"Quiet up here. Thought there'd have been more signs of fresh game," Krysty said.
"The boy, Erik Stonebiter, told us that hunting was getting harder. Their fathers talked of hills that teemed with deer and rivers that brimmed over with trout and salmon."
"Could tie in with what Mildred suspects. Another good reason for moving on."
Ryan glanced around them. "Path leads over there toward that flat rock. We got time for a look."
Krysty hesitated. "Something bad, lover. Something up there."
"Danger?"
"No. Not direct danger."
"What?"
She reached out and touched him on the cheek with a long forefinger. "Better go and look."
On the far side of the high rock was a kind of natural amphitheater, the turf trodden flat by hundreds of feet. Ryan and Krysty stood together, looking up at a block of granite that was about ten feet long and five feet wide. The pale stone was streaked with glittering seams of quartz, and its flanks were heavily carved in ornate, swirling, interlocking patterns. A heavy ring of black iron on a short chain was inset at each corner. Long, thick stains of something black or dark brown had run down the sides of the rock that were exposed to them. The clotted streaks were unmistakably old blood.
Neither Krysty nor Ryan said a word. They turned away from the sacrificial altar and retraced their steps to where Mildred waited for them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The three friends succeeded in slipping back into the ville without anyone having noticed their absence. Ryan passed the news of the hidden stone to J.B., Jak and Doc. "Had to be blood. Had to be some kind of sacrifice. I figure it as another reason to shake dust off this place."
Doc was most concerned at hearing about the slab of hewn granite out on the hillside above the lake. "I agree we should make haste to depart from here, gentlemen. Primitive societies have all manner of unsuspected totems, and human sacrifice would not appear to be out of character here. We saw the symbolic burning of the three prisoners."
"Tad more'n symbolic, Doc," J.B. said. "Looked like a real fire to me."
Doc tsked-tsked as though J.B. were a precocious student at a Harvard seminar. "The deaths were real. But the use of the human-shaped wicker figures turned them into symbols. I have noticed with some alarm that Jak here appears to be some kind of totem person to the villagers — I think because of his very white hair and pale skin. Several of the thralls make a detour to avoid walking through his shadow." He paused and looked toward the doorway of their hut. "Of greater concern is that they clearly regard our new freezie companion, Mildred, as the dark side of the same coin. If anything goes wrong I could imagine they might seek a scapegoat. And it might be Mildred."
It was one of the longest speeches Ryan had ever heard the old man make, and it was totally free of his usual slight confusion.
"You say that they think Jak's a sort of god and Mildred is..."
"A black demon. Yes. I think we should make our move before something else goes awry and we, the outlanders, are conveniently around to be blamed."
During that morning, two young children died in Markland.
The screams began around noon, and came from one of the huts near the forest. Ryan and the others were sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine, when Erik Stonebiter walked by, his face drawn with tension.
"What's happening?" Jak called.
The Viking hesitated, but didn't look at the albino teenager. He talked past him toward the lake, his eyes flickering nervously. "It's the bloody flux again. The wisewoman said Odin and Freya would punish us for taking in the... your dark woman. Said ill would come from it."
"Who's ill?" J.B. asked. "Sounds like a woman screaming. Or a child."
"Two skraelings.Little ones. Sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, who was kin to the ale maker whose house this hut once was. The men often went off together with Ragnar's children. Harald would carry kegs of fresh spring water, and Ragnar would fish in the same river."
Ryan glanced at the Armorer. Two families rad-sick and this common link. If the friends had had more time and far more desire, it would have been interesting to go along the coast and visit this strange and dangerous place for themselves.
"What is wrong with them?" Doc asked.
"I said it was the flux. Their bowels run blood and they vomit up everything they're given to eat. Both children have lost teeth, and their skin is covered in a dreadful rash."
Ryan had seen enough examples of rad poisoning around flaring hot spots to recognize the unmistakable symptoms. "Can..."
His words were interrupted by a tremor in the ground. From far off came a deep rumbling sound, like a convoy of laden wags grinding below their feet. Dogs barked and the burning logs on the main village fire toppled noisily in a fountain of exploding sparks. Ryan looked beyond the beach and saw that the surface of the lake was covered in fine ripples, as though a bowl of soup had been shaken by a careless hand.
A black-backed gull that had been perching on top of the longhouse flew squawking into the air, circled the ville once then vanished toward the far west.
"What!" Jak exclaimed. "Fucking earthquake!"
"The hammer of Thor strikes at Earth Mother," Erik said. "It happens four or five times every year. A few months ago there was a bad trembling and some huts fell. This was small."
There was a brief aftershock, and then the earth was still again. The dogs stopped howling and Markland slipped quickly back to normal — except for the thin screams of the sick children.
Ryan recalled what he'd been about to say when the small quake had interrupted him. "Can we help the sick?" he asked.
"No. The wisewoman is with them and will do what can be done."
"Burn a few chicken feathers and rub some pig fat on them." Doc snorted contemptuously. "At least let Mildred see them. She's a qualified doctor, you know."
"Leave it, Doc," Ryan cautioned.
"But if we can do some good, Ryan, my dear fellow, then surely..."
"No. Mildred looks and then they die, like rad-sick kids most likely will. Who gets the blame, Doc?"
"Ah. Point taken."
"And she won't have much in the way of medicine," J.B. added.
Erik looked from face to face, carefully avoiding Jak's ruby eyes. "What is this Mildred? The black nonman?"
"You could call her that," Ryan said. "But it's best your wisewoman cares for the kids."
Something happened then to the volume and pitch of the screaming, but Ryan couldn't immediately identify what it was. Jak's hearing was sharp and he picked it up first. "One dead," he announced. "Other's sinking. Go soon."
Jorund Thoraldson came out of the hut where the sick children were being tended and looked quickly around his steading. He spotted Ryan and the others, and took a few steps in their direction. He hesitated, then continued on.
"The older boy has gone to the gods," he said, "and his brother treads fast upon his heels."
"I'm sorry," Ryan said.
"Will the young whitehead look at the living boy?" the karl asked. "He can touch him and bring his own blessing, as the chosen one. Will he help our sick skraelings?
"What's say?" Jak asked.
"He wants you to go and cure the sick and raise the dead," Doc replied angrily. "Just a normal morning for a god."
"Doc!" Ryan warned. "Keep that mouth under control or, better still, keep it shut."
Erik Stonebiter turned away, staring across the lake, the water now placid and mirror calm after the brief quake.