02 The Invaders Read Free Page B

“It’s a challenge. But I always give them back!”
    “Well, give back my whetstone!”
    “I would, if I’d taken it. But I didn’t! There’s no challenge taking your things. You’re always leaving them lying around.”
    “That’s true,” Ulf said, and instantly Wulf was into the argument as well.
    “You should talk! Your kit is always scattered all over my sleeping space!” In fact, the previous day, he had found one of Ulf’s socks lying beside his bedroll. Since it was an excellent sock, he had appropriated it but, in his eyes, that didn’t alter the fact that it was infringing on his space.
    “Maybe if you didn’t take up more space than you should, that wouldn’t happen!” Ulf cut back.
    Then Stefan went back on the attack.
    “Well, I didn’t leave my whetstone ‘lying around,’ as you put it. So you must have taken it.”
    “Why me? Why not someone else?” Jesper shouted. “Why not Ulf, or Wulf?”
    “Are you saying I took it?” Wulf said. He had a fleeting moment of guilt. Maybe Jesper had seen him slip Ulf’s sock into his pack.
    Jesper shook his head, exasperated. “No! I just was making a point that—”
    “Well, I didn’t!” Wulf said.
    Of course, Ulf took that as his cue. “You probably did. It’s just the sort of thing you’d do. Then you’d blame it on Jesper.”
    “Who blamed it on Jesper?” his twin yelled. “I never blamed it on Jesper!”
    “No, but you stood by and let Stefan blame him, instead of owning up.”
    Stig looked around the tent at the angry faces. He met Edvin’s steady gaze. Edvin leaned back on his pillow, closing his eyes.
    “I give up,” Stig said. “You’re all barking mad.”
    Outside the tent, Thorn shook his head.
    “I couldn’t agree more,” he said. He turned to trudge through the wet grass toward Hal’s workshop. As he went, the angry voices from the tent followed him, accusation meeting counteraccusation.
    “Boys,” he muttered to himself. “Thank Lorgan I was never one!”
    Hal and Ingvar were bent over a timber construction on the makeshift workbench Hal had built. It was a complex-looking arrangement, and Thorn, eyeing it, couldn’t define any possible function for it. Hal looked up as he heard the old warrior approach.
    “What are you making there?” Thorn asked.
    Hal shrugged and flipped a length of canvas over the contraption to cover it from view.
    “Just a couple of ideas,” he said vaguely, gesturing round the inside of the shelter. Among the offcuts and stray lengths of timber was a strange open-topped box with a slot cut into its bottom and a flat-cut piece, rather like a broad, blunt blade, inserted into it. Once again, Thorn could divine no function for it and obviously Hal wasn’t ready to discuss his ideas yet. Putting that aside, Thorn got back to the matter in hand.
    “Well, while you’re busy putting whatever that is together, you might be interested to know that your crew is falling apart.”
    “The crew?” Hal replied, frowning. “What’s wrong with them?”
    “They’re bored. They’ve got nothing to occupy them. And they’re starting to fight among themselves. Stefan has accused Jesper of taking his whetstone.”
    Hal shrugged. “Is that all? Well, that’s not too serious. I supposeit’s only natural that they’re a bit bored. Once we get back to sea, things will be all right again,” he said carelessly.
    Thorn shook his head. “It
is
serious, Hal. Has it occurred to you that Zavac has a crew of over fifty men—all of them pirates and hardened fighters? While you’ve got a crew of boys who are spending their time squabbling over totally unimportant matters?”
    Zavac was the pirate who had stolen the Andomal from under their noses. For a moment, Hal said nothing. Perhaps Thorn had a point, he thought. Thorn continued relentlessly.
    “When you were doing your brotherband training, you built up a real spirit among this crew. You brought them all together into a disciplined force with a