, but that would betray our secret. When we fight the djinn for the first time, we need the element of surprise. We would both like to see Hob destroyed, but we must find anotherway. So you must not speak of this to anyone else. Speak neither of the gramagandar nor the ritual combat against the werewights. Do you understand? These are Genthai secrets – not for outsiders.’
When it was finally time to leave, Garrett walked me to the edge of the Genthai lands.
‘Good luck, Leif. Take care in that arena,’ he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
‘Thanks for the training,’ I said, smiling up at him. ‘Not only can I chop down trees, I’ve built up my body strength. That should help me when I fight.’
Garrett waved as he walked away. I wondered if I’d ever see him again. But my thoughts were now directed towards home.
Most of the snow had melted, but the ground was soggy, and once I’d left the forest, I had to struggle through mud and circle dangerous areas of swamp. Although I’d said that I might see Peter on my way back, Iavoided Mypocine.
After all that had happened, I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he would ask me a lot of questions which I’d be unable to answer.
It was almost two weeks before I saw Gindeen in the distance. The first thing that came into view was Hob’s thirteen-spired citadel. The sun was setting, casting its threatening shadow over the city. The shadows ofthose spires were like talons slowly extending towards the copper dome of the Wheel.
Nowhere in Midgard was safe from Hob, but he concentrated on the city from which he took the majority of his victims. I was glad to see the Wheel, but the sight of those threatening shadows sent shivers down myspine.
I didn’t want to walk through Gindeen’s streets after dark – Hob might be hunting for victims – so I spent one more night outdoors, some distance away. The cold weather had returned, and there was a severe frost thatnight. My blanket proved inadequate and I hardly slept at all. I was only too glad to start moving again, and I was already approaching the city soon after dawn.
Soon I could see the huge block of the slaughterhouse, with a flock of vultures wheeling above it in long slow spirals. At dusk they tended to circle above the Wheel. It was probably just to take advantage of thethermal currents rising up from the dome, but many believed the flock gathered there before a death in Arena 13.
Of course, it was just superstition. Apart from grudge matches and visits from Hob, deaths in the arena were rare, though I’d already seen one combatant killed in a grudge match, and then witnessed Hob’s defeat ofKern.
That night Tyron and I had visited Hob’s citadel and Tyron had bought back Kern’s remains – his severed but living head in a box.
I knew that tassels ate the bodies, but why did Hob keep the heads of his victims? What did he want them for?
These were dark memories, but more recently I’d witnessed thirteen nights of werewight combat in the meeting house of the Genthai. I’d seen too much death. I was sickened by it. Perhaps that was one thing I had incommon with my father. He too had been sickened by what he’d witnessed there – though he hadn’t accepted the facial tattoos.
At last I was striding through the narrow streets, keeping to the wooden walkways that ran along in front of the houses and trying to avoid the worst of the mud – though some of the planks had rotted away. Then Iclimbed the slope towards the area where the wealthier citizens lived. Here there were stone flags instead of boards, cinders in the roads and even some avenues of trees – still leafless, though spring wasn’t far away.
Being the most successful artificer in Gindeen, Tyron had a big house; there were four storeys above the street and a deep cellar.
I walked through the yard and knocked on the back door. I was looking forward to seeing Kwin again, but very nervous too. Again I worried what she would think of my tattoos. I certainly hoped I’d have time to washand tidy up before we came face to face.
It was Tyron who came to the door. He opened it wide and stared at my face for a long while, making me anxious about what he was going to say. Then he shook his head and whistled through his teeth. ‘Leave yourmuddy boots and bag here and go up to my study, boy,’ he growled. ‘I’ll be with you in five minutes.’
As he turned and walked back into the house, I tugged off my boots and left them with my bag. Then, in my stocking feet, I made my way up to the top of the house. I was sure that I was in trouble because of mytattoos but, despite that, it was really good to be back. I had missed living in Tyron’s house.
The study door was open, so I went in and sat down facing the desk. I knew I was in for a real telling off, and there was nothing I could say to defend myself.
I glanced around the room. Nothing had changed since I’d last been here. It was the study of a wealthy man. The walls had mahogany panels and the chairs were upholstered with leather; white wolf furs were spreadout upon the floor. I looked at the sealed glass bookcase that had caught my eye on my first visit. There was a row of no more than seven volumes, supported at each end by a wooden bookend carved into the shape of awolf. That image sent a shiver down my spine. It brought back memories of the werewights and the slaughter I’d witnessed.
I went over and peered through the glass. The first book was entitled
When it was finally time to leave, Garrett walked me to the edge of the Genthai lands.
‘Good luck, Leif. Take care in that arena,’ he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
‘Thanks for the training,’ I said, smiling up at him. ‘Not only can I chop down trees, I’ve built up my body strength. That should help me when I fight.’
Garrett waved as he walked away. I wondered if I’d ever see him again. But my thoughts were now directed towards home.
Most of the snow had melted, but the ground was soggy, and once I’d left the forest, I had to struggle through mud and circle dangerous areas of swamp. Although I’d said that I might see Peter on my way back, Iavoided Mypocine.
After all that had happened, I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he would ask me a lot of questions which I’d be unable to answer.
It was almost two weeks before I saw Gindeen in the distance. The first thing that came into view was Hob’s thirteen-spired citadel. The sun was setting, casting its threatening shadow over the city. The shadows ofthose spires were like talons slowly extending towards the copper dome of the Wheel.
Nowhere in Midgard was safe from Hob, but he concentrated on the city from which he took the majority of his victims. I was glad to see the Wheel, but the sight of those threatening shadows sent shivers down myspine.
I didn’t want to walk through Gindeen’s streets after dark – Hob might be hunting for victims – so I spent one more night outdoors, some distance away. The cold weather had returned, and there was a severe frost thatnight. My blanket proved inadequate and I hardly slept at all. I was only too glad to start moving again, and I was already approaching the city soon after dawn.
Soon I could see the huge block of the slaughterhouse, with a flock of vultures wheeling above it in long slow spirals. At dusk they tended to circle above the Wheel. It was probably just to take advantage of thethermal currents rising up from the dome, but many believed the flock gathered there before a death in Arena 13.
Of course, it was just superstition. Apart from grudge matches and visits from Hob, deaths in the arena were rare, though I’d already seen one combatant killed in a grudge match, and then witnessed Hob’s defeat ofKern.
That night Tyron and I had visited Hob’s citadel and Tyron had bought back Kern’s remains – his severed but living head in a box.
I knew that tassels ate the bodies, but why did Hob keep the heads of his victims? What did he want them for?
These were dark memories, but more recently I’d witnessed thirteen nights of werewight combat in the meeting house of the Genthai. I’d seen too much death. I was sickened by it. Perhaps that was one thing I had incommon with my father. He too had been sickened by what he’d witnessed there – though he hadn’t accepted the facial tattoos.
At last I was striding through the narrow streets, keeping to the wooden walkways that ran along in front of the houses and trying to avoid the worst of the mud – though some of the planks had rotted away. Then Iclimbed the slope towards the area where the wealthier citizens lived. Here there were stone flags instead of boards, cinders in the roads and even some avenues of trees – still leafless, though spring wasn’t far away.
Being the most successful artificer in Gindeen, Tyron had a big house; there were four storeys above the street and a deep cellar.
I walked through the yard and knocked on the back door. I was looking forward to seeing Kwin again, but very nervous too. Again I worried what she would think of my tattoos. I certainly hoped I’d have time to washand tidy up before we came face to face.
It was Tyron who came to the door. He opened it wide and stared at my face for a long while, making me anxious about what he was going to say. Then he shook his head and whistled through his teeth. ‘Leave yourmuddy boots and bag here and go up to my study, boy,’ he growled. ‘I’ll be with you in five minutes.’
As he turned and walked back into the house, I tugged off my boots and left them with my bag. Then, in my stocking feet, I made my way up to the top of the house. I was sure that I was in trouble because of mytattoos but, despite that, it was really good to be back. I had missed living in Tyron’s house.
The study door was open, so I went in and sat down facing the desk. I knew I was in for a real telling off, and there was nothing I could say to defend myself.
I glanced around the room. Nothing had changed since I’d last been here. It was the study of a wealthy man. The walls had mahogany panels and the chairs were upholstered with leather; white wolf furs were spreadout upon the floor. I looked at the sealed glass bookcase that had caught my eye on my first visit. There was a row of no more than seven volumes, supported at each end by a wooden bookend carved into the shape of awolf. That image sent a shiver down my spine. It brought back memories of the werewights and the slaughter I’d witnessed.
I went over and peered through the glass. The first book was entitled
Similar Books
