A Sword from Red Ice

The three of them climbed the broad stone steps to tliepreathearth and passed beneath the granite doorway. Sworn clansmen stood to attention as they entered the great circular space of the warriors' hall. "Put more logs on the fire," Anwyn commanded, and three men sprang into action to do her bidding. One of them was a Scarpe, Raina noticed. A young man whose hair had that greenish tint to it that meant Scarpe's black dyes were fading.

Anwyn pointed and nodded with force, and things were done. Blankets were brought, her twenty-year malt rushed up from the still-room, Jebb Onnacre, Orwin's son-in-law, sent for. Men who had no relation by friendship or kin to Orwin Shank were dismissed. Soon the room was warm and peopled only with Hailsmen and Hailswomen. The vast, vaulted space with its stone benches arranged in concentric circles and its horse-size central hearth had probably never known so few to stand within its walls. Berta Shank, Orwin's only surviving daughter, sat next to her father and Anwyn wrapped a single blanket around both of them. Orwin was numb. He had not said a word since he'd spoken Raina's name on the greatcourt. When Anwyn handed him a dram of malt he took it from her but did not drink. Raina sat next to Jebb. Her arm was smarting and she knew she would have an ugly bruise by morning.

"Here," Anwy said, passing her a wooden thumb cup filled with malt. "Drink."

Raina did, throwing the golden liquid to the back of her throat in a motion that would normally have the clan matron up in arms. You did not gulp a twenty-year malt. You sipped and savored. Raina enjoyed the burn as the hard liquor slid down to her gut.

Drey Sevrance dead.

She watched the fire. All in the room were quiet now, their movements subdued. One of the double doors opened and Corbie Meese stepped in. Quickly assessing the mood, he found himself a seat, not close to but within sight of Orwin Shank, and settled down for a long stay. Gat Murdock came next, and although Raina had never felt much affection for the crotchety old swordsman, she could not fault him this day. Silently and without fuss he chose a seat near the back. Others came, Hailsmen and Hailswomen, and over the course of the next hour those who had at first been exiled from the greathearth were allowed back.

Raina felt moved by a strong and invisible force. Goodness, she decided later. Everyone watched the fire. Anwyn moved between the benches like a nurse bringing blankets and water and malt. No one wept, though many had taken losses. It was understood that Orwin Shank's loss was the greatest and respect was paid by minding his expression and his silence. Even the bairns who were allowed in later upheld the quiet of the hearth.

How long they sat and mourned as a clan was hard to say. The fire was kept stoked and there were no windows in the greathearth to let in light. When Raina felt someone sit next to her on the opposite side of the bench from Jebb Onnacre, she glanced around, prepared to give a silent nod of greeting. She expected the mourning to continue into night and to be present until its end.

Sitting next to her was Jani Gaylo. "The guide wants to see you," she whispered. "He awaits you in the chiefs chamber."

The parts of herself that had been buoyed by the dignity shown by her fellow clansmen sank and Raina stared at the girl coolly. She stood. Motioning to Anwyn that she was fine and nothing was amiss, Raina Blackhail took leave of the greathearth. Jani Gaylo, dressed in pretty orange and blue plaid, followed her from the room.

"Do not," Raina warned the moment the door was closed behind them, "make the mistake of accompanying me to the chiefs chamber."

The girl actually took a step back. "Yes, lady," she mumbled, as Raina turned and left her standing at the top of the stairs. The wall torches had been lit and the greatdoor was closed. All was quiet in the entrance hall and the few Scarpe warriors who were standing in groups, drinking ale, averted their gazes in something approaching respect as she passed. They must have lost men, too. she realized. It made her wonder where Blackballs and Scarpes armies stood this night. Did they intend to retake the Crab Gate? Were they bivouacked in one of the spnice forests northeast of Ganmiddich, hunkered down in three-foot snow?

The narrow steps leading to the chiefs chamber had been freshly swept of cobwebs and dust, and Longhead or one of his crew had actu-ally installed a wooden handrail along the tricky part where the steps buckled forward. Raina abstained from using it She had not been here in several months and did not want to be here now.

The door was ajar and she did not knock, simply pushed it back and entered the chamber. Stannig Beade sat behind the big chunk of granite known as the Chiefs Caim, studying a chart. A mat covered with blankets lay close to the far wall, and Raina realized with a shock that he was now sleeping here.