Hallsfoot's Battle Read Free

another war to come, the dangers of the mind-executioner
lurking like a shadow of a mountain over them all. Simon couldn’t
even begin to comprehend what any of those words might mean. The
Gathandrians were a curious people, their minds full of signs and
symbols that had little to do with the truth as he understood
it—had understood it, anyway. He allowed himself a small grin.
After all, he was half-Gathandrian, too, which made him the most
mysterious of them all.
    The mind-cane’s humming rose in intensity.
The sound made him shiver, but this time it clarified something
within him. He rolled out of bed and stood up slowly. He still
refused to look at the cane. Against his skin, the air was colder
than he’d expected. He looked out of the window, and the whiteness
of the sky made him shake his head. Of course. It was winter here,
as it would be back in the Lammas Lands. Best not to think of
Ralph, however.
    He saw Annyeke’s garden was bleak, but there
was something lovely about it. The lemon tree didn’t have many
leaves, but they were lush and deep green. He imagined fruiting
would be some way distant. When did the spring-cycle arrive here?
Apart from the tree, he could see a few herb bushes, all of them
resting on pale yellow grass. Where he’d come from, the grass was
green, so he didn’t know whether this was a sign of the recent
battles or not. Had the wars affected the country here so much?
Johan had said it had, but hadn’t explained in any detail.
    In fact, Johan hadn’t explained very much at
all since Simon had last seen him, two day-cycles ago. Where was
he?
    The scribe closed his eyes and leaned his
forehead against the wood of the window frame. Johan. His cousin,
newly discovered, and a man whose friendship he had come to enjoy
without the need for anything more demanding. He’d experienced
neither kinship nor friendship for a while, if at all, and he
didn’t want to lose something before it had barely begun.
    So. He would have to talk to Johan, and the
people out there, Annyeke and the boy Talus. It was time to face
the world.
    As he reached for his tunic and cloak, lying
freshly washed and folded where Annyeke had left them, the
mind-cane hummed more loudly, spun forward and touched him. Its
ebony coolness seared his mind. He recoiled with a gasp, willing it
away from him. The cane receded a few paces but remained on the
alert, as if waiting for another gap in his defences. He could feel
the slow crimson of it oozing away from his thoughts. Odd how he
hadn’t been that afraid during the moments when he’d touched it
before on the journey here. He hadn’t even thought about it on the
occasions when his blood, such as it was, was up. But now, in the
spaciousness of relative peace, he had grown more wary than
ever.
    Simon didn’t know what the cane might do to
him if he allowed it a greater inroad into his soul. He dressed
quickly, strengthening the barrier to his thoughts so the cane
couldn’t spring through, though, of course, it was a ridiculous
act. The mind-cane did whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted. It
did not take its orders from the scribe. Simon slipped out of the
curtained entrance and into the world beyond.
    The cane followed him but did not approach
any nearer. And, thank all the gods and stars, its strange humming
stopped. But, for how long?
    At his sudden appearance, Annyeke and Talus
turned. Annyeke herself was a short, rounded woman with long red
hair that she had tied this morning into a messy plait. Her fingers
were white with flour from the bread she had been baking. Her
smile, found in the instant she saw him, was wide and welcoming,
but he could sense the troubles lying in her heart. The boy simply
blinked and pushed his brown hair away from his face.
    For a moment, there was silence and Simon
wondered which of the many apologies he owed them he should start
with. But it was Talus who spoke first, staring curiously at the
cane.
    “Is it going to kill us?”
    The scribe