“Kampuhr?” I could readily accept all that she said save that last allusion which held no meaning at all for me.
She shrugged. “It is of no matter, save that it lies in the past. But it was enough to make men wonder where Lord Tugness truly stood on a certain concern that was of importance in its day—which is now past!”
Her eyes caught and held mine as if by her very will she would now impress upon me that this was to be forgotten, that she had made a slip she regretted—or had she? Somehow I believed that Zabina was not given to such errors, that perhaps she had uttered that name as a test for me—though I could not understand why.
“And Thorg?” I was willing to let the matter of her reasons be. It was far more important to think of the present than to delve into the past at this moment. “He now shelters in the Keep House?”
She shook her head. “He went forth with yesterday’s first sun; he has not returned. Before that he was gone for a full day also.”
So he had had a good chance to do even as the Wise Woman suggested, either meet with Iynne and in some way win her favor, or else make sure that he knew her ways, lie in wait, and carry her into some hiding place of which there were far too many in this untracked land. Yes, that was all far easier to believe than that Garn’s daughter had been spirited away by the unseen.
Thorg was a man and, in spite of any hunter’s cunning he might possess, I believed that I could match him. Though I knew nothing of his skills and had seen him only a few times during our trek north, still he was human only and therefore human wits could bring him down.
What he had done was once the custom among our people and many were the feuds which grew out of it. So many, that, years past, before my own birth, there had been a solemn covenant made that the youths and maidens of the Keep-kin be early betrothed. Then any man seeking to break such a bond was at once kinless.
Had Thorg believed that because we were in a new land and there were few maids (also Farkon’s son being far away) he might do this thing without penalty? I knew very little of him but that could well be so. It would take days of riding for any of Lord Farkon’s host to come, and Garn had only a handful of men, none of them knowing much of the broken lands to the west. Lord Tugness might make a show of joining with them just in order to set up subtle delays, insuring thus his son achieved his purpose. For, once Thorg lay with Iynne, then she was his by bed-right, though her kin would be considered sworn to Lord Farkon and he might levy on them any bride price he desired.
I could see two dales—perhaps three—locked in a bloody battle, and because of me. Had I not made it possible for Iynne to seek out that shrine, had I not gone blind myself while our enemy slunk and spied—then this would never have come to pass. Right indeed had been Garn’s judgment of me.
There was nothing for me now but to seek out Thorg’s trail as best I could. He would not yet be aware I was kinless. Thus if I challenged he must answer. I could—I must—kill, washing out with his blood this insult to our—no, Garn’s House.
“Lord Tugness knew?” I had settled my shirt in place. Now I picked up the quilted under-jerkin which cushioned my shoulders against the weight of mail.
She shrugged, saying: “You are kinless—”
“Thorg does not know that,” I answered, schooling myself to accept my disgrace. “If I can reach him first—”
The Wise Woman smiled but there was nothing pleasant in that strength of lips. I owed her much—the tending of my wounds, my return perhaps to health, weak though I felt. Still I did not believe she tended me because of a liking for a stranger. No, it was because of her craft, to which she was pledged, as all men knew. The sooner, perhaps, I was out from under her roof the better she would like it.
“Your head needs fresh dressing—” She turned away to her many shelves, taking up a pot of salve here, some powdered stuff which lay within a box there. These she set on the lowest and widest shelf, and set to working the powder into a generous ladling of the salve, mixing them with her fingers before spreading the result across a strip of cloth in a thick smear.
“You were lucky,” she commented as she came back, holding the bandage from which arose a scent of herbs, fresh and clean. “Your skull was cracked—Garn must have a heady fist indeed. But there is no damage within or you would not be sitting here.”
“That knock was not my lord’s doing—it came when I fell. This was of his hand.” I touched my swollen cheek with a cautious fingertip. I remembered my helm left back in the meadowland of Garn’s dale. It was my only gain that he had not stripped my sword from me then, as he had every right to do. Perhaps his anger had made him forget the final degradation due me.
She said nothing, unwinding the old bandage from my aching head to put on the fresh. Then without warning she caught my chin with a firm hand and held me, searching into my eyes.
“Do you see double?” she demanded.
“Not now.”
“Well enough then. But I warn you—go upon the trail before you are fit and you will end a dead man, accomplishing nothing.”
“Lady, it is because I accomplished nothing when I should have, that I am here. If I can follow Thorg, then I am returning to Lord Garn a small portion of what my folly cheated him of these past days.”
“Folly!” she made an impatient sound. “Carry your burden of unneedful guilt then. Each man walks the road which is appointed to him—that may take many twists and turns. He thinks that he rules his life, he does not know that some threads were already tightly woven before he came to work upon the loom.”
I got again to my feet. “Lady, you have my full thanks for all you have done for me. There is a call-debt now between us—if a kinless one can be allowed to acknowledge such. But I have an older one to Lord Garn. I may no longer be of his house, but I can still move in this matter.”
“Go your own way, as all men do. I warn you to take care—but again you will be moved only by your own desires.” She turned her back on me as I reached for my mail shirt.
As I made a fumbling job of putting that on (for I vowed I would not ask for her help and it would seem that she had done with me now even as Garn had done with me earlier) I saw that she had taken up from that lower shelf a bowl—not of wood or of clay—but of silver, burnished and bright. She held that in both hands, looking down into the cup of it for a long moment before she raised her head to glance once more at me. It was as if she strove to make some decision which was of importance. Whatever that might be she came to it quickly, setting the bowl back in its place.
Instead she now picked up a wallet such as a traveler might carry slung over one shoulder. Into this she began to fit things. There was the remainder of the salve which she had put on my bandage, then she made quick choices among some of her other small boxes, slipping each within, as I tightened my sword belt about me, loosening the blade, pulling it out a little that it might move the quicker.
In addition to the boxes she had stored within the wallet she now packed also journey cakes, though she added no dried sticks of meat, and I remembered that those of her calling did generally not eat flesh. There was a twist of hide also which held dried fruits. Last of all she picked up a water bottle which I recognized as the one I had carried on my last trip down the stream gorge.
“Fill this at the spring. It is good water—moon-blessed.” Both the wallet and the bottle she dropped on the pallet by my side. I felt oddly alone. It was as if here, too, the curse Lord Garn had set on me held. For all her care of me, it would seem that she wanted me gone. Nor could I blame her.