Book 1 - Doomstalker by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online

would think you could admit that you were trespassing on
Degnan ground.”
    “After all these years I could still find my way to that
berry patch and show that it is on Laspe ground.”
    Marika saw her dam was growing angry. She tried to think of a
way to calm her. But Khronen stepped in instead. “That is
neither here nor there, now,” he said. To Kublin, he added,
“She will never grow comfortable with males who do not
whimper and cringe when she bares her fangs.” Back to
Skiljan, “You have something on your mind, old
opponent?”
    “I overheard what you said to the pups. I suspect that
something which so stresses the tradermale brethren might affect
the fortunes of my pack. It occurred to me that you might advise us
in ways we might serve ourselves as a result.”
    Khronen nodded. “Yes. There are things I cannot say, of
course. But I can advise.” He was thoughtful for a time. Then
he said, “I suggest you look to your defenses. It may be a
harsh winter. I would suggest you invest in the best iron
arrowheads, knives, and axes.”
    “You sell them too dearly.”
    “I am selling nothing. I am telling you what I believe the
wise huntress would do if she were privy to the knowledge I
possess. You are free to ignore me, as you so often do. Equally,
you are free to buy. Or to make your own arrowheads and whatnot of
stone, faithful to the old ways.”
    “You were always sarcastic, were you not?”
    “I have always been possessed of a certain intolerance
toward attitudes and beliefs held by the huntresses and Wise of the
upper Ponath. Clinging to ways and beliefs obviously false serves
no one well.”
    Skiljan bared her teeth. But Khronen did not submit, as a male
of the Degnan might.
    The pack’s attitudes toward tradermale tools and weapons
certainly baffled Marika. They dwarfed the stone in quality, yet
seldom were used. Each summer the Wise and huntresses bought axes,
arrowheads, knives both long and short, and even the occasional
iron plowshare. Whatever they could afford. And almost always those
purchases went into hiding and were hoarded, never to be used,
deemed too precious to be risked.
    What was the point?
    Skiljan and Gerrien traded all their otec furs for worked iron
that summer.
    And so that summer laid another shadow of tomorrow upon
Marika’s path.
     
----

Chapter Three

I
    The first enraged tentacles of the blizzard were lashing around
the loghouse. Down on the ground floor, the argument persisted
still, though now most of the spirit was out of it, most of the
outside huntresses had returned to their loghouses, and those who
remained did so purely out of perverse stubbornness.
    Marika was just wakening, right where she had fallen asleep,
when old Saettle left the press and approached the foot of the
ladder. She beckoned. “Pups down here. Time for
lessons.”
    “Now?” Marika asked.
    “Yes. Come down.”
    Shivering, those pups old enough for lessons slipped down and
eased past the still snarling adults. Saettle settled them on the
male side, according to age and learning development, and brought
out the books.
    There were six of those, and they were the most precious
possessions of the loghouse. Some had been recopied many times, at
great expense in otec furs. Some were newer.
    The pack, and especially those who dwelt in Skiljan’s
loghouse, was proud of its literacy. Even most Degnan males learned
to read, write, and cipher. Though not consciously done as a social
investment, this literacy was very useful in helping Degnan males
survive once they were sent forth from the packstead. Such skills
made them welcome in the other packsteads of the upper Ponath.
    Early on Marika had noticed the importance of motivation in
learning. Males, when young, were as bored by the lessons as were
most of the female pups. But as the males neared adulthood and the
spring rites which would see them sent forth from the packstead to
find a new pack or perish, their level of interest