Elizabeth Boyer - Wizard's War 01 by The Troll's Grindstone

Author:The Troll's Grindstone [Grindstone, The Troll's]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

As they rode slowly down the lane past the barns and paddocks, Leifr noticed that it all seemed desolate of ordinary use, and all that he could see of any livestock were heaps of bones hither and yon.

“Sorkvir’s curse has been hard on this place,” he observed to Gotiskolker.

Gotiskolker nodded abstractedly, peering around him warily. “This place is dangerous,” he muttered. “Although there is only one woman here, instead of four. Doubtless Thurid will be glad to hear that.”

Thurid turned slowly to glare over his shoulder, clearing his throat indignantly. “I don’t believe we’ll have anything to fear from our hostess, Alof, on any account. She has long been known to this part of Skarpsey as a generous, fearless, and solitary woman.”

“I wonder if she’s expecting us.” Leifr noted the freshly hung carcass of a calf in the kitchen annex porch. “News travels fast in the Pentacle, it seems.”

“You ought to have learned what sort of hospitality to expect by now.” Gotiskolker grunted. “No one is going to welcome Fridmarr Fridmundrsson with fresh meat.”

“How right you are,” Leifr replied gloomily. “Not even the dogs will come out to welcome us.” He nodded toward the long bam, where a row of dark snouts showed under the door edge, snarling and growling menacingly. The troll-hounds’ fur stood on end, and they would have attacked if Leifr had not called them back sharply.

The riders paused beside a window in the accepted fashion and Thurid tapped at the shutter with the end of his staff. The house seemed silent and watchful.

176

The Troll’s Grindstone 177

“What are we supposed to purify while we’re here?” Leifr asked Thurid while they waited, speaking in a low voice so he would not be heard by anyone inside.

“A spring,” Thurid answered, “called Lusterfoss, because there’s a small waterfall below it. Hark, someone’s coming. They’re unbarring the door.”

The door opened a short way and someone peered out cautiously. “Are you travelers who come in peace?” a woman’s voice inquired, somewhat suspiciously, and Leifr could feel himself being scrutinized.

“Yes, we’ve come with a just and peaceful intent,” Thurid replied pompously. “We’ve heard that this is a house of refuge and that we can expect food and shelter here.”

“You are day-farers, and I already have night-farers within. Do you promise to abide one another’s presence and refrain from your quarrels while you are under my roof?”

“Yes, we promise,” Thurid said, and Leifr and Gotiskolker nodded their heads in agreement.

“Then you. may hang your weapons on my tree and come inside. One of my men will come for your horses.”

As Leifr hung his sword and shield on the dead tree he studied the Dokkalfar weaponry already hanging there—four broad axes, four shields, and four swords with walrus tusks for handles.

“We’re outnumbered,” he observed to Thurid.

“They are outwizarded.” Thurid sniffed arrogantly and strode toward the hall with his tattered cloak surging gallantly around the tops of his pretentious old boots. Leifr and Gotiskolker slunk after him, looking like two badly off thralls trailing at their master’s heels.

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