‘Aye, it is, sure enough,’ Ulf said as he sat back and quaffed his mead, emptying the cup without taking a breath, then belched as long and loud as Drem had ever heard. His da filled Ulf’s cup and sipped some of his own. Night had fallen long since, a strong wind outside making timbers creak and sending the flames of the fire flickering and coiling as darkness pressed in upon them, making shadows dance and writhe on the walls.
‘Close to four hundred new souls living around the crater, I’d wager,’ Ulf said. ‘All of them arriving since you wandered off in the spring towards the Bonefells. Not that I’m complaining: they’ll all be after fur-lined boots and cloaks once they have a taste of winter up here.’
‘Any trappers like us?’ Drem asked.
‘Aye, a few. Not like you two, though,’ Ulf said. ‘Six moons living wild in the Bonefells, now that’s what I call commitment to the job. Most of the others have been back at least a moon, those that are coming back.’
‘Not everyone’s returned, then?’
‘No, Vidar and Sten are still out there, though they’re almost as insane as you two, so there’s still hope they’ve survived the Wild another season. Old Bodil isn’t back, either, which isn’t so good. Don’t expect to see him, now. He’s wintered eight years in Kergard, and he’s always back before the end of Reaper’s Moon.’ Ulf squinted at Olin through one eye, a sure sign that the mead was having some effect. ‘Didn’t see him on your travels?’
‘No. Not him nor any other soul,’ Olin replied.
Hope he’s all right, Drem thought. He liked Old Bodil, though most called him cantankerous and ill-tempered. Drem thought most of that was just straight talking, without any dressing.
‘Ah, well. He’ll not be the first trapper to end his days up in those mountains, or the last. Maybe he ran into the kin of the wolven that ended my trapping days. Course, I doubt they’d ever be as fierce a beast as I had the bad fortune to come across, roaming up in the high places.’
They probably are, wolven don’t become less fierce, thought Drem, gritting his teeth so that he didn’t blurt the words out. He was trying to take his da’s advice and not unwittingly insult Ulf; not that he saw any insult in correcting a mistake, but he’d learned to take his da’s advice on such subjects, no matter how much it bothered him. And it did bother him. Listening to someone make a mistake and not correct it was like listening to nails scraping across slate and not asking them to stop.
‘Big as draigs, they were, those wolven.’ Ulf rubbed a hand along his thigh, leg out straight before him, eyes distant.
‘There’s more than wolven to watch out for up in those hills,’ Olin said. ‘We came across a giant bear. White as snow, it was.’
Ulf grunted and sat up with interest. ‘A white bear pelt; now that would fetch a rare price. Why didn’t you bring it home?’
‘We were too busy trying not to let it eat us.’ Olin smiled ruefully.
Drem nodded his head vigorously.
Ulf raised an eyebrow.
‘It was big,’ Olin said, ‘bigger than any I’ve seen before, even those with a giant on their backs.’
‘Pffft.’ Ulf spat with a smile. ‘Animals grow in the telling, I’ve learned.’ Nevertheless, Drem saw him give Olin an appraising look.
Ha, you’re a fine one to say that! Drem thought, almost grinding his jaws together to stop himself from saying anything. Instead his hand reached up into his woollen shirt and he pulled out the bear claw tied around his neck, dangling it for Ulf to see.
Ulf whistled and held his hands up. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, eyes wide. ‘The beast on the end of that must’ve been a rare sight.’
‘We didn’t stand still to admire it,’ Olin said.
‘No, spent more time running, and swimming,’ Drem added.
‘And near soiling our breeches,’ Olin put in.
Ulf spat a mouthful of his mead onto the fire, which hissed, flames leaping.
‘Ah, I miss those days.’ He laughed wistfully.
‘And even then we didn’t get away free of harm,’ Drem added, pointing to his ankle and his da’s arm.
‘Good job Drem can stitch a wound,’ Olin said.
‘Like that, eh?’ Ulf nodded knowingly. ‘Man-eater, then. I’ve come across them before. I wonder . . .’ Ulf gazed at the fire, falling silent.
‘Wonder what?’ Drem prompted.
‘Not just trappers lost to the Wild. Townsfolk have been going missing, too. Lads out hunting, mostly. Some near the lake.’ He shrugged. ‘And a bairn or two. First I thought it was southerners not having enough respect for a northern winter. Too many, though. Then I thought a wolven pack may have come south early. Thought I heard howling, the other night, off to the north-east. Might have been the wind. But maybe it’s your white bear. Once they get a taste of man-flesh . . .’ He looked to the flat dark of a shuttered window, and suddenly Drem was imagining the white bear padding through their yard.
‘That was just a wild animal protecting its kill,’ Olin said with a wave of his hand, though he looked troubled by what Ulf had said. He looked hard at Ulf. ‘Tell me, these new arrivals at Kergard. Has this ever happened before? So many coming north in just one season?’
‘Not since I’ve been here,’ Ulf said, ‘and that’s over a score of years. Most I remember is a dozen in one year. Usually it’s people like yourselves, coming up in twos, threes, fours. Sometimes a family.’
Olin nodded thoughtfully. ‘Why so many, do you think?’
‘Two reasons, far as I can tell,’ Ulf said. ‘They’ve found iron ore, lots of it, close to the northern rim of the lake. A mine’s sprung up, all sorts coming north to work it.’
That would explain the lights we saw the other night, Drem thought, sharing a look with his da.
‘And then there’s the other reason,’ Ulf continued, looking about the room, hunching closer to Olin as if there were spies in the shadows. Drem did the same. ‘There’s trouble in the south,’ the old tanner said. ‘Hard to get the truth of it, a rumour here, another there. A lot of unrest, I’m hearing, people not happy.’
‘Not happy with what?’ Drem asked.
‘The Ben-Elim,’ Ulf said. ‘There’s another side to their so-called peace, and to living in their Land of the Faithful.’ He took a large sip from his cup. ‘I saw it all those years ago, but apparently it’s getting worse.’
‘What is?’ Olin asked, his voice impatient.
‘You know the Ben-Elim demand a tithe for their peace and protection. Coin or goods, and flesh?’ Ulf said.
Olin nodded.
How is it that Da knows this, and I don’t.
‘What do you mean, flesh?’ Drem asked, looking pointedly at his da, who just frowned, avoiding Drem’s eyes.
‘I mean people, Drem,’ Ulf said. ‘The Land of the Faithful keeps growing, and there aren’t enough Ben-Elim to patrol it, so they want a tithe of warriors. Course, they’ve got the giants, or most of them, apart from those at Dun Seren, but that’s still not enough. They demand youngsters they can train in their ways of making war, to go out and fight for them.’
‘Oh,’ Drem said. ‘That just seems wrong. I don’t like it.’ He felt the urge to take his pulse, fingers twitching, but controlled himself.