into our new life. Much of her family live in Ked, and need time to get here. But Mother believes it is possible to organise what she’s describing as “a modest celebration” in a month. And the Gods themselves help anyone who gets in her way — she may be my mother, but that woman would terrorise the Reapers themselves if they stood between her and her only daughter’s wedding.’
‘A month?’ Vesna croaked.
‘A month,’ she confirmed, a steely look in her eye. ‘As short a time as possible — because you may well be sent off to fight at any moment.’
Despite the turmoil in his head, Vesna had the sense not to argue. Very carefully, very deliberately he closed his mouth, trying not to swallow visibly. He loved this woman with all his heart, but he had been a bachelor — and a highly popular one at that — for many years, and couldn’t help but feel daunted at the new trick this old dog was going to learn. But he had made his decision. ‘A month it is then. If there’s fighting to be done, I suspect it’ll be in Tirah anyway.’
‘Really?’ Within a blink of an eye the quick-witted politician was back. ‘Can you tell me why?’
‘Suzerain Temal and Scion Ranah were awaiting us at the border — with troops. I doubt they’ll be the only ones. Now the tribe’s leadership is in question, support and swords will be up for sale — and don’t expect them to all side against the clerics, either.’
‘All the more reason for us to be quick about it then,’ she said with a mock-stern tone. ‘There’ll be no wriggling out of it this time, my love.’
Vesna smiled and allowed her to take his arm and lead him to the door.
‘I remember once,’ Tila added with a sly smile as she closed to door to the shrine, ‘being told to treat my husband like a God on my wedding night.’ She patted his black-iron vambrace. ‘It is good I won’t have to pretend now.’
Mihn woke with the sense that something was out of place. This was an exhausting existence, not just caring for the two of them and hunting enough to feed a white-eye’s appetite, but being constantly on guard, alert for dangers both natural and unnatural. Most mornings he drifted into wakefulness slowly, but today he found his eyes wide open and staring at the crossbeam above his bed. He had hung a blanket over it to give one end of the bed an element of privacy, though still able to keep an eye on Isak during his nightmares. He found it oddly comforting.
Now he peered at Isak’s bed, and immediately reached for his boots as he realised it was empty. It was early, still chill, and the pale dawn light was just seeping into the cottage. He set the boots aside and instead pulled on a thick woollen shirt and trousers. As he slipped silently outside the charms tattooed on the soles of his feet glowed warm on his skin. The rising sun was hidden behind a low bank of mist, while the eastern horizon, over the lake, was as dark as a thundercloud.
Isak was standing by a crooked willow fifty yards away. Though old, the tree jutting out over the water was no higher than the white-eye. The puppy Hulf nosed through the hanging fronds at Isak’s feet, a broken stub of wood jammed in his mouth like a cigar. When he saw Mihn, Hulf gave a snort and scampered over, his tail wagging furiously. The bark had been stripped off his little branch by his increasingly powerful jaws. He dropped it at Mihn’s feet.
‘Isak, could you not sleep?’
Isak watched the insects skittering over the near-still lake surface for a while, making no sign that he had heard Mihn.
At last, ‘I once loved sleep,’ he said wearily, ‘and now it stalks me.’
From the trees came the warbling song of dozens of birds, all saluting the dawn. Mihn looked around to see a robin sitting on the topmost branch of the willow, watching Isak, its head cocked as though trying to puzzle out what he was and where he came from. Like all the robins he’d seen in Llehden, this one had a green cap, as bright as its red breast — something he’d never seen elsewhere on his wanderings.
‘Do you want me to leave?’
Isak shook his head. ‘You’re as much a part of it as they are,’ he said, looking