said.
'She doesn't want to see me,' said Bernt. 'She says she will neversee me again.' He looked across at the dwarf. 'I didn't mean to do it, Balli. I got excited. I wouldn't have hurt Lady, not for all the world. I just wasn't thinking. I was watching Sigarni. She looked so beautiful in the morning sunlight. So beautiful.' The young man drained the tankard and belched. Ballistar looked at him - the square face, the deep-set blue eyes, the powerful neck and broad shoulders - and knew envy. All that height wasted on a dullard like Bernt. Ballistar felt guilty at the thought, for he liked the young man. True, Bernt was not bright, yet he had a warmth and a compassion lacking in other, more intelligent men. In truth he was a sensitive soul.
'I think,' said the dwarf, 'that you should just lie low for a while. Lady is almost healed and she is hunting well. Wait for a little while, then go out and see Sigarni again. I expect she'll relent. You were always good for her.'
'Was. That's the word, isn't it? Was. I could never talk to her, you know. Didn't understand much of what she said. It all flew over my head. I didn't care, Balli. I was just happy to be with her.
To ... love her. I think all she needed from me was my body.' He laughed nervously and looked round to see if anyone was listening, but the two other drinkers in the tavern were sitting by the fire, talking in low tones. 'That's what she told me,' he continued.' "Bernt," she said, "this is your only skill." She said I took away all her tension. She was wrong, though, Balli. It's not my only skill. I was there for her. She couldn't see that. I don't know what I'm going to do!'
'There are other women,' said Ballistar softly. 'You are a good young man, strong, honest. You have a great deal to offer.'
'I don't want anyone else, Balli. I don't. All my waking moments are rilled with thoughts of her.
And when I sleep I dream of her. I never asked for anything, you know. I never ... made demands.
She didn't ever let me sleep in the bed, you know... afterwards. I always had to go home. It didn't matter what the weather was like. Once I even went home in a blizzard. Got lost, almost died. Almost died ...' His voice faded away, and he bit his lip. 'She didn't care, not really. I always thought that I would, sort of grow on her. That she would realize I was ... important. But I'm not important, am I? I'm just a cattle-herder.'
The dwarf shifted uneasily. 'As I said, Bernt, you should give her a little time. I know she likes you.'
'Has she spoken of me?' asked the young man, his eyes eager, his ears hungry for words of encouragement.
Ballistar looked away. 'I can tell, that's all. She's still angry, but underneath .. . just give it time.'
'She didn't say anything, did she, Balli? Except maybe that I was a fool.'
'She's still angry. Go home. Get something to eat.'
The young man smiled suddenly. 'Will you do something for me, Balli? Will you?'
'Of course,' answered the dwarf.
'Will you go to her and ask her to meet me at the old oak grove tonight, an hour after dark?'
'She won't come - you know that! And she doesn't keep clock candles, she has no use for them.'
'Well, soon after dusk then. But will you ask her? Tell her that it is so important to me. Even if she only conies to say goodbye. Will you tell her that? Will you? Tell her I have never asked for anything save this one time.'
'I'll go to her, Bernt. But you are only building up more pain for yourself.'
'Thank you, Balli. I'll take your advice now. I'll go home and eat.'
The young man levered himself up, staggered, grinned inanely and lurched from the tavern.
Ballistar clambered down from the table and followed him.
It was a long walk on tiny legs to Sigarni's cabin, more than two hours. And it was such a waste, thought Ballistar.
The afternoon was warm, but a gentle breeze was blowing over High Druin as the dwarf ambled on. He walked for an hour, then sat for a while on a hillside resting his tired legs.
Learning to Kill: Stories