The Trouble with Peace (The Age of Madness #2) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,188

she was following in his footsteps, but that was poor compensation for the clingy cold spreading across her back as the pines steadily drip, drip, dripped upon her.

“There’s a lot to be said for roofs,” she murmured, under her breath.

She glanced to the right. Armed men knelt among the trees, keeping low. The best men Uffrith had, scarred and war-wise, weapons ready and faces tense. Isern-i-Phail sat with her back to a tree and her spear across her knees, slowly chewing. She leaned to one side, spat and raised her brows at Rikke as if to say, Well?

She glanced to the left. More men. The Nail and the rest of Gregun Hollowhead’s considerable family to the fore, teeth bared like wolves seen a sheep. Hundreds more in the woods behind them, she knew. All tensed like clenched fists, waiting on her say-so. Shivers was on one knee, grey hair plastered about his face with the morning dew, twisting that ring with the red stone around and around on his little finger. He raised the one brow he had at her as if to say, Well?

Rikke narrowed her eyes. Not that narrowing the right one made any difference. A misty night had become a misty day, which had been helpful far as not being seen went but was no help at all far as seeing where they were going now. The road was clear enough, just beyond the trees. The bridge she could see all right. But the gate was naught but a gloomy rumour.

She fiddled at her dowel, fiddled, fiddled. Truth was she hadn’t needed it for months. Let alone a fit, she’d barely had a quiver since she came down from the forbidden lake with the runes on her face. She’d always hated having to wear the damn thing, but here she was hanging on to it. Some last shred of childhood. Some hint of a past where she didn’t have to make the hard choices.

She twitched at a clonking sound, craned up at a creaking over the chatter of the river and squinted towards the archway at a bobbing light. A breeze stirred the branches, and the mist shifted, and she saw two men. One had a fine crested helmet, mail gleaming under a long cloak. The other had a bald head, lamp held high in one hand as he pushed the other door wide.

And the gates of Carleon stood invitingly open.

Rikke snapped the thong with a jerk of her wrist and tossed the dowel away into the bushes.

“Go,” she hissed, and Shivers sprang up, quick and quiet with the Nail right at his heels. With a metal whisper, the first dozen were up and after them, then the next dozen, then the next.

“Come on,” Rikke whispered, nails cutting at her palms she was clenching her fists so tight. “Come on…”

She winced at the clattering footfalls as Shivers and the rest ran out onto the wooden bridge. A moment she’d seen before, she was almost sure. Seen with the Long Eye. The cloaked man in the gateway fumbled for his sword.

His shout became a gurgle as the bald man stabbed him in the throat and shoved him back into the shadows of the tunnel. Proof once again that a little gold can succeed where a lot of steel might fail. He raised his lamp and stood politely out of the way as Shivers rushed past, leading a steady flood of armed men into Carleon.

Rikke slowly stood, wincing at the ache in her knees from all that squatting, and let her held breath sigh away. “So that’s it, then?”

“A good first step, anyway.” Isern planted one boot on a rock, grinning as a tide of warriors streamed through the misty woods around them and into the city, quiet as ghosts.

“Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to!” called Rikke as she set out towards the gates. She was far from the only one in the North with a taste for revenge, after all.

Things were surprisingly quiet inside the walls, for a city that just got taken.

Knots of Uffrith’s Carls stood on the corners, weapons drawn and shields in hand, one or two painted with the design of the Long Eye. Some prisoners sat about, weapons down and hands bound. A few townsfolk peered scared from windows and doors as Rikke walked past.

“Don’t worry!” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring grin, though the sight of her face didn’t reassure anyone much these days. “No one’s going to get hurt!”