way beneath its hooves, it went to its knees.
Heckram turned, pulling his knife, to face their pursuer. He caught a glimpse of something blending suddenly into the gray shadows and trunks of the surrounding forest. It should have been pressing its advantage, rushing forward to harry the exhausted man and animal. Nothing. The blowing reindeer shuddered its way back onto the path and stood with its head drooping. Terror had wearied it as much as exertion; the old shaman was no heavier than its normal workload. The harke had run as only wolves make a reindeer run.
'It was real!' Heckram turned defiant eyes to the old man.
Carp no longer smiled. 'Real. That's what I've been telling you. But you did not seem to be listening.' He leaned so close that Heckram saw the tiny bubbles in the spittle on his lips. 'You insult him,' the old man whispered harshly. 'Was not the bargain made last night, and sealed with blood? Trust him. Give over your vengeance to him, and let your own mind be emptied, ready for what he will ask of you.' Slowly Carp straightened on the reindeer. 'Let us go now.' Despite the jostling ride, Carp sat calmly.
His fogged eyes looked deep into Heckram's eyes, but barred all entry to themselves.
Heckram turned aside from him, shaking his head wearily, baffled and somehow angry with him.
He looked back again. Nothing. Just white snow. He realized abruptly that dawn was well begun. Looking about himself again, he recognized the trees and the lay of the hills. The village was not far now.
As if to prove him correct, he heard a glad call from down the trail and turned to find Ristin hastening toward them. Welcoming words spilled from her.
'I was worried when you did not come in with the rest. Lasse said you were right behind them, but did not know why you were coming so slowly. He offered to look for you, but he was nearly asleep on his feet, so I told him not to bother.' Her words were nearly apologetic, but her eyes roamed over her son in obvious relief. Heckram's glance was equally piercing. Was the dawn light that harsh, or had she aged in the days he had been gone? There was strain in the lines about her eyes and mouth, but also relief and gladness as she looked on him. Then, as she noticed the man with him, she became more formal.
'You must be Carp, of whom Lasse spoke. Welcome to the talvsit of Capiam's herdfolk.' She glanced quickly at Heckram. 'When Lasse said you were bringing a guest, I took it upon myself to kindle a fire on your hearth and prepare food for you both.'
'It will never be said that Capiam's herdfolk were inhospitable to a stranger,'
Heckram said to Carp, but he wondered for whom she had really kindled the fire. Had she known how much he had dreaded coming home to a hut with a cold arran and the musty smell of emptiness throughout?
He smiled his thanks at his mother, and she met his eyes with warmth and sympathy. Then she frowned. 'What have you done to your cheek?' she asked, reaching to touch his face.
'Scratched it on a branch. It looks much worse than it is.' He pulled away from her touch.
'Let's hope so. Still, I think you should see the healer as soon as you can.'
Heckram frowned. 'Can't you make me a poultice for it, Ristin? We used to manage without a healer.'
Ristin moved her head, studying the slash. 'Yes, we managed well enough, if you don't count the people scarred and dead that didn't have to be. If that gash were on your arm, I might try to treat it myself. But not that close to your eye. It's for a trained healer, and as soon as possible. Eat first, and get a bit of sleep, but then go to her. An infection like that is nothing to trifle with.'
Heckram reached to pat at his face. It was swollen stiff, and throbbing pain echoed through it. He glanced with narrowed eyes at Carp, but the old man said nothing.
He made no move to dismount from the harke either. With a sigh, Heckram tugged at the weary beast's halter. They started down the path to the talvsit. His mother gossiped as they went. Heckram listened numbly, letting the words slide by him, responding to her questions by rote as his tired brain chewed at other mysteries. He thanked her for unloading his gear and putting it in his hut. Yes, he knew they'd have to break a few more harke to pack this year; no, he hadn't decided which ones yet. No, he hadn't had any problems with the reindeer on the grazing grounds; yes, it might very well be an early spring. He nodded as he heard that two of Bror's vajor had already calved. It was early, but calves born now would keep up with the herd better on the migration. He was rather hoping his own vajor would calve soon. It never hurt a calf to have a few days to find its legs before having to follow the herd.
Then Ristin was saying that Capiam had decided they would leave ten days from now. Everyone was in the usual spring uproar, putting winter equipment up on the racks, taking down summer gear, mending the worn or making new harness.
Heckram nodded to her endless commentary as they walked through the talvsit. He noted with detached humor that many folk were turning to stare at his companion.
Carp's outlandish garments marked him a foreigner, and Heckram noted how quickly the eyes of the villagers turned aside and down when they met his gray-filmed gaze.
Carp was enjoying his grand entrance. He sat up straight on the harke and nodded down on the herdfolk they passed. His mouth hung slightly agape with pleasure.
Heckram was torn between being annoyed at Carp and enjoying the stir he caused.
Pirtsi watched them with gaping mouth; then the youth whirled and ran up the path.
Well, the herdlord would soon know there was a stranger in the village, staying at Heckram's hut. He wondered if he would send Joboam to investigate, or come himself.
The old herdlord would have come himself to welcome any stranger, no matter how humble, and to ask news of the far places. That had been in better times, though.
Heckram was willing to wager that Capiam would send Joboam.
'Heckram?'
He paused at the questioning note in Ristin's voice, and, as he halted, he realized that he had unthinkingly been making for her hut. His own was off to the left, past Stina's.
His tragedy, forgotten for a moment, weighed on his heart again.
'Let me take the harke for you,' Ristin said. 'You must be tired. I'll peg him out near good feed. You take care of your guest and settle down for some rest. I'll come by later this afternoon.'
Heckram felt the sudden weight of Carp's hand on his shoulder. The old man leaned on him as he clambered heavily down. He smiled at Ristin, dismissing her with a benign wave. 'Don't come back this afternoon,' he instructed her grandly. 'Heckram will be taking me to the healer Tillu.'
Ristin's back stiffened at Carp's condescending tone. Heckram didn't blame her. But she turned graciously, seeming to remember that the old man was a stranger to their talvsit. She would tolerate his foreign rudeness and attribute it to ignorance. She looked straight into Heckram's eyes as she spoke her next words. 'The meat on your rack is thawing. Best use it up soon, perhaps to pay Tillu. Though she may have no need of meat.' She paused for half a breath, touched her son's hand. 'Joboam may be at Tillu's.
He has been finding out for Capiam what the healer will need for the journey. So, if you do go that way ...' She let the sentence dangle, but her meaning was clear. Avoid trouble. She tugged at the weary harke's bridle.
Heckram felt his mind whirl and questions filled him. 'Joboam is bringing the healer on the migration with us?' he muttered bewilderedly, but Ristin was out of earshot.
Carp grinned his gap-toothed smile and tugged at Heckram's sleeve.
'First, eat. Carp is very hungry. Then, sleep, and then we will go find Tillu the healer.
Yes, and Kerlew, my apprentice. You are surprised that Tillu is going with the herdfolk?
Before the day is over, others will be much more surprised than that. Much, much more surprised!' Carp laughed sprayingly and dragged him toward his own hut.
The hot throbbing of his face woke him. Dim afternoon light seeped in through the smoke hole of the hut. Carp snored noisily on the hides Ristin had placed by the hearth.
She had prepared all for them. Soup had been simmering in a pot near the hearth stones, dry firewood piled neatly by the door, the sleeping hides aired and spread smooth. He wondered briefly how it would have been to have come home with Elsa.
For a moment he imagined how he might have unloaded the harke as she gathered dry wood and rekindled the fire on their hearth. He stared at the unfinished chest in the corner and then pulled his eyes away from it. Why
