snow, about who had the most reliable aches and pains in paws
and joints. It was a day when Pohsit was lamenting her thousand
infirmities, so it seemed she would not be able to rise, much less
chase pups over hill and meadow.
Marika went alone. Horvat had Kublin scraping hides, a task he
hated—which was why Horvat had him doing it. To teach him
that one must do that which one hates as well as that which one
enjoys.
It was a plain, simple run through the woods for Marika, a few
hours on the slope opposite that where Machen Cave lay, stretching
her new sensing in an effort to find the shadow hidden in the
earth. Nothing came of it, and after a time she began wandering
back toward the packstead, pausing occasionally to pick up a nut
overlooked by the tree dwellers. She cracked those with her teeth,
then extracted the sweet nutmeat. She noted the position of a rare,
late-blooming medicinal plant, and collected a few fallen branches
just so it would not seem she had wasted an entire afternoon. It
was getting dusky when she reached the gate.
She found Zamberlin waiting there, almost hiding in a shadow.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. He did not await an
answer. “You better get straight to Dam before anyone sees
you.”
“What in the world?” She could see he was shaken,
that he was frightened, but not for himself. “What’s
happened, Zambi?”
“Better see Dam. Pohsit claims you tried to murder
her.”
“What?” She was not afraid at first, just
astonished.
“She says you pushed her off Stapen Rock.”
Fear came. But it was not fear for herself. If someone had
pushed Pohsit, it must have been . . .
“Where is Dam?”
“By the doorway of Gerrien’s loghouse. I think
she’s waiting for you. Don’t tell her I warned
you.”
“Don’t worry.” Marika marched into the
packstead, disposed of her burden at the first woodpile, spied her
dam, went straight over. She was frightened now, but still much
more for Kublin than for herself. “Dam?”
“Where have you been, Marika?”
“In the woods.”
“Where in the woods?”
“Out by Machen Cave.”
That startled Skiljan. “What were you doing out
there?”
“I go there sometimes. When I want to think. Nobody else
ever goes. I found some hennal.”
Skiljan squinted at her. “You did not pass near Stapen
Rock?”
“No, Dam. I have heard what Pohsit claims. Pohsit is mad,
you know. She has been trying—”
“I know what she has been trying, pup. Did you decide you
were a huntress and would get her before she got you?”
“No, Dam.”
Skiljan’s eyes narrowed. Marika thought her dam believed
her, but also suspected she might know something she would not
admit.
“Dam?”
“Yes?”
“If I may speak? I would suggest a huntress of
Grauel’s skill backtrack my scent.”
“That will not be necessary. I am confident that you had
nothing to do with it.”
“Was she really hurt, Dam? Or just pretending?”
“Half and half. There is no doubt she took a fall. But she
was able to walk home and raise a stink. A very inept murder
attempt if it was such. I am inclined to think she was clumsy.
Though what a meth her age was doing trying to climb Stapen Rock is
beyond me. Go now. Stay away from Pohsit for a few days.”
“Yes, Dam.”
Marika went looking for Kublin immediately. She found him where
she had left him. She started to snarl, but before he even looked
up he asked, in a voice no one else could hear, “How could
you do such a bad job of it, Marika? Why didn’t you mash her
head with a boulder while she was down, or something?”
Marika gulped. Kublin thought she had done it? Confused, she
mumbled something about having had nothing to do with
Pohsit’s fall. She withdrew.
Not till next day did she become suspicious. By then trails and
evidences were impossible to find. And Kublin adamantly denied
having had anything to do with it himself, though Marika
was
able to isolate a period when no one had seen him
around the
and joints. It was a day when Pohsit was lamenting her thousand
infirmities, so it seemed she would not be able to rise, much less
chase pups over hill and meadow.
Marika went alone. Horvat had Kublin scraping hides, a task he
hated—which was why Horvat had him doing it. To teach him
that one must do that which one hates as well as that which one
enjoys.
It was a plain, simple run through the woods for Marika, a few
hours on the slope opposite that where Machen Cave lay, stretching
her new sensing in an effort to find the shadow hidden in the
earth. Nothing came of it, and after a time she began wandering
back toward the packstead, pausing occasionally to pick up a nut
overlooked by the tree dwellers. She cracked those with her teeth,
then extracted the sweet nutmeat. She noted the position of a rare,
late-blooming medicinal plant, and collected a few fallen branches
just so it would not seem she had wasted an entire afternoon. It
was getting dusky when she reached the gate.
She found Zamberlin waiting there, almost hiding in a shadow.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. He did not await an
answer. “You better get straight to Dam before anyone sees
you.”
“What in the world?” She could see he was shaken,
that he was frightened, but not for himself. “What’s
happened, Zambi?”
“Better see Dam. Pohsit claims you tried to murder
her.”
“What?” She was not afraid at first, just
astonished.
“She says you pushed her off Stapen Rock.”
Fear came. But it was not fear for herself. If someone had
pushed Pohsit, it must have been . . .
“Where is Dam?”
“By the doorway of Gerrien’s loghouse. I think
she’s waiting for you. Don’t tell her I warned
you.”
“Don’t worry.” Marika marched into the
packstead, disposed of her burden at the first woodpile, spied her
dam, went straight over. She was frightened now, but still much
more for Kublin than for herself. “Dam?”
“Where have you been, Marika?”
“In the woods.”
“Where in the woods?”
“Out by Machen Cave.”
That startled Skiljan. “What were you doing out
there?”
“I go there sometimes. When I want to think. Nobody else
ever goes. I found some hennal.”
Skiljan squinted at her. “You did not pass near Stapen
Rock?”
“No, Dam. I have heard what Pohsit claims. Pohsit is mad,
you know. She has been trying—”
“I know what she has been trying, pup. Did you decide you
were a huntress and would get her before she got you?”
“No, Dam.”
Skiljan’s eyes narrowed. Marika thought her dam believed
her, but also suspected she might know something she would not
admit.
“Dam?”
“Yes?”
“If I may speak? I would suggest a huntress of
Grauel’s skill backtrack my scent.”
“That will not be necessary. I am confident that you had
nothing to do with it.”
“Was she really hurt, Dam? Or just pretending?”
“Half and half. There is no doubt she took a fall. But she
was able to walk home and raise a stink. A very inept murder
attempt if it was such. I am inclined to think she was clumsy.
Though what a meth her age was doing trying to climb Stapen Rock is
beyond me. Go now. Stay away from Pohsit for a few days.”
“Yes, Dam.”
Marika went looking for Kublin immediately. She found him where
she had left him. She started to snarl, but before he even looked
up he asked, in a voice no one else could hear, “How could
you do such a bad job of it, Marika? Why didn’t you mash her
head with a boulder while she was down, or something?”
Marika gulped. Kublin thought she had done it? Confused, she
mumbled something about having had nothing to do with
Pohsit’s fall. She withdrew.
Not till next day did she become suspicious. By then trails and
evidences were impossible to find. And Kublin adamantly denied
having had anything to do with it himself, though Marika
was
able to isolate a period when no one had seen him
around the
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