The Dark Horse Read Online Free PDF

as she would have wanted to. He would miss her, he told himself, half wondering at himself that he was leaving at all.
    Was he really leaving?
    He would at least have liked to know what was in that box before he left. Now Horn would be showing off whatever treasures it held. And gloating at Olaf more than ever. Sigurd got up off his rock and walked on, and then he heard something behind him.
    He turned and screamed.
    He fell to the sand.

13

    Herda, a gentle, tall man known as the Song-giver, sang. Nearly the whole clan was gathered for the Song-giving, an event that took place whenever the Storn needed entertaining, which was most evenings.
    Usually Mouse listened to these songs, captivated. Even after four years with the Storn she still found music a thing to wonder at. But now her mind was on other matters.
    She sat quietly, thinking about Sigurd. Though Olaf and Freya were with her, she felt alone without her brother.
    “Horn will love this,” Olaf whispered grimly to his wife.
    Freya knew what he meant. Sigurd’s disappearance. Only then did Freya notice something.
    Horn.
    He was the one other person missing from the great broch. For a moment she wondered why he was not there.
    “He ought to have done something,” she said to her husband. “If it were anyone else’s boy, he’d have done something.”
    “I’ll go south tomorrow,” Olaf said.
    He said that yesterday, thought Mouse, overhearing. She knew it was difficult. Anything Olaf did would just be more for Horn to use against them, but surely Siggy was more important. . . .
    Never mind what Olaf said. He wasn’t really her father anyway. He couldn’t stop her. Tomorrow she’d find a bird, an eagle would be best; theirs was the best sight, the longest flight.
    She
would find Sigurd.
    Herda finished his lovely, sad laments and sat down.
    Mouse looked down at the fire pit. She feared Olaf was right. Horn was going to use Sigurd’s absence to shame Olaf more. Now she noticed his absence, too, but before she had time to wonder at this, he arrived.
    He swept through the doorway and down to the fire, where Gudrun and Longshank waited for him.
    Then Mouse saw what he was carrying. The box!
    She’d forgotten about it; she’d been thinking of only one thing, one person.
    What game was Horn playing?
    He’d had the box for a day; by now he must have played with, eaten, or otherwise destroyed whatever it contained.
    Why bring it here?
    Horn placed the box on a stone by the fireside and retreated.
    “You!”
    He pointed at Mouse. The throng was hushed.
    Horn said nothing more, but Mouse knew he wanted her to go to him, by the fire.
    There was nothing to do; the Lawspeaker had spoken. So she went. Freya plucked at her woollen skirt as Mouse got up. Mouse caught her eye.
    Freya gave her a weak smile, which meant, “Be careful.”
    Mouse nodded slightly and went. She decided to be careful; she didn’t like the feel of this at all. And it also meant going near the fire pit. That in itself made her nervous.
    “Lawspeaker?” she said. That was the most formal way of addressing Horn.
    “You will open the box.”
    Mouse was not ready for this. Surely Horn had opened it by now, he must have. Unless . . . supposing he had. He
had
opened it, but there was something bad in it and he wanted
her
to take the blame. The blame for finding it.
    “What?” she said without thinking.
    Before she knew what had happened, Horn grabbed her by the folds of her cloak and pulled her face toward his.
    “Don’t try and make a fool of me, girl,” he said.
    “N-n-no,” she stammered, “I just thought you would have.”
    “I said, don’t make a fool of me!” Horn roared. He shoved Mouse away from him so hard that she fell sprawling in the ash by the fire. As she fell her heavy cloak dragged the box from the stone onto the earth floor. She saw Gudrun and Longshank sitting nearby but had no hope for support from them. They were just as much afraid of Horn as she was.
    Mouse felt