'I don't understand you.' Tillu's words came out flatly.
'Three harkar, at most four. I don't think we shall want both tents, shall we? Kerlew may have to ride at first; the last few days have not been easy ones for him. But the rest of what I have shall go to those who will use it best. Lasse and Stina, Ristin. And Elsa's parents.'
'You want to go with us?'
'I am not welcome?' He responded to her disbelief.
She let herself go to him, knocking him off balance with her embrace so that they fell and rolled on the hide- carpeted earth. His embrace held her tightly, but she felt freed by it. No words came to her mind. There was only holding onto the man who would not be left behind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There was A disturbing pattern to the spread arc of items; a message that eluded Tillu, yet shrilled alarmingly at the edge of her awareness. Like a cry of warning in another tongue. She could recognize the urgency, but not the meaning. She reached a hand to touch them; drew it sharply back.
'What is that?' Sleep and bafflement in Heckram's voice. The dawn was young, and yesterday's weariness clung to him still. His hair was tousled boyishly, but the disarray exposed the gray scattered through it, making him look both older and younger in the thin light. It made her want to touch him, but she did not.
'Kerlew's things,' she admitted, embarrassed. She dropped to her knees, feeling an urge to bundle them up, out of his sight. She couldn't touch them. She stared at them.
Uneasiness ran over her with ants' feet. A red stone, a bit of amber, trinkets, and oddments that had caught the boy's fancy. Some bones, stained red and blue. It meant nothing to her. Nothing, she told herself. But she stood slowly, a terrible dread squeezing her heart. 'He's gone to kill Joboam.' The words came out so simply. Once she had uttered them, she could not disbelieve them. Yet she could find no source for her terrible knowledge.
Heckram said nothing. He glanced at the boy's empty blankets, then dressed in silence. He held his sprained fingers out from the rest of his hand, fastened his clothing awkwardly. He opened the travelling chest, rummaged inside it for a moment. He settled a knife in his belt, a knife she had never seen before. Bronze gleamed in the dim light. 'How long has he been gone?' he asked in the awful stillness. Tillu shrugged helplessly.
'Then ... where would he go?'
Tillu shrugged again, hating the gesture. 'With Carp dead, he has nowhere to go.'
Heckram considered what he knew of the boy. 'I think he would still go to Carp first.
Would death stop him?'
It took Tillu a moment to gather his meaning. 'No. No, it wouldn't have stopped him last night. He'll go seeking Carp.'
Heckram nodded. 'But he won't have an easy time finding him. It's the worst kind of luck to look on a najd's grave. The Elders know that. They'd put Carp in a secret place, a place herdfolk never venture, not even by accident.'
'There cannot be many such places.' Tillu frowned to herself, trying to think of even one.
'You'd be surprised. It needn't be close by. And someone could be found to take him there. But Kerlew wouldn't know about that. He'd go to where he last saw Carp.'
'His tent.'
Heckram shook his head slowly. 'Joboam's tent.'
Tillu's breath caught. Her first premonition came back, gaining strength. 'He'll kill him. Kerlew will challenge him and Joboam will kill him.'
Heckram's face set suddenly. 'Only after he kills me. I don't plan on that. Stay here.
I'll be back,' Heckram promised as he left the tent. She ignored his command, stretching her legs to keep up with his stride. He glanced at her and saw the uselessness of objecting. Together they hurried through the just- stirring village. For the first time, Tillu wondered why Joboam had pitched his tent so far from Capiam's, instead of claiming his usual place of honor beside it. And why had Carp, so conscious of status, been content to camp on the edge of the village instead of in its center?
Tillu's heart was thundering as they drew near the two large tents, but Heckram didn't hesitate. He pushed his way boldly into Carp's tent. She followed more cautiously.
His wealth staggered her. The tent was not floored with bear or reindeer hides, but with soft lush pelts of fox and wolf. Not one, but two travelling chests stood casually open. Garments of wool and soft leather hung over their edges, draped with strings of amber and ivory beads. A tumble of garments and jewelry and tools surrounded the chests. She wondered what use Carp would have had for the large bronze cook pots that sprawled by the hearth. A fine bow and a quiver of black arrows were strewn across the furs. Many of the shafts had been snapped, the broken pieces flung wide. Her fingers stole out to run along one black arrow. A memory stirred. 'Black arrow ... like that one that hit Lasse that day ...'
Heckram rounded on her. 'I thought you had shot Lasse.'
'Me?' Outrage touched her face. 'I told you that day, there was another hunter on the hillside, shooting from the cover of a fallen tree.'
For a long instant they stared at each other, remembering that day and the difficulty of speaking then. Heckram gave a snort of disgust. 'Then add another stroke to the tally of what I owe Joboam. For that is his bow and his quiver. And these chests belonged to his parents. I remember his mother wearing those ivory beads when I was very small.'
Panic squeezed Tillu's heart. 'Are we in the wrong tent?'
'No. This was Carp's place. Though why Joboam would have given him all these things I do not know. There are things here I would have sworn he would never part with.'
'Unless forced.' Tillu finished the thought. 'And he wouldn't long tolerate being forced to give up such things.'
'Kerlew isn't here. But he's been here. I wonder what he was looking for?'
Tillu shook her head helplessly. 'There is no sense to what Kerlew does. He has no reasons, no logic ...'
Heckram shook his head in disagreement. 'More and more, I believe he has reasons and logic of his own, ones we would find as strange as he finds ours. He is like a foreigner from a far land. Just because we cannot understand his words does not mean he speaks nonsense.'
'Kerlew has been a foreigner to this world since he was born,' Tillu said, between bitterness and pain.
'Come.' Heckram drew her close for a minute and then took her hand. 'We do no good lingering here. Let's find him.'
'Joboam's tent,' Tillu whispered.
Heckram nodded solemnly, and then flashed an incongruous grin, white teeth in his bronze beard. 'Joboam's tent.'
She followed him out of the tent, stepping softly. The morning was brighter, more and more folk emerging to greet the day. As they drew closer to Joboam's tent, her feet dragged. She could not forget the way the man towered over her, the coldness in his eyes. But Heckram stepped forward easily, not bothering to announce himself but pushing his way into Joboam's silent tent. Tillu seized her courage and followed him.
'Where's Kerlew?' Heckram demanded.
Joboam came to his feet in a frantic movement that spilled the pot of water before him. He was dressed only in a loin wrap and his hair was tousled from sleep. His hands were dripping and for an instant his eyes were empty. Then fury filled them. 'What do you mean by entering my tent this way?' he roared.
'I'm looking for Kerlew. I believe he's been here.' Heckram's voice was tight, demanding.
Joboam laughed. 'The najd's little demon spawn isn't here. No one's seen him since the day before yesterday. Better luck to us!' he added challengingly.
'You're lying.' Heckram spoke with certainty that Tillu didn't share.
