Fell chuckled. 'I've never been compared with a mother wolf before. Pass the jug!' He took several long swallows. 'You're right,' he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 'The wine is good. But I don't fear the Outlanders, Obrin. I am not afraid to die for my people. What gnaws at me is more personal. I shall make sure that my feelings do not show as strongly in the future.'
'Sigarni,' said Obrin, lifting the jug.
'How would you know that?' asked Fell, surprised.
Obrin grinned. 'I listen, Fell. That's another secret of leadership. You were lovers, but now you are not. Don't let it concern you. You're a good-looking lad and there are plenty of women who'd love to warm your bed.'
Fell shook his head. 'That's not the whole reason for my sadness. You didn't know her when she was just the huntress. God, man, she was a wonder! Strong and fearless, but more than that she had a love for life and a laugh that was magical. She could make a cold day of drizzle and grey sky suddenly seem beautiful. She was a woman. What is she now? Have you ever seen her laugh? Or even smile at a jest? Sweet Heaven, she's become a creature of ice, a winter queen.' Fell drank again, long and deeply.
'There's not been a great deal to laugh about,' observed Obrin, 'but I hear what you say. I once owned a crystal sphere. There was a rose set inside, as if trapped in ice. I've always loved roses, and this was one of the most beautiful blooms, rich and velvet red. It would live for ever.
Yet it had no scent, and would not seed.'
'That is it,' said Fell. 'Exactly that! Like the Crown of Alwen - all men can see it, none can touch it.'
Obrin smiled. 'I've often heard Highlanders talk of the lost Crown. Is it a myth?'
Fell shook his head. 'I saw it when I was ten. It appears once every twenty-five years, at the centre of the pool at Ironhand's Falls. It's beautiful, man. It is more a helmet than a crown, and the silver shines like captured moonlight. There are silver wings, flat against the helm like those of a hawk when it dives, and a golden band around the brow inscribed with ancient runes. It has a nasal guard - like an Outland helm- and this is also silver, as are the cheek-guards. I was there with my father. It was the winter before he went down with the plague, my last winter with him. He took me to the Falls and we stood there with the gathered clans. I could not see at first, and he lifted me to his shoulders. A man cursed behind us, but then the Crown appeared. It shimmered for maybe ten, twelve heartbeats. Then it was gone. Man, what a night!'
'Sounds like a conjuring trick to me,' said Obrin. 'I've seen magickers make birds of gold that fly high into the air and explode in showers of coloured sparks.'
'It was no trick,' said Fell, without a hint of anger. 'Alwen was Ironhand's uncle. He had no children, and he hated Ironhand. When he was dying he ordered one of his wizards to hide the Crown where Ironhand would never find it, thus condemning his nephew to a reign fraught with civil war and insurrection. Without it, Ironhand was a King with no credentials. You understand?'
'It makes no sense to me,' said Obrin. 'He had right of blood. Why did he need a piece of metal?'
'The Crown had magical properties. Only a true King could wear it. It was not made by Alwen's order, it was far older. Once, when a usurper killed the King and placed the crown on his head, his skin turned black and fire erupted from his eyes. He melted away like snow in the sunshine.'
'Hmmm,' muttered Obrin, unconvinced. "Tis a pretty tale. My tribe has many such, the Spear of Goldark, the Sword of Kal-thyn. Maybe one day I'll see this Crown. But you were talking of Sigarni. If you loved her, and she you, why did it end?'
'I was a fool. I wanted sons, Obrin. It's important in the Highlands. I had a need to watch my boys grow, to teach them of forestry and hunting, to instil in them a love of the land. Sigarni is barren - like your rose in crystal. I walked away from her. But not an hour has passed since when her face does not shine in my memories. Even when I lay with my wife, Gwen, all I could see was Sigarni. It was the worst mistake of my life.' Fell drained the last of the wine and lay back on the floor of the hut. 'I'd just like to see her laugh once more... to be the way she was.' He closed his eyes.
Obrin sat quietly as Fell's breathing deepened.
You're wrong, Fell, he thought. I know what war is, and I know the pain and terror that is coming.
Given a choice I'd keep Sigarni the way she is, the Ice Queen, the cold-hearted warrior woman whose strategies have already seen three enemy forts overcome, and several tons of supplies brought into the encampments.
Obrin pulled on his jerkin and stepped out into the night.
*
Sigarni was tired. The morning had been a long one, discussing supplies with Tovi, organizing patrols with Grame and Fell, then poring over the battle plans drawn up by Asmidir and Ari, listening to Obrin's tales of woe concerning training.
'We've not the time to train them properly,' said the stocky Outlander. 'I've got them responding to the hunting horn for attack and retreat and re-form. But that is it! Your army will be like a spear, Sigarni. One throw is all you get.'
She felt as if her mind could take not one more ounce of pressure, and had walked with Lady to a hill-top to look upon the ageless beauty of High Druin, hoping to steal a fragment of its eternal peace.
Two of Asmidir's Al-jfttn walked twenty paces behind her, never speaking but always present. At first their ceaseless vigilance had been a source of irritation, but now she found their silent presence reassuring. A stand of trees grew across the hill-top, and these gave some shelter from the wind as Sigarni stared out over the winter landscape at the brooding magnificence of High Druin, its sharp peaks spearing the clouds. Down on the slopes leading to the valley she could see Loda children tobogganing, and hear the squeals of their laughter. The sounds were shrill, and echoed in the mountains.
Will they still be laughing in a few weeks, she wondered?
Taliesen had disappeared again, gone to whatever secret place wizards inhabit, and his last words to her echoed constantly in her memory: 'The Pallides will ask for a sign.'
'They already have,' she had told him.
'No, no, listen to me!' They will ask for something specific. When they do, agree to it. Don't hesitate. I will be back when I have prepared the way. Will you trust me?'
'You have given me no reason to distrust you. But what if they ask me to supply the moon on a silver salver?'
'Say that you will,' he said, with a dry laugh. He threw his tattered cloak of feathers around his scrawny frame, and his smile faded. 'They will not ask that, but it will seem as difficult.
Remember my words, Sigarni. I will be back before the first snowdrops of spring. We will meet by Ironhand's Falls in twelve days.'
Lady brushed against her leg and whined. Sigarni knelt and stroked her long ears.'I have neglected you, my lovely,' she said. 'I am sorry.' Lady's long nose pushed against Sigarni's cheek and she felt the hound's warm tongue on her face. 'You are so forgiving.' She patted Lady's dark flank.
'She wishes solitude,' she heard one of her guards say. Sigarni turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman standing with the two men.
'Let her through,' she called. The woman gave the black men a wide berth and walked up the hillside. She was thin of face, with a prominent nose, but her large brown eyes gave her face a semblance of beauty. 'You wish to speak with me?' said Sigarni.
'I do. I am Layelia, the wife of Torgan.'
'There is no place for him among my officers,' said Sigarni sternly. 'He is a fool.'
'That is a trait shared by most men I have met,' said Layelia. 'But then war is a foolish game.'
'Have you come to plead for him?'
'No. He will regain his honour - or he will not. That is for him. I came to speak with you. I have questions.'