There was a chilly silence, then, as the cold wind cut between the stones and across the snow-heavy grass. A hard and chilly silence, stretching long, while Rikke wondered if she might’ve made her last mistake. Then the first of the Magi gave a sigh, and stepped back, and the awful pressure was released.

“Then you have made your choice. Perhaps I will go to Currahome. Black Calder, I think, will be grateful for my support.”

“I expect so,” she said, trying to stop her voice quavering with relief. “He needs it. Perhaps, when I’ve settled with him, we should talk again. By that time, you might want to buy secrets from me! Fare you well, First of the Magi.”

“I would say fare you well, Rikke of the Long Eye.” He gave her the hint of a smile, even as he turned away. “But I fear you will fare badly.” And he walked swiftly between the stones, and was soon gone down the side of the hill.

Corleth puffed out her cheeks and rubbed sweat from her forehead on the back of her hand. “Don’t much care for that old bastard,” she muttered.

“Nor I,” murmured Rikke, folding her arms and hoping her thumping heart would soon settle.

Shivers was frowning towards the white fells on the south side of the valley. “He was here, after the battle.”

“I guess there were a lot o’ crows, picking at the leftovers.”

“Him in particular. When Black Calder and the Union and your father struck a deal.”

“And my father spat in Calder’s hand and swore to kill him if he ever crossed the Cusk again.”

“That’s right. Bayaz was the one pulling all the strings.”

“Well, he won’t be plucking ours.”

Shivers’ good eye turned towards her. “Better to have ’em plucked than cut, maybe.”

“Maybe.” But her father fought all his life so they could be free. She gave a shiver, and pulled her fur collar tight and her hood low, and headed back the way they’d come. Northwards, leaving the Heroes behind. “Till then, we’ll dance to our own tune.”

Far from Finished

Clover nudged some wet bushes out of the way and peered across the river. His eyes weren’t all they once were, but he’d an unpleasant sense there were some familiar faces at the far end of the bridge.

“By the dead, my luck,” he muttered, trying to catch any warmth his breath might hold in his cupped hands. “Is that Trapper and his boys?”

“Aye,” said Sholla. “The ones Downside didn’t kill, leastways.”

“Better that than leave scores at your back,” said Downside.

Sholla rolled her eyes. “And what about the score Trapper has against us ’cause you killed three of his people?”

Downside scratched his thick beard as he pondered that. “So you’re saying… I should’ve killed the rest, too?”

Clover sighed. “Life surely has a way of bringing old offences back to haunt you.”

“Was only a few weeks back,” said Flick.

“New offences, then.” Clover had arrived with small expectations of living out the day and his odds just took another tumble. “You lot better stay out here.”