Torfin swung his torch at the old man.
The staff's tip caught him squarely in the forehead. He sagged.
"Kosku, you shouldn't have done that," Grimnir snarled. He dismounted, drew his sword. The old man fled, slammed his door. Grimnir recovered Torfin's torch, tossed it onto the thatch of Kosku's home. He helped the Witch and Torfin mount, then tossed his own torch.
Tain was inclined to aid the old man, but didn't move. He had left his weapons behind in case he encountered this urge.
He didn't need weapons to fight and kill, but he suspected, considering Kosku's reaction, that Grimnir was good with a sword. It didn't seem likely that an unarmed man could take him.
And there was the Witch, whose self-taught skill he couldn't estimate.
She had had enough. Despite Grimnir's protests, she started back the way they had come.
Tain watched them pass. The Witch's eyes jerked his way, as if she were startled, but she saw nothing. She relaxed. Tain listened them over the ridge before moving.
The wet thatch didn't burn well, but it burned. Tain strode down, filled a bucket from a sheep trough, tossed water onto the blaze. A half dozen throws finished it.
The rainfall was picking up. Tain returned to the roan conscious that eyes were watching him go.
He swung onto the gelding, whispered. The horse began stalking the Caydarmen.
They weren't hurrying. It was two hours before Tain discerned the deeper darkness of the Tower through the rain. His quarry passed inside without his having learned anything. He circled the structure once.
The squat, square tower was only slightly taller than it was wide. It was very old, antedating Iwa Skolovda. Tain assumed that it had been erected by Imperial engineers when llkazar had ruled Shara. A watchtower to support patrols in the borderlands.
Shara had always been a frontier.
Similar structures dotted the west. Ilkazar's advance could be chronicled by their architectural styles.
IX
Toma was in a foul mood next morning. Tain avoided him, concentrating on the windmill while Kleckla worked on the house.
Toma was suffering from more than a hangover. Come midmorning he abandoned his tools, donned a jacket and collected is staff. He strode off toward the village.
He had hardly vanished when Rula joined Tain. "Thanks for last night," she said.
Tain spread his hands in a "it was nothing" gesture. "I don't think you had to worry."
"What?"
"Nothing." He averted his gaze shyly.
"He's gone to find out what happened."
"I know. He feels responsible."
"He's not responsible for Kosku's sins."
"We're all responsible to one another, Rula. His feelings are genuine. My opinion is, he wants to do the right thing for the wrong reasons."
"What reasons?"
"I think he wants to prove something. I'm not sure why. Or to whom. Maybe to himself."
"Just because they blame him. ..." Her gaze snapped up and away, toward the spring. Tain turned slowly.
A Caydarman on a painted horse was descending the slope. Torfin?" Today he wore no helmet.
"Oh!" Rula gasped. "Toma must have said something yesterday."
Tain could sense the unreasoning fear in her. It refused to let he Caydarman be anything but evil.
"You go inside. I'll handle him."
She ran.
Tain set his tools aside, wiped his hands, ambled toward the spring. The Caydarman had entered the grove. He was watering his mount.
"Good morning."
The Caydarman looked up. "Good morning."
He's young. Tain thought. Nineteen or twenty. But he has scars.
The youth took in Tain's size and catlike movements.
Tain noted the Caydarman's pale blue eyes and long blond hair, and the strength pent in his rather average-appearing body. He was tall, but not massive like Grimnir.
"Torfin Hakesson," the youth offered. "The Baron's man."
"Tain. My father's name I don't know."
A slight smile crossed Torfin's lips. "You're new here."
"Just passing through. Kleckla needed help with his house. I have the skills. He asked me to stay on for a while."
Torfin nodded. "You're the man with the big roan? I saw you the other day."
Tain smiled. "And I you. Several times. Why're you so far from home?"
"My father chose a losing cause. I drifted. The Baron offered me work. I came to the Zemstvi."
"I've heard that Trolledyngjans are terse. Never have I heard a life so simply sketched."
"And you?"
"Much the same. Leaving unhappiness behind, pursuing something that probably doesn't exist."
"The Baron might take you on."
"No. Our thinking diverges on too many things."
"I thought so myself, once. I still do, in a way. But you don't have many choices when your only talent is swordwork."
"A sad truth. Did you want something in particular?"
"No. Just patrolling. Watering the horse. Them." He jerked his head toward the house. "They're well?"
"Yes."
"Good." The youth eyed the stead. "Looks like you've gotten things moving."
"Some. Toma needed help."
"Yes. He hasn't made much headway since Mikla left. Well, good-day, Tain. Till we meet again."
"Good-day, Torfin. And may the grace of heaven guide you."
Torfin regarded him with one raised eyebrow as he mounted. "You have an odd way of putting things," he replied. He wheeled and angled off across the hillside. Tain watched till the youth crossed the low ridge.
He found Rula hunkered by the cookfire, losing herself in making their noonday meal.
"What did he want?" she demanded.
"To water his horse."
"That's all?"
"That and to look at me, I suppose. Why?"
"He's the dangerous one. Grimnir is big and loud and mean. The others are bullies too. But Torfin.
... He's quiet and quick. He once killed three of Stojan's warriors when they tried to steal horses from the Tower corrals."
"Has he given you any trouble?"
She hesitated. Tain knew she would hide something.
"No. To hardly anybody. But he's always around. Around and watching. Listening. Then the others come with their fines that aren't anything but excuses to rob people."
So much fear in her. He wanted to hold her, to tell her everything would be all right. "I have to get to work. I should finish the framework today. If Toma remembers to look for lumber, we might start the tank tomorrow." He ducked out before he did anything foolish.
He didn't understand. He was Tain, a leading centurion of the Demon Guard. He was a thirty-year veteran. He should be past juvenile temptations. Especially involving a woman of Rula's age and wear....
He worked hard, but it did no good. The feelings, the urges, remained. He kept his eyes averted during lunch.
"Tain. ..." she started once.
"Yes?"
"Nothing."
He glanced up. She had turned toward the Tower, her gaze faraway.
Afterward, he saddled the roan and led out the mule and took them on a short patrol. Once he spied Torfin in the distance, on a hilltop, watching something beyond. Tain turned and rode a few miles westward, till the Tower loomed ahead. He turned again, for home, following a looping course past the Kosku stead. Someone was repairing the thatch.