Kollarin was right. Evil was not an external force waiting to seize upon a wandering heart. It dwelt within the heart, a cocooned maggot waiting for the moment to break out and feed, gorging itself on the darker forces of the human soul. This was well understood by the founders of the clan, who instilled the stories and myths for youngsters to emulate. Heroes never oppressed or tormented the weak, never lied or stole or used their powers for selfish purposes. Heroes were always subject to such dark desires, but resisted them manfully. All such stories had but one purpose – to encourage the young to battle the demons inside.
Even with his Talent fading, Gwalchmai knew what demons drove youngjaren. Other children whispered that Kellin was his brother.. . this meant that his father had been unfaithful to his mother, and had then betrayed another woman leaving her to bring up a son in shame. Jaren would not have his father slandered in such a way, and had turned his anger towards little Kellin, blaming him for the lies. His anger and his hatred were born of love for his father.
Gwalchmai stood in the cold sunlight, waiting.
It was not long before he saw the boy heading back with a stocky clansman beside him. For a moment he could not remember the man’s name, then it came to him – Kars. When Gwalchmai called out to him, the man let go of his son’s hand and strode towards the Dreamer. His square, beardless face was pale with anger.
‘You lied about me, Dreamer,’ he said, his tone icy. ‘If you were a younger man I would slay you where you stand. The Outlander is different; he will die for the honour of my family.’
‘And will the blood wash away the shame?’ asked Gwalchmai, holding to the man’s gaze.
Kars stepped in close. ‘The woman was any man’s for a copper farthing. That was her work and her pleasure. Aye, I rutted with her. Find me a man who did not.’
‘That is inconsequential,’ said Gwalchmai.’Good God, man, have you not looked at the boy? Every line of his face mirrors yours. Yet even that is beside the point. Why should the child carry the sins of his mother? What has he done, save to serve as a reminder of a night of casual coupling? And as for the Outlander, he spoke only the truth.’
‘He called me a piece of filth!’ snarled Kars. ‘Is that the truth, old man?’
‘He did not call you anything, Kars. He was explaining to the children about how the Outlanders perceive us. Jaren became angry and took it all personally.’
‘Enough talk!’ snapped the man, drawing his claymore and turning away.
‘What now, Kars?’ asked Gwalchmai softly. ‘Will you walk into a children’s gathering and slaughter the man who leads them in games? Can you not hear the laughter? The joy? How long since the clan children knew such moments?’
At that instant the doors opened and the children moved out into the light. Kars stood stock-still, his sword in his hand. The laughter of the young faded away, and they stood by silently as Kollarin stepped out and swung his green cloak around his slender shoulders. A small boy moved out to stand beside him. Kars looked at the child, then at his own son, Jaren. No one moved. Kars plunged his sword into the snow and stepped forward to drop on one knee before Kellin. The little boy did not flinch, but stared back at the warrior.
Gwalchmai felt his heart beating erratically, his breathing shallow. For Kars to accept the boy as his own would mean a loss of honour to the proud clansman, causing grief to himself and shame to his family. To reject the evidence of his eyes would bring a different kind of shame, but one that was at least private.
The warrior reached out and placed his hands on Kellin’s shoulders. ‘You are a fine lad,’ he said, his voice choked with emotion. ‘A fine lad. Should you wish it, you would be welcome at my fire, and at my home.’
Gwalchmai could scarce believe he had heard the words. Switching his gaze to Jaren, who was standing near to his father, he saw that the boy looked close to tears. Kars glanced up and called to his son and Jaren ran to him. Kars stood, then offered his hand to Kellin. ‘Let us walk for a while,’ he said. Kellin took his left hand, Jaren his right.