Then he looked at her. It wasn’t as if his gaze wandered around the room and happened upon her. He turned his head sharply to look at her as if he had become abruptly aware of her presence. His gaze met hers and Charlee felt hot and shivery, like an invisible sun lamp had been turned on her.
His eyes narrowed just a little. Then he turned his gaze back upon the two Kine on the dais, and the heated sensation disappeared. Charlee wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold.
The man halted at the foot of the dais. He did not have to crane his neck to look up at Roar and Eira, for he was only a little shorter than them despite the platform they stood upon. Jarl stayed by his side, looking very short next to him.
“Annarr. Regin.” The man’s voice was deep, one of the deepest baritones Charlee had ever heard. The sound seemed to rumble around the room, and she had no trouble hearing him at all.
“Verlan Seeker,” Roar replied. “You honor us with your presence. Why do the Jotnar seek us out at this time?”
Jotnar. Charlee focused on the name, recalling her earliest lessons when she was newly appointed to the Second Hall. The Jotnar were one of the most ancient species still in existence. Their world, Jotunheim, was closed to anyone but the Jotnar. They were powerful, and they focused upon building and increasing their power.
“They are what you would call a wizard,” Eira had told her. “They cultivate the auras and the power found in all living things. Of the two races of Jotnar, the Megin are all gone and there are some who think that is a good thing. They were almost invincible, and I suspect the gods did not like the Megin having that much power and dealt with them. The Valdar are all that remains. They are the weaker race—and the shorter one—but I would never want one of them angry at me.”
No wonder Charlee had thought of fantasy movies. This man, this Valdar, was essentially a wizard. Had he put that thought into her mind? Was he able to see what she was thinking? He had looked at her in such an odd way!
“We have been watching from afar since the bivrost was restored,” Verlan said. “You and yours are running out of time, Einherjar.”
Roar didn’t react to what sounded like a dire prediction. “Are you offering your assistance, Verlan? Are the Valdar siding with us?”
Verlan considered Roar with a small smile. “We do not take sides. You know that. But we would prefer that Renmar and his kind gather no more power and territory. He is far too ambitious, and such ambition should be curbed soon and early.”
“You could not have stepped in to curb his ambition sooner than this?” Roar asked. “Could you not have arrived before we found ourselves landless, leaderless and scattered around the world?”
Verlan Seeker did not seem put out by the complaint. His amusement seemed to grow. “You flail about, telling each other how helpless you are, but lo! Before me is a leader, no?” He turned on his heels, a full circle, and with his hands indicated the hall and the Kine standing in it. “Is this not territory you have claimed as your own land?”
Then he faced Roar once more and dropped his hands. “Are you not gathering your strays into your fold?” And he glanced once more at Charlee—a hot, dazzling glance.
“The portals are lost to us,” Roar pointed out.
“You have destroyed some of them, yes,” Verlan Seeker agreed. “But the lost can always be found again.”
Riddles, Charlee thought. They like to sound mysterious. Or perhaps the Valdar always thought and spoke in metaphors and aphorisms.
“Why does our time grow short?” Roar demanded, and Charlee knew he had grown tired of the double-speak, too.
“The Alfar will come for you,” Verlan intoned.
Roar began to roll his eyes, before he caught himself and squared off his shoulders again. “And you think an Alfar venture will be a surprise to us?” His tone was respectful.
“They sense you are weak and failing. Renmar knows he has struck a blow. He will drive the wedge deeper and deeper, until your world falls apart around it.”
“Renmar underestimates us,” Eira said, stepping forward so that she was level with Roar.
Verlan bowed his head slightly in her direction. “Praefectus Castrorum,” he said. “It has been a long while indeed, has it not?” Praefectus Castrorum had been the rank Eira held in the Roman Legions, one of the highest a low-born centurion could aspire to.
Eira nodded stiffly, acknowledging the title.
“Why has Renmar underestimated you?” Verlan asked curiously.
“We are stronger than he believes, and he had discounted one of our major advantages.”
Verlan waited in silence for her to explain.
Eira looked at Asher. He stirred and spoke. “We do not merely fight for humans. We fight with them. It is a fact that Renmar cannot wrap his head around.”
Eira raised her brow. “We have learned much in our time here on Midgard, Verlan Seeker. And my title is Regin, not Praefectus Castrorum.”
Charlee could see that the Einherjar in the hall liked her response. There was a sense of resentment building in the hall. They did not like Verlan’s disdain, or his assumption that they would fail without Valdar help. The newly minted sense of identity and belonging that had been building in the hall the last few days was in danger of evaporating, the longer they stood and listened to Verlan speak of doom and time running out.
Charlee stepped forward, toward the edge of the dais, on the opposite corner from Asher’s ranked position.
Eira glanced at her. “Yes, Charlee?”
“Perhaps Verlan Seeker would feel more comfortable speaking to you in private. There is coffee brewing in the kitchen—” From the corner of her eye, she saw Olivia slip out the hall door, to run to prepare coffee. “—and I believe there is some fresh kornbröd cooling, and I just acquired a jar of raw honey.”
Eira just barely prevented herself from wincing, for she did not like the traditional flat cornbread. She was much happier eating wheat bread fresh out of the oven and dipped in olive oil. “An admirable suggestion,” she said. “Verlan Seeker, will you join us?”
Verlan nodded his head once more, but he made the movement look less like a man acknowledging someone of higher rank, and more like a nobleman bestowing a favor.
Perhaps he was just that. Charlee itched to pull Asher to one side, or Ylva, and drain them of any information they had about this Verlan Seeker, and the Valdar.
But as Roar and Eira reached the door, with Verlan Seeker in tow, Eira looked back over her shoulder. “Charlee. Asher.” The movement of her head told Charlee she wanted them both to join them.
Charlee suppressed her sigh. Fact-finding would have to wait.
* * * * *
Ylva and the Amica had claimed one corner of the second-floor dormitory, the corner that had working water pipes running through the walls. They had turned the corner into a working kitchen, complete with gas ranges, two heavy wooden work tables, pantries and two big commercial refrigerators. Most of the meals came from this kitchen, and it was possible to beg a bowl of hot soup from the Amica working there at any hour of the day or night. As a result, benches and stools, makeshift tables and odd chairs recovered from places Charlee didn’t want to know about had found their way to the kitchen area, and off-duty Einherjar could most often be found at the tables, chatting and teasing the Amica on duty in the kitchen.
Charlee hadn’t made it generally known, yet, but she had reserved most of her domestic budget to buy more formal benches and tables for the hall, upstairs. When the winter solstice arrived, she would surprise everyone with a feast in the hall.
Eira led Verlan Seeker to the biggest table in the motley collection and stood back as he seated himself. He dwarfed the table, but settled himself comfortably on the chair at the head of it.
Eira and Roar sat on either side of him. Asher sat at the opposite end.
Charlee moved into the kitchen proper and helped Olivia with the coffee, laying out spoons, plates, the jar of honey, and the bread while she listene
d carefully to the conversation around the table.
“How is it you haven’t been noticed before now?” Asher asked curiously. “New York has some strange people in it, but you would stand out even here.”
Verlan smiled—it was a predatory expression. “I tell people I am a professional wrestler. They do not seem to find that unbelievable.”
“So you’ve explored television,” Roar murmured. “Just how long have you been monitoring us, did you say?”
“We are fast learners, unlike the Alfar.” Verlan’s smile faded. “But even the Alfar can learn. They have discovered your Internet and they are learning how it works. The Myrakar are far smarter than you have supposed.”
Eira sat back with a sigh. “They’re adapting,” she said softly. She glanced at Roar. “We’ll have to let them know the Internet is no longer secure.”
Roar looked up at Charlee as she placed a mug of coffee in front of him, and smiled his thanks. Then he looked back at Verlan. “May I speak plainly, Verlan Seeker?”
“You have not, until now?” He seemed surprised.
Roar did roll his eyes this time. “I am not one of the Valdar, but I do know what your last name means among your kind. You’re dispossessed. Outlawed by your own people. Why would we believe that you offer us aid?”
Verlan did not seem upset at the probing and blunt question. He poured honey onto his oatcake and rolled it tightly, his big fingers moving delicately. “These are very strange times we have lived to see, are they not? An Einherjar that was merely an earl a few days ago is now the Kine’s Annarr. Even stranger, he takes orders from the Regin, whom he once slew upon the fields of Germanicus. Humans, who long ago forgot that we ever existed, except in their fairy tales, now are your allies in battle and one of your last sources of strength. The bivrost, which should never have been restored, is rebuilt by a Valravn in love with a Valkyrie, to prove his worthiness. And the Valdar have emerged from seclusion upon their world, to steer the Alfar back to their own affairs. Is it not so very strange, then, that they would turn to one of those among them known for his yearning for outside adventures, one who has never ceased to roam in search of answers, and ask him to deal with humans and Herleifr and matters that they have chosen to ignore and now have little knowledge of?”
He pushed the entire oatcake into his mouth and chewed with obvious relish.
Roar smiled. “And I thought they’d picked you because you had power we could use.”
Olivia was refilling the coffee pot, holding the big, heavy kettle in both hands, while Charlee laid out more oatcakes. She felt, rather than actually saw, Verlan’s glance in their direction.
Then Olivia swung around, the kettle still pouring sizzling water. She gasped as she swiveled, her eyes enormous.
Charlee tried to move her hands out of the way, but they were anchored over the plate as firmly as if someone had grabbed both her wrists and was hanging on. She shrieked in alarm as the water poured over the back of her hands.
But it never touched her flesh. She could feel the heat of the scalding liquid, just above her skin. She watched in disbelief as the water roiled and splashed above her, as if it were being poured into an invisible bowl held over her hands. Then it calmed, as the kettle emptied. She watched as the water lifted out of the bowl in a long, silvery stream. Olivia swung back to face the worktable and put the kettle down. Then she stepped back, staring at the kettle like it had grown a head and fangs and was spitting at her.
The water flowed silently back into the kettle, making a soft tinkling sound as it hit the metal at the bottom. The room was so silent Charlee could hear every bubble and gurgle.
Her hands were released. She half-fell and half-stepped back, and examined the backs of them. They were untouched.
Verlan smiled. “It’s possible I may be of some use.”
Asher’s face tightened in a way that Charlee recognized. He was angry and hiding it. “We need armies. Weapons. One disgraced Valdar is not what I define as coming to our aid.”
“You do not yet know what your future needs will be, do you?” Verlan asked, cheerfully rolling another oatcake.
“Do you?” Roar said sharply, asking the question that had risen to Charlee’s lips, too.
Verlan stuffed the oatcake into his mouth and chewed leisurely. Then he swallowed and licked his lips and reached for the fresh stack Charlee had put on the table. “Unlike you, Einherjar, the Valdar have not forgotten the past.”
“As cryptic as anything else he professes to know that we do not,” Eira said. She sounded just as annoyed as Roar.
“Which particular part of the past?” Asher asked curiously. His attention had been caught.
For once, Charlee knew exactly what Verlan was saying. “The Vanir,” she said. “He’s talking about the Vanir and their prophecies.”
Verlan put the fingers of one hand to his chest and lowered his head briefly in her direction. Acknowledgment.
Asher was frowning, thinking it through. “The prophecies were known to us, too,” he said slowly. “They were written down, the first century we arrived on Midgard, to preserve them. We didn’t forget them.”
Verlan finished chewing his fourth oatcake. “There is much the Herleifr have abandoned, forgotten and lost, in the years since your Descent.”
“But you did not?” Asher questioned. “Is there a particular prophecy that you hold in mind?”
Verlan shook his head. “We have long studied the prophecies the Vanir left behind when they departed. They are as inscrutable to us as they are to you, but we hold them in respect, nevertheless, for they have a tendency to live out their promises when you not at all ready for them.”
For the first time, Charlee knew that Verlan Seeker had flat out lied. He had avoided blunt talk and spoken in obscurities, used misdirection and drama—like the water thing—to hide his agenda, but she sensed that he had not lied once, not until this moment.
She thought of the night, years ago, when Darwin had shown her the Nine Worlds Prophecy. Was that the one that Verlan was thinking of when he said that the Kine had forgotten their past and that was why they did not know their future? Or was there another prophecy, one just as dire as the Nine World Prophecy, that she didn’t know about, but Verlan and his Valdar did?
Once more, Charlee wanted to get Asher, Roar, or Eira on their own, but this time not to learn more about the Valdar. Instead, she felt a great need to warn them.
* * * * *
Verlan Seeker took up residence in the hall, settling in like any errant Einherjar might have. He spent a great deal of time lying on the extra-long bed they had found for him, his boots crossed at the ankles and his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking, he said. The Valdar did not sleep, Eira pointed out. But they did wander down mental by-ways while their bodies rested, and Verlan would practice his version of sleeping for hours at a time, his gaze turned inwards, the great blue eyes vacant and open.
He also ate like a draft horse, shoveling platefuls of whatever was cooking into his mouth, a spoon held in his fist. He sometimes ate right out of the pot on the stove. Burning his mouth didn’t seem to be of concern to him, and Charlee thought of the way he had handled the boiling water with his powers, shrugging it off as part of his mysterious charm. But his appetite created a more immediate and very human problem.
By the second day of his stay, the Amica working in the kitchen reported to Charlee that the pantries were running out of stock. They were out of fresh vegetables, and the oats they used to grind and bake fresh oatbread were nearly out.
“I got in tons of the stuff, barely two weeks ago,” Charlee protested, staring at them in disbelief. “Where did it all go?”
They looked at each other.
“The Valdar,” Charlee guessed. She got to her feet and pulled her coat off the hook on the wall. “Find Olivia for me and if Ylva is in the building, I want to see her. Today just became market day.”
Ylva promised to supply all her garden and pantrie
s could spare, which was a considerable amount and took care of most of their supply needs. Charlee and Olivia walked to the indoor farmers’ market to purchase the rest, hurrying along with their coats to their chins, for the day was bitterly cold.
The market was open year round, although at this time of the year, most of the produce available was imported, and there was little of that, for everything was freighted in by air these days. Shipping had halted abruptly and completely after the first wave of Kraken attacks.
Charlee fumed about the prices as they shopped. “Most of the produce was supposed to be for the solstice feast next week,” she grumbled as she paid the extra for delivery to the door.
“There’ll be a feast?” Olivia asked, her eyes widening. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“It’s a surprise—well, it’s supposed to be, but with Verlan Seeker eating anything that doesn’t have a pulse, I may have to announce it early, just so I can put a guard on the food and keep him out of it until the solstice.”
Olivia’s eyes were shining. “I love feasts.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Charlee asked dryly, thinking of two or three disastrous feasts in her past. Then she relented, and handed Olivia the money she had been handed back in change. “Go and get yourself something. Have some fun. We’ll be back to working our butts off all too soon. I’ll see you back at the hall.”
“Really? Thank you.” Olivia tucked the money in her coat pocket and hurried away.
Charlee wished she could be so easily distracted and made happy. She watched Olivia slow down and bend over a stall selling pretty soaps and candles and sighed.
There was a man coming toward her, carrying a Starbucks cup with a lid in his gloved hand. He was looking at the stalls he was walking past, his head turned away from her. Charlee realized he was going to walk right into her if she didn’t hop out of the way, but by then it was too late, for he was walking faster than she had realized. He cannoned into her, and the coffee went flying to splatter on the concrete.
Charlee nearly followed the coffee. She reached out for the nearest stall table, staggering backwards and trying to recover her balance.
The Branded Rose Prophecy Page 61
