Odin's Child

by Siri Pettersen

  “Are you wanting in, girl? Where are the rest?”

  “The rest of what?”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Did you come alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “On foot?”

  “Yes.”

  “From where?”

  Hirka hesitated, but she saw no reason to conceal the truth. “Elveroa. Beyond Gardfjella, near—”

  “People from all over the world pass through this gate, and you’re trying to explain to me where Elveroa is? Who are you, child?”

  Hirka tried to come up with a good answer. Should she tell them who her father was? That she was Hirka, daughter of Thorrald? That he was dead and she had nowhere else to go? But what if they asked why?

  Then something occurred to her. Maybe they already knew about her? Like the boy in the forest?

  “I’m Hirka. I’m … the tailless girl?”

  That didn’t seem to ring any bells. All three of them tilted their heads, and comically leaned to one side to see if her statement rang true.

  “You going to the Rite, tailless?”

  “Not unless I’m forced to, but that could very well happen.”

  They laughed loudly. She’d expected a comment like that would fall on good ground here.

  “My kind of girl,” one of the two in leather armor said.

  “They’re all your kind of girl,” the other responded. “Including sheep.” He raised his arm and signaled to someone behind the wall. The gate slowly screeched open.

  “Welcome to Ravnhov, Hirka the tailless.”

  The crack between the massive doors grew. The town appeared, a throng of houses in stone and wood clinging to the mountainside. She had reached Ravnhov.

  Hirka suddenly felt exhausted. This was everything she had feared and hoped for, and it seemed she was welcome. She had to stop herself from running through the gate. What if Kolkagga showed up now? What if she took an arrow in the back, just when safety was within reach? The thought was unbearable, and she couldn’t let it go until the gate slammed shut behind her.

  Hunger gnawed at her stomach. Now that she was here, she didn’t know where to go. There were many streets, leading both up and farther into the town. Some of them were so narrow that she’d hardly be able to squeeze through. Houses were built close together, as though huddling for warmth. In some places they were leaning so close you couldn’t see the sky. They had thick shutters and pointed roofs that were weighted with straw. There were a lot more people here than in Elveroa. Hirka tried to look purposeful, so she wouldn’t end up in a conversation with anyone.

  She spotted Kuro perched on a roof up one of the streets and decided that way was as good as any. Farther up the hill, she came across an inn. Carved letters fixed to the wall welcomed her to “The Raven’s Brood.” The D was missing. It had left behind a pale outline in the wood. Above the letters someone had painted a black, shapeless head with a screeching beak and red tongue. The doorstep had been worn gray and men were laughing inside.

  She stopped. It was evening already, and she felt a growing reluctance to spend another night under the open skies. She wanted a hot bath. And a meal. It didn’t need to be much. Just bread. Fresh bread. Maybe some hot stew. Her stomach grumbled. She went in.

  The noise was deafening as soon as she entered. People were clustered around small tables and on benches along the walls. Tankards were slammed together. People were eating. The tavern in Elveroa had never been as busy as this. Hirka started to retreat, but then she spotted a fireplace in one of the walls, with five piglets roasting on a spit. Their ears were singed and the smell was irresistible. Her mouth watered. Hunger won out over her fear of people.

  The fireplace bathed the guests in a warm glow. Hirka squeezed past a couple of large men and forced her way up to the bar. It was covered in scratches, from innumerable tankards that had been shoved back and forth. Hirka was working up the courage to order when an arm whisked her across the floor and behind the counter.

  “You’re too young for these lads. What are you doing here?”

  Much to Hirka’s surprise, the arm belonged to a woman. She was thin, but her muscles were clearly visible under her top, and she was balancing a tray of tankards like they weighed nothing. Her hair was gathered into a braid that swung back and forth as she emptied the tray and refilled it with fresh tankards overflowing with ale, all the while surveying Hirka with kind eyes. Someone shouted, “Maja!” from among the crowd, and she yelled back, “Hold your horses!”

  “I’m after something to eat,” Hirka answered, glancing at the piglets, their fat dripping into the fire.

  “How much?”

  “I’ve got money!”

  “I mean, how much pork? One portion? Two?”

  “Oh. Two. How much is that?”

  “A small silver for two.”

  “Oh … Just one then. I’m not that hungry.”

  Maja shouted so loudly that Hirka backed up a little.

  “Jorge! One portion at the end.” The stooped man behind the counter nodded but didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He finished pouring one tankard, then started on another.

  “Won’t be long,” Maja said.

  “Oh, wait! How much for a room?”

  Maja laughed. “We’d be lucky to find you a pillow. You can try Langeli, but this close to the Rite they’ll be full up too.” She picked up the tray and was swallowed up by the crowd again. Hirka couldn’t see any empty chairs, so she stood by the bar, her stomach rumbling. Finding a bed would have to wait.

  Jorge mopped up the ale splatters on the counter with a cloth that was already sopping wet. He looked up and spotted Hirka. She smiled as widely as she could, and he appeared to remember her food. He pulled out a knife from under the counter and walked toward the fireplace. Then he returned and placed a wooden bowl with steaming meat in front of her. A square piece of pork with crackling and a strip of fat.

  “Three copper pieces.”

  He held out his hand and Hirka dug out three small coins from her pouch.

  “The knife.”

  “Eh?” Confused, Hirka picked up the fork she had been given.

  “You can’t come in here with a pocketknife. I’ll have to keep it behind the counter till you leave.”

  “She’s just a girl, Jorge! Are you worried she’ll go on a rampage?”

  Maja had appeared again. She pushed over a tall stool, and Hirka sat down. They could argue about her all they wanted. Hirka had no time for anything but food. Eating slowly to avoid burning herself was torture. When had she last eaten so well? Raw finger shells down by the quay, with Father?

  Father.

  The worst of her hunger abated, and she ate slower while she observed the people around her—carefully, so as not to fall off the stool. One leg was shorter than the others and every time she bent forward to take a bite of pork, it teetered back and forth.

  A large man came in and walked straight up to the counter. The conversation around the nearest table died down as the five men followed him with their eyes. He leaned over the counter and raised one finger to Jorge, who slid over a tankard. The newcomer placed a copper on the counter and looked around the room.

  A little younger than Father, Hirka thought, and just as much a working man. His hair was yellow as straw and short as freshly cut grass. Hirka continued gnawing on what little was left of her meat and tried to look like she belonged, without managing particularly well. Most of the patrons were grown men, and the few women looked old enough to have grandchildren, though she doubted any of them did.

  The large man rotated the tankard and looked over his shoulder at the group who had been observing him since he came in. They were talking among themselves, but quietly. One of them was glaring, dark eyes twitching. Hirka felt uneasy, but none of this had anything to do with her. They weren’t Kolkagga. They weren’t guardsmen who would drag her to the assembly. She was worrying for nothing.

  The dark-eyed man got up and walked toward the man at the counter. His
fists were clenched, and he was clearly out for blood. Drops of ale glistened in his beard. The large man stood with his back turned, unable to see him coming.

  “Look out!” Hirka shouted. It was all she could think to say without knowing his name. The large man turned and just managed to avoid the blow. It swiped past his chin and he raised his arms to defend himself. The two men crashed together and everyone flocked over. Jorge lost his grip on an ale barrel and it fell to the floor. It didn’t break, but the cork in the tap hole shot out, and ale began to spill everywhere.

  The large man managed to pull far enough away that he had room to retaliate. He landed a powerful blow on his opponent’s jaw, sending him flying to the floor by Hirka’s stool. She grabbed hold of the counter to avoid being taken down with him.

  The room went quiet as people waited to see what would happen next. The dark-eyed man looked around wildly. People had formed a circle around them. Maja came running through the pool of ale with her skirts lifted.

  The dark-eyed man stared at Hirka, then reached up and tore her pocketknife out of its sheath. Hirka lost her balance and fell off the stool. She heard someone screaming in pain. People shouting. Hirka tumbled to the floor between the two men. Her knife was planted in the thigh of the large man. He was the one screaming. The other one tried to get hold of the knife again, reaching across Hirka, who scrambled to get up.

  She caught sight of Maja, standing on the counter with a bucket, which she poured over them. The icy water washed over Hirka’s face. Maja shouted, “I don’t want to see you here, Orvar! Do you hear! Never again!”

  Orvar and the large man were soaking wet. People were laughing now. Three men took hold of Orvar and dragged him out of the inn. Hirka stared at the knife in the thigh of the large man. It was stuck, but not too deep. Blood started to seep into his clothes. Maja jumped down from the counter.

  “Jorge, run and fetch Rinna! Are you all right, Villir?”

  Villir stared at her in disbelief. Hirka tried not to laugh. Villir thought he was near death, but she’d seen far worse than this. Hirka stood up, cold water dripping from her clothes. She walked toward the fireplace.

  “Come on.”

  Villir didn’t follow, but merely pointed at the knife as though she hadn’t seen it. She came back and stood right in front of him.

  “Lean on me and we’ll hobble over there. Don’t bend your foot.” Villir yelped as he eased himself into a low chair in front of the fire. Hirka managed to stretch out his leg and started to rummage through her bag.

  “What are you doing, girl?”

  “I have to stop the bleeding.” She found what she needed but paused for a moment to look at him. “Or do you prefer it the way it is?”

  The men around them started to laugh, and Maja shooed them out the door. Villir’s forehead was dripping with water and sweat. Hirka smiled, but he didn’t reciprocate. She had to distract him.

  “So, what was all that about?” she asked.

  “The man’s a damned idiot!” Villir answered.

  “Obviously,” Hirka said as she ripped away his sodden trousers around the knife. “But apart from that?”

  Maja answered for him. “Villir sent his girls to Mannfalla.”

  “Any respectable father would do the same!” Villir exclaimed. “There isn’t a soul who hasn’t heard that the blind are wreaking havoc again! Are we supposed to sacrifice our children just to stick it to Mannfalla?!”

  “Orvar is,” Maja said and shrugged.

  “Orvar’s got a brain like a waterskin.”

  Villir was fuming, and Hirka had found the perfect moment. She grabbed the knife and pulled. Villir screamed like a stuck pig, but the knife came out easy. She only had a second to act before the blood gushed out.

  “Sit still!”

  She found the pot of soldrop and vengethorn salve that would stop the bleeding and keep the wound clean. She had more than enough. The wound wasn’t serious. She cleaned it and applied the salve. Then she wrapped linen around his thigh and pulled it tight. After a moment the salve started to sting and Villir moaned.

  “You were lucky,” Hirka said and got up. “You’ll need a couple of stitches, but we’ll get to that in a moment.” Hirka pulled silk thread out of her bag. Villir looked terrified, so Maja fetched him a tankard of ale, which he nearly emptied in one go.

  Jorge came running in. “Rinna’s busy with Yme, delivering the baby!”

  Hirka stood holding the knife and it dawned on her that all this was her fault. Jorge had asked her for her knife.

  “Bloody Slokna does it ever sting! Blindcraft!” Villir moaned again.

  “That means it’s working,” Hirka said.

  It wasn’t true, strictly speaking, but it usually helped to say so. The stinging just meant that it was stinging. There was no getting around it, but people preferred having a reason to suffer. Hirka warmed her hands by the fire to kill the worst of the germs.

  “What else are you going to do?” Villir’s voice was unsteady.

  “Stitch you up,” Hirka said, heating the needle over the flames.

  “You’re going to stitch me up?!”

  “Do it yourself if you’d rather.”

  “Where’s Rinna?” Villir looked at Jorge in desperation, but he shook his head.

  Hirka was used to people thinking she was too young. “Listen, Villir, I’ve stitched up far worse before. But if you’re afraid and you’d prefer to wait a while …”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m afraid … What’s the worst that can happen?” Villir laughed nervously and looked around for confirmation, but he received none.

  Hirka asked Maja to give Villir something stronger and he accepted it without grumbling. Hirka unwrapped the linen and stuck the needle through the lip of the wound. Villir flinched but didn’t scream. It took five stitches, and Villir tried his best to be brave while she worked. Afterward they moved him closer to the fire so his clothes would dry.

  Jorge cut off a couple pieces of pork, which he placed on the table, along with some bread rolls. They ate in silence for a moment. Until the door swung open and a woman came flying in. Her long blonde hair was all over the place and she was clutching a shawl around her.

  “Villir!”

  “Borgunn?”

  “They said Orvar ran you through with a knife!”

  Villir demonstratively stretched out his foot, putting on his best wounded soldier act. The woman took his face in her hands, then ran them over him to check that he was in one piece.

  “Has Rinna been already?”

  “No,” Jorge answered. “Busy with a delivery. The girl here stitched him up.”

  “The girl? Who are you, girl?”

  Everyone looked at Hirka. She swallowed a mouthful of food. It was the third time she’d been asked that question today. She was going to have to learn to answer. Maja’s eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into her hairline, suggesting she’d been meaning to ask the same for some time. Borgunn stared at Hirka as though she had tried to steal her man.

  Before Hirka had a chance to respond, the door swung open.

  She froze on the stool. Three men in leather armor entered. Heavy swords hung by their sides. Behind them the evening had turned dark. The wind blew in and Borgunn’s shawl fluttered between them and Hirka.

  “Hirka?”

  The voice came from the man standing closest. It was devoid of emotion. He was neither happy nor angry. It was just a question. All the same, Hirka felt her body go cold.

  Stupid girl! Kolkagga are the Council’s assassins. Why would they be in Ravnhov?!

  Hirka nodded and swallowed again.

  “You’re Hirka?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re the tailless girl?” Just as the gatekeepers had done, he tipped his head sideways to check whether it was true.

  “Yes,” Hirka answered.

  “Eirik wants to see you. Follow me.”

  Eirik. The chieftain of Ravnhov? Why? What did he want with her?
r />   “I have to pack my bag.” That was the only thing she could think to say. The man didn’t answer. Hirka got up and packed away her things. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to conceal it from the others. They didn’t look scared. Just curious. She comforted herself with the fact that none of the three men bore the mark of the Council. She doubted anyone in Ravnhov did. In Ravnhov, you apparently risked getting a knife in the thigh just for sending your children to the Rite.

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out with the soldiers right behind her. It was dark. The only lights came from the homes clinging to the mountainside both above and below her. It was beautiful. One of the men gave her a shove on the shoulder. She took a breath and started to walk.

  TEIN

  The soldiers walked with Hirka between them. The tallest was a few paces ahead of her, carrying a lamp that swayed in time with his steps. She wanted to ask if she was a prisoner but couldn’t work up the nerve. The road became steeper and the houses disappeared. Were they taking her up the mountain to kill her? Because she was the tailless girl?

  Hirka bit her lip. An inn full of people was preferable to three men in the dark.

  For a little while the light from the lamp was all that could be seen, but when they got higher up, more lights came into view. Hirka heard a familiar cawing. Ravens shifting restlessly in the dark. A lot of them. Strangely, the sound seemed to be coming from below.

  They came to a sturdy wooden bridge over a wooded ravine. That had to be where the ravens were, in the trees directly below them. Hirka stopped to look, but the man to her left pressed his hand to her back to keep her moving.

  The lights she had seen were torches guiding the way from the bridge to a large courtyard. A spruce tree stood in the middle of it, towering above the buildings. Two men in leather armor intercepted them and were asked to fetch Eirik.

  Hirka felt her throat constrict. Should she run or stay put? Maybe she could jump down into the ravine? Land safely in the trees, climb down, and disappear?