"Take care of the sheep, Steban. I'll help water them later."
He cleaned up his forge, then himself, then carried water till Rula called them to supper.
Anger hung over the meal like a cloying fog rolling in off a noisome marsh. Tain was its focus.
Rula wanted him to control Toma. Toma wanted his support. And Steban wanted a magical access to the heroic world his uncle had created from the bloodies most ineptly fought, and most pointless war of recent memory Tain ate in silence.
Afterward, he said, "I've nearly finished the bushings and shaft bearings. We can start the tower tomorrow."
Toma grunted.
Tain shrugged. The man's mood would have to take care of itself.
He glanced at Rula. The appeal remained in her eyes. He rose, obtained a jar of beer, broke the seal, sipped. "A toast to the windmill." He passed it to Toma.
"Steban, let's get the rest of that water."
A breeze had come up during supper. Cool and moist, it promised rain. Swift clouds were racing toward the mountains, obscuring the stars. Maybe, Tain thought, the weather would give Rula what he could not.
"Mom and Dad are mad at each other, aren't they?"
"I think so."
"Because of the Koskus?"
"Yes." The walk from the spring seemed to grow longer.
"Dad's afraid. Of the Caydarmen." Steban sounded disappointed.
"With good reason, I imagine." Tain hadn't met any of the Baron's mercenaries. He hadn't met any of the neighbors, either. None had come calling He hadn't done any visiting during his reconnaisances.
"Soldiers aren't ever afraid."
Tain chuckled. "Wrong, Steban. Soldiers are always afraid. We just learn to handle fear. Your Dad didn't have to learn when you lived in the city. He's trying to catch up now."
"I'd show those Caydarmen. Like I showed that wolf."
"There was only one wolf, Steban. There're a lot of Caydarmen."
"Only seven. And the Witch."
"Seven? And a witch?"
"Sure. Torfin. Bodel. Grimnir. Olag. I don't remember the others."
"What about this witch? Who's she?"
Steban wouldn't answer for a while. Then, "She tells them what to do. Dad says the Baron was all right till she went to the Tower."
"Ah." So. Another fragment of puzzle. Who would have thought this quiet green land, so sparsely settled, could be so taut and mysterious?
Tain tried pumping Steban, but the boy clammed up about the Baron.
"Do you think Pa's a coward, Tain?"
"No. He came to the Zemstvi. It takes courage for a man to leave everything just on the chance he might make a better life someplace else."
Steban stopped and stared at him. There had been a lot of emotion in his voice. "Like you did?"
"Yes. Like I did. I thought about it a lone time."
"Oh."
"This ought to be enough water. Let's go back to the house."
He glanced at the sky.
"Going to rain," he said as they went inside.
"Uhm," Toma grunted. He finished one jar and started another. Tain smiled thinly. Kleckla wouldn't be going out tonight. He turned his smile on Rula.
She smiled back. "Maybe you'd better sleep here. The barn leaks."
"I'll be all right. I patched it some yesterday morning."
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"Old habits die hard. Well, the sheep are watered. I'm going to turn in."
"Tain?"
He paused at the door.
"Thanks."
He ducked into the night. Misty raindrops kissed his cheeks. A rising wind quarreled with itself in the grove.
He performed the Soldier's Ritual, then lay back on the straw pallet he had fashioned. But sleep wouldn't come.
VIII
The roan quivered between his knees as they descended the hill. It wasn't because of the wind and cold rain. The animal sensed the excitement and uncertainty of its rider.
Tain guided the roan into a brushy gully, dismounted, told the horse to wait. He moved fifty yards downslope, sat down against a boulder. So still did he remain that he seemed to become one with the stone.
The Kosku stead looked peaceful to an untrained eye. Just a quiet rural place passing a sleepy night.
But Tain felt the wakefulness there. Someone was watching the night. He could taste their fear and determination.
The Caydarmen came an hour later. There were three of them bearing torches. They didn't care who saw them. They came down the hill from behind Tain and passed within fifty yards of him None noticed him.
Two were big men. The one with the horn helm, on the paint. Tain recognized as the Torfin he had seen before. The second was much larger than the first. The third, riding between them, was a slight, small figure in black.
The Witch. Tain knew that before she entered his vision. He had sensed her raw, untrained strength minutes earlier. Now he could feel the dread of her companions.
The wild adept needed to be feared. She was like an untrained elephant, ignorant of her own strength. And in her potential for misuse of the Power she was more dangerous to herself than to anyone she threatened.
Tain didn't doubt that fear was her primary control over the Baron and his men. She would cajole, pout, and hurt, like a spoiled child....
She was very young. Tain could sense no maturity in her at all.
The man with the horns dismounted and pounded the Kosku door with the butt of a dagger. "Kosku.
Open in the name of Baron Caydar."
"Go to Hell."
Tain almost laughed.
The reply, spoken almost gently, came from the mouth of a man beyond fear. The Caydarmen sensed it too, and seemed bewildered. That was what amused Tain so.
"Kosku, you've been fined three sheep, three goats, and five geese for talking sedition. We've come to collect."
"The thieves bargain now? You were demanding five, five, and ten the other day."
"Five sheep, five goats, and ten geese, then," Torfin replied, chagrined.
"Get the hell off my land." "Kosku...."
Assessing the voice, Tain identified Torfin as a decent man trapped by circumstance. Torfin didn't want trouble.
"Produce the animals, Kosku," said the second man. "Or I'll come after them."
This one wasn't a decent sort. His tone shrieked bully and sadist. This one wanted Kosku to resist.
"Come ahead, Grimnir. Come ahead." The cabin door flung open. An older man appeared. He leaned on a long, heavy quarterstaff. "Come to me, you Trolledyngjan dog puke. You sniffer at the skirts of whores."
Kosku, Tain decided, was no ex-clerk. He was old, but the hardness of a man of action glimmered through the grey. His muscles were taut and strong. He would know how to handle his staff.
Grimnir wasn't inclined to test him immediately. The witch urged her mount forward.
"You don't frighten me, little slut. I know you. I won't appease your greed."
Her hands rose before her, black-gloved fingers writhing like snakes. Sudden emerald sparks leapt from tip to tip. Kosku laughed.
His staff darted too swiftly for the eye to follow. Its iron-shod tip struck the Witch's horse between the nostrils.
It shrieked, reared. The woman tumbled into the mud. Green sparks zig-zagged over her dark clothing. She spewed curses like a broken oath-sack.