A Circle of Iron

Chapter 7

Mara eyed the spiked heads dubiously. “It lacks charm, but at least it’s stupid.”

“Why’s it stupid?” The heads were already attracting flies. The plump black-and-green insects buzzed around, crawling in and out of nostrils, mouths and ears, and massing around the severed stumps.

“You poke a hornet’s nest, I guess you know what happens next. You might have your reasons, but you’re still gonna get stung.”

“I’m sending a message.”

“What message? ‘Kill me?’”

Big Odd and Quinix chuckled, and Thorn scowled at them. “We can’t be everywhere at once. There are only five of us—”

“Six,” said Blind Tom, “if you count the wizard.”

Thorn looked at him. “I was counting the wizard, but not the dog. I stand corrected. As I was saying, we can’t be everywhere a wight could be, so we got to train them to stay off the scavs.”

“So we’re only hunting wights that are feeding on a scav?” asked Mara.

“I didn’t say that. We’ll kill a wight when we see one, same as always, but we’ll only stake out the heads when we catch one feeding.”

“What makes you think the wights care what you do with their heads after you kill them?” said Mara. “If anything’s going to get them riled up, I guess the killing will.”

“In that case,” Thorn said, lifting an eyebrow, “we ain’t poking the hornet’s nest and there’s nothing stupid about staking out the heads.”

Mara opened her mouth to argue and then slammed it shut so hard her teeth clacked. She wheeled around and stormed off back to the camp.

“The message does seem mixed,” said Big Odd, waving the tip of his spear at one of the heads to shoo the flies.

“Do you really think the heads will convince the wights to stop feeding on the scavs?” asked Quinix.

Thorn shrugged. “I don’t think they’ll learn by dinner time, if that’s what you mean. But I do know we’re never getting out of these ruins unless we figure out how to keep the wights off the scavs. Seeing how I don’t speak Wight, I’m looking for other ways to communicate. Thus, these here heads on spikes. If you got any better notion how to train a wight, I’d love to hear one. Otherwise, maybe you could all shut your damn holes about the bloody heads.”

Thorn glared at each of them in turn, and no one had anything to say. “All right, let’s go fetch Mara and have a look around. Maybe we can find a wight to kill, give you all something to do besides criticize.”

They walked down the line of men and women working the stone, the scavs too craven or too smart to wander far from the herd. They were scraping the same rock a thousand scavs had worked a thousand times. Still, Thorn guessed it was easier to nurse your dreams of riches without a wight chewing on your neck.

Thorn spotted Jem up ahead standing with his cap in his hand and staring down at his dusty boots. As the crew approached, a bravo slammed his gloved fist into Jem’s face and the scav went sprawling in the dirt. The man stepped forward and kicked the scav hard in the ribs. “You holding out on me, Jem?” the bravo said. “A quint a week, that’s all I ask. It could be more, but I’m not a greedy man. You expect me to believe your pockets are empty? You expect me to care?”

The bravo had the busy hands and jittery voice cowards always got when they bullied the weak. Excited, having a good time, but still scared deep down. Thorn stopped a few paces away and let his hand fall to the hilt of his sword. “Swing your leg at that man again,” he said, “and I’ll have it off at the knee.”