Read Online 2 Defiler of Tombs by William King - Free Book Online
Authors: William King
Tags: Fantasy
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his face. His knuckles were white as he gripped his bow.
“I rarely am when a man comes to steal my sheep,” said Brandon.
“You calling me a thief,” said the hill-man.
Brandon just looked at him. Kormak cursed inwardly. Things could go very badly, very quickly in a situation like this. He measured the distance between him and the old woman. A blade at her throat might be enough to keep a mob at bay. She seemed well-respected and well-liked here. The idea of doing that did not thrill Kormak but the idea of being filled with arrows did not much appeal either.
“Now, Lucas, there’s no need for trouble,” said Agnetha. “These people came in peace and they’ll leave in peace.”
Kormak expected Lucas to object. He had the look of the unruly sort but he just shut his mouth and looked at his feet. She looked at Sir Brandon a bit more coldly. “There was no need to be mentioning sheep to the boy,” she said, as if chiding a grandchild. Brandon chewed his moustache and then nodded. He was not unaware of the currents of potential violence swirling around them. He was not a man to back down from trouble normally but he understood just how outnumbered they were.
“I apologise if what I said seemed rude to you,” said Brandon. Kormak noted the delicate wording of that apology and so did the old lady. She smiled as if she appreciated the subtlety.
“There’ll be food tonight and some chitter-chatter unless I am much mistaken. You can tie up your horses outside the hall. No one will trouble them.” She looked around at the crowd of hill-folk just to make sure they all got the message. “And I would not mind a word with the Guardian and Mistress Aisha in private. There are some things we need to talk about.”
Kormak wondered if this was just some way of splitting them up to make them easier to deal with but if it was he did not see the purpose of it. The odds were sufficiently great that it would make no difference. Nonetheless he felt uneasy as he stepped over the Elder Sign on the doorstone and followed the Tinker woman and the old lady into the cool, shadowy interior of the hall.
The hall was quiet. A huge fire burned in a massive fireplace. Stacks of peat were piled around it in what looked like a wall. A large cauldron hung on a metal tripod. From it came the smells of cooking meat. It was a homely scent that reminded Kormak of other halls and other times. The old woman slumped heavily into a large carved wooden chair by the fire. She gestured for them to pull stools closer and sit. A girl ladled out stew into wooden bowls.
The old woman took some and then bowls were passed to Kormak and Brandon. Kormak could not help but notice the children licked their lips when they saw this. He guessed that food was scarce in these parts. It had been in the village where he grew up, too. They had eaten and drunk well by the standards of the hill-folk, moonshine whisky and honey cakes.
“I used to lie on that rug there and watch my grandmother sitting in this chair,” Agnetha said. “I called it the seeing chair. I thought it was magic. I used to creep in and sit in it when I thought no one could see me. I was too young to know the magic was in the woman, not in the chair.”
Kormak stretched out his hands to warm them. He had not really realised how cold he was until he got close to the fire. There were a lot of things like that in his life, he thought, as he listened to the bustle of the hall around them. Where they sat now was empty but there were people all around them and some of them no doubt were listening. It was the same in every hall he had ever visited, from that of the highest lord to the lowliest village hetman. The wolf moved over and lay down beside the fire. It eyed him warily but it did not growl.
“I’ll speak in the Old Tongue if that is acceptable,” Agnetha said in the Old Tongue. “There are some here that speak it but not well and my apprentice is not here to overhear us.”
She
“I rarely am when a man comes to steal my sheep,” said Brandon.
“You calling me a thief,” said the hill-man.
Brandon just looked at him. Kormak cursed inwardly. Things could go very badly, very quickly in a situation like this. He measured the distance between him and the old woman. A blade at her throat might be enough to keep a mob at bay. She seemed well-respected and well-liked here. The idea of doing that did not thrill Kormak but the idea of being filled with arrows did not much appeal either.
“Now, Lucas, there’s no need for trouble,” said Agnetha. “These people came in peace and they’ll leave in peace.”
Kormak expected Lucas to object. He had the look of the unruly sort but he just shut his mouth and looked at his feet. She looked at Sir Brandon a bit more coldly. “There was no need to be mentioning sheep to the boy,” she said, as if chiding a grandchild. Brandon chewed his moustache and then nodded. He was not unaware of the currents of potential violence swirling around them. He was not a man to back down from trouble normally but he understood just how outnumbered they were.
“I apologise if what I said seemed rude to you,” said Brandon. Kormak noted the delicate wording of that apology and so did the old lady. She smiled as if she appreciated the subtlety.
“There’ll be food tonight and some chitter-chatter unless I am much mistaken. You can tie up your horses outside the hall. No one will trouble them.” She looked around at the crowd of hill-folk just to make sure they all got the message. “And I would not mind a word with the Guardian and Mistress Aisha in private. There are some things we need to talk about.”
Kormak wondered if this was just some way of splitting them up to make them easier to deal with but if it was he did not see the purpose of it. The odds were sufficiently great that it would make no difference. Nonetheless he felt uneasy as he stepped over the Elder Sign on the doorstone and followed the Tinker woman and the old lady into the cool, shadowy interior of the hall.
The hall was quiet. A huge fire burned in a massive fireplace. Stacks of peat were piled around it in what looked like a wall. A large cauldron hung on a metal tripod. From it came the smells of cooking meat. It was a homely scent that reminded Kormak of other halls and other times. The old woman slumped heavily into a large carved wooden chair by the fire. She gestured for them to pull stools closer and sit. A girl ladled out stew into wooden bowls.
The old woman took some and then bowls were passed to Kormak and Brandon. Kormak could not help but notice the children licked their lips when they saw this. He guessed that food was scarce in these parts. It had been in the village where he grew up, too. They had eaten and drunk well by the standards of the hill-folk, moonshine whisky and honey cakes.
“I used to lie on that rug there and watch my grandmother sitting in this chair,” Agnetha said. “I called it the seeing chair. I thought it was magic. I used to creep in and sit in it when I thought no one could see me. I was too young to know the magic was in the woman, not in the chair.”
Kormak stretched out his hands to warm them. He had not really realised how cold he was until he got close to the fire. There were a lot of things like that in his life, he thought, as he listened to the bustle of the hall around them. Where they sat now was empty but there were people all around them and some of them no doubt were listening. It was the same in every hall he had ever visited, from that of the highest lord to the lowliest village hetman. The wolf moved over and lay down beside the fire. It eyed him warily but it did not growl.
“I’ll speak in the Old Tongue if that is acceptable,” Agnetha said in the Old Tongue. “There are some here that speak it but not well and my apprentice is not here to overhear us.”
She
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