Black Rose Pt. 43

(This is long, but that's because it's a single sustained episode, that takes place over the course of maybe less than an hour, with no time skips. If Black Rose were a TV series, I would have written this part to be shot with a single camera, in one take.

Two of our main storylines finally collide, and a major character... well, you'll see. After this, nothing is quite the same.

There's a lot of violence. Emotional, psychological, physical. You have been warned.

There's also no sex.

If you've read Chapter 15, you've been given a very faint hint about what's going to happen here.)

***

Chapter 43

White Bird Ridge

Five looked at the bloodied Owyn Durberry, now firmly tied at wrists and ankles.

Only the rise and fall of his chest told her that he wasn't dead. His face was swollen and bruised and he was gasping with pain.

Broken rib or two, probably, Five thought.

Her own right eye was throbbing and her stomach muscles ached.

There were shouts outside, and Manfred stood in the doorway to the hall, looking out.

'What's going on,' he said.

'Think they've got him,' said a voice in the hall. 'Wait. No. They have got him, but...'

There was a pause, and the sound of feet and men's voices grew louder, and then Manfred stood back from the door and the bookman stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his head, being marched by a tall, beautiful, very wet young woman in dark clothes, with a pack on her back, holding a knife to him.

There was dried blood on her brow from a cut, her face was scratched and her coat was torn.

But she didn't look tired or worried at all; if anything, she looked slightly bored. The men who'd been searching for Paul followed her in.

The young woman paused in the doorway and looked around. Her eye went over the men, Owyn Durberry on the floor near the door to the kitchen, Five sitting on the broad leather couch, her wrists and ankles tied. She looked last at Manfred.

'Bounty hunters,' she said, with the broad vowels of a Hargest noblewoman. 'I've recaptured your man for you.'

'And we are grateful,' said Manfred, sounding not grateful at all but bloody annoyed.

'Then you shall show it,' she said, 'by cutting me in for a share.'

It had taken Five a moment, but she knew who the newcomer was.

Five had last seen her in the hall of Hargest, sitting next to her brother, sleek and poised and silent and lovely, in her court dress.

Now she was scratched and bruised and dripping wet, her boots and britches spattered with road mud, her once-lustrous black hair hacked down to an inch-long thatch so ugly that Five thought the only person who could have done a worse job was Freya.

Manfred Rosso stared at her.

'Who are you,' he demanded. 'What is this? Is this some ruse? How did you come to be here?'

*

Paul was cold and his head was pounding but he knew, now, that she had to be playing some game. She had devised some mask, and was figuring out a way to get them all out of there.

'Tell me first who you are,' she said. 'That's the way we do things where I come from.'

'Manfred Rosso,' Rosso said, 'at your service, lady.'

'Red Fred himself,' she said coolly. 'I thought you'd be taller.'

'You know me, then?'

'Certainly. I've long been a student of the military arts, and could hardly have failed to hear of Manfred Rosso.'

'Well,' he said, 'you have me at a disadvantage, lady, because I do not know you.'

'No. But you've heard my name.'

'Which is?'

'Solveig Stopbern Jornsdottir, of Hargest.'

There were mutterings from the men. Paul gave a start.

Why do you give up your name? Surely secrecy is the wisest course?

'The same Solveig of Hargest,' Manfred said, 'who loved her own brother and killed him sooner than share him?'

'No. That song is a pack of lies.'

'Oh?'

'Except for the part about loving my brother. I did do that. But he was killed. I fled Hargest, and I found out later that there was a song blaming me for his death.'

She paused, and looked around the room, eyeing everyone.

'Do you mind if I make myself at home? I've walked far, and I could use a drink.'

'Since you have recaptured our quarry,' Manfred said, 'I suppose you've earned it. Somebody, shut the door and let's get settled in. No more silly escapes.'

'Quite right,' Solveig said, walking in, pushing Paul before her.

She went over to the fire and stood in front of it, her back to it, smiling at them all. She took off her pack and lowered it to the floor.

'God,' she said, 'it's good to be indoors. It is a vicious night, gents. If someone can lend me some cord, I will truss this idiot so that he doesn't do anything stupid.'

'Here you are,' said the man with the wooden box slung over his shoulder. He stood, unslung the box and put it on the floor, then took some strong cord from his belt and handed it to her with a smile.

'Thank you, sir,' she said, and she knelt behind Paul and tightly lashed his wrists behind his back.

Solveig, Paul thought, I know you are playing some game, and I would give much to know what exactly it is. For this impersonation is too convincing.

When his hands were tied, she stood up and looked at the man who'd given her the cord.

'Would you do me the service of tying his feet? I would prefer not to turn my back on you all, at this stage of the evening.'

The man grinned at her.

By the Right, Paul thought, is he flirting with her?

'You are wise,' said the man. 'This lot haven't seen a woman in weeks. I'm afraid to share a privy with them.'

'And you are,' she said.

'Allon Tanit, lady,' he said. 'At your service.'

Manfred Rosso walked back to his seat, rubbing his wounded shoulder.

'I believe in discipline,' Rosso said, 'and I make sure my men do too. You've nothing to fear from us, lady.'

'Of course not,' she said brightly.

'But all right,' Manfred said, 'if you're Solveig Jornsdottir, who the fuck is she?'

He jerked his thumb at Five. Solveig looked at her curiously, and walked over to her.

*

Five looked up at Solveig, who stood over her, leaving Paul Beckhulder sitting cowed and trussed in front of the fire.

'I know you,' she said to Five. 'You used to serve food at Hargest banquets. What happened? I thought you were a boy.'

'I thought I was,' said Five, testing her split lip with her tongue. 'Found out not.'

'Took you long enough,' Solveig said. 'You mean to say you grew to the age you are, and never realised that you aren't a boy?'

'With me,' Five said, 'things are strange.'

'They certainly are,' said Solveig, looking at Five with distaste. Five felt Solveig's eyes roving over her bloodstained shirt, open at the neck to show her rows of tattoos, old scars, faded burns; her bruised and bleeding face.

'Ooooh,' Solveig said with mock reverence, 'look at all the battles you've served soup at. Were you really at all of them?'

'Yes.'

'So, you think you're some sort of soldier?'

'I wasn't, then,' Five said, staring up at her with dislike. 'But I'm working on it.'

'If you truly are a girl,' Solveig said, 'you do realise that you can't be a soldier?'

'We'll see about that.'

'Well,' said Solveig, eyeing her, 'it's true what they say. The truth is never pretty.'

You fucking bitch, Five thought.

Some of the men laughed, the loudest being the bloke with the wooden box.

Solveig stood up and looked around.

'I'm bloody freezing,' she said. 'You! Boy! Shut those doors and keep them shut! I am wet through.'

The boy in the corner started up and looked scared.

'Yes, you,' she said, 'what are you waiting for? I have walked miles in this rain, and there is a draft under that door that will give me a chill.'

The boy looked at Allon Tanit, who nodded, and the boy went over to the door to the hall and shut it and sat against it.

Solveig turned to Five.

'So,' she said, 'how did you get by in Hargest, if you were a girl all along?'

'Long story.'

'Shorten it.'

'Worked in the kitchen.'

'Why aren't you there now?'

'I've been travelling.'

'With who?'

'No-one.'

Solveig leaned over and looked at her intently.

'So you weren't on the Hargest party that went to Casman. The one where Freya Aelfrethe was eaten by a worm.'

Five stared up at her.

'Nope.'

'Do you know who was?'

'Snorri Midlafsson's squire.'

'Do you know him?'

'Thought I did.'

Solveig stared at her, frustrated, and looked up at Manfred.

'She's nothing,' she said. 'A runaway.'

'How do you know about that party?' Manfred said, looking at her suspiciously.

'Because my brother was in it,' Solveig said, staring down at Five. 'Siegfa Stopbern Jornsson. Did you know him?'

'A little, to see,' Five muttered.

'I should hope so,' Solveig said, 'you served him his dinner often enough. Do you know me, also?'

Yes, Five thought.

Back then, you could be kind. You thanked those who brought you food and drink. I knew a bloke worked in your kitchen said it was cushy; said you were an alright mistress. And now, what? What happened? You're a bitch, now?

'Don't think so, no,' Five said.

Solveig stared at her, smiling slightly, and Five knew that she'd seen through the lie.

'Well, I am not who I was,' Solveig said. 'Bear that in mind. And it's all thanks to this man.'

She turned around and looked down at Owyn Durberry, lying on the floor.

'There he is,' she said. 'Charming as ever. Doesn't he know that you stand up when a lady enters the room?'

'Hang on,' said Manfred, 'so, this girl is a deserter?'

'Oh,' Solveig said, and smiled and rolled her eyes. 'Forgive me. My thoughts are disordered because I haven't had enough to drink. But that shall change. I think I can lay it all out.'

She went back to the fire and leaned over and drew from her pack a slender glass bottle, almost full of clear liquid.

'This,' she said, 'is twenty-year-old Iskabah. I received it recently, in payment for a service. And now, gentlemen, to your health.'

She uncorked the bottle, lifted it to her lips and drank, deeply. Then she lowered the bottle and stood for a moment, then she breathed out slowly and smiled at them.

'Ahh. If God wept, gentlemen, that is what his tears would taste like.'

'Share some out, then,' said the wooden box bloke.

'Oh no,' Solveig said, looking puzzled. 'You can't have any. This is all mine. I've earned it. You have no idea what I've been through since I left Hargest.'

'Ah,' said wooden box bloke, grinning. 'I know that old trick. Fill an Iskabah bottle full of water and pretend it's the real thing.'

'Sir,' she said coldly, 'I am offended. Have some, then, if you doubt me.'

'Oh, no,' he said, laughing. 'I'm just teasing you. I'm sure it's as you say.'

'It is,' she said, colouring. 'Army strength, what's more.'

'Of course,' he said, smiling. 'Of course.' He stood up and grabbed the nearest bottles off the shelf and handed one to Manfred.

'Tell your story, lady,' he said, with a good-humoured smile. 'It's been a long day and a rough end to it, and I could use a good tale after the day's work.'

She gave him a long, hard look.

'Oh, it's a tale, all right,' she said quietly. 'Whether or not it's a good one is not for me to say.'

'Manfred, come on,' Allon Tanit said. 'Get the men to stand down. The mercenary's going nowhere, and our guest has kindly recaptured our man for us, and she has tamed him, what's more. I think we can be at our ease, don't you?'

Five glanced at Solveig, trying to see if she'd caught his implication: she was no threat to them.

Tall and broad-shouldered as she was, she wasn't built like a brawler, and she was either as reckless as she seemed, or else a bloody fake, and all would be clear soon.

And if that really is army strength Iskabah, Five thought, you're going to get a lot drunker if you drink much more of it.

And if you do, I wouldn't want to be you when these boys get tired of the sound of your voice, and want to stop your mouth.

'I want to know how you know who the girl is,' Manfred said obstinately.

'It's simple,' Solveig said. 'I worked it out. Hear my story and you'll see for yourself.'

Everyone looked at Manfred. The men were passing bottles around, and those that weren't already seated were resting on the edges of chairs.

The rain and wind beat on the shutters, but the room was warming up.

Five couldn't help thinking: if the two blokes and I weren't trussed up and beaten, and if this stupid bitch weren't in imminent danger of the world's roughest gang-bang, this'd be the start of a good night.

'Hey,' she said. Solveig looked at her.

'Don't I get a drink?' Five said.

'Are you thirsty?'

'Not especially, but if you're gonna stand there and yack on, I want something to drink.'

'I'll give you something to drink,' Solveig said. She put the bottle of Iskabah down before the fire, reached into her pack and took out a flask. She walked over to Five and uncorked it.

'Have a drink,' she said, 'kitchen girl,' and she emptied the contents over Five's face.

It was water. Plain bloody water. Five blinked and coughed, crimson with humiliation. Solveig leaned down at her.

'And there's more where that came from. If you get thirsty again.'

She walked slowly back to the fire and stood with her back to it, opening her damp coat and shaking out her shirt. Then he paused, and waited for silence, and then she spoke.

'Welcome,' she said expansively, 'to the story of my life.'

... Oh, god, Five thought.

'My brother and I were foundlings,' Solveig said. 'The army of Hargest found us in a village in Rakissala. We were hiding from them. The barbarians had sacked our village, and killed our parents, and taken all the food they could find. We were five years old. We hid in the only place I could think of where they wouldn't look. The cesspit.'

She smiled slightly.

'I have spent much of my life in the shit, since then. By the time the men of Hargest found us, Siegfa was fainting from the smell. Didn't bother me.

'They pulled us out and cleaned us, and we were taken in by Sir Jorn and Lady Elsa. Their children had all died young, and they'd despaired of having more. They raised us, and for a while we were very happy.

'Then, when we were eleven, they were both carried off by plague. By then, Siegfa was training for the army, and I had learned so much about the work of the household that the baron decreed that we would inherit the estate. And so we did. Siegfa went off to fight, and I ran our home.'

She was silent for a moment, then picked up the Iskabah bottle from the floor and sipped it.

'Too cold,' she said. 'Iskabah should be served at blood heat, did you know that? Not many do. Otherwise you don't get the full aroma.'

She put it on the hearthstone again. Wooden box bloke smirked.

'I will not tell you of how my love for my brother came to assume the form that it took,' she said. 'I will tell you only two things about it, because I know that they will satisfy your curiosity: yes, I did desire him as a wife loves a husband, but no, nothing ever took place between us, because I never let him know until it was too late.'

She looked at them all.

'Sorry, boys,' she drawled. 'There are no tales of brother and sister making the beast with two backs. We shared a bed, but all we ever did in it was sleep and talk. How did he resist me, you ask?'

She shrugged.

'Siegfa was pure, I was not. That's probably why I could stand the smell of shit, and he couldn't. So, my brother fought for the king, and he earned much glory, and I stayed at home and bided my time.

'But, a funny thing happens to time, when you bide it. It speeds up.'

She paused, and smirked at them all, and shook her head as if she didn't expect them to get the joke.

'The war ended, and he was still not engaged, and neither was I.' She shrugged.

'It suited me. I could go on sharing his bed. Not that anything happened in it. But I will get to the point.'

She raised the bottle to her mouth and had another drink, then stared into the middle distance.

Five noticed the men looking at her; you could tell from their appreciative smiles that she was a finer-looking woman than they had seen in a while, and they were wondering what she looked like out of her damp, drab, mannish clothes.

'When the party went to Casman,' she went on, 'I mean the one led by Freya and Ulf Jansson and Snorri Midlafsson, my brother went with them, and when he came back, he was very agitated.

'Everyone knew the story that Freya Aelfrethe had been eaten by this worm-thing. But Siegfa was not the sort to be taken in by Ulf Jansson. He said the creature had spat Freya out, and that she'd been left there, alive. Mad, perhaps, or at any rate, robbed of her senses. But not eaten.

'Well, he wished to confront Ulf about this. But I said, Brother, no, be cautious. I told him to speak to his own liege-lord first. So he did.

'He spoke to Sir Gunnar, who duly advised him to speak to Ulf. And so, Siegfa did go to speak to Ulf. Now, I do not know the exact nature of their talk, for I did not get to ask him. But my brother was troubled, and he decided that he must speak to the Baron.

'I saw no reason to doubt my brother on this. He was always truthful with me. But on the eve of his meeting with the baron, he was called from the bed we shared, to meet with someone. And... I did not want him to go. I had a foreboding.

'In fact, I begged him not to go.

'And that was when he grasped my true feelings for him.'

She raised the bottle. Sniffed, sipped. Set it down again.

'To put it lightly, he did not share them.'

She stared thoughtfully at the floor for a moment.

'In fact, he made it clear that my dream that he and I would be man and wife would never come true, and was abhorrent to him. He went off to his mysterious stranger, and I remained in bed, feeling sorry for myself.'

She paused, and for a moment, she seemed to Five to be far away, thinking of none of them.

Then, she looked up at them again.

'Later,' Solveig said, 'I went downstairs to look for him, so that I could lay bare my soul to him, and atone for my sins. But I found him in the stable.'

She paused for a moment.

'He was naked and he'd been beaten badly. I went to help him, and he warded me off and cut his own throat.'

She looked around the room. The men were all silent, and this time, Five could see the pity in most of their faces. Only one looked bored and unengaged; a lanky bloke near the back with a pistol crossbow hanging off his shoulder.

'And so,' Solveig said gently, 'I lost my own true love, who had the misfortune to be my virtuous brother. If he had been less good, I would have confessed to him earlier, and we might still be together, instead of parting from each other as we did, in contempt and in grief.'

She paused again.

Why aren't you more upset, Five thought. This is one of the saddest fucking stories I've heard. What is wrong with you? How can you be so calm?

'But that was still not my lowest point,' Solveig said, and she walked over to the bloke with the wooden box, and took his cup from him and drank from it and handed it back. Then she returned to the fire.

'I rode out that night,' she said, 'meaning to end my life. Without Siegfa I could see no purpose. I found a river and meant to drown myself in it, but it turns out, it's not so easy to drown yourself in six inches of water.'

She smiled, and one or two of the men smiled uneasily back at her.

'So I decided that I was condemned to live. I rode for many miles, and at last I found an inn that would serve ale to a lone woman. That should have been my clue to the morals of the place. But as you will see, gentlemen, my story is a tale of folly after folly. My own, above all.'

She paused, and a look of dismay came over her face.

'Sir,' she said to wooden box bloke, 'forgive me. What kind of hostess am I? I drink your cup and I fail to fill it. Please.'

She picked up the bottle of Iskabah, walked over to him and held out her hand. He looked up at her, curious, and gave him his empty cup.

She half-filled it from the bottle and took a step back, smiling, her heels together.

Perfect manners, Five thought.

Wooden box bloke looked at her, looked at the cup, raised it to his mouth.

He took a gulp from it, and Five saw him flinch slightly and redden. Not just from the liquor, either.

He held it in his mouth for a long moment, then swallowed, and after a long moment, he opened his mouth and took a deep breath and looked up at her

'Forgive me, Solveig of Hargest,' he said, and he looked at Manfred Rosso and nodded, blinking.

'It is the drink of heroes, sir,' Solveig said, smiling. 'Though I grant, it does look like water.'

'It does, but you are right,' he said, and laughed, embarrassed. 'Anyway. I am sorry I doubted you. Please.'

'As I was saying,' Solveig said, and she was silent for a moment.

Five looked down at the mercenary on the floor. He was awake, and had rolled over so that he was watching her with an intent expression on his bruised and swollen face.

'I stayed in that inn for three weeks,' Solveig said. 'Only at the end of that time did I speak to anyone other than the innkeeper. I approached this gentleman...'

She indicated the kneeling bookman.

'I asked him if I could have a copy of his Book. He gave me one, and I began to read it. Then, later that night, he came to my room. Not with any evil in mind, for he is a chaste and virtuous man.

'He came to tell me that the three other guests in the inn planned to force themselves upon me. Now, I should tell you, gentlemen, I have trained with the sword since I have been big enough to carry one. I knew I could fight them off, if I had to.'

'Did you talk them out of it?' said wooden box bloke, smiling unhappily. 'I assume with your eloquence you could talk a sheep into not baaing.'

'No, I did not,' she said with a wide and disconcerting smile. 'Two men came to my room, sure enough. They were a fat merchant, and a green boy.'

She walked over to the mercenary on the floor and looked down at him, and he stared up at her.

'And then there was this man,' she said. 'Owyn Durberry. A mercenary. He planned it with them. And he came, too, to take me.'

'What happened,' said wooden box bloke, softly.

Allon, Five thought. That was his name. Allon Tanit.

'Just what you would expect,' Solveig said, in a calm, unemotional voice, staring down at Owyn Durberry. 'They attacked me. I fought back, and I lost. They beat me, then they stripped me, and then they carried me to the bed.'

She paused and looked up.

'I was used the way a western peasant uses his wife, when they don't wish to add another brat to the family.'

There was a ripple of disgust in the room. Allon Tanit stood up and went over to the mercenary, glaring down.

'Say the word, lady,' he said fiercely. 'Just say it, and any man here would be honoured to geld this bastard.'

'I'm sure you would,' she said. 'But no.'

'It's not right,' said another guard. 'A rapist? He's not been punished?'

She looked up at them, and her gaze was level and sharp.

'I have given him plenty of chances to geld himself,' she said, 'and he's not taken them. In any case, he is mine.'

'Lady,' said Allon Tanit urgently, 'there is such a thing as wild justice.'

'He is a witness,' said Manfred Rosso, from his chair. He looked pale and ill. 'He needs to come back with us, alive and able to testify, or our contract will not be honoured.'

I got you proper with that wound, Five thought. You've lost a lot of your bluster. Are you still bleeding?

Solveig looked down at the mercenary, reached into her sleeve and pulled a knife out.

'Lady,' said Manfred, 'whatever you are thinking of doing, please, put the knife away.'

'Rosso,' said Allon Tanit fiercely, 'she has good cause.'

'Peace, gentlemen,' she said. 'I told you. He is mine.'

'Solveig,' whispered Owyn Durberry, 'please.'

'I'm not going to cut you, swordsman,' she said. 'Not deliberately, anyway.'

She knelt down by him, holding the knife in one hand, and opened his breeches at the front, and then pulled them down over his hips, and halfway down his thighs, exposing his cock and his balls and his arse to the room.

She knelt there, staring at them curiously, for a long moment. He lay there, trembling a little with fear and humiliation.

Then she stood up and sheathed her knife again.

'So,' she went on, in the same calm, flat voice, 'when they had done what they had done, this gentleman decided that he was above their kind. That he was a greater and nobler man than they. And that I should pay, if you please, for him to keep them from assaulting me a second time.'

This time she had to hold up a hand to quieten the volleys of curses they hurled at the mercenary.

Allon Tanit couldn't help himself, but walked around Owyn Durberry and kicked him in the back. The man gasped. Solveig frowned.

'Sir,' she said, 'didn't I say that no-one is to touch him? He is mine. I'll thank you to do as I ask.'

'Forgive me, lady,' he said, 'but your tale... I can't sit back and look at this bastard and not want to see you avenged.'

'I will be avenged,' she said. 'Trust me. You have not yet heard what happened.'

She went back to the fire, picked up the bottle, sipped it and set it down again, and strolled away from the fire. Allon Tanit glared down at Owyn Durberry and went back to the leather couch and sat.

'Why does this man still live, you must be wondering?' Solveig said. 'Why do I not simply kill him, or least wound him? He lies there, as I was, helpless, and I talk on, when it would be easy to just... take a blade to his arse, and gut him. Is it out of kindness, that I act thus? Or, have I, with my foolish heart, come to feel more for this man than is wise?'

She paused, and looked at them sidelong.

'Well,' she said drily, 'you get the idea. And the answer is no. Hear me out.'

She went back to the fire, picked up the bottle, sipped and placed it down again.

'It seemed that master Durberry had truly had enough of me, and would not join them for a second go at me. And, since then, Owyn Durberry has been a man of his word. He has not touched me. He has not mocked me. He has defended me, and he has shown me how to defend myself.'

'I thought you were trained in the sword,' said Allon Tanit.

'So I imagined,' she said. 'I knew nothing. I knew how to make nice shapes with a foil. He taught me how to do it properly. And he has done it, I think, to show me that the world is not such a bad and cruel place, and that people can change.

'Well, they can. I have changed, Owyn, haven't I?'

She went over to him again, knelt down and lifted his chin to make him look her in the face.

'When you met me,' she said gently, 'I was... I won't say innocent, for the Right knows I had sinned over and over again, in my imagination. But I was intact. But much has happened since then, and if I had known then what I know now, and you had come to my room to take me, I would not have fought. I would have given myself up, and saved myself a beating, and I would have wept my tears later, when I was alone.

'Because it's not being right that matters, is it? It's being strong. You taught me that.'

She took out her knife again, reached down and took his cock in her fingers. He stared back at her, his face puffy and bleeding, trembling with shame and fear.

She touched the blade of her knife to the soft flesh. The room was silent. Five had almost forgotten to breathe.

'That's not how you geld, is it,' she murmured. 'It's not the cock that comes off. It's the balls. I remember now. That would free you of your cursed devotion to me. You could go back to being a thug.'

She let go of his cock and grasped his hairy testicles and pulled on them, and put the blade to the hairy, wrinkly sack that connected them to his groin. He squirmed and gasped, staring back at her.

'Wouldn't it be easier than having you follow me around, trying to show me how much you have redeemed yourself,' she said. 'Because it really is getting quite tiresome.'

She stared at the man, and he looked up at her.

'How many times do I have to tell you, Owyn,' she said quietly. 'I don't care about your fucking redemption. The best of me died, that night, on that bed. The other two danced on my corpse, but you struck the death blow. I have no heart. I can never love anyone, and I am vindictive, and I am evil. And it's thanks to you.'

She paused for a long moment, and Five tried to tear her own gaze away from what she was going to do. But she had to keep looking.

But Solveig didn't do it. She let go of his balls and wiped her hand distastefully on his bare leg, then stood up.

'No, Owyn Durberry,' she said. 'I've had enough. I do not even hate you anymore, because who is there to do the hating? I no longer recognise myself.'

She looked at Allon Tanit.

'You want to know why I was delayed tonight? I have had to do things, to escape from peril, which if this man had not chosen me, I would never have done.'

'Great things, surely,' Tanit said. Solveig shook her head.

'The wonderful thing about having no soul,' she said, 'is that you no longer care what is done to your body.'

She walked slowly back to the fire, her face impassive, beautiful and chilling in her coldness.

Allon Tanit watched her, his eyes gleaming.

After a long moment, she turned around, smiling thinly.

'So then,' she said, 'to cut short the tale of our long adventure.

'Owyn stood between me and them, and he almost made them go, but the younger one would not leave. I goaded him into losing his temper, and Owyn took his spear from him and gave it to me, but I broke it. He flew into a passion and came at me, and the bookman did not cower in a corner, when I was menaced. Oh no. He threw his book at the youth and knocked him over, and the idiot pierced his brain-pan on the fire grate.'

She looked at Manfred.

'I think, now,' she said, 'some of this story is familiar to you.'

'How,' said Allon Tanit sharply.

'Gentlemen,' she said, 'the youth whose death you were hired to avenge, is the youth...'

She stopped, and coloured, and she lifted her hand to her brow.

'Forgive me,' she said calmly.

Fuck, Five thought, you have ice in your veins.

'What,' said Tanit.

'It was Gavan Stuke, Tanit,' said Manfred. 'The son of our client. He's the one she's talking about.'

'If he were here today,' she said, 'I think you would hang him, sooner than his killer.'

'If he were here today, we wouldn't be here today,' Manfred said. 'We don't condemn the bookman. The family does. We're not trying to get vengeance.'

'But they are, and you're abetting them,' she said.

'Why he was killed is not to the matter,' said Manfred wearily. 'The fact he was killed at all is why they want to try him.'

Solveig turned to Allon Tanit, and smiled crookedly.

'Well, sir,' she said. 'You would seem to be my most passionate defender. Should this bookman be taken to certain death, because he killed a man who violated a helpless woman?'

Allon Tanit looked from her to Manfred Rosso, and after a moment, he lifted his hands, helpless, and let them drop.

'The boy... got what he deserved, no doubt,' he said, 'but a hired man's reputation is his bond. And since you came to hand the bookman over, I can see that you, too, respect the sanctity of a contract. Even if it means breaking with a friend.

'I must say, lady, you may think yourself dead, but you have more strength of purpose than many men who draw breath.'

He glanced sidelong at Rosso. Five saw Solveig notice this.

'You flatter me, sir,' she said, still smiling. 'I cannot object to their wanting vengeance. If my brother had been taken from me, I would want it myself.'

'Your brother was taken from you,' Five said. Solveig turned to her, and just smiled, and said nothing.

The smile on her face gave Five the screaming ying-yangs.

'They will hang me, Solveig,' said Paul Beckhulder, and Five looked at him; he was struck by grief, staring at her, lost and desperate.

'So they will,' she said.

'I thought we three swore an oath,' he said. 'We called ourselves friends. We swore to defend each other.'

'So we did,' she said, 'but I have thought about it, Paul Beckhulder, and I was stupid.'

He looked at her, and she shook her head impatiently, and looked down at him.

'Do you know how tired I am, bookman, of listening to your shit? Your constant moaning about Oh we must be just and The book says this and The book says that?'

She picked up the bottle and walked around him, staring down at him with loathing, and took another swig.

'I am from Hargest,' she said. 'My people have defended yours, for generations. While you lectured us about our duties and responsibilities, my people are the ones who took up arms, and went out to the field, and killed and died for you. While you read out to us. From your book.

'How long have your people been telling us, who have natural virtue, how we must live?'

'Hargest has accepted the word for more than a generation,' the bookman said.

'The word, yes,' she said, her voice full of scorn. 'The word, bookman. Because your Book is a mess of rules, and fables, and quibbling.'

She leaned over him and stared him in the face.

'And nonsense,' she snarled. He looked up at her, outraged.

'You've been trying to decipher it for, what, for how many centuries, now? Are you any closer to the meaning of "zalloc"? And "core"? Can you tell me what they mean, your holy words, you who are a student of the damn thing?'

'Understanding the Book,' he said slowly, 'is a process that elevates us above animals.'

She slapped the bookman in the face.

'By the word of the Right,' she said, her voice harsh, pointing a finger at him, 'I would stop your voice, if I could. You talk to me of animals! You, who waited long enough in your room, like a frightened levrit, before you lifted a finger to help me?'

He looked up at her, upset but also angry, like one who couldn't find a way of saying no to her. Five saw that his eyes were wet. What she was saying to him was striking home.

'Because I am not one of your kind, no?' she said. 'Isn't that the reason?'

The bookman's eyes opened wide with outrage.

'You fucking bookmen,' Solveig said, wheeling around and staring at him with hatred. 'You look out for your own. That's all. You pretend that your wisdom is for all of us, but it's for you and yours. The rest of us are here to serve you. Do I not speak true? You look out for your own, and no others! And you think you are so elevated above us! That you are the Right's own people!'

She paused, breathing heavily for a moment, and took another swig, her eyes glittering.

'Well,' she said, 'I have had enough. I renounce your word, bookman. I learned just how much of a better man your book makes you.'

She turned her back on him, and stared into the air, for a moment, and closed her eyes. The bookman was looking up at her. He glanced at Five.

She saw the hopelessness in his face.

'You swore an oath,' Five said. Solveig opened her eyes.

'Yes,' she said. 'When I found out my name was ruined. You have heard of me?'

'No. I've never bloody heard of you.'

'Well,' Solveig said, 'you're either lying or you're the only person in this room who hasn't. I am Solveig of Hargest, who killed her brother and the girl he loved. Or so they say. Where have you been? There are songs about me.'

'But that's not what happened,' Five said. 'Your brother killed himself.'

Allon Tanit walked over and hit Five hard in the face. Her already throbbing head rang with new pain, and she breathed deeply and stared at the floor.

'Shut your mouth,' he said, 'while your betters are talking. This is not your fight. Stay out of it.'

Five blinked, and waited for her vision to clear, and stayed quiet.

'Thank you,' said Solveig to Allon Tanit. He went to her, and held out his hand.

She offered him hers, and he leaned over and kissed it. She inclined her head, and he let go, and drew back from her.

Girl, Five thought, if you think that that man wants anything from you except your cunt, you are fooling yourself.

Solveig turned back to the bookman.

'Anyway, she said, 'I have got tired of listening to your shit, bookman, day in and day out. I am finished with you.'

She walked over to him, and he looked reluctantly up at her, and then she slapped him again, hard.

He looked stunned.

She lifted the bottle of Iskabah to her nose and sniffed it.

'Ah,' she said, 'now it's nearly ready.' She sipped it and nodded.

'That's it,' she said. 'That's what it should be like.'

She lifted the bottle to them all, and looked each man in turn in the eye.

'Gentlemen,' she said, 'health and strength.'

And she tipped the bottle up, and drank, and drank.

She's not gonna be able to, Five thought, she can't, but only when the bottle was a quarter empty did she lower it and gasp for breath, her face flushed, and her eyes gleaming.

'Ahh,' she sighed. 'There are some pleasures that nothing can take away.'

She put it down and looked at Manfred Rosso.

'I travelled with these men,' she said, 'first to seek justice for my brother. Then, when I found that my name had been ruined, I decided to finish what he could not do, and find Freya Aelfrethe.'

'What do you want with her,' Manfred said.

'I don't want anything with her,' she said, her anger surging again. 'Not now! I had the idea that I would do my brother's work. But my brother is dead, and my search has brought me nothing but suffering.

'What do I care for Freya fucking Aelfrethe? The freak of the northern armies? Can the halfbreed shieldmaiden bring my brother back? No, sir. I have given up on that.'

'Why,' said Allon Tanit.

'Because she will not be found,' Solveig said. 'For months, we three have searched for her. Nothing.'

'Don't stop now,' Tanit said jovially. 'You've got a Hargest army cook in the room. What's she doing here?'

Solveig gave him an irritated look.

And then she paused.

And she looked directly at Five, expressionless.

'Worth asking her a few more questions, no?' Tanit said.

'Explain yourself,' Manfred said.

'No need,' said Allon Tanit, and he was grinning, looking at Solveig.

She nodded slowly, and smiled.

'I see where you are going, sir,' she said.

'Lady,' he said, 'your cunning is as great as your beauty.'

'What are you two talking about,' Manfred said irritably.

Solveig finally looked away from Five, and at Manfred.

'How much are you getting paid for delivering the bookman to the Stuke family,' she said.

'None of your damn business,' Manfred said.

'How much do you think you'd get paid,' Solveig said, speaking slowly as if to a child, 'if you were to deliver Freya Aelfrethe intact and alive back to her people?'

Manfred paused, and looked shocked, but then he slowly shook his head.

'No,' he said. 'No, we have a contract.'

'Then do both,' she said, exasperated. 'Fucking god, man, have you no enterprise? She has been traipsing over the countryside in disguise, since she clearly does not wish to go back until it suits her. But you have a house full of men, and a captive in your hands, and another for the taking, if you'll be advised by me. But you have to move now.'

'Tens of thousands, Manfred,' Allon Tanit urged, his eyes gleaming. 'More.'

'How do you know she is here?' Manfred looked obstinate, but he was clearly tired and his face was pale. 'How do you know she is not dead, as everyone believes?'

'The reason is sitting opposite you,' Solveig said. 'This girl you thought was me, is travelling with her.'

'But...' Manfred said, staring at Five, perplexed. 'How do you...'

'The Serpent Queen,' Solveig said, 'you have heard of her?'

'Heard stories.'

'You've "heard stories",' she said, turning on him and sneering. 'I've talked to folk who've met her. She fights like a demon. She has a grudge against worms. Nobody knows where she comes from and she seldom speaks. Her companion is a girl from Hargest, no great beauty, they say.'

She went over to Five and pointed at her.

'Look at this one! Hargest accent, army tattoos, built like a shithouse, and she won't say why she's here. Who do you think she is? What the hell else is she doing here? She's the Serpent Queen's companion, or I'm Ursula the fucking Milkmaid.'

She turned her back on him, impatient and annoyed, and put a hand to her head.

Manfred closed his eyes and rubbed them wearily.

'The Serpent Queen,' he sighed, visibly disgusted with himself for not having figured it out sooner. 'Yes.'

'So, sir,' Solveig said, turning back to him, 'at last, we share the same map.'

'I don't like it,' Manfred said. 'Your reasoning is plain enough, but we have injured, now, and we would have to catch Freya, and somehow get her back to Hargest?'

'We don't even have to catch her intact,' Allon Tanit said. Solveig looked at him

'Freya was last seen mindless, lying on a plain in Casman,' he said, grinning. 'As far as her people know, she is dead. We would not have to be over-gentle in catching her. Hit her hard enough on the head that she is no longer a threat to anyone, and then get her back to her people alive. We would have their thanks, even if she never woke up again.'

Solveig nodded, smiling.

'Interesting,' she said.

'You've not liked risk for a long time, Rosso,' said Allon Tanit. 'Maybe time somebody else took over. That shoulder, what are you keeping from us? Can you even move your arm?'

Manfred Rosso looked at him sourly.

'I don't like you, Tanit,' he said. 'I hired you and your friend because we needed the numbers. And now this girl walks in, and you start thinking with your cock, because she's got a good body and as few morals as you.'

'Gentlemen,' said Solveig calmly, 'clearly, there is a division of opinion. If you want Freya Aelfrethe, you have to search the building.'

'We have searched the damn building,' said Manfred. 'We sent off two men...'

He trailed off and suddenly Five realised. Everyone did. Manfred stood up, doubt and anger rising in his face.

Solveig stared at him, then looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, then back at him again.

'She is here,' she said matter-of-factly. 'Your men are dead.'

'How can you...' he began.

'Sir,' she said, 'if there were no-one upstairs, your men would be back by now. And if there were ordinary mortals up there like you and I, your men would have brought them down. Freya is not like us.'

'Ladro, Alessandro, Calvi,' he said, 'upstairs. Now. Find her and bring her, and be on your guard.'

'It's too late,' Solveig said. 'She will kill them like she killed the others. Wait for her to come, then do what you have to do.'

'She's not here,' said Five, desperate. 'It's only me.'

'Shut up,' said Allon Tanit, and hit her again. He turned to Rosso.

'You've lost control of this mission,' he said, standing over the man. 'It's time to step down. We can take Freya Aelfrethe and get the bounty for the bookman. You'd see that, if you had the guts to.'

'Nobody has ever spoken to me like that and walked out of the room,' said Manfred softly.

'Then take me down,' Tanit said, spreading his arms.

Rosso merely sat, breathing heavily.

'Who wants this?' said Tanit to the other men, his eyes gleaming. 'Who's got the stones to go for the biggest prize we'll ever get?'

The other men seemed uncertain.

'I don't like it,' said one, tall, young and red-haired. 'I'm sticking with the boss.'

'I too,' said another. Another one, tall, dark and saturnine, nodded.

'Fuck it,' said Manfred sourly, 'just go and find her,' and the three others looked pissed about it, but went to the door. The boy stood up to let them out, then shut the door behind them and sat before it again, obedient as ever.

'Stupid,' said Solveig to Manfred. 'You are throwing men away. You have only to wait, and she will come. Especially if you bring her down.'

'I'll tell my men what to do,' he said, 'not you.'

'Fine!' she said. 'Then send them to certain death, while I bring Freya down here without you.'

'How do you suggest we do that,' said Manfred.

'By appealing to her loyalty,' said Solveig.

She went over to Five and pulled her knife and stood before her.

'Call your mistress,' she said calmly.

'Get fucked,' said Five.

Solveig walked around unhurriedly behind Five, then leaned forward and grabbed her with an arm around the throat. Five struggled, but Allon Tanit sprang into action, holding down her legs so she couldn't struggle.

'Call Freya,' said Solveig into Five's ear. 'Don't make me make you weep.'

'I fucking won't, you fucking bitch,' Five gasped, but then she felt Solveig grasping her ear, and the blade cutting deep into the flesh of her earlobe.

It was agony. Five gritted her teeth and her breath hissed between them and her eyes streamed, but she didn't scream.

'Don't make me,' Solveig said quietly. 'There are places on your body that will hurt a lot more than this, when I cut into them.'

Five looked at Allon Tanit, who was staring at Solveig, enthralled.

'If you think,' Five said, panting, 'that I'm going to betray her, you can fuck off, you and your dead fucking brother.'

Solveig's grip tightened around Five's throat, and spots twinkled in Five's vision. She tried to struggle, but she couldn't breathe.

Then Solveig let her go, and flicked the blood off her fingers.

'Fine,' she said. 'Get me water, someone, please. Boiling water.'

'What are you doing,' Manfred said.

'Oh, shut up,' Solveig said. 'You have left such an ungodly mess that I can't believe you found her in the first place. Now I have to clear it up.'

She strode angrily away from Five, over to the fire, and grabbed her bottle of Iskabah and took a slug from it.

Allon Tanit let go of Five. Five panted for breath, feeling the blood dripping from her mutilated earlobe onto her shoulder.

Tanit winked at her, like; You liked that? Get ready for some more.

'Well,' Solveig barked, losing her patience, lowering her bottle and glaring at Manfred, 'what are you waiting for? I need boiling water to make this bitch scream! And fetch firewood from the store! Otherwise, forget your damn contract, we are all dead by morning, for certain! If you want to flush Freya out, you will only do it if she thinks her slut here is in danger! Now do what I damn well tell you!'

Manfred stared at her for a moment, and then Five saw him drop his gaze and turn his head and nod.

You really are losing it, Five thought. I must have done your shoulder in proper. She noticed him massaging the hand on his wounded arm, with his other hand.

Two men went into the kitchen, where the wounded man was, to fill a pot. Three others went out to the front hall to fetch more wood from the pile outside. Manfred rubbed his face and shifted uneasily in his seat in the corner.

The other man sat in his seat, the one with the pistol crossbow, scowling as he watched Allon Tanit smiling at Solveig.

Then, abruptly, he too got out of his seat and went to the door and motioned the boy to get out of his way. The boy shuffled aside, and the man left, and the boy closed the door once more and sat in front of it with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking shit-scared.

Five looked at him and tried to catch his eye, but he wasn't even looking at her, just at the tall, cold young woman by the fire, who had taken command of the Bothy.

Solveig talked to herself as she walked slowly to the middle of the room and stood in front of Five and Allon Tanit.

In one hand she held the Iskabah bottle. With her other hand, she picked a lit candle out of its candleholder.

She eyed Five thoughtfully, still carrying on a little conversation with herself. She was, clearly, more than a bit drunk.

'What are you going to do with that,' Five muttered.

'I'm considering,' said Solveig.

'Lady,' Allon Tanit said, smiling up at Solveig, 'speak, and it shall be as you want.' He got up and went over to her, and laid his hand on her shoulder.

'It was a good idea, to go through the girl,' she said to him, her gaze going up and down Five's body. 'Can't believe I didn't push that further.'

'You and I are what this group needs,' Allon Tanit said softly. 'Real leadership.'

She was slightly turned away from him, looking meditatively down at Five. Five looked back at her.

Oh god. Freya is up there, maybe alive, maybe not, but a couple of hours ago she could barely move from the pain, and she might have taken the first two one at a time, but she can never take on three at once. Does it end here, then, because this fucking bitch figured it out sooner than the men?

I will give up nothing. Come what may, I will never betray you, Freya.

Solveig tilted her head backwards slightly and let out a small gasp.

'Are you all right,' Allon Tanit said.

'My neck,' she said. 'I was thrown from my horse. I am stiff.'

'Let me,' he said. He stood behind her and begun to rub her neck. Solveig sighed, and closed her eyes, and made a soft noise of pleasure. He smiled, and worked his hands down her back, and she squirmed gently inside her coat and lowered her head, and sighed once more.

'You've suffered, Solveig of Hargest,' Five said. 'I don't doubt your word. But other women have suffered as much, and it's not turned them into the likes of you.'

'Other women don't have the balls to be me,' Solveig said, her head lowered, her eyes closed.

Allon Tanit looked down over her shoulder at Five, and smirked at her. He moved his hands down around Solveig's sides, and pulled her into him, stroking her thighs.

'It don't take balls to turn on your friends, or cut someone who's tied up,' Five spat.

'Stupid to cut someone who isn't,' Solveig murmured. Allon Tanit's hands were massaging her, moving down into her groin, and she was evidently enjoying it, moving her hips back into his. She gasped with pleasure.

'You're not half of her,' Five said. 'You're not even a quarter.'

Allon Tanit let go of Solveig and came around her as if to strike Five again, but Solveig stopped him with one hand.

She turned her head slightly, and smiled.

'Please,' she said, and indicated the couch with a flick of her head.

He smiled at her, and went to sit down to Five's left.

Solveig thanked him with a smile, then stood and looked at Five for a long moment.

Allon Tanit reached over and gripped Five by the back of the head, making her look up at Solveig.

'Do you know what I'm thinking of doing with you,' Solveig said, smiling oddly.

'No,' Five said, 'and I'm not fucking interested.'

'Oh come on,' Solveig said, 'it'll be such fun.'

'Fuck off,' Five said, and she was mortified to hear her own voice cracking with her anger and grief. 'You're a cruel, faithless, dead-hearted cunt.'

'I'm sure you're right,' Solveig said. 'But I'll tell you anyway.'

She stuck the candle back into the candlestick, grasped Five by the back of the neck, leaned down, and slowly drew her tongue up the side of Five's face. Her tongue dragged against Five's bleeding earlobe.

Her grabbing Five made Allon Tanit let go. He shifted away slightly.

Five squirmed, appalled, wondering what the hell she was playing at.

Then Solveig drew back, Five's blood smeared on her lips, and smiled at her, and leaned in and kissed Five on the mouth. She tried to put her tongue inside Five's mouth but Five kept her lips clamped shut. Solveig disengaged, still smiling at her, looking into Five's eyes.

Then, she put her face to the right side of Five's, and leaned in with her lips at Five's right ear.

'White Bird Ridge,' she breathed. 'On three, dive to your right.'

Then she pulled back and smiled pleasantly at Five, who stared back at her.

... What?

Quickly, without moving her head, Solveig let her gaze flick minutely from left to right, then back at Five.

What are you...

Five didn't move her eyes from Solveig's, but she focused on the room behind her.

And realised that it had almost emptied.

Five men upstairs. One man in the hall. Three off to get firewood, to torture me with. Two more in the kitchen, plus the injured one.

Just her, and me, and Allon Tanit, and that Owyn bloke on the floor, Paul Beckhulder by the fire, and Red Fred. And the kid by the door.

But...

Wait...

White Bird Ridge.

Of course I know what that is.

A side action at Wudwotha. Wasn't there but I heard about it.

Some of our blokes were trapped on a ridge with three companies of barbarians coming at them, and we were losing but fighting like hell...

Solveig pushed Five back against the couch, and straightened up, and picked the lit candle out of its stick once more.

... And then, just when it looked like we were going to get slaughtered, one of the barbarian companies suddenly switched sides, and it turned into total bloody chaos...

'What was the secret,' Allon Tanit said to Solveig, smiling. 'What will you do with her?'

One, Solveig mouthed, smiling at Five.

... And our lot ended up fighting with them, and together they beat the crap out of the company in the middle, and the other one fell back, and we won...

We won.

Oh, shit, Five thought, and her heart started pounding, and she could hear the music, the drumming, distant but there, and growing louder, like a wind, blowing away some of the fog of pain and tiredness and worry, making time slow down. She realised her mouth had dropped open and she shut it.

Oh shit, oh shit.

Yes. I understand.

'What,' said Allon Tanit, still smiling, puzzled. 'Tell me. We don't keep secrets in this company.'

Solveig backed away from her, turning, smiling at them all in the room, her eyes heavy-lidded from drink, a little unsteady on her feet, twirling in a circle. She ended up standing in front of Allon Tanit, looking at Five.

Two, she mouthed at Five.

Five glanced down, and saw Solveig change her grip on the neck of the bottle.

From holding it underhand, to drink from it, to holding it overhand.

Then she saw that Manfred Rosso had seen it too, and he frowned and stirred, pulling himself up.

Solveig looked down at Allon Tanit, relaxed, her eyes glittering.

He was still smiling up at her, a little confused.

Five tensed her legs and shoulders.

'Tanit,' said Manfred Rosso, with difficulty, 'watch it, she...'

*

For my brother.

For Tine.

For all your sins.

For me.

*

'Three,' Solveig said calmly, and she smashed the bottle into Allon Tanit's face.

At the same moment, Five dived away from him to the floor on the right. Broken glass and liquor showered him, and where Five had been sitting.

Allon Tanit screamed as the jagged edges cut into his flesh.

Solveig reached forward with the hand that still grasped the lit candle, grabbed Allon Tanit's mane of brown hair, pushed his head back, and shoved the jagged edge of the broken bottle three, four, five, six times into his exposed throat.

He screamed, flailing for her wrist.

Five was rolling on the floor, sitting up, her heart pounding.

She saw Manfred Rosso staring at them.

The fumes of the warmed-up liquor filled the room.

Then Solveig stepped back and dropped the burning candle onto Allon Tanit's soaked shirtfront, and he ignited.

*

Paul Beckhulder had been staring at the floor, feeling utterly empty, when he heard the soft crack of the bottle breaking against the man's head, and heard him scream.

He looked up in time to see Solveig drop the bottle and toss the candle at the man, who was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of flame. The man tried to stand up, clutching his bleeding throat, but he was screaming horribly.

Manfred Rosso was getting out of his seat. Pulling out a knife, Solveig quickly went over to the Hargest girl, dropped to a crouch and reached behind the girl's back and sawed at her bonds, cutting them open, then she got up and lunged at the nearest heavy chair and shoved it up against the door to the kitchen.

*

Manfred Rosso was struggling to his feet.

'Sorry,' Solveig said, dropping the knife in Five's lap. 'I had to empty the room.'

Allon Tanit was also trying to stand, bleeding and burning, but he sagged back in his seat and collapsed to the floor, blood pumping from his neck.

Solveig looked down at Five and held out her hand. Five took it, and Solveig yanked her to her feet.

'You cunt,' Manfred Rosso said. 'What have you done.'

Solveig stepped over to him and kicked him in the stomach, and he fell back into his seat.

*

Out in the hall, Gilberto Calvi, Michele Ladro and Gatta Alessandro were bickering at the foot of the stairs, when they heard the crack of the bottle breaking, followed by a series of cries. They stared at each other for a moment. Gallo wondered if the drunk Hargest girl had dropped her bottle and fallen over in the mess, then they heard a strangled scream, and Manfred Rosso saying 'You fucking cunt! What have you done!'

They went to the door, but as they reached it, they heard a dull thud as something landed against it. They pushed it, but it was stiff.

*

As soon as Allon Tanit had gone up in flames, Norbert had got up, run around to the nearest chair, and shoved it up against the hall door. Then he sat against it, wondering how long it would hold.

The crazy girl ran over to the kneeling bookman.

*

Manfred Rosso, clearly in physical pain, was standing up again.

'Can you take him,' Solveig said. 'I'll take the rest.'

'Give it a try,' Five said.

It was on.

Solveig was scrambling over to the fire.

You bloody insane bitch.

Five flexed her stiff arms and Manfred reached for his sword, and Five charged at him.

She knocked him over before he'd had a chance to draw it, and he elbowed her in the face, and they rolled on the floor.

*

Gilberto Calvi and Michele Ladro between them charged the hall door and it cracked at the hinge.

*

Solveig knelt by Paul, who was staring at her with horrified amazement. She sawed at the cords on his ankles.

'We haven't long,' she gasped. 'I am sorry, Paul, truly, I am sorry, I had to do it, I had to, are you all right? You are not too hurt?' She cut the cord and turned to the one on his wrists.

'No,' he said.

'Good, then can you see to Owyn? And get yourselves out? Please? Just, see to Owyn, and get out. Quick as you can.'

She was sawing at the cord and cut it and accidentally nicked his wrist. He shook his head and nodded, and she pulled another knife from her pocket and thrust it into his hand and patted him on the back.

He scrambled away from the fire and stumbled around to where Owyn lay, near the kitchen door.

*

The door to the hall cracked again, and Norbert was terrified. He stared at the crazy girl and she motioned him to get off it and pointed at the corner. He scrambled out of the way just in time, as the door broke open and the men began to enter.

*

As the men came into the room, Solveig grabbed things off the shelves and hurled them in the men's direction: bottles, candlesticks, goblets.

And she was screaming at them, in wordless rage, her eyes bulging, yelling at them with incandescent hatred, which was insistent enough to give Five a chill. It stopped them in their tracks.

Shit, Five thought, marvelling at her. You don't need Death's Tears, do you. You make your own.

But Manfred was on top of Five, trying to get a grip on her neck, and she jabbed her finger into his shoulder wound to cow him, and when it stopped him for a moment she was able to grasp the cord that still dangled from her wrists and get enough to wrap it around his neck and squeeze.

Solveig paused in her screaming.

'Any time you can help,' she gasped, hurling more bottles at the cowering men.

'Give me a minute,' Five said, as Manfred tried to grapple with the cord, but she could feel him weakening.

*

Solveig kicked furniture over, screaming some more, doing anything she could to block the men's movements, but Gilberto Calvi clambered over the furniture and ran at her and tackled her to the floor.

She grunted with pain, and he had her on her back, and he went to punch her face, but she turned her head and he caught the side of her head instead. She breathed in, struggling through the pain.

Can't reach his groin with my knee, so...

She reached down, grabbed his balls through his trousers and twisted them. He gasped and tried to bend double, away from her. She bent her leg and reached down to her boot, and when her fist came away it flashed up to Calvi's neck.

He yelled. She twisted the knife, and when it came away, he was gushing blood from his throat. His eyes widened and he made a horrified gargling noise and clapped his hand to his neck, uselessly.

She kicked him off and scrambled away from him.

Michele Ladro, who'd been hesitating behind him, decided to come on, but she grabbed a poker from the fire and swept burning logs and glowing cinders in his path. He stopped, and Solveig swung the poker with all her force at his leg. He fell down into the burning wood on the rug, cursing her. Solveig yelled at him, and grabbed another bottle and threw at it him, and it bounced off his arm, fell to the floor and broke on the hearthstone, and the liquor inside caught fire from the glowing wood on the rug, and then Michele Ladro was rolling on the floor trying to put out the flames licking around him.

Gatta Alessandro held back, then darted around the room and over to the chair in front of the kitchen door, to pull it away. Solveig grabbed another bottle and hurled it at him, and it missed, bursting against the wall. He ducked, and hauled on the chair she'd shoved against the kitchen door and started to pull it aside, but it snagged on a rug.

Solveig ran straight at him, vaulting over Five and Manfred Rosso grappling on the floor, and dived at him. They crashed to the floor together.

*

Inside the kitchen, Guillaume Merevus, Petrus Fenelon and Carlo Gallo had heard the mayhem happening in the main room. Gallo could not move on account of his leg, so Merevus and Fenelon tried to force the door open. But they couldn't. Then, Petrus Fenelon noted the other exit from the kitchen, and they left by it and ran down a corridor that took them to the hall. Robert Falco was standing there, his pistol crossbow in his hand, lurking by the hall door, which was shut.

'What are you doing?' he barked. 'Get back to the kitchen, and force the door.'

'You force the fucking door,' said Petrus Fenelon.

'They've jammed it. What are you waiting out here for? Get in there, you fuck!'

'I'm using my brain, peasant,' said Robert Falco. 'Go in by the kitchen. Now!'

Guillame Merevus rolled his eyes and grabbed Petrus Fenelon's arm.

'Come on,' he said. 'This shithead's bottling out.'

'Watch what you say,' Robert Falco said to them as they ran back to the kitchen. 'I'll remember you!'

*

Norbert shoved the chair back up against the hall door and retreated to his corner.

Gatta Alessandro rolled on top of Solveig. He'd dropped his sword, but he managed to punch her in the face, and then again in her torso. She gasped with pain, and she tried to reach down to his groin, but he cursed her and reached down and hit her again in the face.

*

Five tightened the cord around Manfred Rosso's throat, and slowly he went limp. She looked over to Solveig and couldn't see her; she was on the floor, a man on top of her, punching her.

Shit, she thought, but then Manfred Rosso started struggling again, and she had to pull the cord tighter.

*

Solveig blinked, rolling her head as the man's open hand whacked her face, again and again, and Owyn Durberry's words came to her, from a field, months earlier: You don't have to kill 'em, Solveig, you just have to stop 'em.

She felt his hands going around her neck. Well, it was now or never. She reached up, grabbed him by his hair and, snarling, she pulled his face down to hers.

*

For a moment, Gatta Alessandro thought she was submitting, trying to pull him in for a kiss, and he thought, oh, you fold easily, well, you won't get away so...

Then he felt it, the worst goddamn pain he'd ever felt, and he tried furiously to pull his head away, but the pain got worse, and he felt nauseated, and then he was losing all his stomach for the fight, just wanting the pain to stop. He roared and pulled himself upwards, and she came with him, and he felt his flesh tearing.

*

Five tightened the cord around Manfred's neck, and saw the man struggling to get up, and Solveig coming with him, and he screamed as he tore his face away from hers.

Solveig shoved him off her, and he rolled away, and she got to her feet, her mouth smeared with blood.

And she spat half of his ear onto the floor.

*

Alessandro, sitting on the floor, put his hand to his ear, and stared up at her in disbelief.

Solveig booted him in the face.

*

Giles Taverner, Jorgen Gervasius and Christoph Schuldt had been halfway to the woodshed when they had heard the fighting start. They immediately returned to the Bothy, going in via the hall. Robert Falco was nowhere to be seen.

They managed to force the hall door open, and found Alessandro, Calvi and Tanit on the floor, the Hargest girl grappling with Manfred Rosso, and Solveig of Hargest standing there, knife in hand, glaring at them.

Giles Taverner made straight for her.

*

He was coming at her and he was getting his sword out. She ran at him, so he couldn't swing, and she shoved her fingers at his eyes. He punched her in the side and she cried out, and they fell over onto a chair, but then she pushed with her fingers and he yelled in agony, and when she yanked them out, a disgusting bloody jelly came with them.

*

Five pulled tighter, and then Manfred went limp, and she threw him off, pulled his sword out and stumbled over to Solveig, who was wiping her fingers on her coat, staring at the man lying on the chair, his hands cupped over his eyes.

'I'm sorry,' Solveig gasped again to her, 'are you all right?'

'It's fine,' Five said. 'Come on.'

*

Giles Taverner was writhing on the chair, screaming as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his empty eye sockets. Solveig leaned forward and stabbed him in the throat, cutting short his suffering, and then reached for a bottle with her other hand and flung it at Christoph Schuldt.

He raised his arm and it him on the wrist, and he recoiled and dropped his short sword between two upturned chairs. Behind him, Jorgen Gervasius was hovering, his sword drawn, trying to figure out his next move.

*

The door to the kitchen was being hammered at, and Five glanced at Solveig and indicated with her head.

'I don't know,' Solveig said. Her face was dripping blood, much of it not her own, and she was wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

'When they get in,' Five said, patting her on the shoulder, 'let's worry about it then.'

'Paul!' Solveig called to the bookman, who was cowering in the corner. 'Get out!'

One of Rosso's men was clutching his wrist in pain and cursing. He got down on his knees and scrabbled between two chairs for his weapon. The other one was watching him, apparently reluctant to move, but the man who was looking for his sword motioned angrily with his head: *What are you waiting for?*

Solveig grabbed another bottle and threw it at the kneeling man and it hit him on the head and knocked him over. She threw another at the other man, and he swiped at it with his sword and it broke, showering both of the men with wine and shards of glass.

There were no more bottles within arm's length. Solveig went over to the further shelves and grabbed more, throwing them at the men, who hid behind the upturned furniture. Five went to the bookman in the corner.

'Probably best get out,' she said to him. He was staring at the nightmarish and still-smouldering corpse of Allon Tanit.

Paul didn't move. Five grabbed his collar and shoved him in the direction of the window, and then looked, and saw one of the men duck another flung bottle and then get up and climb over an upturned chair and move towards Solveig.

Five grabbed a heavy bowl and flung it at him, hitting him on his sword arm. He cursed and dropped his sword, and Solveig let out a wild yell and dived at him, sending him to the floor.

*

Solveig was sitting astride him and looked down at him; he glanced at the corpse of Allon Tanit, and the man on the floor missing one ear, and the other corpse on the chair, eyeless and bloody.

And then he shook his head at her, and struggled backwards, out from underneath her, holding up his hands.

'Fuck this,' he said, 'fuck the contract. Good luck,' and he got out from under her and ran out to the hall.

Then there was a rending crack of wood as the kitchen door was broken, and two men burst in, only for a figure to rise up from the floor and drag one of them down.

Paul Beckhulder had not been completely useless: he'd cut Owyn Durberry's ropes, and woken him up.

Owyn Durberry had a grip on the throat of one of them, and was growling as he choked him. The other one was standing, staring at the chaos in the room, and Five had time to go over to him and kick his leg hard enough to knock him over. He hit the ground, and she grabbed his collar.

He dropped his weapon and shouted 'Stop! Stop!' At the same instant, a shrill voice shouted 'No!'

Then Solveig cried out in pain, and Five, as well as the man whose head she'd been about to smack off the floor, looked around to see Solveig standing in the middle of the room, staring with dismay at the door to the hall.

Dangling from Solveig's left cheek was a small crossbow bolt, no more than six inches long. The tip had pierced the flesh and was inside her mouth.

Then Five felt something in her side, and saw another one falling from her shirt.

Five looked up and saw him in the doorway. The last man, loading a new bolt into his pistol crossbow.

*

Over by the window, Paul saw him: the member of Manfred's company who'd slunk out earlier. He had hid in the hall, waiting for the fight to die down.

'You fooled Tanit, you cunt,' he said to Solveig, grinning ferociously and raising the crossbow. 'You won't fool me. You're...'

He got no further, because a hand came around from behind him and yanked his crossbow arm aside, just as another hand with a large knife came around from the other side, and swiftly cut his throat.

And suddenly there was silence.

The man dropped his crossbow, and made a choked, gargling noise.

The hands held him up for a moment as the blood spilled over his tunic, and his amazed eyes stared at them all, then twitched, and his knees bent, and the hands let him go and he fell to the floor.

Behind him was a tall figure, who Paul did not recognise.

A broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, grey-eyed woman in shirt and trews, her olive-coloured hair tied at the back, dripping wet, a blazing tattoo on her face of a serpent, staring with massive consternation at the utter mayhem that was the central room of Scouts Bothy.

The only sounds were the rattling breath and whimpering of the men on the floor, and the crackling of the fire, and the stertorous wheezing of Rosso.

Solveig reached up to pull the bolt from her cheek, and the girl called Five said 'No! Leave it!'

Solveig stared at her, and blinked, lowered her hand and nodded, dazed, and looked up, and looked around the room, surveying who was down, and who might come up, and who definitely wouldn't.

Then she straightened up, and faced the woman in the doorway with as much dignity as she could muster.

'Fweya Aefwehe,' she gasped, her voice muffled by the front half of the crossbow bolt inside her mouth. 'Heff and stwengf.'

And everyone in the room who could look at anything, looked at Solveig, and then at the tall figure in the doorway.

Solveig looked exhausted and was bleeding and her body was trembling, but she slowly raised her open hand in salute.

Five looked down at the man she was holding, who was staring at Freya too, and then he looked up at Five and held up his hands in surrender.

Cautiously, she got off him.

Owyn Durberry was lying on top of the bloke he'd brought down. Owyn, too, was craning in disbelief to see Freya, his face covered in sweat and blood.

Five stepped back from the man on the floor.

Two men appeared behind Freya: the bounty hunters who'd first gone up to search the upper floor. Five readied herself, but then she realised they weren't going to do anything.

They were wet, and they both had bruised faces, and they were standing behind Freya, not touching her, like a rather sheepish honour guard. Freya's glance flicked sideways and Five knew that Freya knew they were there, and had already intimidated them into obedience.

The man Five had been about to hit stood up, and he turned to face Freya.

He looked at her, and then turned and looked at Five, and then turned to look at Freya again, and Five realised that he recognised her.

And he came to attention and lifted his hand in salute.

Owyn Durberry staggered to his feet, and pulled his breeches up to cover himself and, wheezing, he saluted her.

Paul Beckhulder looked at Freya, and at Five, and he, too, stood and faced Freya, and he didn't salute, but he nodded his head in respectful greeting.

The tall, dark man who'd been on the floor trying to retrieve his sword, and who'd got hit when Solveig threw a bottle at his head, stood up, and looked at Freya, and slowly saluted.

The wounded man, Gallo, appeared at the kitchen door, and stared at Freya standing in the doorway, and Gallo looked down at Manfred Rosso unconscious on the floor, and at the bloody, bruised figure of Solveig, and then at Freya, and he too saluted Freya.

The man Owyn had tackled to the ground stood up, and brushed himself down, and turned to Freya, and saluted her. He looked around, and nobody else was in a position to get up. He looked at his colleagues, and one or two of them looked to him to say something.

'Lady,' he said, 'we...'

Freya held up a hand for silence, and he shut up.

She looked again at the bodies strewn across the room--unconscious, dead, incapacitated, bleeding, burned--and her look had something of both pity and incredulity.

Then she looked at Five.

*

Paul watched.

You? Freya's look said. You are all right?

Five gave the faintest little tilt of her head, a raised eyebrow, which Paul guessed was intended to convey friendly reassurance along with acknowledgment of having suffered some injury.

Freya quickly walked across the room, straight over to Five, and embraced her and held her. Nobody knew quite where to look, but after a long moment Freya disengaged and wiped the blood from Five's lip, and kissed her gently. Five lowered her head and sagged a little, as if relieved, and then looked up at Freya and squared her shoulders and nodded in affirmation.

Freya nodded at her, then turned and picked her way over the bodies on the floor, until she stood in front of Solveig, who was still standing there, trembling with pain and exhaustion. She was looking at Freya with an almost pleading expression.

Freya tilted her head, inspecting Solveig's face, her expression unreadable, and she motioned for Solveig to open her mouth wider. Solveig did so, and Paul winced: he could see the metal tip of the bolt glinting inside her mouth.

Freya reached up, careful, and grasped the part of the bolt just outside Solveig's cheek, and with her other hand the tail of it, then she glanced at Solveig and her fists tightened on the bolt and she snapped the tail off. Solveig was staring at the ceiling and she gave an involuntary whimper as the barrel pushed against her open wound.

Then Freya put two fingers inside Solveig's mouth and delicately pulled the broken front half of the bolt out of the wound in her cheek, from the inside, and when it was out, she held it out to Solveig, who blinked her streaming eyes and looked at Freya.

*

Oh, Freya. By the old gods. If they exist.

Please, may you think this was all worth it.

May I not have utterly disgraced us by trying to rescue my people, and yours, and causing such destruction, and harming the one you clearly love.

I have come a long way. I did my best.

At least, remember who I am.

*

Freya stepped back from Solveig, stared at her for a moment, then she raised her own hand in salute.

'Solveig Stopbern Jornsdottir,' she said, in a rasping whisper. 'Health and strength.'