Malice

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CORBAN

Corban trudged along the giantsway awhile, head bowed, returning from Brina’s. A large wain blocked his path, piled high with skins, a tall hound walking beside it.

Corban stared at it as he walked, then suddenly quickened his pace — could it be. .?

Storm took a step forward, a growl growing in volume and snapped her teeth at the hound.

This is not going well, Corban thought. ‘Are you Ventos?’ he called out, poking Storm at the same time.

‘What?’ said the man in the wain. ‘Aye. I am Ventos. Do I know you?’

‘We met last year, at the Spring Fair. I am Corban.’

‘Well, I’ll be. .’ Ventos wiped a palm across his face.

‘Asroth’s teeth, lad, you’ve just succeeded in scaring the Otherworld out of me.’ He blew out a long breath.

Ventos jumped down and took a few hesitant steps towards Corban before he stopped. ‘I’d invite you to walk with me, but I think my horses would bolt and scatter my wares between here and the Western Sea if your wolven came a step closer.’

Corban nodded. ‘Away,’ he said curtly to Storm and waved his arm in a short, sharp gesture. Storm looked at him, copper eyes glinting in the fading sun, then loped away about a hundred paces, then stopped.

Ventos raised his eyebrows, watching Storm. ‘That is one clever wolven,’ he muttered. ‘So it’s true. I’ve heard talk of you ever since Dun Cadlas, and everywhere between here and there. I didn’t believe it, of course — didn’t know it was you, either. The young warrior that tamed a wolven. .’ he whistled.

‘She’s not what I’d call tame,’ Corban said, grinning. ‘Well met.’ He held his arm out. The trader took it in the warrior grip.

‘You’ve changed, lad. I wouldn’t have recognized you. Apart from your scruffy hair and muddied clothes, that is.’

Ventos tried to assuage Corban’s curiosity about events beyond Dun Carreg as they walked. They stopped before they entered the village, Ventos pulling a thick leather glove onto his left hand. He drew some meat from a pouch in his cloak.

There was a screech from above. Corban looked up, saw the shape of a bird swooping down. It circled overhead, swept low over the road and landed on Ventos’ outstretched arm.

It was a huge hawk, head cocked to one side as it studied Corban, golden feathers flecked with blue and red catching the last rays of the sun.

‘It is my pleasure to introduce you to Kartala,’ Ventos said, bowing slightly, beaming.

‘She’s magnificent,’ Corban breathed, staring at the huge bird, eyes drawn to its curved talons gripping the leather of Ventos’ thick glove.

‘I won her from the Sirak,’ he said.

‘Sirak?’

‘Aye. They use hawks to hunt on their sea of grass, and are very skilled at it. Fortunate for me that they are not quite so skilled with a throw-board and dice.’ He grinned and winked. ‘She has been a good companion. Most helpful. My hound Talar can catch a hare with ease, but have you ever eaten hare all year round?’ He shivered. ‘It tends to lose its appeal. I trade for food, of course, but villages are not always where I would like them to be. Kartala has caught me all manner of game, even other birds.’

‘Does she eat crow?’ Corban muttered, thinking of Craf.

‘Crow. Why?’

‘No matter,’ Corban sighed. Too dangerous, he thought, Brina would poison me.

‘Well I’d best pay the baron of the village a visit. Torin, isn’t it? See if there’s a spot in the roundhouse for me to lay my head. Come see me on the morrow, eh?’

‘Aye,’ Corban said.

Hooves thudded on the road, coming from the village. Corban looked up to see a tall, dapple-grey stallion trotting towards them. Meical rode him, and again Corban felt that tickling sensation across the back of his neck.

Meical slowed, his gaze not leaving Corban, something fierce in his expression. He glanced at Ventos, gaze lingering on the hunting bird and then looked ahead, kicking his horse into a canter.