same.”
“Temples cost treasure,” Hengall said gloomily.
“Ignore the gods,” Gilan retorted, “and what will all the gold, bronze and amber in the world do for you?”
Gilan wanted to be high priest, but age alone would not give him that honor. A sign was needed from the gods and all the priests were seeking signs before, together, they would choose one of their number to succeed Hirac. Yet all the signs seemed bad for in the days following the failed sacrifice the warriors of Cathallo became ever bolder in their forays into Ratharryn’s territory. Day after dayHengall heard of stolen cattle and pigs, and Lengar argued that the war drum should be sounded and a band of spearmen sent north to intercept the raiders, but Hengall still shied away from war. Instead of sending spears he sent Gilan to talk with Cathallo’s rulers, though everyone knew that really meant talking to Sannas, the terrifying sorceress. Cathallo might have a chief, it might have great war-leaders, but Sannas ruled there, and many in Hengall’s tribe feared that she had put some curse on Ratharryn. Why else had the sacrifice failed?
The omens became worse. A child drowned in the river, an otter tore apart a dozen fish traps, a viper was seen in Arryn and Mai’s temple, and Hengall’s new wife miscarried. Gray bands of rain swept from the west. Gilan returned from Cathallo, spoke with Hengall, then walked north again; the tribe wondered what news the priest had brought and what answer Hengall had returned to Cathallo, but the chief said nothing and the folk of Ratharryn went on with their work. There were pots to be made, flints to be dug, hides to tan, pigs to herd, cattle to milk, water to fetch, buildings to repair, willow fish-traps to be woven and boats to be hacked out of the vast forest trees. A trading party arrived from the southern coast, their oxen laden with shellfish, salt and fine stone axes, and Hengall took his levy from the men before letting them travel north toward Cathallo. Hengall buried one of the axes in Slaol’s temple and another in Lahanna’s, but the gifts made no difference for the next day wolves came to the high pasture and took a heifer, three sheep and a dozen pigs.
Lengar alone seemed unaffected by the terrible omens. He had suffered the humiliation of yielding the gold to his father, but he retrieved his reputation by his prowess as a hunter. Day after day he and his companions brought back carcasses, tusks and hides. Lengar hung the tusks either side of his doorway as proofs that the gods smiled on him. Hengall, summoning the last shreds of his authority, had sternly ordered Lengar to stay out of the northern woods and thus avoid any confrontation with the spearmen of Cathallo, but one day Lengar came across some Outfolk in the south country and he brought back six enemy heads that he mounted on poles on the embankment’s crest. Crows feasted on the gray-tattooed heads and, seeing the trophies on their skyline, more andmore of the tribe was convinced that Lengar was favored by the gods and that Hengall was doomed.
But then the Outfolk messengers came.
They arrived just as Hengall was dispensing justice, a thing that was done with each new moon when the chief, the high priest and the tribe’s elders gathered in Arryn and Mai’s temple and listened to wrangles about theft, threats, murder, infidelity and broken promises. They could condemn a man to death, though that was rare for they preferred to make a guilty man work for the wronged party. On that morning Hengall was frowning as he listened to a complaint that a field’s boundary marker had been moved. The argument was passionate, but was broken off when Jegar, Lengar’s friend, announced that Outfolk horsemen were coming from the west.
The Outlanders were blowing a ram’s horn to proclaim that they traveled in peace and Hengall ordered Lengar to take a group of warriors to greet the strangers, but to allow them no nearer to Ratharryn than
“Temples cost treasure,” Hengall said gloomily.
“Ignore the gods,” Gilan retorted, “and what will all the gold, bronze and amber in the world do for you?”
Gilan wanted to be high priest, but age alone would not give him that honor. A sign was needed from the gods and all the priests were seeking signs before, together, they would choose one of their number to succeed Hirac. Yet all the signs seemed bad for in the days following the failed sacrifice the warriors of Cathallo became ever bolder in their forays into Ratharryn’s territory. Day after dayHengall heard of stolen cattle and pigs, and Lengar argued that the war drum should be sounded and a band of spearmen sent north to intercept the raiders, but Hengall still shied away from war. Instead of sending spears he sent Gilan to talk with Cathallo’s rulers, though everyone knew that really meant talking to Sannas, the terrifying sorceress. Cathallo might have a chief, it might have great war-leaders, but Sannas ruled there, and many in Hengall’s tribe feared that she had put some curse on Ratharryn. Why else had the sacrifice failed?
The omens became worse. A child drowned in the river, an otter tore apart a dozen fish traps, a viper was seen in Arryn and Mai’s temple, and Hengall’s new wife miscarried. Gray bands of rain swept from the west. Gilan returned from Cathallo, spoke with Hengall, then walked north again; the tribe wondered what news the priest had brought and what answer Hengall had returned to Cathallo, but the chief said nothing and the folk of Ratharryn went on with their work. There were pots to be made, flints to be dug, hides to tan, pigs to herd, cattle to milk, water to fetch, buildings to repair, willow fish-traps to be woven and boats to be hacked out of the vast forest trees. A trading party arrived from the southern coast, their oxen laden with shellfish, salt and fine stone axes, and Hengall took his levy from the men before letting them travel north toward Cathallo. Hengall buried one of the axes in Slaol’s temple and another in Lahanna’s, but the gifts made no difference for the next day wolves came to the high pasture and took a heifer, three sheep and a dozen pigs.
Lengar alone seemed unaffected by the terrible omens. He had suffered the humiliation of yielding the gold to his father, but he retrieved his reputation by his prowess as a hunter. Day after day he and his companions brought back carcasses, tusks and hides. Lengar hung the tusks either side of his doorway as proofs that the gods smiled on him. Hengall, summoning the last shreds of his authority, had sternly ordered Lengar to stay out of the northern woods and thus avoid any confrontation with the spearmen of Cathallo, but one day Lengar came across some Outfolk in the south country and he brought back six enemy heads that he mounted on poles on the embankment’s crest. Crows feasted on the gray-tattooed heads and, seeing the trophies on their skyline, more andmore of the tribe was convinced that Lengar was favored by the gods and that Hengall was doomed.
But then the Outfolk messengers came.
They arrived just as Hengall was dispensing justice, a thing that was done with each new moon when the chief, the high priest and the tribe’s elders gathered in Arryn and Mai’s temple and listened to wrangles about theft, threats, murder, infidelity and broken promises. They could condemn a man to death, though that was rare for they preferred to make a guilty man work for the wronged party. On that morning Hengall was frowning as he listened to a complaint that a field’s boundary marker had been moved. The argument was passionate, but was broken off when Jegar, Lengar’s friend, announced that Outfolk horsemen were coming from the west.
The Outlanders were blowing a ram’s horn to proclaim that they traveled in peace and Hengall ordered Lengar to take a group of warriors to greet the strangers, but to allow them no nearer to Ratharryn than
Similar Books
