Steban scampered off.
Tain backed into the lee of the barn. He waited.
The rider passed the spring. "Torfin. Here."
The paint changed direction. The youth swung down beside Tain. "Oh, what a night. What're you doing out in it, friend?"
"Getting the sheep inside."
"All right for a Caydarman to come in out of it?"
"You picked the wrong time, Torfin. But come on. Crowd the horse inside."
Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. The youth eyed Tain. The ex-soldier still wore his shortsword.
"What happened?"
"You haven't been to the Tower?"
"Not for a couple days."
"Torfin, tell me. Why do you hang around here? How come you're always watching Steban graze sheep?"
"Uh... . The Klecklas deserve better."
Tain helped with the saddle. "Better than what?"
"I see. They haven't told you. But they'd hide their shame, wouldn't they?"
"I don't understand."
"The one they call the Witch. She's their daughter Shirl."
"Lords of Darkness!"
"That's why they have no friends."
"But you don't blame them?"
"When the Children of Hell curse someone with the Power, is that a parent's fault? No. I don't blame them. Not for that. For letting her become a petulant, spoiled little thief, yes. I do. The Power-cursed choose the right or left hand path according to personality. Not so?"
"It's debatable. They let me think she was dead."
"They pretend that. It's been a little over a year since she cast her spell on the Baron. She thought he'd take her to Iwa Skolovda and make her a great lady. But she doesn't understand politics. The Baron can't go back. And now she can't come home. Now she's trying to buy a future by stealing."
"How old are you, Torfin?"
"Nineteen, I think. Too old."
"You sound older. I think I like you."
"I'm a Caydarman by chance, not inclination."
"I think you've had pain from this too."
A wan smile crossed Torfin's lips. "You make me wonder. Do you read minds? What are you, carrying such a sword?" When Tain didn't respond, he continued bitterly. "Yes, there's pain in it for Torfin Hakesson. I was in love with Shirl. She used me. To get her into the Tower."
"That's sad. We'd better go in. Be careful. They're not going to be glad to see you. Caydarmen burned the Kosku place. One of his girls was killed."
"Damn! But it was bound to happen, wasn't it?"
"Yes. And that was just the beginning. Kosku went after Olag and Grimnir. He was killed too."
"Which one did it?"
"Too late. Olag, but he's dead too. He killed Mikla and wounded Toma first, though."
"Help me with the saddle. I can't stay."
"Stay. Maybe together we can stop the bloodshed here."
"I can't face them. They already hate me. Because of Shirl."
"Stay. Tomorrow we'll go to the Tower. We'll see the Baron himself. He can stop it."
"Mikla lived with Stojan's daughter. The old man will want to avenge him."
"All the more reason to stop it here."
Torfin thought again. "All right. You didn't cut me down. Maybe you have a man's heart."
Tain smiled. "I'll guard your back, Trolledyngjan."
XV
Rula and Toma were talking in low, sad tones. Tain pushed through the doorway. Silence descended.
Such hatred! "Torfin will stay the night. We're going to the Tower in the morning. To talk to the Baron." Tain glared, daring opposition.
Toma struggled up. "Not in my house."
"Lie down, damn it. Your pride and fear have caused enough trouble."
Toma said nothing. Rula tensed as if to spring.
"Tain!" Steban whined.
"Torfin has said some hard things about himself. He's almost too eager to take his share of responsibility. He's willing to try to straighten things out.
"In no land I know does a father let his daughter run away and just cry woe. A man is responsible for his children, Toma. You could have gone after her. But it's easier to play like she's dead, and the Witch of the Tower has nothing to do with you. You sit here hating the Baron and refuse to admit your own part in creating the situation...."
He stopped. He had slipped into his drillmaster's voice. Pointless. Recruits had to listen, to respond, to correct. These westerners had no tradition of personal responsibility. They were roundeyes.
They blamed their misfortunes on external forces....
Hadn't Toma blamed Mikla? Didn't Rula accuse Toma?
"That's all. I can't do any good shouting. Torfin is spending the night. Rula. Steban gave you a package."
She nodded. She refused to speak.
"Thank you."
For an instant he feared she hadn't understood. But the packet came with a murmured, "It's all right. I'll control my feelings."
"Is the broth ready?" He felt compelled to convince Rula.
She ladled a wooden bowl full. "Tain."
"Uhm."
"Don't expect me to stop feeling."
"I don't. I feel too. Too much. I killed a man today. A man I didn't know, for no better reason than because I responded to feelings. I don't like that, Rula."
She looked down, understanding.
Steban chimed, "But you were a soldier...."
"Steban, a soldier is supposed to keep the peace, not start wars." The almost-lie tasted bitter.
The Dread Empire interpreted that credo rather obliquely. Yet Tain had believed he was living it while marching to conquest after conquest. Only when Shinsan turned upon itself did he question his commanders.
"Tain... ." There was a life's worth of pain in Steban's voice.
"People are going to get killed if we don't stop it, Steban." Tain tapped herbs into Toma's broth.
"Your friends. Maybe there are only six Caydarmen. Maybe they could be beaten by shepherds. But what happens when the Baron has to run?" He hoped Toma was paying attention. Steban didn't care about the long run.
Toma's eyes remained hard. But he listened. Tain had won that much respect.
"Governments just won't tolerate rebellion. It doesn't matter if it's justified. Overthrow the Baron and you'll have an army in the Zemstvi."
Toma grunted.
Rula shrieked, "Tain!"
He whirled, disarmed Steban in an eye's blink. Torfin nodded in respect. "Thank you."
"Steban," Toma gasped. "Come here."
"Dad, he's a Caydarman!"
Tain pushed the boy. A soul-searing hatred burned in his young eyes. He glared at Mikla, Torfin, and Tain.
Tain suddenly felt tired and old. What was he doing? Why did he care? It wasn't his battle.
His eyes met Rula's. Through the battle of her soul flickered the feelings she had revealed the day before. He sighed. It was his battle.
He had killed a man. There was blood in it. He couldn't run away.
XVI
"I want to see Shirl," Rula declared next morning. "I'm going too."
"Mom!" Steban still didn't understand. He wouldn't talk to Tain, and Torfin he eyed like a butcher considering a carcass.
Tain responded, "First we take care of Mikla. Steban. The sheep. Better pasture them." To Toma,
"Going to need sheds. That barn's too crowded."
Toma didn't reply. He did take his breakfast broth without difficulty.
He finally spoke when Steban refused to graze the sheep. "Boy, come here."
Steban went, head bowed.
"Knock it off. You're acting like Shirl. Pasture the sheep. Or I'll paddle your tail all the way out there."
Steban ground his teeth, glared at Tain. And went.
Rula insisted that Mikla lie beside the new home's door. Tain and Torfin took turns digging.
Tain went inside. "We're ready. Toma. You want to go out?"
"I've got to. It's my fault.... I have to watch him go down. So I'll remember."
Tain raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"I thought about what you said. I don't like it, but you're right. Four dead are enough."
"Good. Torfin! Help me carry Toma."
It was a quiet burial. Rula wept softly. Toma silently stared his brother-in-law into the ground.