‘I did not – though I regarded her highly. Still, she was attacked because of me. Had she fallen for one of her own kind she would now be walking the hills and enjoying the sunshine.’
‘Did they hang the men who did it?’ asked Chara.
‘No. Someone hunted them down and killed them.’
‘Someone?’
He looked uncomfortable. ‘It was never discovered who.’ He looked at her and smiled, but she could see the smile was forced. ‘I am sorry I lost my temper with your father, and that I was gawping at you.’ It was a clumsy attempt to change the subject, but she accepted it without comment.
‘Well, I forgive you. Perhaps my father will too.’
‘And what of Bael?’
Now it was Chara who looked away. ‘He is a proud man, Kaelin. I think that he will challenge you.’
‘Do you care for him?’
‘Of course I care for him. He is my brother.’ Pulling on her leggings and shoes Chara rose. ‘We should be there by dusk,’ she said.
Call Jace was troubled. A strong man, he liked to believe he was in control of his life and the security of his clan. Mostly this was true, but occasionally, as now, he was forced into the realization that sometimes a situation would develop its own momentum. Attempts to change its course were fraught with peril.
Bael was right. Kaelin Ring had stared at Chara with undisguised longing. This had caused momentary irritation. As a result he had insulted the boy. Who could have foreseen the outcome? That Bael was alive was little short of a miracle. The problem now was partly one of perception. Call bore no grudge against Kaelin Ring, but this was beside the point. The Black Rigante prospered because of the tributes paid by all landowners and farmers. Those tributes were not, in the main, paid out of love or respect. Fear was the foundation. The hard-won reputation of the clan was that they made merciless and deadly enemies. Now this incident would be the talk of Black Mountain and surrounding settlements. The clan chieftain had been struck, his son shot, by a southern boy. Without retribution the clan reputation would suffer, and others might think of denying tribute. The easy answer was to let Bael kill the boy. Yet easy answers, he knew, were often wrong.
He left the big house and wandered out into the foothills, on the long walk to Shrine Hollow. He hoped the Dweller would be home, but she had not been seen for some months, and he doubted he would be able to call on her wisdom.
Shrine Hollow was a place of mystery and quiet beauty within the forest. In the late afternoon shafts of sunlight speared through gaps in the trees, bathing the forest floor in gold. A man could sit here, close his eyes, and almost hear the whisper of the Seidh flowing back through the centuries. Call always came here when he was troubled. He sat for a while, listening to the birdsong, then climbed to the western lip of the hollow and stood looking out over the glittering waters of Sorrow Bird Lake. In the distance, due west, the mountains dipped and rose sharply, forming a V-shaped goblet into which the sun sank. At sunset the iron grey waters would become bright bronze and crimson, as if the dying sun had melted and was flowing under the mountains. Call Jace had never lost the sense of wonder inspired by Sorrow Bird Lake and Shrine Hollow.
Shading his eyes against the harsh sunlight, he stared out at the large island at the centre of the lake. Huge trees grew there, oak and ash, and a few silver birch. There was a small bay on the eastern shore. The Dweller’s boat was not there. Call was disappointed. She often had glimpses of the future, and he needed such a glimpse now.
He had sent Chara and Wullis Swainham to scout for Kaelin Ring. Once they had seen him make camp Chara had ordered Wullis to return and report. Which meant that Chara was seeking time alone with Kaelin Ring. Had she taken a fancy to the young man? Call hoped not. There were enough complications already.