Stormtide. Den Patrick

make them curious. I used to see this done a lot in my father’s tavern. A person would come in and hint that they had just arrived from somewhere or perhaps knew something everyone else didn’t. Just a hint really, to make people curious, make them ask a question or two.’

      ‘Making people curious,’ repeated Steiner. He looked at his father over the top of his mug. ‘And what do you think?’

      ‘I think I’m an old soldier who doesn’t know much about storytelling. But I think Kristofine has a point,’ said Marek. ‘Let’s try it her way next time.’

      Marek insisted that he needed a room of his own on account of not having a moment’s peace in the last month. ‘We have a little coin to spare,’ he said. ‘One night’s luxury won’t kill anyone.’

      And so Steiner found himself alone with Kristofine that night when the bar finally stopped serving and the lanterns downstairs were extinguished one by one. They headed up the creaking wooden steps hand in hand and spent a minute fussing at the candles before Steiner sat on the bed and gave a deep sigh.

      ‘What’s got you frowning so, dragon rider?’ said Kristofine, running her fingers across his scalp and down his neck. She pressed closer to him and he rested his head against the soft curve of her stomach. Her fingers continued to trace the muscles in his neck and shoulders.

      ‘Dragon rider?’ He huffed a bitter laugh. ‘They called me the Unbroken back on the ship. At Nordvlast I wielded the Ashen Torment and fought Shirinov in single combat. Out here I can’t even make a handful of men listen to what I have to say.’

      ‘It will come in time. You’ll work out the trick of it. We’ll work it out together.’

      ‘Everything will fail if I can’t make people pay attention.’

      ‘I’m paying attention to you,’ she whispered. ‘And we have our own room for the first time since you were taken by the Empire.’

      ‘When you put it like that …’ Steiner gave her slow smile and stood up to kiss her.

      ‘Much better,’ said Kristofine as he began to unbutton her skirt.

      They were late joining Marek for what passed for breakfast the following morning, and even the paucity of the fare couldn’t dim Steiner’s spirits.

      ‘Took us a while to pack,’ said Steiner, setting down his bag and sledgehammer, which he hid under his cloak. Marek raised an eyebrow. Kristofine blushed and Steiner took a seat. They ate their food in the bar and tried to ignore the stale smell of ale and the sweat of men long in their beds. Kristofine smiled a lot but said little, and Marek approached the innkeeper and his wife at the counter.

      ‘Folks are talking of trouble up north,’ said the innkeeper after the usual round of pleasantries. The innkeeper looked towards the door and then conspiratorially over his shoulder, even though the bar was empty save for Marek, Kristofine and Steiner. ‘Never heard anything like it, I tell you.’ The innkeeper was a thin man in his fifties, with a ratty ponytail of greying brown hair and a patchy beard. He’d introduced himself as Gerd or Ged – Steiner wasn’t quite sure on account of the man’s accent.

      ‘We’ve been on the road for a few weeks now and not heard a thing,’ replied Marek loud enough to attract Steiner’s attention.

      ‘Word is that the Empire have a fortress on a secret island.’ Gerd leaned across the bar and dropped his voice. ‘An’ they’ve been taking the children there this whole time.’

      ‘You know,’ whispered his wife. ‘The children with witchsign.’ She was a short bulb of woman called Lena, as generously proportioned as her husband was lean. She’d been pretty once, but decades spent ushering drunk fools out of her establishment had given her a hard look. ‘An’ to think, this whole time we supposed they were taking them to be slaughtered in Khlystburg.’ She raised her eyebrows.

      ‘That’s quite a tale,’ said Marek. ‘How did you come by such news?’

      ‘A trader came into the village late last night,’ said Lena. ‘He told us some Nordvlast man escaped the island.’

      ‘Said he was seven feet tall an’ covered in scars,’ explained Gerd. ‘Said he wielded a sledgehammer that could fire lightning bolts.’

      Steiner half-laughed, half-snorted, as he attempted another spoonful of thin porridge, drawing affronted looks from his hosts.

      ‘Sorry.’ He coughed. ‘Excellent breakfast, by the way.’ Steiner shared a look with Kristofine and they both held their breath to keep from laughing.

      ‘Ignore my son,’ said Marek with a frown. ‘He’s a touch simple. I shouldn’t let him drink ale of an evening, but it helps him sleep.’

      ‘Never seen no enchanted sledgehammer,’ said Lena in a frosty tone of voice. ‘An’ our trader friend said the man flew on the back of a dragon and killed a dozen men an’ a Vigilant.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But he was drunk as a lord and I’m not so foolish as to believe everything I’m told.’

      ‘She’s not foolish!’ crowed her husband, his eyes wide and earnest in his thin face.

      ‘And what will happen now?’ said Kristofine, rising from the table to join the conversation at the bar.

      ‘Same as always happens when someone crosses the Empire,’ replied Lena with a scowl. ‘They’ll find this man an’ kill him, fancy sledgehammer or not.’

      ‘Probably send those wicked Vigilants after him,’ moaned Gerd.

      ‘How much of what your friend told you do you believe?’ asked Kristofine. Gerd blinked at her and Steiner supposed he wasn’t asked for his opinion on a great many things.

      ‘Can’t say I know.’ He looked to his wife. ‘I suppose there could be one or two dragons hiding out from after the war. An’ I suppose it might be possible to ride one.’ He sighed. ‘But a sledgehammer seems like a stupid weapon for a man to carry. Never seen anyone fight with a sledgehammer before.’

      ‘And the lightning,’ said Marek. ‘That seems like pure invention.’

      ‘Aye, invention,’ said Gerd, nodding.

      Steiner chose that moment to stand up and pull his cloak around his shoulders, then picked up his bag and hefted his sledgehammer. Gerd and Lena stared at him and he could almost feel their eyes counting the many scars on his face, scalp and the backs of his hands. He approached the counter. ‘Sorry I’m not seven feet tall,’ he said to Gerd and Lena, before turning to Marek and Kristofine. ‘Come on, we need to get going.’

      They were a dozen feet from the inn when Gerd called out to them from the doorway. ‘Don’t be leaving so quick now.’ Steiner looked over his shoulder. ‘Is any of it true?’ said Gerd and Lena joined him in the doorway.

      Steiner nodded. ‘The island. The children. They train them to be Vigilants.’

      ‘And the lightning?’ said Gerd, and Steiner could see the tiny spark of hope in his eyes.

      Steiner shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, no lightning.’

      ‘You’re not him,’ scowled Lena. ‘Come on now!’ And she ushered her husband inside.

      Marek, Kristofine and Steiner walked for some time, leaving the misty village until at last Steiner spoke.

      ‘Think he’ll tell anyone?’

      ‘Without a doubt,’ said Marek with a slow smile.

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Kjellrunn

      ‘They caught us by surprise, right.’ Romola was sitting against the edge of the