Hirka heard Ramoja’s bracelets jangling. She’d probably rested her hand on Eirik to calm him. “Eirik …” Her voice grew more fervent. “This has to be solved from Eisvaldr. From the inside. You know it’s true, and I will not fail. But you need time to separate friend from foe. You can’t afford to stand alone against Mannfalla.”
Eirik grumbled and Hirka heard their footsteps in the grass. She clenched her teeth. Eirik and Ramoja were doing exactly what she had done. They were walking along the walls around the space. And here she was, sitting in the middle like an idiot. She crawled carefully around the idol in order to remain unseen.
“We’re not alone. We have the tailless girl,” Eirik said. Hirka froze.
“We know very little about her, Eirik. You can’t pin your hopes on her.”
“You said she would be our salvation!”
“Could be. We don’t know. All we know is what I have seen and heard. She calms the ravens. They can smell that her blood is different, and she was strong enough to run from Mannfalla. It’s a gift, Eirik. I thought we’d lost her in the fire.”
Hirka’s head was spinning. She rose up just high enough to glimpse Eirik and Ramoja between the raven’s talons.
“And you think that’s going to be enough for them tomorrow?” Eirik asked. He stopped and looked at Ramoja. She turned away from him, and Hirka quickly crouched down again.
“I can’t attend the gathering, Eirik. You know that. Especially not now. Who would defend me if word got out? Not Rime. He is lost to us.” They walked on.
“If they could just see you, Ramoja! That would win us more allies than anything else.”
“I’m invisible in this war, Eirik. That’s the way it has to be.”
War! What war? Hirka crawled a little farther around. One of her knees cracked when she moved. She looked up, but they didn’t seem to have heard. They walked calmly back toward the chasm.
“I heard Meredir has come. Does that mean Urmunai is with us?” Ramoja asked cautiously, as though she was afraid of the answer.
“Meredir is young,” Eirik said. “He whiles away his days in his father’s fortress with women and wine. Or men and wine, if what they say is true.” They disappeared into the chasm. Hirka strained her neck to hear more.
“But he’s coming to the gathering. That’s something,” Ramoja said.
“Not enough,” Eirik answered.
The echo between the rock faces made it impossible for Hirka to hear the rest. She waited until it went quiet before she stood up. The blood rushed down through her legs and she had to shake them to stop the tingling.
She walked unsteadily toward the path. What had she actually heard? Ravnhov defying the Council and the Seer was nothing new. But this was more. Ravnhov was planning for war. And Ramoja was a part of it.
We have the tailless girl.
They planned to involve Hirka somehow. Said she could help. Where had they gotten that ridiculous notion from? Help how? What was it the ravens had said about her? Different blood? Had Ramoja realized what that meant, and told the chieftain of Ravnhov? But how would that be of any use to them? And how was someone like her supposed to help them win anything? The girl who avoided people at all costs. The girl who couldn’t even bind.
What would Rime have said if he knew about this? And Ilume! Ilume An-Elderin. Ramoja worked for her, for the Council! And what had she meant about Rime being lost to them?
Hirka leaned against the rock face. She had to be mistaken. She’d only heard snatches of their conversation. She couldn’t know what it was actually about. There was a reasonable explanation. There had to be. And she had to find it.
They had mentioned a gathering tomorrow. A gathering that Ramoja couldn’t be seen at. But others were going to attend. And maybe they would talk about the tailless girl too. About her. She had to listen in on this gathering, whatever it took.
Hirka crept out through the chasm. She found the path down, and soon she saw the town below her, a hive of activity. More carts had arrived overnight. Men and women in dark blue aprons bustled across the courtyard with water, food, bed linen, and wood. The guard changed atop the walls. People carried in eggs from the hen houses, patched roofs with fresh straw, and set up stalls around the squares. Leather goods, baked goods, birdcages of all shapes, clothes, and weapons. Shields and swords.
After a thousand years of sleep, Ravnhov was about to wake up again.
THE FEAST
The music started long before the sun set. The moot feast in Ravnhov was quite the affair. If things had been like before, Hirka would have lain hidden on a rooftop and watched people being people from a safe distance. But nothing was the same anymore.
Torches illuminated the chieftain’s household. Flutes and harps played songs about gods, love, and war. Whole lambs were roasted over open fires. Children with dirty faces ran around swiping things from platters without anyone chasing them off to bed. The evening air smelled of meat, ale, and spices.
The doors to the great hall opened and people crowded around to enter. Hirka was surrounded. Squashed. She managed to work her way over to the side.
“I see you’re taking the stupid way in.”
Hirka turned toward the voice. Tein was leaning against the corner.
“Not by choice,” Hirka said, seizing the opportunity to break away from the crowd and walking over to him. He waved her after him around the back of the great hall and through the servants’ entrance.
The hall had two floors. It was already packed, but people were still streaming in. The roof was supported by two rows of sturdy logs, at least fifty of them. Someone had decorated the banister on the second floor with flowers. Hirka counted four fireplaces with pigs over the flames. The tables were overflowing with ale, fruit, fish, and honey bread. People jostled each other as they squeezed onto the benches.
“There’s no room in here, we’ll have to go back out,” Hirka said, relieved, and turned around.
Tein stopped her. “Oh, we can always find somewhere to sit,” he said with a grin so self-assured that Hirka could practically smell the danger.
“WELCOME TO RAVNHOV!”
Eirik’s voice boomed throughout the hall. He had climbed up onto one of the tables, and people cheered in response. “Now, now. Settle down,” he called. “Ynge! For crying out loud, leave the food where it is until everyone’s seated! We’re not wild animals, no matter what Mannfalla might say!” People howled with laughter. They stomped their feet so their tankards shook.
Hirka smiled. No wonder Mannfalla was wary of this man. He’d won her over straightaway.
Eirik took a swig of ale before continuing. “Many of you are on your way to the Rite. Many of you attended the moot. And many of you are here for the first time. But fear not! I won’t bore you with a long speech. All I’ll say is, here we are! Here’s Ravnhov! We’ve always been here. And we’ll always be here!”
Everyone whooped and hollered. Tankards were bashed together, ale slopping everywhere. Eirik jumped down from the table but kept speaking. “We fear no one! Whether you’re a wild man like us or a pale-faced Mannfaller, you’re welcome here. In our house. On behalf of me, my beloved Solfrid …” Eirik put an arm around a buxom beauty next to him. “And Tein, my son and heir!” He reached out with his other arm. Tein walked over and embraced his father.
Hirka buried her face in her hands. He was Eirik’s son. Her mind raced through everything she’d said to him. Would she have said the same things if she’d known?
As people started to settle down, Tein pulled Hirka over to sit at his family’s table. He tore off long strips of meat with his fingers and stuffed them into his mouth. He never stopped grinning at her, not even while he was chewing.
She ate without saying a word. It wasn’t that he hadn’t told her who he was. That was easy enough to forgive. But seating her here, at the chieftain’s table, in front of gawping visitors from half of Ym … Hirka’s cheeks continued to burn through countless dishes and songs. The people b
ecame drunker and the songs bolder. Tein leaned over the table, pressed his forehead against hers, and winked.
Then a familiar song started up and her blood ran cold.
The girl and the rot coming down from on high
Lie with me tonight, lie with me tonight
The rot begged and pleaded ’til his face did glow
But no matter how he tried, the girl said no
Voices and people disappeared into a fog around her. All she could hear was the song. Why wasn’t anyone else listening? Why were they just sitting there, drinking and bellowing? The girl in the song kept saying no, verse after verse.
Men were one thing, drunken men something else entirely, Father had said. Now she knew better. Men were just men. She was the one who was dangerous. Father had fought a futile battle to ensure she went unseen. To ensure no one would get the rot. How stupid could you get? Had he thought she’d live her entire life without lying with anyone? Everyone did it. Maybe even Sylja.
Sylja and Rime?
No. She’d have known. Not that it mattered. Hirka would never be able to touch Rime or anyone else. She was a monster. A disease. She was like the blind, who kept coming up in the many conversations around the table.
The girl and the rot at the parting of the ways
Lie with me today, lie with me today
The rot got down on his knees, praying for success
And on this day, the girl said yes
Hirka got up and ran toward the doors. She heard Tein shout behind her, but she pretended not to hear. There were even more people outside, but they didn’t pay her any heed. They were dancing, eating, and drinking. A couple was sitting on a table, kissing, and one of the carts was rocking suspiciously. Hirka kept running until she’d crossed the yellow bridge. The torches had gone out. She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to pull herself together. Nothing bad had happened. She’d shared a meal with people. That was all.
All Hirka wanted was to be left alone, but she could hear footsteps just behind her. Tein strode past and then turned to face her, smiling as he walked backward along the road.
“You haven’t seen the ravenry yet.”
The ravenry. It was only then that she noticed the low cawing. She followed Tein to some stone steps leading straight down into the ravine. It started getting cooler as soon as they started descending. The ravens cawed a little louder for a moment, but then fell silent. What was it Ramoja had said?
She calms the ravens. They can smell that her blood is different.
The ravenry in Ravnhov. A place of legends.
The wooded ravine was home to tens of thousands of ravens. She was surrounded by black shadows that watched her through narrowed eyes. Paths crisscrossed between the trees. They followed one of them until the ravine ended at a cliff. From here she looked out over the landscape toward Blindból and Mannfalla. The moon hung over the forest, almost full. She started to move toward the edge for a better look, but Tein grabbed her hand.
“What happened to your tail?”
Hirka breathed a sigh of relief. So he didn’t know anything more about her. That meant Eirik and Ramoja didn’t either. No one knew.
“Wolf,” she said. Short sentences seemed like a good idea when talking to Tein, so he couldn’t interrupt. He smiled and moved toward her. He stood so close that she could feel the warmth from his breath. Looking at him now, she didn’t know how she hadn’t realized who he was. He had his father’s eyes. Just a paler blue. And they were bright now. Hirka knew what that meant, though she’d never seen it herself. She’d never been close to anyone in that way.
“I’ll be king one day,” he said, smiling like he’d won a competition. Like the ones she and Rime used to have. Hirka took a step back.
“There aren’t any kings anymore,” she said, looking away.
He chuckled, but he didn’t sound amused. “Where do you think all the chieftains came from?” His arm muscles bulged under his white shirt. He started circling her as if they were going to fight. His voice grew rougher. “Do you think the kings just woke up one day and decided to disappear? Foggard, Norrvarje, Brinnlanda … Do you think Mannfalla has always ruled the world, girl? The kings were here long before the Council, and it was the king of Foggard who held the blind back. Us! It was us! And we paid in blood. The Council grew strong while we lost our land, our leaders, and our lives.”
The ravens above them shifted uneasily. Hirka looked at him, suddenly feeling like she knew who he was. Like she knew him. A wild boy, she’d thought at first, without realizing how right she was. There was a rawness to him, and it was both ugly and beautiful at the same time.
Tein carried within him the memories of things that had happened long before he was born, long before Eirik was born. He bore the weight of a thousand years of injustice.
Hirka tried to counter him, nonetheless. “The Seer held the blind ba—”
“The Seer?! He may have saved Mannfalla, but who did He save here? Ravnhov saved itself. Ravnhov has always saved itself.” He lowered his voice and turned away. Tein wasn’t much older than Hirka, but nevertheless, he wanted everyone to take up arms and defy Mannfalla so he could reclaim a lost kingdom he’d only heard about in stories. And it was clear that he wanted her help.
But Tein didn’t know that she’d already fled from the Council. That she couldn’t help if she wanted to. That she had no idea why Eirik and Ramoja thought she could.
“Always having to save yourself isn’t a bad thing,” Hirka said. “It’s something to be proud of.”
He straightened up, but didn’t turn to face her. “They’re back.”
“Who’s back?”
“Nábyrn. The deadborn. The blind.”
Hirka said nothing. Only the previous evening he’d denied their very existence, but tonight the stories had flowed between the guests more quickly than the ale, so he had to have known.
Suddenly she understood. All that talk about saving themselves. The blind and lost kingdoms. Tein wasn’t just angry. He was afraid. He was the first person in Ravnhov who hadn’t gone through the Rite. What did he fear most? Mannfalla or the blind?
“Then let them come,” she said, sounding bolder than she felt. “Remember what your father said: Ravnhov’s here. It’s always been here, and it always will be.”
He turned to face her. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He beamed. He gripped her hair and searched her eyes for permission, clearly expecting to find it.
Tein was standing right in front of her. Warm and within reach. Hungry for life and so easy to be with that it was scary. But he wasn’t what she wanted. He wasn’t Rime.
She stepped away from him, but she smiled to take the sting out of it.
Tein smiled back, as if she’d made him a promise.
THE GATHERING
Hirka stole across the empty courtyard. Not even the ravens were awake. The fog lay like a blanket over Ravnhov. What remained of the feast bonfires reached into the gray sky like skeletal ruins.
She had no idea where or when Eirik and the nobles were going to hold the gathering he and Ramoja had spoken of. But if there was one thing she had learned since arriving, it was that Ravnhov hospitality knew no bounds. All she had to do was follow the food.
She squeezed into a gap between the great hall and Eirik’s house. She sat there waiting until the ravens awoke. They dispersed northward, screeching all the way, and soon after she heard people coming and going. Unngonna shouted an order inside. Somebody ran. The door creaked and Hirka looked around the corner.
A girl in blue carried a tray of boiled eggs and pork up a path behind the great hall. Hirka followed her from a safe distance. The girl’s footsteps stopped up ahead. A few moments later they suddenly returned, and Hirka barely managed to slip behind a spruce tree to avoid being seen. The girl passed, without the tray. The gathering had to be right around the corner.
The trees thinned out, and a ship-shaped stone building came into view on a mounta
in ledge. It kind of reminded her of the mountain ledge they’d lived on back home in Elveroa. But she wasn’t at home. She was an eavesdropper in Ravnhov. It was a betrayal, but after the conversation she had heard, she had to. She had to know.
Hirka crouched down when she passed the windows at the back of the house. There was no movement inside, as far as she could see. She had to find a hiding place quickly, before people arrived. She looked up. The roof was covered with turf and small bushes. The chimney was wide enough that she could sit against it. Would she be able to hear what was being said through it? She had to take the chance.
Hirka placed her foot on a windowsill and pulled herself up onto the roof. The turf was moist with rain. She crawled up and sat down with her back against the chimney. Her clothes nearly blended in with the yellowish-green roof. Nobody would see her, but just to be safe, she ducked down between the bushes as best she could and pulled her hood over her head.
The girl returned and opened the door. From the chimney, Hirka heard a tankard being placed on the table. She smiled. With a little luck she would hear everything.
It felt like an eternity before she heard voices from the path. She made herself more comfortable. Her back was soaked, but it couldn’t be helped. Eirik said something she couldn’t quite make out, and the others laughed. The door opened again and Hirka heard a dozen or so people sit down around the table.
Her heart began to beat faster as she listened to the rumble of voices. Hirka was starting to regret her decision. This was not a meeting anyone was meant to overhear.
“Friends,” Eirik started. Hirka settled in. “The time has come. Mannfalla’s forces are moving north.”
Odin's Child Page 21
