'Something Renn said, a while back. She said the Seal Mage had a fragment of the fire-opal, and it went down with him in the Sea.' He shook his head. 'I don't think it did. He always kept what he needed for spells in a seal-hide pouch. He didn't have it when he was killed. Later, when we burnt his shelter, it wasn't there.'
'That could mean anything,' said Torak uneasily.
'Before you came to the islands,' said Bale, 'when he was simply our Mage, we would sometimes see a red glow on the Crag. We didn't know what it was. I do now.'
'The fire-opal,' said Torak.
'And before I left for the Forest,' Bale went on, 'there were disturbances in the woods and around our camp. As if someone were searching for something.'
Torak thought of the last words of the Viper Mage. Then he noticed that Fin-Kedinn didn't seem surprised.
'Think about it, Torak,' he said as he applied the woad. 'If the fragment in your father's knife had been the last, why was only the Viper Mage after it? Why not Thiazzi and Eostra, too?'
'So we've achieved nothing!' cried Torak. 'It's all to do again!'
'Not so,' said Fin-Kedinn. 'Step by step. Remember?'
Torak made to reply, but the Raven Leader was gathering his things. 'Time to go back,' he said firmly. 'And Torak we won't tell Renn of the fire-opal just yet. She's got enough to think about.'
When they reached camp, Renn was waiting for them. She glanced at Torak's forehead and nodded. 'Ah. I see.' Then to Fin-Kedinn, 'Although the white bit isn't really white, is it?'
The Raven Leader shrugged. 'He's too brown. But it'll do.'
'What is it?' said Torak. 'What have you done?'
Fin-Kedinn grasped his wrist and raised it high, then spoke to the others who were gathering round. 'Each of you bear witness,' he said in his clear voice. 'This is my foster son: the one who was outcast, but is outcast no more. He's clanless but from now on, because of this mark he bears, he is for all the clans!'
There were smiles and murmurs of assent, and Torak could see that whatever the Raven Leader had done, it had worked.
Bale explained it to him. 'He's divided the circle of the outcast into four: one for each of the four quarters of the clans, then he's filled them in. White for the Ice clans, red for the Mountains, green for the Forest, and blue for the Sea. It looks good.' He grinned. 'Well. Better.'
Torak was still taking that in when Rip and Rek swooped out of nowhere. Rek made a barking noise that drove the camp dogs wild, and Rip who was carrying something in his beak dropped it in the mud, narrowly missing Bale. Then they were off, somersaulting over each other with raucous caws.
Bale picked up what Rip had let fall, and his eyebrows rose. 'Here.' He handed it to Torak.
It was his name-pebble. His "clan-tattoo" could still be seen but every speck of the green clay serpent had been pecked off.
Torak and Bale had gone with Yolun in a reed boat, and when they'd reached the deep part of the Lake, Torak had dropped his name-pebble over the side and watched it disappear into the dark-green water.
Yolun was pleased. 'The Lake will keep it safe for ever.'
Torak thought so too. At first he'd been frightened of the Lake, but he'd come to understand that it was neither good nor bad; just very, very old.
On reaching land again, Bale and Yolun went off to talk about boats, and Torak was finally free to go in search of Renn.
He found her on the shore, oiling her bow. He sat down beside her, but she didn't look up.
After a while she said, 'It's had so many soakings, I think it may be warped.'
He glanced at her. 'If Bale hadn't done it would you have killed her?'
She rubbed more oil into the wood, which was already gleaming. 'Yes,' she said between her teeth. 'When you smashed the fire-opal, whose life were you going to give it?'
'I don't know,' Torak admitted. 'And I don't know why Fa gave it to me. I suppose he guessed that some day I might need it.'
'But why keep it at all? He could've destroyed it along with the rest.'
Torak had wondered about that too. In his mind, he saw the awful beauty of the fire-opal. Maybe Fa just couldn't bring himself to do it.
He turned to Renn. 'Your mother. Have you always known?'
A flush stole up her neck. 'No. Fin-Kedinn told me after Fa was killed.'
'So you were seven, eight summers old.'
'Yes.'
'That must have been hard.'
She glared at him, repudiating pity.
He scooped up a handful of sand and poured it from palm to palm. 'How did it happen? I mean, how did she come to . . . '
Renn chewed her lip. Then she told him, staring at the sand between her bare feet, and spitting out the story like poison. 'When she left my father for the Soul-Eaters, she changed her name. People thought she was dead. Not my father. Fin-Kedinn told him to forget her. He couldn't. Then she came back to him in secret. The clan never knew. She needed another child, a baby. My brother was too old for for her purpose. So she got one. Then she left my father again. She broke his heart. She didn't care. She bore me in secret. Saeunn found her and took me from her, I don't know how. I was very small. I hadn't been named.'
'Why did Saeunn take you?' said Torak. 'It can't have been out of pity.'
Renn smiled mirthlessly. 'It wasn't. She needed to stop the Viper Mage using me . . . ' She took a breath. 'Anyway. Saeunn told everyone that Fa had mated with a woman in the Deep Forest, who had died; she said that woman was my mother. They believed her.' Her fists clenched. 'Saeunn saved me. Sometimes I hate her. I owe her everything.'
Torak was silent. Then he said, 'Why did the Viper Mage need a baby?'
Renn hesitated. 'Can I tell you later?'
He nodded, pouring sand from palm to palm. 'Who else knew?'
'Only Fin-Kedinn and Saeunn. He said it would be my secret, to tell when I wanted.' Laying down her bow, she turned to him. 'I was going to tell you, I swear! I'm so sorry I never did!'
'I know,' he said. 'I'm sorry too, for all those things I said. I didn't mean them. You know that, don't you?'
Renn's face worked. Then she put her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. She didn't make a sound, but Torak could see the tension in her shoulders.
Awkwardly, he put his arm around her. For an instant she resisted; then she relaxed and leaned against him. She felt small and warm and strong.
'I'm not crying,' she muttered.
'I know.'
After a while she straightened up and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, and wriggled out from under his arm. 'You're lucky,' she sniffed. 'You never knew your mother.'
'Well. But I remember my wolf mother.'
Another sniff. 'What was she like?'
'She had soft fur and a tongue like hot sand. Sometimes her breath smelt of rotting meat.'
Renn laughed.
Side by side, they gazed across the Lake. Torak heard the plop of a watervole; the distant tail-slam of a beaver. An otter broke the surface and regarded them, then dived underwater, trailing bubbles.
Watching it, Torak felt his spirits lift. If only Wolf were with them now, he could cope with anything.
As if in answer, a mournful howl rose from the Forest.
Torak turned and gave two short barks. I am here!
'Poor Wolf,' said Renn.
'Yes. He misses the pack.'
'I think he misses you, too.'
'Come on, then.' Torak pulled her to her feet. 'Let's go and cheer him up.'
They didn't find Wolf; he found them some time later, under a stand of pines not far from the camp.
Listlessly, he wagged his tail as he padded over to greet Torak. His ears were down and the brightness was gone from his eyes.
Squatting beside him, Torak gently scratched his flank.
Wolf lay down and put his muzzle between his paws. I miss the pack, he told Torak.
I know, Torak replied in wolf talk. He thought of Wolf's delight in the cubs and his affection for the black she-wolf. Wolf had given up all that for him.
I am your pack, Torak said.
Wolf thumped his tail. Then he sat up and licked Torak's nose.
Torak licked him back, and blew softly into his scruff. I never leave you.
Wolf's tail lashed from side to side, and his eyes gleamed.
Renn ran off, saying she had to fetch something from camp. Soon she was back, carrying a large alderwood bowl with otters carved around its sides. Torak helped her set it in the bracken. It stank. It was full of stickleback grease, speckled with mysterious black lumps.
'Yolun insisted I used this bowl,' said Renn. 'He said wolves are special, because they make strong music. There,' she told Wolf, 'I hope you like it!'
When they'd moved off a polite distance to give Wolf eating space, he went to sniff the bowl. Then he started to eat. He liked it. In a remarkably short time, he was licking the sides clean of the last remaining smears.
'What were the black bits?' said Torak.
'Dried lingonberries,' said Renn.
For a moment, Torak forgot about the Soul-Eaters and laughed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
Torak's world is the world of six thousand years ago: after the Ice Age, but before the spread of farming to his part of north-west Europe, when the land was one vast Forest.
The people of Torak's world looked pretty much like you or me, but their way of life was very different. They didn't have writing, metals or the wheel, but they didn't need them. They were superb survivors. They knew all about the animals, trees, plants and rocks of the Forest. When they wanted something, they knew where to find it, or how to make it.
They lived in small clans, and many of them moved around a lot: some staying in camp for just a few days, like the Wolf Clan; others staying for a whole moon or a season, like the Raven and Willow Clans; while others stayed put all year round, like the Seal Clan. Thus some of the clans have moved since the events in Soul Eater, as you'll see from the amended map.
When I was researching Outcast, I spent time around Lake Storsjon in northern Sweden. There I was lucky enough to hear elk bellowing as I wandered the springtime forest, and to find a whole clearing and dam system made by beavers. I also got muzzle to muzzle with some elk (called moose in north America) at an elk refuge, including some adorable five-day-old calves and a mournful yearling who'd just been abandoned by his truly enormous mother.
The inspiration for the stone carvings at the healing spring came from the hugely evocative rock carvings at Glosa, near Storsjon, which are believed to have been made by people who lived in Torak's time. While there, I was also able to view some superb reproductions of Stone Age clothes, musical instruments, weapons and an elkhide canoe.
To get closer to wolf cubs, I got to know some very young ones at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust, where I bottle-fed them, played with them and more imporantly watched them at play among themselves, as well as observing their startlingly rapid development, in just a few months, from tiny bundles of fluff to large, extremely boisterous wolves.
To get the feel of snakes, I met some at Longleat, where I handled a very beautiful cornsnake and two regal, curious and extremely strong royal pythons. I hadn't understood just how beautiful and fascinating snakes can be until I held one, and felt the flicker of her tongue on my face as she inspected me.
I want to thank everyone at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust for letting me make friends with the cubs while they were growing up; Sune Haggmark of Orrviken for sharing his extensive knowledge of elk and for letting me get close to his rescued elk and elk calves; the friendly and enormously helpful people at the Tourist Information Centres at Krokom and ostersund, who made it possible for me to reach Glosa, then showed me round on a cold, rainy, but highly atmospheric day; Mr Derrick Coyle, the Yeoman Ravenmaster of the Tower of London, for sharing his extensive knowledge and experience of some very special ravens; and Darren Beasley and Kim Tucker of Longleat, for introducing me to some amazingly beautiful and fascinating snakes.
As always, I want to thank my agent, Peter Cox, for his unfailing enthusiasm and support; and my wonderful editor and publisher, Fiona Kennedy, for her imagination, commitment and understanding.
Michelle Paver.
2007.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
I want to thank everyone at the UK Wolf Conservation Trust for letting me make friends with the cubs while they were growing up; Sune Haggmark of Orrviken for sharing his extensive knowledge of elk and for letting me get close to his rescued elk and elk calves; the friendly and enormously helpful people at the Tourist Information Centres at Krokom and ostersund, who made it possible for me to reach Glosa, then showed me round on a cold, rainy, but highly atmospheric day; Mr Derrick Coyle, the Yeoman Ravenmaster of the Tower of London, for sharing his extensive knowledge and experience of some very special ravens; and Darren Beasley and Kim Tucker of Longleat, for introducing me to some amazingly beautiful and fascinating snakes.
As always, I want to thank my agent, Peter Cox, for his unfailing enthusiasm and support; and my wonderful editor and publisher, Fiona Kennedy, for her imagination, commitment and understanding.
Michelle Paver.
London.