'd killed the pikka. "You all understand what it is to do a wrong thing because you feel you must." Suddenly I was so tired I could barely form the words. "Let us have peace."

There had been magic in my words, but I couldn't tell if it had done any good. I was too tired to worry about it.

Merewich called another's name, but I didn't hear who it was. Merewich would make peace if the villagers let him. I worked my way through the crowd toward the stable.

The morning sun was rising, and I had a place to be.


TWELVE

I saddled Duck, fumbling with the knot of the cinch. My fingers were clumsy, so finally I took the saddle off altogether. Holding the spirits seemed to be affecting my coordination; moving was like wading through deep water.