Consorts of Heaven by Jaine Fenn Read Free Book Online

some carved wooden shoes she called clogs, and made him drape a blanket round his shoulders before she allowed him to leave the hut. The outside world was both a relief and a disappointment: a relief because he could recognise things - mountains, huts, muddy ground - and a disappointment because nothing he saw held any particular significance for him.
    Kerin led him to a building whose function was obvious by the smell. On the way there he had a clog sucked off by the mud; by the time they returned he was splattered in mud to the knees - at least, he hoped it was only mud . . .
    Back at the hut, Kerin insisted on dragging the bench outside for him. The sun was warm, and Sais was happy to sit at her feet while she worked at her frame. As with the instrument the night before, after a while the name came to him. A loom . She worked the threads expertly, the quick tap-tap-tap of the stone weights overlaying the fainter noises of running water and the high whistle of the wind.
    ‘What are you making?’ he asked after a bit.
    ‘A skirt, to go with the drove.’
    ‘The drove?’
    ‘The men drive the yearling cattle to market every year, and they also take crafts, like our fabrics. They trade for new stock and for items we do not have, such as salt and metal.’
    ‘Where is this market?’
    ‘Oh, many weeks’ walk away.’ And, from her tone, somewhere she’d never been.
    ‘Are there any villages nearer than that?’
    ‘Aye, in the valleys to either side of this one. Penfrid and Carregogh. They are smaller than Dangwern, though.’
    Though her knowledge of the world beyond her village was limited, she was happy - eager, even - to share what she did know. He doubted she’d met anyone before who didn’t already know all this. He listened politely, hoping she didn’t expect him to remember all these names, relationships, histories and anecdotes. As the afternoon wore on, he got the impression she was uneasy, and was trying to cover it up with chatter.
    When the sun began to set behind the mountains, she took the loom back inside. He carried the bench; he felt well enough, and he wanted to help, even if gratitude disconcerted her. Kerin went to fetch water and fuel again, leaving Sais sitting by the fire. Damaru was still out.
    When Kerin returned she began to prepare the evening meal. She was just putting the pot on the fire when the door flew open. Sais looked up, expecting Damaru.
    Instead, a youth holding a bronze-tipped spear ducked under the lintel. His hairy face and heavily muscled body filled the doorway, instantly transforming the hut from a sanctuary into a trap. An older man crowded in close behind him.
    Sais looked at Kerin. From her expression she was as shocked as he was at the intrusion. He looked back at the men. They were ignoring him, their eyes fixed on a point over Kerin’s head; they held themselves poised, ready for trouble.
    The older man spoke. ‘By command of our chieftain, you are both to come with us to the moot-hall.’
    Before he or Kerin had a chance to respond the youth barked, ‘Now!’
    Sais felt his fragile grasp on the situation begin to unravel - Need to run, get away! - and with a wordless cry he launched himself at the man in front.
    The youth recoiled, bumping against his companion. Sais’s foot caught on something; he stumbled forward. In the cramped hut he fell into the youth, who gave a yelp of surprise. Even as Sais caught himself, he saw the boy recover and start to bring his spear round. The crazy fire that had propelled him forward cooled instantly into terror.
    The spear caught on the thatch. The boy cursed.
    Sais felt Kerin grab his arm. He let her drag him back, out of range of the men’s weapons.
    Kerin held out a hand to the men, addressing the older one. ‘Master, please. We will come!’
    Sais clung to her arm. She was real, she wasn’t his enemy. She was his rock.
    The youth looked at the older man and said, ‘He attacked me!’
    His companion said, ‘Aye, he