Chapter 21
Kof
We sent an honor guard contingent to watch over the proceedings and insisted the roast boar be kept whole.
Normally, it would have been portioned out piece by piece.
And between its weight and the heat of the charcoals, it took the slaves nearly a full day and night to finally wrest the beast from its pit and heave it onto a wagon bed.
By then, the flesh was leathery and charred, and buzzing with a few intrepid flies that had somehow weathered the early snowstorm.
The temperature was above freezing again, though thankfully, not by much.
The black ooze smelled bad enough without the flesh around it falling to rot.
“I hope you don’t expect me to have that thing dragged any farther than the entry chamber,” Droko said to me.
I watched as the slaves and the honor guard struggled it into the caves. “Only far enough to keep it from prying eyes and meddling hands.”
Archie joined us in the entryway, mopping his brow.
His clothes were damp with sweat from the moist heat of the caves.
“Whew! And I thought the constant smell of sulfur took some getting used to. So this is what caused all the ruckus. Are you sure it’s sabotage?
When would someone have had a chance to tinker with the poor creature? ”
“Many times,” I said—because of course it wasn’t witchcraft. At least, I hoped not. “During the storm. Or as the coals were banked. Or even in the larder while it marinated.”
One of my men said, “The chieftain’s men were guarding it. And Trawg would never let that happen. His pride wouldn’t allow it.”
I wished that were not true. “There was ample opportunity,” I said stubbornly, and drew my eating knife.
As Droko, Archie, and several of my men looked on, I thrust my knife into the boar’s flank and sliced it open.
My blade was much smaller than the chieftain’s, and the hide had practically cured into leather by now.
But I would hack through stone if need be.
I pulled the stiff hide open, sure that treachery would soon be revealed. But the boar had been stuffed with gourds, wild apples and bundles of herbs—soft and rank by now, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Except….
“What’s that?” Archie said, pointing.
His sharp human eyes had immediately pinpointed the source of the foul liquid.
The bilesack was still in place—an organ that should have been removed with all the rest—and it was distended and black, diseased.
There had been no sabotage after all, but simply neglect in the preparation.
In fact, we found many of the innards were still intact, as if someone had field butchered the carcass in a hurry.
But Trawg had been given days…with his own equipment, in his own larder.
“Kof!” the shaman called, but I was already too far gone. I was out of the caves and storming across the village, consumed by white-hot rage. The quartermaster had failed, and he would have let Eli take the blame. Even if Eli had to pay the ultimate price.
The chieftain’s men were still on watch at the larders, but they stepped aside, startled, as I shoved my way in. “Trawg!” I bellowed. “You will answer to me!”
The larders stank of garlic and rue. I shoved through sacks of grain, sending mice skittering, until I came to the meat stores.
There, in the corner, Trawg huddled on a wretched pallet.
He was shivering violently, green skin ashen, eyes glassy and unfocused.
A line of drool hung from his slack mouth.
My heart clenched. I knew these signs. It was the sickness that had claimed Ulka—the disease Quinn had tried to warn us about.
“The Wrack,” I said. “How long have you had it? Why keep it hidden?”
“Not hidden,” he slurred, his words thick and halting. “The meat...it’s fine. I’m fine. No such thing as Wrack. It’s the nasty humans…they…they….”
I towered over him where he trembled on his pallet. “We both know the humans have nothing to do with it. The sickness started with the deer Ul-Rott felled.”
Trawg’s eyes rolled wildly. “No...no...lies. The witch brought this...brought the storm….”
“Enough! You know it’s not Eli.” I scanned the room, searching for the curing stag head. The salt block was empty. “Where’s the head?”
Trawg looked around blearily. “I told the guards it wasn’t ready yet. But Ul-Rott was hungry.”
“You let it go to the chieftain’s table?”
“I would have switched it after the hunt—but instead you came back with a boar—”
“You knew,” I said flatly. He’d known because he’d sampled the chieftain’s prize stag himself. “You knew and you said nothing.”
“Had to keep the clan...strong….”
The old man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he began to convulse. I staggered back, mind reeling.
Trawg’s deception would spell the doom of us all.