A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,42

in Kergard, holds springing up all over. And there’s that mine on the north shore of the lake. A few faces have disappeared, though.’ He leaned closer to Olin, glancing left and right. ‘I don’t mean packed up and moved on. I mean gone. Just vanished. If it was all newcomers I’d put it down to them not respecting a winter in the north. But it’s some of the townsfolk, too, ones that have been here years, like Hakon and his brood. They’re gone. Cattle still in the barn, all their belongings still there.’

He tugged on a bushy beard.

‘I’ve heard wolven howling at night. Maybe a pack’s come down from the Bonefells …’

‘Could be,’ Olin said, looking thoughtful.

‘Not complaining about the newcomers,’ Asger continued. ‘It’s good for business. Though sometimes it’s not.’ Asger looked both ways and leaned close again, dropping his voice. ‘Thieving’s becoming a problem. Was a time when I didn’t need to lock my barn doors. Wouldn’t dream of leaving them open, now. It’s those new miners. Not the same as good, honest trappers, if you ask me.’

Drem snorted. He’d met many a trapper that would have happily put a knife in his back to take his furs, a few had tried, though his da had taught them the error of that decision.

‘Though they’ve hired their own trappers to keep them fed and clothed. They’re more like thieves, I reckon.’

Drem would have liked to stay and hear more, but his da loaded him up with a barrel of apples and so he trudged back to the wain. He thought about what Asger had said, about thieving, thought about those men near the wain and resolved to wait there until his da was finished in the market.

As he turned a corner and the wain came into view he saw a woman in the street, pale yellow hair revealed as the hood of a cloak blew back in the wind. It was Fritha, his new neighbour, a large basket of latticed willow hooked over one arm. She didn’t see Drem, as she looked to someone calling out to her: Wispy Beard, part of the group of trappers and miners that Drem had seen.

‘Need some help with that?’ Wispy said, stepping close to Fritha.

Drem didn’t hear what Fritha said, but Wispy didn’t seem to like it, stepping in front of her, blocking her way. She tried to go around him but he mirrored her, stepped with her. Some of his companions laughed. Drem put his barrel of apples in the wain, looking over his shoulder at Fritha.

Words passed between Wispy and Fritha, unheard but clearly angry in nature. Then Wispy slapped the basket, emptying its contents onto the ground. Red berries.

Berries picked from the woods, to sell in the market? Drem thought.

Fritha crouched down to scoop them back into her basket and Wispy raised a boot to stamp on them.

Before he’d realized he’d done it, Drem was standing over Fritha, Wispy sprawling on the ground. The sneer on his face quickly transformed into a snarl. His companions stepped away from the wall they’d been huddled around, seven of them, all giving Drem dark looks. The cloaked man pushed his hood back, revealing a shaved head and intense blue eyes.

‘Shouldn’t have done that,’ the bald man said.

Probably not, Drem thought. But what choice was there?

Drem didn’t like fighting. He hated it, in fact, thought it was pointless. He’d had one fight in his twenty-one years, when he was thirteen summers old, had broken the lad’s jaw. Sometimes at night he could still feel his knuckles slamming into flesh, the slap of meat, like a hammer hitting a steak, the crunch of jawbone and grind of teeth knocked loose. The memory of it made him feel sad.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Wispy on the ground, and offered a hand to help him rise.

‘Walk away,’ Fritha hissed to him, taking a step towards the market.

Wispy gripped his hand and pulled himself up, grinning.

Ah, see. Da was right. Polite and friendly fixes most problems.

Wispy was still grinning when he punched Drem in the gut, doubling him over.

A crunch in the side of Drem’s head, white light exploding in front of his eyes, something cold slamming into his face.

Dirt. Realized he was face-down on the ground.

‘Uh,’ he grunted, pushing up onto one elbow, the world out of focus for a moment. He blinked, saw Wispy was standing over him, still grinning, holding Fritha’s arm.

‘You’ll regret this,’ she snarled and slapped Wispy furiously, raking her nails