A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,46

a handful of Fritha’s crew around him, spears levelled.

“Bind them,” Fritha said.

She strode into the hall, saw a fire-pit with a pot hanging over it, a few stools and chairs around it. An old woman was sitting in one. She held out a knife as Fritha approached.

“I’ll not stand and knife-fight you as I would have once,” the woman said, “but I’ll give you a cut or two ’fore you take me.”

“I’m sure you would, grandmother,” Fritha said, dipping her head respectfully, “but it would be better for me, and for your kin, if you just drop the knife. I don’t want to hurt them, just need the use of your hall for the night.” She stood in front of the old lady, out of knife range, and rested her spear-butt on the ground. Fritha knew she could just skewer the old woman where she sat.

Behind Fritha her crew were entering the hall, dragging their captives.

“No harm will come to them?” the woman said.

“They will all live through this night, you have my oath,” Fritha said.

The woman nodded and dropped the blade.

“A wise choice,” Fritha said. She turned to Arn. “Take them to the barn, light a fire for them so they don’t freeze.”

Arn nodded and left, the captives herded with them.

“What about my mother?” the one who had attacked Arn called, a thickset man with a heavy beard.

“She and I have things to talk about,” Fritha said. She felt sympathy for these people, knew that they had likely come north into the Desolation to escape the rule of the Ben-Elim. They were not the enemy.

But these are hard times, and hard decisions must oft be made.

“Take them away,” Fritha said with a wave of her hand. She inspected the contents of the pot: mutton stew, by the smell of it. She gave it a stir with a ladle, offered some to the old woman, who shook her head, and then scooped herself a bowlful. She sat on a stool and shuffled closer to the old woman.

“A hard life for you, here in the Desolation,” Fritha said.

“Hard times all round,” the old woman said suspiciously. “Just different kinds of hard. The Desolation isn’t so bad.”

“Aye,” grunted Fritha, sipping from the bowl. It was greasy and watery but tasted as fine a meal as Fritha could remember right now. “Freedom’s worth much,” she said, watching the grandmother.

“True enough.”

“The Ben-Elim?” Fritha said.

After a long hard stare, the old woman nodded.

“I’ve heard talk of the Ben-Elim’s flesh tithe,” Fritha said. “They wanted your grandson?”

A long sigh. “Aye, they did. We were not of a mind to give him up, like coin in some kind of tax.” The old woman spat into the fire.

Fritha nodded, understanding. She wished she had time, knew that the Desolation was filling with people like this, with grudges against the Ben-Elim. But time was no longer a luxury that she and Gulla had. Not with Drem likely only a ten-night away from Dun Seren, and his cursed talking crow closer than that.

Still, she felt that she had to try.

“They’ll come here, too,” Fritha said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the woman said.

“They will,” Fritha said. “And soon. You could stand against them, fight them. You and your kin.”

“Fight the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings?” The woman snorted. “Hah. I am no coward, but I am no fool, either. That way’s a quick path to an iron-edged death.”

“There are others that would fight the Ben-Elim. You could join them.”

“Who?” the woman said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“The Kadoshim,” Fritha said.

“Are you a mad woman?” the grandmother said. “They are worse than the Ben-Elim. Why fight for them?”

“I’ll wager all that you’ve ever heard of the Kadoshim has come from the mouth or quill of the Ben-Elim. Who has ever spoken highly of their enemy?” Fritha shook her head. “The Kadoshim are not the monsters that the Ben-Elim make them out to be. They would not be the masters of the Banished Lands, it is just the defeat of the Ben-Elim that they strive for. When the war is won they will share their power, and they will remember those who help them achieve that goal.”

“You’re insane,” the woman hissed. “You would have me trade one tyrant for another. No, better to come here, to leave them to their scrapping and start a new life. A hard life, aye, but a free one.”

“Free today, but for how long?” Fritha said. “You think the Ben-Elim will not come here? Of course they will, maybe not this moon, nor