The Circle of Stone (Darkest Age) by A. J. Lake Read Free Book Online

men and make them forget how to do a day’s work. Then
they
take to the road and live off charity, and find still more wastrels to convert.’
    ‘He’s not like that!’ The woman was indignant. ‘You haven’t seen him.’
    ‘I’ve seen many of them, though,’ maintained the trader. ‘I could find three new religions to follow in a day’s walk.’
    The first woman threw up her hands in mock-defeat. ‘Well, there are always some who won’t take a gift when it’s offered. For me, I’m glad there is such a man as the
grethari
, in these hard times.’
    They walked all day, stopping only briefly for a meal by the roadside at noon. Other travellers had joined them as they walked: another trader, and a young man who had also been to see the
grethari
, and shared the two sisters’ zeal for his healing powers.
    They made camp at sunset, in a field that seemed to be a regular stopping-place. A small copse of oak trees, though leafless, offered protection from the teeth of the wind, and kept off the light snow that fell during the night. For other protection, Cathbar and Cluaran took turns with the rest of the men to keep watch: however little there might be to temptbandits here, it seemed that no one was prepared to take any chances.
    They moved off quickly when dawn broke and after some distance met an old man driving three goats, heading in the opposite direction. He warned the travellers of the dangers they might expect on the road ahead.
    ‘In all my years on this road, I’ve never seen so many ruffians together,’ he complained. ‘Swordsmen, brigands . . . They seem to have sprung out of nowhere. I hear there was even a bunch of pagans on the highway, kicking over a shrine.’
    ‘And so you are heading north for your safety,’ commented Cluaran, who had been listening. The goatherd nodded.
    ‘Keep your head down and your purse hidden,’ Menobert assured them all, as the goatherd took his leave. ‘That is the only way to stay out of the way of rogues. But these fires, now . . . you can’t sidestep those. Remember the one I told you of? There’s some here that say it’s still burning! Perhaps we could seek it out,’ he added drily, peering through the flurries of snow. ‘We could do with the warmth.’
    ‘Another forest fire?’ exclaimed a market-man, overhearing. Menobert obligingly retold the story of the tree struck by lightning, even when there had been no storm.
    ‘Oh, I heard about that,’ the man said dismissively. ‘That was days ago. There’ve been others since then! One only yesterday, much further south, in the woods down near Varde. They say,’ he lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘they say bandits are definitely laying them.’
    ‘Why would they do that?’ asked one of the farm-women. ‘And why this sudden unrest?’
    A thought struck Elspeth. Could these new bands of bandits in the south have anything to do with Loki? The demon-god had headed in this direction and was expert in bending men to his will. Fire was a language he was fluent in.
    ‘I’ve heard that they wait at the edges of the fires, to rob people as they flee,’ the man said. ‘There are some folk who never care what they destroy.’
    The squall stopped as they walked, but the fields to each side of the path were still snow-covered, with only one or two distant, isolated houses to show that this was a place where people lived. As the day drew on the fields were increasingly dotted with trees, which grew nearer and closer together until the road was skirting the edge of a forest. A brisk wind started up, and suddenly there was the unmistakable smell of smoke. The travellers halted, avoiding each other’s eyes; no one wanting to be the first to speak.
    At last, the man who had been blaming bandits gave a short bark of a laugh. ‘There, now,’ he said. ‘I wager the charcoal-burners will be finding it too hot for them tonight.’
    Elspeth exchanged furious glances with Edmund, thinking of Grufweld, their