A Fire Upon the Deep

The Queen had sent messengers south to report on the victory, but she seemed in no rush to return to her city. Her troops helped with some of the farm work, and did their best not to be a burden on the locals. But they also scouted through the castle on Starship Hill, and the huge old castle on Hidden Island. Down there were all the horrors that had been whispered about over the years. But still there was no sign of the forces that had escaped. The locals were eager with their own stories, and most were ominously credible: That before Flenser had undertaken his attempt upon the Republic, he had created redoubts further north. There had been reserves there -though some thought that Steel had long since used them. Peasants from the northern valley had seen the Flenserist troops retreating. Some said they had seen Flenser himself — or at least a pack wearing the colors of a lord. Even the locals did not believe all the stories, the ones about Flenser being here and there, singletons separated by kilometers, coordinating the pull out.

Ravna and the Queen had reason to believe the story, but not the foolhardiness to check it out. Woodcarver's expeditionary force was not a large one, and the forests and valleys stretched on for more than one hundred kilometers to where the Icefangs curved west to meet the sea. That territory was unknown to Woodcarver. If Flenser had been preparing it for decades — as was that pack's normal method of operation — there would be deadly surprises, even for a large army hunting just a few dozens of partisans. Let Flenser be, and hope that his redoubts had been gutted by Lord Steel.

Woodcarver worried that this would be the great peril of the next century.

But things were resolved much sooner than that. It was Flenser who sought them out, and not with a counterattack: About twenty days after the battle, at the end of a day when the sun dipped just behind the northern hills, there was the sound of signal horns. Ravna and Johanna were wakened and shortly found themselves on the castle's parapet, peering into something like a sunset, all orange and gold silhouetting the hills beyond the northern fjord. Woodcarver's aides were gazing from many eyes at the ridgeline. A few had telescopes.

Ravna shared her binocs with Johanna. "Someone's up there." Stark against the sky glow, a pack carried a long banner with separate poles for each member.

Woodcarver was using two telescopes, probably more effective than Ravna's gear, considering the pack's eye separation. "Yes, I see it. That's a truce flag, by the way. And I think I know who's carrying it." She yammered something at Peregrine. "It's been a long time since I've talked to that one."

Johanna was still looking through the binoculars. finally she said, "He

… made Steel, didn't he?"

"Yes, dear."

The girl lowered the binocs. "I… think I'll pass up meeting him." Her voice was distant.

They met on the hillside north of the castle just eight hours later. Woodcarver's troops had spent the intervening time scouting the valley. It was only partly a matter of protecting against treachery from the other side: one very special pack of the enemy would be coming, and there were plenty of locals who would like that one dead.

Woodcarver walked to where the hill fell off in supersteepness toward forest. Ravna and Pilgrim followed behind her at a Tinishly close ten meters. Woodcarver wasn't saying much about this meeting, but Pilgrim had turned out to be a very talkative sort. "This is just the way I came originally, a year ago when the first ship landed. You can see how some of the trees were burned by the torch. Good thing it wasn't as dry that summer as this."

The forest was dense, but they were looking down over the treetops. Even in the dryness, there was a sweet, resinous smell in the air. To their left was a tiny waterfall and a path that led to the valley floor — the path their truce visitor had agreed to take. Farmland, Peregrine called the valley bottom. It was undisciplined chaos to Ravna's eyes. The Tines grew different crops together in the same fields, and she saw no fences, not even to hold back livestock. Here and there were wooden lodges with steep roofs and outward curving walls; what you might expect in a region with snowy winters.

"Quite a mob down there," said Pilgrim.

It didn't look crowded to her: little clumps, each a pack, each well-separated from the others. They clustered around the lodge buildings. More were scattered across the fields. Woodcarver packs were stationed along the little road that crossed the valley.

She felt Pilgrim tense next to her. A head extended past her waist, pointing. "That must be him. All alone, as promised. And — " part of him was looking through a telescope, "now that's a surprise."

A single pack trekked slowly down the road, past Woodcarver's guards. It was pulling a small cart — containing one of its own members, apparently. A cripple?