The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “To those who remember those times, this hall reminds them of the longhouses from the days when they were human,” Roar explained as they did a slow circuit around the hall.

  By the time Charlee made it back to the hall on Pearl Street, it was close to dawn. Even though she still considered herself a native New Yorker, she abided by the Kine’s protocol when visiting a hall that was not your home hearth. She asked to be escorted to Roar’s apartment door, where she knocked and waited.

  Roar himself answered the door. He was already dressed. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

  “Yes, thank you. Although Darwin was petering out. He’s very used to his retiree hours now. I tucked him into bed and came straight here.”

  “It’s nearly noon in Oslo,” Roar said. “Let me show you around my hall, then I’ll take you back.”

  It was clear from the pride in his voice as he showed her around that Roar was very attached to this hall. “It’s much bigger than the original longhouses, of course. It has to be to contain everyone who is beholden to the hall, when they are all assembled.”

  “When were those days, for you?” Charlee asked curiously. “When were you human?”

  “They didn’t date the years when I was still human.” Roar gave a grimace. “Long ago, let’s say. The Kine found themselves upon Midgard in five hundred and thirty-five, the year of no summer. Did you read of that year in your travels through the history books?”

  “I sort of remember. Isn’t that the year that they believe Krakatoa erupted? The smoke and dust stayed in the air and covered the globe, so the sun couldn’t get through.”

  Roar nodded. “It was a very grim year. No harvest, no fresh food. Many died, including those of the Kine. The slaves’ religion took solid root that year, as humans looked for reasons why their world was so blighted. That their god was punishing them for not believing in him was very easy to accept. They had been turning away from our gods for centuries, but that year they embraced the new religion with fervor.”

  Charlee realized he was speaking of Christianity. “I’ve heard Eira say that was the reason why you were ejected from Valhalla. Because humans had stopped believing in you and the gods.”

  “It’s one theory,” Roar said. “We may never find out. We haven’t so far. That year we were too busy learning to survive ourselves, to wonder why we were thrust upon Midgard. Instead, we turned to our older, human ways because they worked. We built halls like this one, as central locations from where we could begin assimilating into human culture. We’ve been doing it ever since.”

  “Except when humans stopped building halls, you kept building them. Just hidden.”

  “The old ways worked,” Roar said. “And while we must change our human habits to continue to look human to those outside the hall, inside the hall we can be ourselves.” He gave her a smile as they approached the flat, low dais where the big chair sat. “We do not like change and the human world changes at the speed of light, making us dizzy trying to keep up with it.” He rested a foot on the dais. “Here, we do not have to change.”

  “But you do change,” Charlee pointed out. “Maybe not at the pace humans do, but human change influences you, and you do change.”

  His smile broadened. “I assure you that under this civilized veneer, I am the same blood-taking warrior I have always been. It is the price of immortality. We merely ape progress, while our instincts and preferences stay fixed. We are creatures caught in amber.”

  Charlee shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

  He raised a brow. “You would if you saw me drunk, or angry.”

  “You, and every adult male upon Midgard,” she said shortly. “But you think women should have rights, and you fought to have me exonerated, last night, despite the law that says attacking an Einherjar is punishable, no matter what the cause. I don’t for a moment believe that was what you were brought up to believe when you were human.”

  Roar considered her. “No,” he said at last. “I didn’t believe that when I was human.” He said it thoughtfully, as if his mind was far away.

  “Something in you has changed, then,” Charlee finished. “Human influence?” she suggested.

  He took his boot off the dais and stood up. “One day, I will tell you about a woman called Meggy. Come. I will take you back to the Second Hall.”

  * * * * *

  It was barely a week later when Charlee began to understand the true consequences of that night. Asher’s rejection was the most painful outcome, the one that lingered like a throbbing wound.

  But almost immediately after returning to the hall and her normal responsibilities, Charlee noticed that the other Amica were treating her more like the outsider she had been in Ylva’s house. The foreigner. They remained friendly, but she could sense they had their guard up. They were measuring what they said to her.

  The Einherjar treated her with a new respect. The flirting, the teasing, the slightly less than serious suggestions, they all continued on unabated, for it was the role of the Amica to provide that delightful air of pleasant banter and a sense of community.

  But many of the men watched her now with more than a friendly gaze. She caught from the corner of her eye their thoughtful expressions as they stared, expressions that evaporated the moment she turned to look at them properly.

  A week almost to the day, Charlee learned the other great consequence of daring to lay a hand on an Einherjar.

  She had been assigned to medical duties, working alongside Eira in one corner of the big hall. As a Valkyrie, Eira possessed remarkable healing powers, as well as the sum of all healing knowledge gathered by the Kine. When fallen warriors were gathered from the battlefields by the Valkyrie, they were brought to Valhalla and healed of their wounds. The Valkyrie were the ones to heal them, and they were granted almost magical powers, which had been supplemented by a very practical, down to earth medicine. Ylva had lost her Valkyrie powers when she had become one of the Eldre, but her knowledge of medicine, healing and wellness was as vast as Eira’s, and she had used that knowledge to help Charlee after the knife attack.

  Eira used the same knowledge, combined with her powers as a Valkyrie, to address any health issues among those that called Tryvannshøyden home. It had been Eira who had healed Arsenios’ broken arm.

  Those Amica who were skilled at the preparation of the ointments and creams that a Valkyrie used were much in demand as assistants, and many of them would choose to specialize in the work, especially if they considered their chances of forming a long-term contract with an Einherjar to be slim.

  Ylva had stressed Charlee’s skills in the preparation of medicinals, and Eira had remembered and selected her as her personal assistant from time to time. “But not too often, Charlee. It would send out a certain signal to the Einherjar that you should not be ready to declare just yet.”

  Instead, Charlee had spent most of her time doing more menial chores that nevertheless kept her in frequent contact with Einherjar who belonged to the hall or were visiting.

  The week after the reaffirmation ceremony, Eira asked her to assist for the morning. “Arsenios will return today for me to examine his arm. I think he would appreciate the opportunity to speak to you and learn that you bear him no ill will.” She gave a small smile. “And I will be there to moderate, just in case your need to inflict more bodily damage reasserts itself.”

  Charlee had flushed, but not disputed her. The feeling she got from most of the Kine when they referred to the matter with Arsenios was one of amusement and she had carefully said as little as possible about it, happy to let them laugh about it. They could have taken a far stronger and dimmer view of the affair if they had wanted to.

  Arsenios was still yet to appear in the hall, although Charlee couldn’t see the entire hall in one glance. In deference to modern human practices, most Valkyrie treated their patients behind screens and kept waiting patients separate, maintaining a degree of discretion that didn’t exist in the original halls.

&nb
sp; “The women would stitch wounds next to the center fire,” Eira explained. “They would cauterize wounds using the poker from the fire itself. Everyone was privy to the treatment and discussion of wounds and sickness. They were all exposed to any infections that she treated, too. It was a true community. There was no such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality. That is a modern idea that can be quite inconvenient at times, but the Einherjar like it. It lets them keep their illusion of masculinity and courage.” And she had laughed.

  Between each patient, Charlee would swiftly sterilize any instruments, and prepare for the next one while Eira called them in.

  Toward noon, when the line of patients had begun to dwindle, the next one stepped around the screen without waiting for Eira to call him.

  “Roar!” Eira said. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged.

  “Are you unwell?” Charlee asked, puzzled. He was wearing a suit and tie, and wouldn’t look out of place on Wall Street.

  “No.” He glanced from Eira to her and back again. “I hope you don’t mind. I came...” He blew out a breath. “I came to see if I could steal Charlee for the day. I have back-to-back meetings, including a business lunch that needs a woman to dazzle them while I spin the deal.”

  Eira closed her mouth and glanced at Charlee. There was something in her glance that Charlee could not interpret, which was not unusual with Eira, but Charlee suspected that this time it was important she understand the currents that were suddenly swirling around her.

  “Of course she would be pleased to help,” Eira said stiffly. Again the direct, loaded glance. “Charlee?”

  Charlee understood that it was her choice. “Yes, I would be very pleased indeed. Any excuse to visit New York will do, but this is a fine excuse.”

  Roar smiled, pleased.

  Charlee spread the folds of the work-a-day apron dress she was wearing. “I need to change into business-wear.”

  “I can wait,” Roar assured her. “It’s barely six a.m. in New York. My first meeting is at eight.”

  Eira pressed her lips together and nodded at her. “Ask Manorama to step in for you, would you? There are still six more people to tend to.”

  “Should I help you with them, instead?” Charlee asked.

  “No, no.” Eira shook her head. “Just ask Manorama to drop whatever she is doing, as you cross the hall.”

  “I’ll be in the round hall by the portal,” Roar told Charlee.

  She nodded and hurried back to her room to wash quickly and put on the skirt suit she had completed only a few weeks before. She had drawn the pattern based on a photo in Vogue, adjusting for her height and her hip and waist ratio, which was larger than the average model’s.

  Then she applied subtle makeup and piled her hair on the back of her head, pinning it quickly into a French twist.

  “Very New York,” Roar said when she found him at the portal. His tone was warm and approving.

  It was a fun day, although for most of the morning, Charlee was at a loss to understand why she was there. Roar introduced her as his assistant, and she made herself useful bringing coffee and clearing up after the truly back-to-back meetings he was sitting through. They were all human meetings, stemming from his daytime role as an entrepreneur, which was just non-specific enough to cover many of the activities and business deals he had to make on behalf of the New York hall. The hall was Kine, but it sat upon human soil, in a city that collected taxes, in a country that demanded record-keeping, reports, and more taxes. Roar, and all the earls ruling halls around the world, took care of human expectations attached to their halls with a number of guises that let them deal as humans.

  Roar operated a perfectly normal-looking office on the first floor of the building the hall was located in. He had commandeered the boardroom there for his meetings, although she had glimpsed a big office connected to the boardroom through a door at the far end.

  The office suite had secretaries, a receptionist, and clerks. All of them, as far as Charlee could tell, were Amica or Einherjar, which left her even more puzzled about her role for the day.

  In between the first and second meeting, which started at nine, Roar stretched hard, his hands pressed against the small of his back. “These things are so monotonous,” he groused. “I always put them off and off, until I can’t procrastinate another day. Then I get stuck with a whole day of them.”

  “You haven’t learned, in two hundred years of dealing with New York’s business community, to spread the meetings out?” Charlee asked.

  “I didn’t think I could learn new tricks, until recently.” He glanced at her from under his brow, then picked up the agenda on the table in front of him. “Who’s next?”

  The lunch meeting was at Aroma Borealis, the new and very trendy Italian restaurant right on Wall Street and just a block east of Pearl. They had walked there at a leisurely pace, weaving between office workers heading back to the office for the afternoon.

  “The French are more civilized about their lunches,” Roar said, as they were jostled by suits hurrying past. “Everyone gets two hours to enjoy a properly prepared meal. None of this gobbling food straight out of a paper bag while you run around doing errands.”

  “Is that why the lunch meeting is at one instead of noon?” Charlee asked.

  “I couldn’t squeeze anything more out of the morning,” Roar confessed. “One is as early as I could manage it. Ah, well, it’s been a productive morning, thanks to you.”

  “I did very little.”

  “Your presence does most of the work.” He nodded toward the glass and brass restaurant ahead. “Keep them on their toes for me, Charlee. I need them distracted.”

  “I’ll do my best, but really, you should have asked for someone like Donna Elizabeth if you want men truly dazzled.” Donna Elizabeth was a svelte Swedish brunette, with large breasts and a waist that seemed impossibly small. She made the most of her natural bounty, making many Einherjar stutter and stop in their tracks, and earning her the nickname ‘the brunette Marilyn’.

  “I know Donna quite well,” Roar told her. “I need someone who can hold up their end of a conversation and give it right back. Donna is lovely, but her English is less than adequate.”

  The Aroma Borealis was busy, but the host who greeted them at the door beamed when he saw Roar. “Your guests are already at the table.”

  They were led through the packed restaurant, where the aromas truly were star-like in their intensity and delight, through to a section that was curtained off from the main body of the restaurant. The host held the curtain aside and they stepped in to a private section that held just one table.

  Charlee nearly tripped over her own stilettos, as she recognized the man rising from the table. Mayor Michael Bloomberg held out his hand and shook Roar’s firmly. “Heil og sæl...did I get it right?”

  “You did very well.” Roar drew Charlee forward. “Mayor Bloomberg found out about my Norse ancestors and has been trying to get the greeting right ever since. Michael, this is a friend of mine, Charlee Montgomery. She counts generations of her New York ancestors on both hands, I believe.”

  “A native of the island. You’re a rarity, Ms. Montgomery.” The Mayor shook her hand.

  “In all ways, your honor,” Charlee told him.

  He got a sparkle in his eyes. “Call me Michael, please.”

  Charlee wasn’t sure if the lunch was a success in Roar’s estimation, for there seemed to be very little business discussed. There was a lot of joking and laughter and the food was wonderful. So was the champagne. The Mayor’s companion at the table was, as far as she could tell, one of his senior executive assistants. The man spent a lot of time thumbing out texts on his BlackBerry, although he was polite and jovial when he wasn’t staring at the device.

  Ninety minutes after they arrived, the Mayor got to his feet and shook Roar’s hand again. He pressed his other hand against Charlee’s when he shook hers. “It has been a pleasure, Charlee.”

  They let the cur
tain drop down behind them, leaving Charlee and Roar at the table alone.

  “Did that go well?” Charlee asked, honestly puzzled.

  Roar sat back with a sigh. “You did beautifully,” he said.

  The waiter stepped through the curtain and Roar held up one finger, then two together.

  The waiter nodded and let the curtain drop once more.

  “But there wasn’t any business discussed at all,” Charlee pointed out.

  “Exactly. Michael wanted to nail me down on some complex agreements over the land our hall sits on. We’ve managed to supress taxes on it for decades, but it’s starting to come to a head and the city pulled the Mayor into the matter just to throw some weight around.”

  “Then the deal you wanted to do was not deal at all?”

  “Not yet,” Roar agreed with a smile. “I just need to put the city off for twenty more days. Then a grandfather clause kicks in, and we get another ten years at the old rate. Only, he knows that too, so the pressure is on. Today, he thought he would be able to grind me down into dealing, with this private room and a fancy lunch. So I brought you along. He’s a touch old-fashioned in places.”

  “He won’t talk business with a woman present?”

  “He won’t do business when someone he doesn’t know is in the room,” Roar amended. “So I softened it by bringing a very beautiful stranger, instead of one of my assistants.” He laughed. “Next time it will be a summons to the Mayor’s office and we’ll do business over the boardroom table instead of lunch. He won’t make that mistake again.”

  The waiter stepped around the curtain once more. He placed a bowl of ice cream in front of Roar and lined up a spoon on either side of it, then nodded and left.

  “One bowl, two spoons,” Charlee murmured, remembering the signal. She leaned to look at the bowl. “Chocolate chip?” she asked, trying to hide her smile.

  “My one indulgence.” Roar picked up one of the spoons and held it out to her. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

  “Because it’s such a profound secret to have.”

  “It is,” Roar said gravely. “Cities might fall if it were to become common knowledge.” He scooped up a mouthful and ate it with zest.