‘Well, never saw one, but heard tell of some things on the wing up in the mountains that are big enough to attack a man, wyverns and the like.’ Then he cocked his head, frowning. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘That something’s not right here,’ Bram told him. ‘Lorrie said she saw men taking her brother away, and you didn’t believe her.’ He glanced pointedly at his mother. Her face became more pinched. ‘But the only evidence of animals is the marks on the bodies and she said that men did it with some sort of tool. Meanwhile Lorrie has run off alone and everyone’s just sitting here talking about it.’
Ossrey looked shamefaced and he wasn’t the only one, but no one spoke up and no one moved a muscle. Bram picked up his pack and rose.
‘Where are you going?’ Allet asked, alarmed.
‘Mother, Lorrie is a neighbour, more, she’s my friend and she’s only fifteen. She’s just lost everything in the world and she’s out there on her own. Rip may be out there too or he may be as dead as his parents, that’s something we don’t know. But we do know about Lorrie. We have an obligation to help her.’
‘No,’ his mother said, thin-lipped. ‘No, I don’t see that. We tried and she spurned our help. As far as I’m concerned that ends our obligation. And as for her being fifteen, you’re only seventeen yourself. So there’s no reason to think that you’ll do more going after her than she could do for herself.’
Bram was disappointed in her, but not surprised. As soon as he’d begun taking an interest in Lorrie his mother had turned against the girl: this was just more of the same. He looked at his father.
‘Do what you think is right, son,’ Ossrey rumbled.
Allet hit Ossrey’s arm and glared at him.
‘Would anyone else like to help me hunt for Lorrie?’ Bram asked.
There was a certain amount of foot shuffling and mutterings about not liking to be away from their families while a threat lurked near. And the constable, they should wait on the constable.
‘All right,’ Bram said. It was what he’d expected. He kissed his mother’s cheek and nodded to his father, then turned to go. ‘I’ll be back when I’m back, then.’
Allet reached out, her face a study in astonishment, but her husband held her back. He placed a large finger athwart her lips as Bram threw a few things into a haversack—a loaf of coarse brown bread, a lump of cheese and some smoked pork—and then took up his bow and quiver, nodding to the assembled company before he stepped back out into the night.
Lorrie drew rein half a mile from the gates of Land’s End. The sun was burning down over her shoulder. It had taken old Horace longer to cover the distance than she had thought. Rather than reaching the city by early morning, the poor old creature had managed to get there by midday. She’d been to the city as a child, of course: it was the only market town for the area within two weeks’ travel, and her father had let her come along to the Midsummer’s festival once, but she hardly had any sense of the place.
And I’ve been all night on the road.
It hardly seemed possible that only one night had passed since her world had ended.
A mule-drawn wagon went past her, and pack-horses; folk were hurrying to get to town and settle their business before the market stalls emptied out. A half-day’s commerce still waited those seeking to trade. She urged Horace into a fast walk, scanning ahead.
The town lay in the cup of the hills. Those immediately around it were too steep and rocky to be good farmland, but they’d been logged clear and a good deal of the traffic on the road was firewood from further away. Behind her rose hills dotted with lovely farms, many reminding her of her own, and but a day’s ride away the smouldering ashes of that farm were all that was left.
There were some sheep about, but mostly dairy-cows, which surprised her, until she realized that a city would be a good place to sell fresh milk. Nearer to the town there were worksteads on both sides of the dusty white road: trades that weren’t allowed in the city or needed more space—a big tannery whose stink made her blink and cough, a potter’s kilns like big stumpy beehives sending off waves of heat she could feel a dozen yards away, some smithies, and . . . yes, a stock-dealer. Horses, mostly. She could see them milling about in the pens behind chest-high fieldstone walls. And a saddler’s next door, with some of their own. Probably they both rented mounts or draught-animals, as well as dealing in them.
Lorrie felt her stomach rumble at the smell of cooking from a booth; she had had nothing to eat since the previous morning, the shock of the day’s events having driven all hunger from her. Now, yesterday morning seemed a long time ago to her stomach.
She’d known that she couldn’t keep Horace once she got to Land’s End even though the thought broke her heart. There was no money to board and feed him and only the little in Bram’s purse for herself.