“It’s not just a soldier,” Grondar said. “It’s a shatra. It can’t stop being that.”
“But he stopped fighting, just as you did,” Garander said.
“It’s late,” Shella of the Green Eyes said, speaking for the first time since asking what had brought on her husband’s stories. She got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Ishta, you should be in bed, too.”
With that, the family gathering broke up. Garander banked the fire for the night and made sure the doors and shutters were secure while the others retired to their bedrooms, and then climbed the stairs to his own bed in the attic.
He huddled in his bed, waiting until his body had warmed it enough to sleep comfortably, and thought over the evening’s conversation. He had expected his father to think Tesk was dangerous, but he had not expected the shatra’s presence to trigger all those wartime memories. He hoped there would be no other surprises. His worries gradually blended into dreams as he fell asleep, and that seemed to sap them of any urgency.
The next day it snowed again, and they were all busy tending to the farm, making sure the stores were full and secure and that the livestock were safe from the weather, but the several days following were clear and cold.
A sixnight after his first sight of Tesk, around midday, Grondar came in from the barn, stamped the snow from his boots, and announced, “I’m going to go see Felder.”
Startled, Garander asked, “Why? Are we short on something?”
Grondar glared at him. “No. Do I need my son’s permission to visit our neighbor?”
Garander glanced around at his mother and sisters, but they were obviously not eager to get involved. “No, of course not, Father,” he said.
Grondar relented slightly. “I want to make sure he’s all right, that he was ready for the snow.”
“Oh.”
“And I’m going to warn him that we’ve seen a shatra in the woods.”
This time it was Garander’s mother who spoke. “He’ll think you’ve gone mad.”
Grondar turned up an empty palm. “Let him.” Then he grabbed his hat and marched out the door.
Over the course of the next sixnight Grondar visited Kolar down by the ford, and old Elkan, and Rulura the Witch, and finally he went into the village of Ezval to spread the news more widely.
Garander also visited some of their neighbors, not to spread any news, but to see how his father’s reports had been received. He talked to Kolar’s son Karn, and Elkan’s granddaughters, and a woman he met at the smith’s forge whose name he didn’t know.
No one actually seemed to be convinced there was really a shatra in the forest, but they didn’t seem to think that Grondar was mad, merely that he had seen something in the woods and had misinterpreted what he saw. He had presented his story in rational terms, and had admitted the possibility he was wrong, while saying he didn’t think he was.
And he had apparently not mentioned that two of his children had befriended the monster. Garander was grateful for that, anyway.
Karn asked him, “So have you seen this half-demon thing?”
Garander turned up a palm. “I did see something in the woods. It looked like a man to me, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“So your father isn’t completely imagining it?”
“No, there was something there. I thought maybe it was a ghost, but I saw it.”
“Huh. I thought it was awfully early in the winter to be going hearth-crazy. If you both saw it, I guess there was something to see.”
“Ishta saw it, too,” Garander said.
“What about Shella?”
Garander shook his head. “She doesn’t go out near the woods if she can help it. My mother wasn’t there, either.” He noticed the look in Karn’s eyes when he said Shella’s name; it might not be that long before Karn would be his brother-in-law, unappealing though that prospect might be.
After the visit to Ezval Grondar seemed to feel he had done his duty, and stopped his expeditions. Two days later the first real blizzard struck, and the question of any further visiting was moot. As the snow piled up and the wind howled in the eaves just keeping the family and livestock alive and healthy was enough to occupy everyone’s time.
It appeared they were in for a hard winter, as this blizzard was a bad one, bad enough that the elder Shella wondered if they had somehow offended the gods, while Grondar suggested there might be magic involved.
Whatever the reasons for the storm’s ferocity, there was nothing they could do but wait it out.
As the storm continued Ishta worried about Tesk, but Garander assured her they had experienced worse in previous years, even if she didn’t remember it, and Tesk had presumably survived those winters well enough.
Ishta did not seem entirely convinced, but she was not stupid or desperate enough to go out in the storm looking for her demonic friend; she knew how easy it was to get disoriented in all that whiteness and howling wind, and how quickly a person—or at least the goat they had lost during a storm two years earlier—could freeze to death. They used tethers and guide-ropes just to get from the house to the barn; venturing into the woods was out of the question.
After a day and a half the storm eased, and when Garander returned from watering the cattle he found Ishta leaning out the door, staring toward the forest.
“He’s fine,” Garander told her as he reached the house. He pulled her inside and slammed the door. “Don’t let out all the warmth.”
“We don’t know he’s fine,” Ishta said. “I know you said he’s survived worse, when I was little, but we don’t know that. He might have been hiding in a cave up in the hills or something back then, and maybe this time he was caught off-guard.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Garander replied.
“We should check on him!”
“In this weather? We can’t.”
“When the snow stops, I mean.”
Garander sighed. “Ishta, if he is in trouble, it’ll be too late by then, even if we could find him.”
“We should look, though! He’s part demon; maybe he…oh, I don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” Garander admitted. “But if you’re really that worried, I’ll help you take a look when the weather lets up. You can’t go out there alone in all this snow. And we’ll have to tell Father—he’d see the tracks, in any case.”
“But he told us to stay away from Tesk!”
Garander had momentarily forgotten that; doing his chores in the blizzard had distracted him. He frowned.
Just then their sister Shella opened the door and stepped in, carrying an armful of firewood. Ishta glanced up at Garander.
“We’ll talk later,” he said. Shella threw him a curious glance, but said nothing.
The snow stopped completely that evening, and by morning the clouds had blown away, leaving a white world ablaze with light, sun reflecting from every snow-covered surface. Grondar put the children and himself to work, shoveling out paths and clearing snow from windows and doors; it was tiring, but the effort kept them warm.
Around noon Garander was up in the loft, clearing the loft door and making sure the weight of the snow had not cracked any rafters, when he glanced out across the north field, toward the forest.
A thin line of smoke was rising from the trees.
He blinked, then smiled. There was only one way there could be a fire out there in these conditions. Tesk had survived the storm.
He took one more look around, gave the loft door a final swing to make sure no snow blocked its movement, then latched it and headed downstairs to tell Ishta that the shatra was alive.
He found her clearing snow from the chicken run, where she received the news with less delight than Garander had expected.
“He built a fire?”
“Well, someone did, and who else could it be?”
“But anyone could see it!”
Annoyed, Garander asked, “Who else is there around here?”
“The neighbors! Felde
r can probably see it.”
Garander had to stop and think a moment, then said, “From his house it probably looks like it’s ours.”
Ishta opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. “Oh,” she said.
“Tesk isn’t stupid,” Garander pointed out.
“What about from Kolar’s farm?”
“I’m not sure he could see it at all; he’s on the other side of the south ridge.”
“What about Shessin…no, I guess not.” Ishta frowned. “Let me see it.”
The two climbed back up to the loft, where Garander opened the door and pointed out the thin trail of pale smoke.
Ishta squinted out into the glare. “I can hardly see it,” she said. “It’s white smoke. You didn’t say that.”
“I told you he wasn’t stupid.”
Garander had thought that would settle the matter, but that evening Ishta pulled him aside and made it clear that she still wanted to check on Tesk when she got a chance, and she expected Garander to help her.
“But you’ll leave tracks!” Garander protested.
“Maybe we can hide them somehow.”
Garander had no idea how they could hide tracks in snow this deep—the blizzard had deposited about a foot and a half of snow, with drifts as much as ten feet high. Of course, the wind that made those drifts had also scoured some areas down to a mere inch or two, and there was a long arc across the north field where that had happened. He wondered whether they could use that somehow.
It was four days later, though, that Ishta came up with her own solution—hide behind the drifts, where their tracks would not be visible from the house or barn. That would not take them all the way, but it might be enough to keep their father from noticing their trail.
It was obvious that she was not going to be deterred, so Garander accompanied her, crouching behind the drifts as they wound their way around the barn, past the bushes, across the north field, and into the woods.
They had scarcely stepped into the shadow of the first few trees when Tesk called to them.
“Hsst!” he said, and both of them looked up to see him crouched on a tree limb, about fifteen feet up. Garander immediately looked at the snow beneath it; there were no footprints.
There were mounds of snow fallen from branches, though, which could have been normal, but was probably Tesk’s doing. He must have made his way through the treetops.
“Tesk!” Ishta shouted.
Tesk immediately placed a finger to his lips. “Sound travels well in this weather,” he said.
“I’m so glad to see you!” Ishta exclaimed, a little more quietly.
“And I am pleased to see you.”
“I was afraid you’d freeze out here, in that storm!”
Tesk smiled. “I have my magic,” he said. “I am fine.”
“We saw the smoke from your fire,” Garander said. “Four days ago.”
“I intended you to,” Tesk said. “That was a signal to let you know I was safe.”
“So that’s why I never saw smoke in the forest before?”
Tesk nodded. “I do not need fire often. When I do, I have ways of hiding it. I let you see that one deliberately.”
“I was worried,” Ishta said. “Especially when we saw the smoke right after the storm, but then it was gone again later.”
“It was intended to reassure you. White smoke will always mean I am safe. If I am not, the smoke will be dark.”
Ishta nodded understanding.
“I am glad you and your family were safe.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Garander said. “We have a house, we aren’t out in the woods!”
“Still, a storm can be dangerous. I came to see you were safe that night.”
“You did?”
Tesk nodded.
“I didn’t see footprints,” Garander said.
Tesk smiled at that. “I have magic.”
Garander smiled back, then turned serious. “Father has told the neighbors you’re here,” he said.
“Did they believe him?”
“I don’t know,” Garander admitted. “Probably not.”
“Then I will not worry about it, but I thank you for the warning.” Then his head jerked up slightly. “I think you should go. Your father is moving this way.”
Ishta turned to stare back toward the farm, but Garander hesitated. “Would you be willing to talk with him sometime?” he asked.
Tesk stared at Garander for a moment before answering, “I would. But not now.” Then he turned and slid up the tree, disappearing quickly among the snow-covered branches.
When the two of them got back to the barn they found Grondar standing by the well, staring out across the north field. He saw them arrive, and for a moment the three of them just stared at one another.
It was Grondar who broke the silence. “He’s still out there?”
“Yes,” Garander said, expecting a speech about how dangerous Tesk was, and how they should stop disobeying orders and stay away from the shatra, but instead Grondar just nodded.
“Be careful,” he said.
Chapter Ten
The winter was indeed a harsh one, but Grondar had seen to it that his family was prepared for it. Meals got smaller and less interesting as the sixnights passed, and the pile in the woodshed shrank to a tiny fraction of its original size, but they were never in serious danger of either starving or freezing.
There were four blizzards in all, and a fifth storm that came close to qualifying, and after each one Garander peered out the loft door to see a thin streak of white smoke on the northeastern sky. He had no idea how Tesk was surviving out there in the forest, with no real shelter and no obvious food supply, but apparently he was doing just fine.
Finally, though, the days grew longer, the sun rose higher, and the snow began to melt. The cattle and chickens began to thrust their heads out out of their pens, enjoying the fresh air and sunlight. Grondar set Garander to sharpening the plow blade and checking the harness while he himself inspected the fences and marked the boundaries.
Ishta was given various tasks around the house and yard, but Garander was not surprised to see more than once that she had done a quick and sloppy job, and then slipped away. He was fairly certain she was sneaking into the forest to see Tesk, and not just playing in the irrigation ditches.
The two Shellas, mother and daughter, were airing out the house and the linens, and cleaning the accumulated grime from the floors.
For his own part, Garander did not feel any great urgency about visiting Tesk. He was curious about what the shatra was up to, and how he had survived the winter, but getting the farm ready for spring planting was far more urgent. He wanted to have fresh vegetables again, something more than dried beans and withered carrots; he wanted to see the grain bins full again. Once that was taken care of, he could spare the time to take a stroll in the woods and chat with the Northerner.
The snow had diminished to scattered islands where the bigger drifts had once stood, and the paths were starting to dry out and pack hard again, when a stranger’s voice called from across the west field.
“Hai, the house! Is this the home of Grondar of Lullen?”
Garander looked up from his work and saw a man standing near the boundary stone, waving an arm over his head. There were at least two other figures behind the waver.
Garander got to his feet and hung the leather strap he had been inspecting on a peg by the barn door; then he looked around for his family.
His mother and Shella the Younger were in the house, and probably had not heard the hail. Ishta was not in sight; he had last seen her feeding the chickens that morning. His father was at the far end of the south field, a distant speck on the landscape, wielding a hoe or shovel on something. He probably had not heard the call, either.
The only strangers who Garander had ever seen come calling were tax collectors; so much, he thought, for the baron’s promised payment for Ishta’s talisman.
There was no point in putting it off,
though. He stepped away from the barn and called back, “Who asks?”
“Lord Dakkar, Baron of Varag, sent us to speak to Grondar,” came the answer. The stranger waved at his companions.
Garander did not remember the tax collectors traveling in groups. He glanced at his father’s distant silhouette, then began marching westward; he didn’t want to interrupt whatever Grondar was doing down there by the south fence if this was something that Garander could deal with himself. As he went he beckoned for the strangers to approach; there was no reason he should have to do all the walking.
The field was muddy, so Garander did not follow a straight line, but looked for the driest ground. When they met in mid-field, and he looked up from his feet, he was astonished to realize he recognized two of the visitors.
There were four of them in all, and each carried a good-sized pack on one shoulder. Two were soldiers in the same uniforms the baron’s guards in Varag wore, while the other two were the wizard Azlia and the sorcerer Sammel. They clearly recognized him, as well.
“I’m Garander Grondar’s son,” he said. “Grondar of Lullen is my father. What’s your business with him?” It almost certainly had something to do with Ishta’s talisman, he thought.
The lead soldier glanced at the others, and appeared about to speak, when Azlia interrupted. “Hargal, we know this young man. Let me handle this.” She stepped forward.
The soldier turned up a palm and moved aside.
“Wizard,” Garander said. “Why are you here?”
“There have been reports,” she said, “that your father claims to have seen shatra in the woods beyond his farm.”
Garander’s mouth opened, then closed again. He had not expected that. “Oh?” he said.
“Yes. Do you know anything about that?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Did your father see shatra in the forest?”
Ordinarily, Garander would have said that they would have to ask his father, but in this case he did not want them to do that. He just looked blank.
“Do you know what a shatra is, boy?” asked the soldier Azlia had called Hargal.
“I’ve heard my father talk about them,” Garander said. “They were a Northern thing in the war, weren’t they?”
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