Hirka felt something force its way up her throat. Unstoppable. She fell to her knees in the undergrowth and heaved. Nothing came up, no matter how much her stomach twisted. Bile ran from the corners of her mouth. She sobbed. Everything she’d been through was threatening to overwhelm her.
She raised herself up onto her hands and tried to crawl away, but she couldn’t move. Rime had locked his arms around her. He was on his knees behind her, holding her firmly. He put one of his hands over her mouth and pulled her head back. She twitched. The man in the vaults had done the same. But this wasn’t him. This was Rime. She felt his lips against her ear. His breath. He spoke.
“Everyone dies. It doesn’t change anything. Everything dies. As sure as you’re alive right now. Nothing changes, Hirka. We’re torn apart and put back together, as something new. You’re the sky, you’re the earth, water, and fire. Living and dead. We’re all dead. Already dead.”
Hirka sobbed again. Rime was a new weight on her back. Like Vetle when they’d been hanging over the Alldjup. “I’m no one!” Hirka didn’t recognize her own voice. It forced its way out, half-smothered by Rime’s hand. “Slokna has taken everything I care about. I don’t have a father, a home, not even my hair! I’m … a gift for the blind. I’m wearing a dead man’s tail, a man who died so I could … Father …”
Rime tightened his grip, almost lifting her from the ground.
“We’re already dead. All of us. Nothing can hurt us. Do you understand, Hirka?” She felt her body let go. The weight of what he was saying lodged itself in her chest. She understood. She slumped in his arms as if dead. The hand over her mouth loosened its grip. Warmth spread through her body. Warmth and the strength to lift her head. He was binding.
“Do you understand, Hirka?”
She nodded. “Already dead.”
She became one with the Might. She turned to dust. She dissipated and was scattered. The wind gripped her and she rose up through the forest, through the landscape, through Slokna, and into the stars. She was a wind of sand and dust, and she blew through Rime. He gathered her up and made her whole again. Until she ended up back where she’d started. In a very real world, surrounded by reeds reaching out to the newly risen sun.
Already dead. Nothing could hurt someone who knew nothing would last. There was nothing left to fear. Rime got up behind her, pulling her up with him. She felt weightless in the Might’s grip. It flowed through her and disappeared down into the earth. Would it settle there and rot, now that it had been through her?
“Who are you?” His question was abrupt, but not without warmth. She knew he was trying to bring her back, but she couldn’t make herself say it in front of him. He asked again. “Who are you, Hirka?”
“I’m the rot,” she said, hollow with grief. “Everything I touch rots and dies.”
He laughed. How could he laugh at that, twist the knife even deeper? Was that what Kolkagga did? Rime spun her around. “That was a bit dramatic, even for you.” His words brought her back to reality. Showed her the fool in her, like a reflection. The weight of the world lessened and she smiled.
“I’m Hirka. Hirka Has-No-Tail.”
“Are you alive, Hirka?”
“Yes, I’m alive.”
“Good.” He bent down and pressed his lips to hers. So suddenly and unexpectedly that it was over before she’d had time to react. He gave her a crooked smile. “One point to me if I start to rot.”
She could feel herself gaping and tried to pull herself together. Her lips tingled. He had kissed her. Rime An-Elderin had kissed her. Quickly. It was like it hadn’t even happened. But it had! She hadn’t imagined it. He tightened the strip of fabric around her waist and let go. The weight of the tail made her wobble, but she managed to stay on her feet.
“Anyway, from what I’ve heard it takes a lot more than that, Hirka Has-a-Tail.” He walked over to the river and spread her hair across the surface of the water. It floated away like rust-colored grass and disappeared.
Hirka swallowed, unable to stop herself from thinking about what he meant by “a lot more.”
SHADOWS IN MANNFALLA
The walls appeared when they rounded the ridge. It was plain to see that the guardsmen had more to do than usual, running to and fro, searching carts and groups of people who were leaving to work in the tea gardens or to travel home after the Rite. But unlike previous years, most people seemed to be staying put. Nothing was as normal.
Every girl who left the city was being made to show their tail. Hirka gulped. Rime had been right. She pulled her cloak closer around her. The dead tail pulled at the strip of cloth around her waist. A sickening weight.
They approached the gate from the north. They’d agreed to walk right through like ordinary people. Rime would be a familiar face to many of the guards, so they were unlikely to run into any trouble. They walked side by side and tried to have a casual conversation about fish. About the redfins that were on their way up the Ora.
Hirka’s heart was pounding in her chest. Was everyone staring at them? The two guardsmen leaning their heads together and whispering by the stall? The one standing on the wall looking down?
To Hirka’s relief, none of the people ahead of them were stopped. Rime had been right once again. Nobody cared who was coming in. She saw his eyes darting around as they passed through. He spotted a middle-aged guardsman and raised his hand in greeting. The guardsman returned his greeting and continued searching a cart transporting animals out of the city. Hirka’s shoulders didn’t relax until they had made it through and the gate was out of sight.
They followed the Catgut up toward the square in front of Eisvaldr. Hirka had been here many times before, but something was different now. The stalls had crept out farther onto the street. She and Rime had to squeeze past sellers promising protection against both the blind and Odin’s kin. Talismans and raven icons, silver jewelry, bone and mother-of-pearl. Incense and scented oils that were saturated with the Might, or so they claimed.
A scrawny man had his arms full of necklaces that had all been blessed in Eisvaldr. Many by the Seer himself, he promised. Guaranteed to be effective. A child of Odin would be forced to keep its distance from this jewelry.
“I doubt it,” Hirka said and kept walking.
“You’re marked!” he shouted defiantly after her.
A few people looked at her and drew away a little. Hirka could hardly believe her own eyes. What was wrong with them? The city had become completely consumed by fear. And by greed. She saw Rime a little in front of her and tried to push through the crowd, but suddenly everything came to a stop. No movement. She ended up with her nose against a man’s back. He turned and glowered at her. What was going on?
Hirka strained her neck to see. An older woman was standing above the crowd. Probably standing on a box that Hirka couldn’t see. She had long hair that had lost its luster several decades ago. It framed her face in wisps. She spoke with an unexpected vigor that carried easily.
“And she will be the first! She has opened the door. She is the vanguard.” A couple of people standing at the front voiced their assent by repeating the final words of her every sentence, like an uncritical echo. “Vanguard! Vanguard!”
“The child of Odin comes first. Mark my words! The blind are her slaves! And with her she brings all the ashes of Slokna!”
“Slokna! Slokna!” the words were vacuously repeated by those in the first row.
Hirka tried to retreat, but she was stuck. Unbelievable! The old woman was talking about her. As if she were their enemy—one of the blind! Behind the old woman, a notice bearing the Council seal had been posted. A drawing. The text was impossible to read from where she was standing, but it wasn’t necessary. Hirka knew what it said.
She stared at the drawing. Black ink on paper. The only splash of color was the hair. Red as blood. It was meant to be her. It was unmistakable. Hirka looked around, expecting the crowd to set upon her at any moment, but they were listening to the old woman, enraptured. They
drank in every word, clueless to the fact that the one they feared stood among them.
It was like in her dreams. Last night she had stood on a mountaintop, surrounded by snow but with the blood boiling in her veins, and the blind had swarmed around her. Millions of them. They came every time she fell asleep. The dreams grew worse every night. The thirst grew stronger. Someone else’s thirst. But they didn’t see. Just like now. She’d feared crowds her entire life, but here she stood, safer than anywhere else and exactly what they were afraid of.
Hirka felt someone grab her. She tried to tear her hand away, then realized it was Rime. He pulled her through the crowd and farther up the street. Another notice was posted farther ahead. Two girls stood in front of it, pointing.
“Come!” Rime pulled her into an alley. They squeezed between a pile of sacks that smelled of moldering vegetation.
“That’s me.” Hirka stared out at the street, peering under Rime’s arm, which he rested against the wall behind her. “That’s me! They’re saying I brought the blind here!” Hirka laughed. It was so absurd that it was impossible to be scared. Rime was more scared than her.
“I know! Let me think. We can’t stay here.”
A woman with a tub of wet clothes came walking along the alley. She nodded and squeezed past them. Hirka dared not say anything until she had passed them and was out on the street. “They’re looking for me, Rime.”
“And in doing that they actually admit they lost you. That’s a first.” Rime curled his upper lip as though he had eaten something he didn’t like. “We have to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere people won’t ask questions.”
Hirka smiled. She grabbed Rime and dragged him back onto the street. “Come! I know where to go.”
THE RAVENRY
Mannfalla’s oldest ravenry was located high up in the east of the city. It was a longhouse intersected by a smaller wing in the middle. The walls leaned over the ridge. It was as if it were looking down on the rest of the city through narrow slits that didn’t reveal any of its inner workings. It was like a fortress. Built from stone that blended in with the gray sky.
Hirka heard Rime stop on the path behind her. She turned to look at him. He’d laughed at her when she’d told him where they were going. He’d said that seeking out Ramoja was like knocking on the door of the red dome. Reluctantly, Hirka had told him the truth about the ravener. It couldn’t hurt anymore. After all, Rime was a traitor now too.
So she’d told him. About Ramoja in Ravnhov, and about the gathering where Eirik had been stabbed. Rime had asked more questions than Hirka was able to answer. It pained her to destroy his perception of someone he’d grown up with. A friend of the family. Ilume’s right hand. No wonder he was hesitating. She didn’t feel great about it either. The last time she’d seen Ramoja, Hirka had been playing the part of Ravnhov’s mighty salvation. Now she was an unearthed embling on the lam.
Hirka gave Rime an encouraging smile and hurried onward before she could change her mind. The murmuring of the ravens got louder the closer they got. There was no one in the courtyard. The porch doors were open, so they went in. Hirka knocked on the inner door.
“What if the others—”
Hirka shushed him. Rime had taken the lead so far, but now it was up to her. He had his doubts about her story, but he hadn’t been in Ravnhov. Hirka had. She knew. Ramoja was no threat to them. She wouldn’t give them up. Rime was probably the more likely threat in Ramoja’s eyes. That’s why he was wearing his cloak inside out, so no one could see the embroidered mark of the raven over his heart. His hood was pulled forward so his face was in shadow. Hirka swallowed. She opened her own cloak at the throat. It was tight. Picked up in a hurry from a cheap stall.
“Hirka! It’s Hirka! Mama, it’s Hirka!”
Hirka took a step back and eyed the peephatch in the door. The voice could only belong to one person. Hirka smiled. The door was flung open and Vetle threw himself at her, almost knocking her over. Ramoja appeared and extricated Hirka from his grasp. She sent Vetle into the kitchen, warning him not to tell anyone other than Joar and Knute that they had a visitor. It was a secret. Vetle nodded solemnly.
Ramoja looked out across the courtyard and spotted Rime.
“I have a friend with me, and we’ve come alone, Ramoja.”
“In the Seer’s name, Hirka …” Ramoja stared at Hirka as if she had come back from Slokna.
Hirka did nothing. She just bit her lip while she waited for Ramoja’s next move. It was up to her to decide what their relationship was now. Now that Hirka was an outlaw. Now that she was the rot.
Ramoja pulled Hirka into a hug, her bangles jangling.
“There were three men here searching the house barely an hour ago! No stone in the city has been left unturned looking for you. Where’ve you been, child?” She pushed Hirka away to get a look at her and ran a hand through her newly cut hair. Her eyes flickered as if it were too much to take in all at once.
“Joar!” she shouted without looking away from Hirka. A young man appeared in the corridor. “Joar, send the kitchen and the rest of the household home for the day. Tell them it’s so they can recover from the guardsmen ransacking the place. And bar the doors.” Joar nodded and disappeared with Vetle on his heels.
Hirka savored their welcome as if it were the Might. The unconditional consideration. The willingness to act, to protect her. The knowledge that Ramoja had been worried about her, even after the Rite. After she had found out what Hirka really was. And not least after she must have realized Hirka couldn’t bind and would never be able to save Ravnhov.
“Ramoja, we have a long story to tell. But there’s something you need to know first.” Hirka looked at Rime. He lowered his hood. It pooled around his neck.
Ramoja’s eyes widened. Then she lifted her hand and slapped him. Rime clenched his jaw, but he didn’t move apart from that.
Hirka’s mouth fell open. It was all going wrong before it had even started.
“I know what you are, Rime An-Elderin,” Ramoja said through clenched teeth. “You’re a murderer. Already dead. Kolkagga!”
Hirka gripped Ramoja’s arm. “He saved my life!”
More people came out onto the porch. They spread out along the walls.
“Of course he did! To use you as a puppet. To find out what you know and use you to bring him here.”
“No! No, you don’t understand!” Hirka tugged at her tunic.
Rime had had enough. “There’s no point in me being here,” he said, turning to leave. Six men and two women were standing between him and the door. One of them slid the bolt across. The others had already drawn their swords. Swords that were nothing like Rime’s. These were plain steel. Clumsily wrought, like the one Father had in the chest. They were raveners. Ordinary people. Rime would kill them all if he had to. Hirka couldn’t let that happen.
“Rime, stop!”
He stopped, to the obvious surprise of the others.
“They can’t let you go, Rime. Think about it. They know I’ve brought you here because of Ramoja. They have no way of knowing you won’t come back with every guardsman in the city. They have no way of knowing, Rime … Please.” Hirka stared at his back. The others stood as immobile as the beams supporting the building. The only sound was the ravens.
Rime turned to Ramoja. “How do you know what I am, Ramoja? Where did you hear that secret? From Ravnhov? You’ve been serving them behind our backs, yet here you are judging me for my choices. Who are you, Ramoja? Who is this woman who has spent a lifetime at my grandmother’s side with her heart in Ravnhov?”
Hirka didn’t dare breathe. Ramoja’s dark cheeks glowed. There wasn’t a good answer to Rime’s accusations. He was right, and he had more to say. “You’re threatening me because you know what I am. Because you’re as disdainful as only a traitor can be. You’re an outlaw, Ramoja. You’ve betrayed Mannfalla.”
The air was thick with accusations. There wasn’t room for two winners here. Hirka looked despairingly at the b
olt locking the door. What had she done?
“Rime!” Vetle came running out onto the porch, past his mother and into Rime’s arms. Ramoja reached out for him, a silent scream on her lips. Rime put an arm around Vetle’s chest. Ramoja looked like she might fall apart. She’d lost the upper hand.
Hirka’s despair grew. This wasn’t right! This wasn’t what she had intended. None of the people in this room were enemies. Everyone here had betrayed someone, in one way or another. But too much had been said and done to bring them together now.
“Rime …” Hirka didn’t dare speak in more than a whisper. It was a quiet plea. He looked at her. Looked at the others. Then he pushed Vetle away.
“Go to your mother.”
Vetle looked around, confused. The boy was aware enough to realize something was wrong. Ramoja met him halfway and pulled him close to her. Hirka took a deep breath. This was the only chance she had. This brief moment.
“You’re a traitor, Ramoja. You’ve betrayed the Council and Mannfalla. But so has he.” Hirka pointed at Rime. “He can walk out of that door whenever he wants, and you know that. You all know that.”
Hirka surveyed the sweaty faces around her. Some were old, some young. But they were all afraid. They might be able to stop one Kolkagga between them, but it was far from a sure thing. And few of them would come out of it unscathed if they tried, that much was certain. They had a lot to lose, and it was easy to read in their eyes.
Hirka continued. “He can leave whenever he likes. Believe me. I’ve seen him. He can leave, but he’s choosing not to. Because he’s in just as deep as you are. We’ve all made the same choice.” She knew she was taking a chance. She didn’t know these ymlings. She just had to assume there was a reason they were willing to protect Ramoja. “He’s choosing not to leave because everyone in this room has taken the same path.”
Hirka took off her cloak. She let it fall to the floor. “And I don’t know what it’s like for you ordinary folks, but I can assure you that being on the run makes emblings tired and hungry.” She untied the strip of fabric around her waist that was holding the tail in place. “And I refuse to take another step wearing a dead man’s tail.”
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