Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro Read Free

sophisticated the chief is looking these days?”’
    ‘And what did they say?’ Erak asked, with just a hint of suspicion.
    ‘Well, they had to agree, didn’t they? All of them. Of course, then they spoiled it by asking what “sophisticated” meant. But they did agree – wholeheartedly.’
    Bjarni let out a short bark of laughter, and Anders’s shoulders appeared to be shaking. Hal had found something fascinating on the handrail of the gantry and was studying it closely.
    Erak snorted. ‘People never appreciate sophistication,’ he said. He clack-clacked his way along the gantry once more towards the ladder, his old friend following a few paces behind. At the head of the ladder, Erak turned back and called to Hal.
    ‘Drop by and see me tomorrow morning, young Hal. Might have a project for you and that band of misfits of yours.’
    Hal’s interest was aroused. Life had been a little on the slow side lately, with nothing but routine sea patrols to fill in the time.
    ‘What do you have in mind, Oberjarl?’ he asked. But Erak only smiled sweetly and tapped the side of his nose.
    ‘I never discuss business in public, Hal,’ he said. ‘It’s so unsophisticated.’

L ydia was hunting.
    She had trekked up into the mountains behind Hallasholm, following the winding game trails, looking for tracks and signs of animals. There had been rumours of a boar active in the area, but so far she had seen nothing to indicate that the rumours were true.
    On a previous trip, she had discovered a rough hunter’s cabin high in the hills and she set up camp there. The roof was holed in several places and she spent the first afternoon repairing it, and filling chinks in the warped planks of the walls. It was obvious that nobody had been here for some time.
    After she set the cabin to rights, she stowed her gear, replaced some of the rotting ropes that formed the net mattress on the bed and set the old battered kettle to boil on the fireplace. The eager flames sent a cheerful, flickering light through the cabin. Even though it was summer, the nights were cold in the mountains and she was grateful for the fire’s warmth as the evening wind whistled round the uneven walls.
    She noticed that several past residents had carved their names into the timbers of the hut. None of the carvings were fresh, she thought, as she traced them with her fingertip. Arn. Johann. Detmer. One name was carved on a wall opposite the others and was obviously not Skandian. Nor was it a male name. She studied it curiously.
    ‘Evanlyn,’ she said to herself. She wondered who Evanlyn might have been, and what a woman was doing here in the first place.
    ‘Maybe hunting, like me,’ she said. She took her small utility knife out and deftly carved her own name under the other woman’s, studying her handiwork with satisfaction. Evanlyn. Lydia.
    ‘We girls have got to stick together,’ she said.
    She ate a quick supper of bacon and boiled potatoes, then turned in for the night.
    The following day, early in the morning, she set out a series of snares for small game and birds. Her atlatl was too brutal a weapon for such prey. It would tear them apart, leaving nothing for eating. She saw some deer tracks and followed them. But they were several days old and she caught no other sign of the animal that had made them. That was hunting, she thought. Sometimes, no matter how skilled you were, you came back empty-handed.
    Not that she cared too much. The hunting trip was merely a ploy to get her out of Hallasholm for a few days – and away from the attentions of Rollond.
    Rollond was a contemporary of Stig and Hal. He had been the leader of the Wolf Brotherband, who had competed with Hal and his Herons two years ago. He was tall and well built, and extremely handsome. She knew from idle conversation that the members of the Heron Brotherband liked him and respected him. She had heard vague stories about how he had helped them during their brotherband training period. In