The White Raven

to us, I was prepared to let him speak.

'The little prince is in Sarkel,' he announced. 'Well, not in it exactly. The garrison will not let the prince of Novgorod inside the walls, so they are in the town, down by the river, organizing boats and unloading carts.'

'Is the garrison likely to let Vladimir inside the walls?' I asked. Morut shook his head and pursed chapped lips, rubbed shiny with fat to stop them splitting further.

'Avraham has been sent to persuade them, but I am thinking he has exactly the other idea — there are men from Kiev two days march away, led by Sveinald and his son. They would be here already save that the river has frozen over again between him and Sarkel and they have had to abandon their boats and walk.'

That was news worth the knowing — but I wondered how Morut had discovered it. The little tracker shrugged. 'Tien was with them. They came with only two horses, down the river in those big heavy boats they have. Tien was sent on one horse to Sarkel to find out news and we met, not far beyond the Ditch Bridge.'

Tien. I cursed him, for it was clear he had headed for Kiev to tell all he knew as soon as we had vanished into the Great White.

'Yes,' confirmed Morut, 'but Kiev already knew, for that monk Martin came out of the wilderness, as near death as made little difference. He told all in return for them saving his life — though he lost a foot from the cold.'

Martin. Finn growled and shook his head. 'I wish you had killed him that day in Birka, when you had the chance, Orm,' he said.

That day seemed so long ago as to be no more substantial than breath on polished steel.

'What of Tien?' asked Gyrth, which was clever and which I should have thought to ask. Morut looked blankly from Onund to me, and back again.

'As you know,' he answered slowly, 'we were never friends and once he had told all I wanted to hear I paid him back for the insults. This horse was his.'

No-one said anything to this, though everyone looked at the smooth-faced little tracker with new respect. I was too busy thinking that Sveinald and his son remained in ignorance of events and knew only that their tracker had not yet returned. They were on foot, too and would be slogging through the ice and cold — so we had time yet.

'Avraham is hoping to command the Sarkel garrison to resist everyone,' Morut went on moodily. 'I think he is a great fool, for the garrison is as much Slav as Khazar these days and even they call it Biela Viezha now. Avraham is blinded by dreams of old greatness. In the end, he will tell the garrison of the silver in the carts and that will persuade them.'

Dobrynya and Sigurd would suspect this, I knew. They would want away before either the garrison at Biela Viezha, or Sveinald's Kiev druzhina discovered their haul of silver.

'Why are you telling us all this, little man?' Hauk Fast-Sailor wanted to know, a second before I opened my mouth to ask.

Morut thought on the question and frowned.

'Prince Vladimir did not tell me or Avraham that he planned to leave you to face the Oior Pata alone and steal your share of the silver,' he answered. 'It was not a princely matter and I said so to Avraham. He did not care, is of the opinion that you are all unbelieving pagans and deserve everything God inflicts on you.'

'I shall let some of the puff out of that bladder,' Finn promised.

'You do not share this view?' I asked and Morut shook his head.

'It was no matter of mine,' he answered, bold-eyed and truthful. 'I thought that a quarrel over such a large hill of riches was a mountain of folly; there was surely enough for everyone.'

'Just so,' I replied. 'And so you are here. Sent by Vladimir, or his uncle?'

'Sent by no-one, save God. Or Allah, for I have not decided where I will go. The prince does not know I am gone, nor anyone else. I came to see if the Oior Pata had killed you — but it seems you have tamed the Man-Haters.'

There was admiration in his voice — then he frowned again. 'Truthfully, it was the blind man's killing I did not like. Nor the way they handled his woman.'

18

Thordis would not stop weeping, even when Finn put his arms awkwardly round her. Eldgrim patted her as if she was a dog or a child, muttering softly, though he had no clear idea why she was breaking her heart out on the cold steppe.

No-one else had much to say; the crushing loss of Kvasir was a burden that made even speaking difficult, so that when Morut had finished the telling of it, there was such a silence that it shrieked.

Kvasir had come up on them, just as the cavalcade of horses, carts and men had reached the bridge over the ditch at Biela Viezha. Here there was nothing more than a rough palisade fence, enough to keep marauding wolves from the yurts and enclosures, for this was the winter camp of steppe people, who came with their goats and their hairy, two-humped camels from further east and their horses and dogs, sheltering in the lee of the scabbed, white walls of the fortress.

Morut had seen Kvasir arrive, had watched him come up with empty hands held out to his sides and be escorted to just beyond blade reach of Vladimir and Dobrynya and Sigurd.

'It seemed to me,' Morut said, as we squatted in a huddled stand of birch, the wind rattling the stiff branches, 'that he spoke of the boy, Jon, for that one was brought forward and I heard some raised voices between them.'

'He went to bring Jon Asanes back,' I said and Morut shrugged.

'The boy was no prisoner. He came with us smartly enough, smiling with Crowbone and speaking of taking his share of the silver and going to the Great City.'

I had suspected it, but the fullness of it felt like a cold knife in my bowels. Finn growled and shook his head, but I could not tell if it was disbelief at Morut's tale or disgust at Jon's behaviour.

'After that,' Morut said, 'Kveldulf stepped forward and said something. There were words spoken and Dobrynya then told Kvasir to go away. This I heard, for I had moved closer. Jon Asanes also pleaded with Kvasir to go away, before it was worse for him.

'Then Kvasir said to Jon Asanes that he would break Orm's heart in this matter and Kveldulf growled that it would be better if Kvasir stayed, permanently. Then Kvasir hit Kveldulf and a good blow it was, knocking that man clean off his feet, so that even I could hear the ringing in his ears. Then Kvasir told Kveldulf to be quiet, that men were speaking here.'

'Heya,' breathed Finn admiringly. I felt the sickening rise of what I knew would come next.

'Kveldulf came up spitting,' Morut went on, 'and his sword came out and they set too, with Vladimir demanding that they stop and Dobrynya cursing and Sigurd calling for the druzhina to move in and stop the fight. But it was clear that Kvasir could not see hardly at all, so Kveldulf had almost no fight of it and felled him with a blow between neck and shoulder.'

Finn gave a long groan at this and everyone else shifted and grunted as if they had taken such a blow themselves.

The cold of his loss numbed us then and I could hardly get the words past my teeth. 'What then?'

Morut frowned. 'Well, Kvasir was lying there, with the blood seeping from him and Dobrynya sighed and said that was that, while Sigurd shook his head with a face like a stone cliff and said it would be the worse for all now.'

'He has the right of it there,' Finn managed to squeeze out. His knuckles clenched and unclenched so tightly on the hilt of The Godi that the red sores split and blood welled.

Morut looked uneasily round him, then and I saw he did not want to tell the rest of it. He caught my eye, saw my look and swallowed, nodding.

'Kveldulf knelt down by Kvasir, who was not yet quite dead and said to him: 'Stone am I?' which I did not