Torin’s parents came back into the clearing a few minutes later. The woman had three hounds leashed, all of them bleeding and one going on three legs. In his hand, by its loose scruff, the man carried the fourth one, dead. He flung it down at Torin’s feet.
“There’s your work,” he said. “Two of the others will not hunt for days. We will go hungry because my son is a fool.”
Then he saw Yann’s body, and started back, looking swiftly at Trehearne.
“Kurat killed him,” said Trehearne. “I’ll take his body back to the ship. There will not be any trouble.”
“I will help you,” Torin said.
The man said nothing. He stood running his hard hands nervously up and down on his bare belly, a man oppressed by fate. The woman turned silently away to tie the hounds again. Trehearne took off his belt and pr
