A Cavern of Black Ice (22 page)

"Mace Blackhail," Shor
Gormalin said softly, turning so the torchlight fell upon the short
unassuming sword at his waist. "If having a hand up a girl's
skirt is test of a man, then there's a good fifty in this room
tonight who you'll be needing to see to the door."

The room rang with laughter. Most full
clansmen laughed with genuine amusement. A good portion of the
yearmen laughed with relief.

Without waiting for a reply, Shor
Gormalin beckoned to Raif. "Over here wi' me, lad, and quick
about it."

Mace Blackhail did not drop his arm as
Raif approached, and Raif was forced to push past him to join Shor
Gormalin by the hearth. Dirt and soil were lodged beneath Mace
Blackhail's fingertips, and his clothes carried the damp, rotting
leaf odor of the Oldwood. "Easy with me, boy," he murmured
as Raif shoved against him. "You'll push me too far one of these
days, I can tell."

Raif tried to avoid Mace Blackhail's
eyes, but somehow he found himself looking into them. The irises were
dark and shifting like the surface of a lake by night. When Mace
blinked, the water deposited over them had a greasy, reflective
quality that gave his irises a yellow cast. Quickly Raif looked away.

Shor Gormalin patted Raifs shoulder as
he came to stand beside him. The heat from the fire was hot on the
backs of his legs, and despite the chimney and several open windows,
Raif found it difficult to breathe. The air seemed thick and
poisoned. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Drey staring
at him from across the room. He had taken his hammer from the
leather cradle at his back, and his fingers pressed hard against the
varnished limewood handle.

"So, Mace," Orwin Shank said,
dabbing his red and sweating cheeks with a shammy, "what's this
rumor that's spreading about you and Raina?"

Mace Blackhail smiled a fraction. He
shrugged and looked down at his hands. His boiled leather coat was
inlaid with disks of sliced and blackened wolf bone. The Clansword
was couched in a newly worked scabbard at his thigh. "Normally I
would be reluctant to talk about such things—what's between a
man and woman is their affair and no one else's." He paused to
give clansmen time to nod. "But a certain lady and myself find
ourselves in a difficult position; one which, if things aren't
explained good and early to as many ears as possible, could easily be
misunderstood." A pause. "I will not let that happen. I
will hear no bad words spoken against Raina. If either of us must
take blame, let it be me." With that, Mace Blackhail brought his
hand to rest on the lead-and-bone hilt of the sword.

Raif felt sweat trickle down his neck
as flames roared away against his back. Where was Nellie Moss or
Anwyn Bird? Couldn't someone dampen the fire?

"So," Mace Blackhail said
with a heavy sigh, "I must say what I must say. Early today when
I returned to the roundhouse, I got word that Raina was in the
Oldwood tending her traps. Naturally, as she is first respected in
the clan as well as my own beloved foster kin, I rode out to greet
her and give her my news." Mace rubbed a gloved hand over the
pale skin on his face. Once again he looked down. "This is not
easy for me. A man does not like to talk of such things…"
His voice trailed away, inviting someone to speak up and encourage
him.

Corbie Meese cleared his throat with a
rough hacking sound. Standing where he was, directly in front of a
brightly burning greenwood torch, the hammer dent in his head showed
up more clearly than ever. "Tell us your story, Mace. Tis
obvious you are reluctant to speak—no one here can fault you
for that—but if it concerns the clan, we must know."

Mace Blackhail nodded along with a
hundred others. He took a step forward, then another back, looking
for all intents and purposes like a man hardly knowing what to say or
where to begin. The lines around Raif's mouth hardened. He didn't
believe Mace Blackhail capable of faltering for a moment. The Wolf
knew exactly what he meant to say right from the start.

Finally Mace looked up. "Well, I
rode to the Oldwood and came upon Raina sitting on a fallen basswood.
She was in a bad way. I think everyone here knows just how much she
loved her husband, and when I found her it was obvious she had come
to the Oldwood to be alone with her grief. She's a proud woman—we
all know that—and she didn't want anyone to know how deeply
Dagro's death had cut her."

Mace Blackhail had nearly everyone in
the room with him. Raina
was
proud, even Raif had to admit
that. And it sounded true enough that she would go off alone before
giving in to her grief… but then Drey had said Effie was there
with her. The skin on Raif's face slowly switched from hot to cold as
Mace Blackhail continued speaking.

"Of course I went to comfort her.
We share a man's loss and are close bound by it, and we wept upon one
another's shoulders and swapped our grief. Raina was understanding
and gentle, and, as women often tend to, helped me more than I helped
her." Mace made a minute gesture with his hand. He swallowed
hard. "I… I must own up to what happened next. I would
not be a man if I didn't. Our closeness drew us closer, and we fell
into each other's arms and came together as man and woman."

The clan was silent. Breath hung in
three hundred throats. The light in the room dimmed as one of the
central torches burned out. At his side, Raif was aware of a muscle
pumping in Shor Gormalin's cheek.

Mace Blackhail continued speaking, his
voice low and halting. "I will make no excuses for my actions.
It was wrong of me to take advantage of the situation. As an elder
yearman and Dagro Blackhail's foster son, I should have known better.
I should have pushed Raina from me and walked away. Yet I didn't. I
let the moment get the better of me, we both did, and if I could
reclaim the past five hours and undo what has been done, I would. By
all the gods watching from their Stone Havens tonight, I wish I had
never ridden to the Oldwood.

"Raina is no blood kin to me, but
she has cared for me as family, and I owe her respect. Now I have
wronged her—and deeply. It matters not that she was willing.
One of the first things my foster father taught me is that a man
should always take responsibility for his actions, most especially
when those actions concern women."

Although Raif saw looks of condemnation
and disapproval on many faces, especially those of the older
clansmen, he also saw a good few men nodding and sighing along with
the Wolf. Bailie the Red had an arrow in his cracked and callused
bowhand and was stroking the fletching feathers, nodding almost
continually. Nearly all the yearmen showed small signs of sympathy,
pulling on their chins, pressing their lips together, and exchanging
small knowing glances. Raif couldn't bear to watch them. How could
they stand by and listen to the lies?

"Second, I want to say before all
here and now that I will make amends for what I have done. Raina is
older than me and her womb has proven barren, yet I could not live
with myself unless I took her for my wife. We sinned in the eyes of
nine gods, and I cannot call myself a man unless I put it right."
Finished, Mace Blackhail stood in the center of the room and waited.

All stood or sat without movement. No
matter if they sympathized with Mace Blackhail or not, they were
wary. Marriage between a clan chiefs widow and his fostered son was
serious business. Most especially when it came a mere fourteen days
after the chiefs death. After a long moment, Orwin Shank made a
smacking sound with his lips. "Well, you've certainly landed in
the bloody flux this time, Mace. Good and proper. What were you
thinking, lad? Wi'
Raina
?"

Mace Blackhail shook his head. "I
wasn't thinking, that was the problem."

"Thinking wi' your balls, more
like," said Bailie the Red, slipping the last of his arrows into
his bowcase. "O' course you'll damn well have to marry her now.
You're right about that. You can't have the ladle without taking the
pot. By the Stone Gods, man! What a damn fool thing to do!"

"Aye," cried Corbie Meese.
"You'll feel my hammer up your arse if you don't wed her good
and proper. And prompt at that. Barren she may have proven in the
past, but there's still a chance a bairn may come from the joining,
and I for one won't stand by and watch as Raina's good name is
dragged through the muck."

"Aye!" shouted a dozen
others.

Raif listened as Will Hawk, Arlec Byce,
and even tiny liver-spotted Gat Murdock agreed vigorously with Corbie
Meese. Fierce and highly specific threats were issued concerning the
future of Mace Blackhail's manhood if he failed to do his duty by
Raina. Clansmen were always fiercely protective of their women, and
it seemed as if the Wolf had walked himself straight into a trap.
Raif couldn't shake off the feeling that the clan was responding
exactly how Mace Blackhail wanted them to. There were lies here,
clever ones. Yet Raif couldn't guess what they were. Had Mace
Blackhail and Raina been planning to marry all along? Raif shook his
head. He couldn't believe that.

Looking up, he locked gazes with his
brother. Surprisingly, Drey had taken no part in demanding that Mace
should marry Raina. Raif remembered how Drey had carried the black
bearskin from the badlands camp… all that way without saying a
word.

The stone flag Raif stood upon rocked
beneath him as Shor Gormalin stepped forward to speak. "Has
anyone thought to ask what Raina cares to do? I for one would like to
hear what she has to say on this matter." The small swordsman
was not as soft-spoken as normal, and his blue eyes were hard as they
regarded Mace Blackhail. "It's
her
future we're
discussing here."

Mace nodded so quickly, Raif knew he
had been expecting such a demand all along. "Drey," he
said, his gaze not leaving Shor Gormalin for an instant, "run
down to the underspace and fetch Raina. Tell her all that has
happened so she comes upon us at no disadvantage."

Before Drey could move from his place
near the stang, Gat Murdock spoke up. The ancient turkey-necked
bowman shook his head. "It isn't right and proper to drag Raina
before us just so we can have the satisfaction of seeing her admit to
her mistake. By the hells! What sort of men are we if we allow such
thing?"

Bailie the Red was quick to back up his
fellow bowman. "Gat's right. It's not fitting to shame Raina in
such a way. It's one thing for a man to steal sauce when he can,
quite another for a woman."

Mace looked regretfully from bowman to
bowman. "Aye, you're right. But there's some here"—sharp
glances at Shor Gormalin and Raif—"who need to hear the
truth of it for themselves. Drey, fetch Raina and do as I say."

Drey left the room. Raif listened as he
pounded down the stairs, eager to do Mace's bidding. Mace Blackhail
had manipulated another situation, and Raif was just beginning to
work out how he did it. He had a way of admitting to his own faults,
robbing others of the satisfaction of pointing them out or using them
against him. And his lies were always mixed with the truth.

After a few minutes of silence, Mace
Blackhail sighed. The wolf bones on his coat chimed like shells. "Gat
and Bailie are right. Bringing Raina here to face the clan is ill
use. It's a woman's right to pick and choose what she tells of her
private affairs. I for one wouldn't blame her if she denies the whole
thing ever happened, or even went so far as to claim she'd been taken
by force. It's her privilege to keep such things to herself, and by
bringing her here before us, we rob that from her. And who amongst us
can blame her for protecting her modesty by any means she can?"

Raif frowned. He didn't understand what
Mace was getting at.

Others seemed to, though, and many men,
mostly full clansmen in their thirties and older, nodded softly at
Mace's words. One or two muttered
Aye,'tis so
. Bailie the
Red glowered at Shor Gormalin.

More torches went out during the wait.
Raif wondered where Nellie Moss could be. She was a strange woman
with the voice and hard chest of a man, yet she never missed her
rounds.

Finally the doors opened. Raina
Blackhail walked in wearing a plain blue dress, thickly stained
around the hem and cuffs. The bandages covering her widow's weals
were not fresh, and dried blood and mud were caked upon the linen.
Drey came to rest a few paces behind her, and then a moment later
Nellie Moss entered the room, carrying bundles of greenwood and a
skin of wick oil.

Raina stood in the entry space, head
held high, not saying a word. Raif thought he saw her hands
trembling, but she quickly grasped at the fabric of her skirt and he
couldn't be sure.

An awkward moment passed, where
everyone assumed that someone else would be the first to speak.
Everyone except Mace Blackhail, that was, who leaned against a
bloodwood stang, seemingly in no hurry to do or say anything.

Finally Orwin Shank spoke. "Thank
you for coming before us, Raina." The red-cheeked axman was
clearly unhappy, and the shammy he held in his hands was dark with
sweat. "Mace has told us… well… about what
happened in the Oldwood… and we wanted to let you know that no
one here blames you for the incident."

Ignoring Orwin Shank completely, Raina
addressed her words to Mace Blackhail. "So, you have told all
here you took me freely?"

Mace shot a quick glance toward where
Corbie Meese, Bailie the Red, and others were gathered. He let out
the smallest possible sigh. "I told them the truth, Raina. If it
saves your pride to present it in a different light, I for one won't
stop you. I own to knowing little about women, but I hope I learned
enough from Dagro to treat all with due respect."

Raina winced at the mention of her
husband's name. Her gray eyes were dull, and for the first time in
all the years he had known her, Raif thought she looked her age.