It had been a long time since he heard a crowd of men all speaking Northern, and it sounded strange in his ears, even if it was his own tongue. It brought back some ugly memories. Crowds of men shouting at him, shouting for him. Crowds charging into battle, cheering their victories, mourning their dead. He could smell meat cooking from somewhere. A sweet, rich smell that tickled his nose and made his gut grumble.
There was a torch set up on a pole by the path, and a bored-looking lad stood underneath it with a spear, frowning at Logen as he walked up. Mustve drawn the short straw, to be on guard while the others were eating, and he didnt look too happy about it.
What dyou want? he growled.
You got the Dogman here?
Aye, what of it?
Ill need to speak to him.
Will you, now?
Another man walked up, well past his prime, with a shock of grey hair and a leathery face. What we got here?
New recruit, grumbled the lad. Wants to see the chief.
The old man squinted at Logen, frowning. Do I know you, friend?
Logen lifted up his face so the torchlight fell across it. Better to look a man in the eye, and let him see you, and show him you feel no fear. That was the way his father had taught him. I dont know. Do you?
Where did you come over from? Whitesides crew, is it?
No. I been working alone.
Alone? Well, now. Seems like I recognise The old boys eyes opened up wide, and his jaw sagged open, and his face went white as cut chalk. By all the fucking dead, he whispered, taking a stumbling step back. Its the Bloody-Nine!
Maybe Logen had been hoping no one would know him. That theyd all have forgotten. That theyd have new things to worry them, and hed be just a man like any other. But now he saw that look on the old boys facethat shitting-himself look, and it was clear enough how it would be. Just the way it used to be. And the worst of it was, now that Logen was recognised, and he saw that fear, and that horror, and that respect, he wasnt sure that he didnt like seeing it. Hed earned it, hadnt he? After all, facts are facts.
He was the Bloody-Nine.
The lad didnt quite get it yet. Having a joke on me are yer? Youll be telling me its Bethod his self come over next, eh? But no one laughed, and Logen lifted his hand up and stared through the gap where his middle finger used to be. The lad looked from that stump, to the trembling old man and back.
Shit, he croaked.
Wheres your chief, boy? Logens own voice scared him. Flat, and dead, and cold as the winter.
Hes hes The lad raised a quivering finger to point towards the fires.
Well then. Guess Ill sniff him out myself. The two of them edged out of Logens way. He didnt exactly smile as he passed. More he drew his lips back to show them his teeth. There was a certain reputation to be lived up to, after all. No need to worry, he hissed in their faces. Im on your side, aint I?
No one said a word to him as he walked along behind the Carls, up towards the head of the fire. A couple of them glanced over their shoulders, but nothing more than any newcomer in a camp might get. Theyd no idea who he was, yet, but they soon would have. That lad and that old man would be whispering, and the whispers would spread around the fire, as whispers do, and everyone would be watching him.
He started as a great shadow moved beside him, so big hed taken it for a tree at first. A huge, big man, scratching at his beard, smiling at the fire. Tul Duru. There could be no mistaking the Thunderhead, even in the half-light. Not a man that size. Made Logen wonder afresh how the hell hed beaten him in the first place.
He felt a strange urge, right then, just to put his head down and walk past, off into the night and never look back. Then he wouldnt have to be the Bloody-Nine again. It would just have been a fresh lad and an old man, swore they saw a ghost one night. He couldve gone far away, and started new, and been whoever he wanted. But hed tried that once already, and it had done him no good. The past was always right behind him, breathing on his neck. It was time to turn around and face it.
Alright there, big lad. Tul peered at him in the dusk, orange light and black shadow shifting across his big rock of a face, his big rug of a beard.
Who hold on Logen swallowed. Hed no idea, now he thought about it, what any of them might make of seeing him again. Theyd been enemies long before they were friends, after all. Each one of them had fought him. Each one had been keen to kill him, and with good reasons too. Then hed run off south and left them to the Shanka. What if all he got after a year or more apart was a cold look?
Then Tul grabbed hold of him and folded him in a crushing hug. Youre alive! He let go of him long enough to check he had the right man, then hugged him again.
Aye, Im alive, wheezed Logen, just enough breath left in him to say it. Seemed hed get one warm welcome, at least.
Tul was grinning all over his face. Come on. And he beckoned Logen after. The lads are going to shit!
He followed Tul, his heart beating in his mouth, up to the head of the fire, where the chief would sit with his closest Named Men. And there they were, sat around on the ground. Dogman was in the middle, muttering something quiet to Dow. Grim was on the other side, leaning on one elbow, fiddling with the flights on his arrows. It was just like nothing had changed.
Got someone here to see you, Dogman, said Tul, his voice squeaky from keeping the surprise in.
Have you, now? Dogman peered up at Logen, but he was hidden in the shadows behind Tuls great shoulder. Cant it wait til after weve eaten?
Do you know, I dont think it can.
Why? Who is it?
Who is it? Tul grabbed Logens shoulder and shoved him lurching out into the firelight. Its only Logen fucking Ninefingers! Logens boot slid in the mud and he nearly pitched on his arse, had to wave his arms around all over to keep his balance. The talk around the fire all sputtered out in a moment and every face was turned towards him. Two long, frozen rows of them, slack in the shifting light, no sound but the sighing wind and the crackling fire. The Dogman stared up at him as though he was seeing the dead walk, his mouth hanging wider and wider open with every passing moment.
I thought you was all killed, said Logen as he got his balance back. Guess theres such a thing as being too realistic.
Dogman got to his feet, slowly. He held out his hand, and Logen took hold of it.
There was nothing to say. Not for men whod been through as much as the two of them had togetherfighting the Shanka, crossing the mountains, getting through the wars, and after. Years of it. Dogman pressed his hand and Logen slapped his other hand on top of it, and Dogman slapped his other hand on top of that. They grinned at each other, and nodded, and things were back the way they had been. Nothing needed saying.
Grim. Good to see you.
Uh, grunted Grim, handing him up a mug then looking back to his shafts, just as though Logen had gone for a piss a minute ago and come back a minute later like everyone had expected. Logen had to grin. Hed have hoped for nothing else.
That Black Dow hiding down there?
Id have hidden better if I knew you were coming. Dow looked Logen up and down with a grin not entirely welcoming. If it aint Ninefingers his self. Thought you said he went over a cliff? he barked at Dogman.
Thats what I saw.
Oh, I went over. Logen remembered the wind in his mouth, the rock and the snow turning around him, the crash as the water crushed his breath out. I went on over and I washed up whole, more or less. Dogman made room for him on the stretched-out hides by the fire, and he sat down, and the others sat near him.