‘I have water,’ she said, and held out a skin for Yaroslav. ‘Here,’ she came closer and let a little of the liquid dribble between his lips. ‘It’s clear mountain water from one of the mountain brooks, like we used to drink in better days, before this krol made us stay in one place.’
‘So they let you out of the camp,’ Yaroslav said, his voice so weak that Iwa trembled to hear it.
‘One of the women brought it,’ the old woman replied. ‘Nobody allows me free rein, Alia sees to that.’ She put the top of the skin into Yaroslav’s mouth and tipped it forward. ‘Mind you, who cares for me now? The woyaks only have eyes for young women and only notice me when they look for a spy. Alia and her girls keep a sharp watch, little escapes their gaze.’
‘And are you a spy?’ Iwa couldn’t help but ask as a ray of hope dawned inside her. If only she could somehow make contact with the hunters. They might have cast her out, but they still cared about Yaroslav. Enough to try and free him? He could still be useful. He knew the ways of these Poles. Maybe he could even convince the other clans to unite, his word would be trusted. Once again she began to believe in his plan. Surely, for all their warcraft and armour, the woyaks couldn’t defeat all the clans.
But Katchka shook her head and laughed. ‘Do you think that I’d help those cowards? All they want is to raid the camp for food and clothes, they care nothing for us. Let Grunmir convince the krol that the hunters have help if he must, but I don’t think there is a traitor here. A lame man could get past those woyaks. All this talk of traitors and spies is just some foolishness that Grunmir’s cooked up because the woyaks are too drunk and too stupid to catch the hunters. Now the krol sees traitors everywhere and nobody trusts their shadows.’
Katchka paused, a wry smile playing on her lips as she looked into the distance. ‘There was a time when you knew who could be counted upon. Now everyone makes their own allegiance and people forge and break sides at will, dancing round one another like winter foxes. As for the hunters, I’ll have no dealings with those who are too scared to slit a few drunken throats in the night.’
‘The woyaks are armed,’ Yaroslav croaked.
Slowly Katchka dipped some meat into the water and pressed it into his mouth. ‘You men have a passion for excuses. Give me a knife and I would slaughter each and every woyak in the camp.’
‘A fool’s dream,’ Yaroslav said softly, ‘but I thank you for dreaming it. Soon they’ll kill me and my daughter, and there’ll be nobody to avenge us.’
‘You will have to find vengeance in the ancestor world. Here, I have managed to sneak a handful of berries,’ Katchka whispered as she cast a furtive glance at the door before taking out a small bag. ‘If only I’d get the chance, then I’ll show you how foolish my dreams are.’
Suddenly a shadow glanced across the wood and Katchka snatched the cherries back into the bag. Someone whistled a simple tune that the women would often sing whilst they worked. One of the woyaks shouted and the girl laughed: it was Alia. Inside the hut Katchka froze, but the tune continued as the girl walked away. ‘And, if I had my knife, it wouldn’t only be the woyaks who’d die. But what’s the use, the best of us are dead already and the rest merely wait their turn. Only the worthless prosper.’
‘You must save my daughter,’ Yaroslav said softly.
‘I’ll do my best for her.’ Katchka held out a handful of mushrooms. ‘It is not much, and I had planned to use them myself, but don’t worry, we’ll cheat Wislaw of his sacrifice yet. I’ll mix them into a little broth so that she slips painlessly into the ancestor world.’
‘And I’ll be there to greet her,’ Yaroslav smiled.
‘No,’ Iwa said as she struggled against the knots.
‘Be sure to tell Baptcha that I shall be ready to meet him soon,’ Katchka said as she forced one of the berries into his mouth.
‘Don’t worry, your place shall be well prepared.’
‘We can leave, get out,’ Iwa said as she tried to twist free, the metal frame clanking. She wasn’t ready to die yet, not now that she had found her father. But the ropes held firm and she sank back down, her knees giving way as she hung limp, the strength draining from her as a fresh stab of pain ached along her ribs.
‘And all shall be sweet again,’ Katchka said, but her words were hollow, ‘and we shall join the eternal feast.’
Well, guess who’ll end up having to pick all the berries for this eternal feast, Iwa thought, but she was too tired to say anything, not even moving when a woyak raised the cloth with the butt of his spear. ‘Hurry up in there,’ he said, ‘a worm would move faster.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Katchka said, ‘these are old bones, they do not hurry as well as they once did.’ Before she left she stopped and tipped the remnants of the water hastily down Iwa’s throat, but there was no food for her. ‘Hungry is better,’ Katchka whispered, ‘the mushrooms will work all the faster on an empty stomach. I have Tomaz’s fever to attend to, but once the worst is over, I’ll come for you. Forgive me, but at least your death will be painless, I’ll see to that. Anything would be better than to end up as fodder for that fool priest. I do not understand how he plans the sacrifice, but you are unlikely to end your days on the linden tree. My own death must follow yours soon after: I do not want Krol Gawel to have me tortured or to end up a victim
