“Troll work!” Jeremid breathed the words, sounding spooked. The stock shed had been similarly vandalized. There too bones lay scattered and broken, with skulls of a cow, a calf, a horse.
By the time they’d looked it over, Blue Wing had found them. “No one is following you,” he said. “I flew above the river to the road, and then westward quite a distance. With the trees still bare, I couldn’t possibly have missed anyone. I saw not more than two riders together, and no hounds at all.”
Jeremid looked at Macurdy. “What now?” he asked.
“We camp,” Macurdy said. “There’s plenty of wood in the woodshed. We’ll take turns standing watch and keeping fires going, in case the troll’s still around here somewhere. We can picket the horses inside them.”
Without anyone actually suggesting it, they made their beds in the hay shed, where there were no bones, fluffing up the hay in the driest corner. The decaying roof wouldn’t hold out serious rain, but it would hold heat somewhat, and protect against a shower.
Macurdy selected eight fire sites close outside the cluster of buildings, and they carried a pile of firewood to each. There was a well in front of the cabin, its white oak shoring still intact, and they raised water from it. Blue Wing announced he would sleep on its sweep. Then, in front of the hay shed, Macurdy lit the cook fire with the pass of a hand. Jeremid stared big-eyed.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.
“The shaman at Wolf Springs taught me. He said I had talent, and trained me in the evenings for a while.”
“Could you have, uh, set fire to Zassfel this morning?” Jeremid asked.
Macurdy shrugged. “I never thought to try.”
As they roasted the turkey, dusk began to settle. Eating wouldn’t be easy for his damaged mouth, so Macurdy had taken an iron pot from the cabin and was stewing turkey in it. Rust stew, he thought drily as he raked coals around it.
“It’s hard to believe no one’s chasing us,” Jeremid said quietly. “Could the bird be lying?”
Macurdy shook his head. “We’re old friends from Wolf Springs.”
“I believe him,” Melody said. “My father was commander in his time, and a councilman since. We grew up, my brothers and I, being lectured by him. A platoon sergeant can get away with a lot, but what he did last night?” She shook her head, then cut off a slab of half-roasted turkey breast. “Of course, what you did was damned extreme, too, but you were justified.”
“Justification’s not all I had,” Macurdy mumbled. “I had to try getting away without getting chased and caught. So I humiliated him, and pretty much crippled him for a while. That way, one of two things would happen. He might go crazy, and order the men out to get me at all costs—or he might cave in and order nothing. Or maybe he was in too bad a shape to give orders. After that it would depend on the captain, but he wouldn’t send men out till after someone took the story to him. Or he might write it off and bust Zassfel.”
Inwardly he grunted. Face it, Macurdy, you wanted to get even. It felt good, beating them up like that. Whatever; the good feeling was gone now. Heavily he got up and circled the buildings, lighting the watch fires.
Jeremid had volunteered to take the first watch. Now, as dusk thickened, he left with spear and sword. Using mostly his back teeth, Macurdy gnawed briefly on a piece of stewed turkey, his eyes watering from the pain. Eating, he decided, would be more of a problem than he’d feared. After a few minutes, he and Melody went into the shed and made nests in the hay. “It’s going to be a cold night, Macurdy,” she murmured. “We could keep warmer if we lay close together. The way you lit those fires, you could keep us both warm.”
He sighed. “Melody, I’d like to. I really would. But I told you my marriage vows.”
She frowned. “I never heard of anything so ridiculous. For a wife, yes, but for a husband?”