‘And?’
‘And, Baldr died,’ he said gleefully. ‘Lok, using Hodur the Blind’s stupidity, poisoned him, and since Baldr died of poison, his soul went to Hel. Odin wanted him back, of course, but they schemed and made it so, Hel and her father, that there was hope, but no true hope of his release. It was a cruel torture for Odin; it was, and when he was denied? Rage.’
‘It was called Hel’s War, though,’ I stated.
His eyes glinted shrewdly. ‘Yes, and that is a good observation. It was. She lost her left eye after Baldr’s death. That tipped her over. She longed for her old life. Hag’s Eye, her left eye, and some called it the Crow’s Orb allowed her to scry the lands she once loved, the pastures she had once danced in, people of all the races and the First Born she loved. It was the one thing keeping her even remotely sane in Helheim, on her Thorne of Bones. And it was stolen.’
‘By Odin?’
He shrugged. ‘I am not sure. Neither is Illastria. Aldheim was involved; elven nations. Illastria’s books are all speculative on that matter. I know there were many races fighting for her. First Born and dukes of Hel as well. What followed was a terrible war. Hel held a speech to the Jotuns, most of whom hated the gods. She spoke to the rogue First Born, some dragons of great power, beast and generals of many races. Many joined her. Legions of fighters and mages. She robbed the dead of the gold, she bought mercenaries and then? She released the armies. In all the Nine Worlds, the lands and followers of the gods were assaulted. Lands burned, Hel’s kingdom welcomed the dead, and she sought her eye mercilessly. In Aldheim, she finally failed. Elves threw her back. They threatened Niflheim, even Helheim. Some lord called Timmerion won that war. She had her steward Ganglieri steal the fine horn of Heimdall, the Lax Guardian. The great horn was taken indeed, an incredible, heroic feat. It was rung on all the gates, for that artifact is the key to the gates. They all closed. Gods in Asgard and Vanaheim could no longer find their Nine Worlds, and thus its stands today, even today. But Midgard? It was in the war. It was a brilliant move by Hel to shut the worlds from the gods.’
‘What happened?’
‘Hel’s troops took much of the land,’ he said sadly. ‘She surprised the south, the East, and the West and in here, where Dagger Hill, Hill of Fangs,’ he nodded for Dagnar, ‘stood, there was a great battle.’
‘Fangs?’
‘Few know it by that name. It is Dagnar. Dagnar is the name our Danegell kings gave the city, survivors of the battle. It means “Mauled Hill” in some old language, and it is an apt name. Men won that day, Hel’s armies were beaten, finally. They had their base up there, but they fell.’
‘You know a lot of this,’ I noted, my food cold.
He sighed. ‘I have ever sought out items of power. Illastria helps me. Hel’s armies brought magic to Midgard. They had powerful spells, weapons of fame, armies and—’
‘Were there dragons here?’ I asked him with utter wonder.
‘Dragons?’ he asked. ‘I suppose so? Might be so there were? But I,’ he said empathetically, ‘have ever collected lore of magic. Especially lore of those items made by the dverg.’
‘The short folk?’ I asked him.
‘The smiths of Svartalfheim,’ he told me reverently. ‘While men cannot use magic,’ he confided in me, ‘we can use magical items. Hel’s armies had plenty. Now the Danegells hold a hoard of them and the highest, oldest houses hold many as well. Most of them fought in that war for the humans. And that is how White Brother can track men, if he knows their names, sometimes. It is an artifact, no doubt, he is using.’
‘But not you,’ I said, eyeing his amulet. ‘They cannot find you.’
‘Not us, the Blacktowers nor anyone near us,’ he agreed, sitting back on his lush seat. He tapped a finger proudly on his chest, and the familiar amulet of towers and ravens clinked. It was heavier than the one Shaduril had, thicker and had a golden rim. ‘Old. We fought in the Fang, our family. Same as the Danegells. These are from Hel’s army, and we adopted the figure as our house symbol. We used to be the Blackships. I prefer the tower, though.’ His eyes gazed the figure of tower and ravens with admiration, and I waited patiently for him to focus on the matter again. ‘Gods know whom they belonged to. We have many of them. They have power we cannot even understand.’
‘How do you know so much about the history. Surely this is all speculation—’
He rapped a thick, red-leathered volume on the desk. ‘This is Moragorium. Annals of the king. Our family upholds it for the king. It is Illastria’s job, to be exact. While most of the Ten Houses have a special duty to fill for the land, ours have been performed in the shadows. There are many more powerful houses than ours when it comes to men and might and riches, but we are the Tenth for we remember the past. We uphold the memory of the past for those living in the present and record the stories of the land. We remember. It’s all here.’
‘Oh!’ I said, chewing on the food. A thought came to me. ‘And if the High King has been pressing for Morag to bury the past, to worship the High King, to change everything? It must be risky for your house.’
He reclined back on his seat. ‘Yes. The High King wants Morag to forget the past and replace it with his mad lust for power and legacy as a god, but how could we?’
‘And is this why you are trying to kill him? To save yourselves?’ I asked him.
He shrugged and rubbed his face. ‘We fear him. Illastria spends a lot of time in the Tower of the Temple and these past ten years, the king has demanded we change history. He wants Moragorium in his rooms. But, of course, we would not survive long if he decides he wishes to change the history entirely.’
‘But as you said,’ I told him sarcastically, ‘you are also doing this for Red Midgard.’
‘Yes,’ he said, irritated by my tone. ‘Enough about us. Your ring was your father’s and no doubt, it too was from Hel’s war. As is the staff.’ I nodded carefully, and he waved his hand. ‘That weapon you used. Yea, I know of it. Probably stolen by your mother? That, Illastria thinks, is the Larkgrin. It has been the king’s scepter.’
‘It is,’ I said.
‘Don’t worry, keep it,’ he said with a forced smile, and I knew it was hard for him to let go of such a thing. He went on, ‘But the ring’s name. It is the Sorrowspinner. A sad, unfortunate name. I do not know why it is named thus. But probably it helped your father fight Morag that night he died.’
I eyed the ring carefully.
He wrung his hands. ‘It gives you the power to change your face, of that Illastria is certain,’ he told me and saw I frowned in disappointment. He laughed mockingly. ‘Ah, you thought yourself very special? Yes, yes. I see it. But that ring, I think, is the cause of the skill.’ His hands rapped Moragorium. ‘There are hints of it in these old books. Some say it was used for spying, to avert evil, but perhaps your father, like we, knew too much of the past. Perhaps the king desired it, feared it? It was the treasure of Tal Talin, taken from a great lord of Hel, and it cannot be removed. To do so, it would slay you. You cannot remove it. Try!’
I fingered it. ‘I have never tried. Mother made me promise.’
‘She knew it would stay on, I think. She wanted you to have it. How nice.’ He smiled with contempt. Likely he cursed the fact it could not be removed and given to a more reliable man to help him with his quest.
‘She didn’t know about my skill,’ I told him with some doubt.
‘She might not have known the exact powers,’ Balan said happily as if he were exploring some ancient, forgotten ruin for the first time in millennia. ‘But we know it gives you the ability to shift faces. Let me see it.’ Reluctantly, I gave him my hand. His eyes went to slits as he poked at it with his finger. He was humming, happy, and then his eyes grew huge. He noticed the stone was moving. ‘It’s broken!’
‘It was—’ I began but decided against telling him of Shaduril.
‘You have broken an artifact,’ he hissed and let go of the thing. There was a manic intensity in his look as
he scowled at me.
‘It is mine,’ I stated carefully. ‘And if I did break it? It’s not your business. And,’ I growled, ‘perhaps it is not such a mighty artifact if one can break it so easily. Cannot remove it, but one can break it. Ridiculous.’
He slouched and rubbed his eyes, gathering his composure. ‘It is old. Gods know how old. It might be malfunctioning, boy, and perhaps this strange battle rage was caused by it being broken. I … dabble in such items. I might try to fix it. I’ll think about it. But you,’ he said and leaned forward, ‘are a risk. You must keep calm. As calm as you can. You cannot let that power break free of the ring. Understand? You might kill people you should not kill. And you might lose your ability and then? We are all doomed.’
‘I understand,’ I told him sullenly. ‘I will keep to the plan.’
He hesitated and finally nodded. ‘Yes, we keep to the plan. Poison it is. The name of the artifact had better not be prophetic.’ I nodded and ate the cold food, deep in my thoughts. Sorrowspinner? Artifact? I tried to resist it, but I did thumb the ring. It was dangerous now. Broken. But it didn’t budge. I didn’t have to look up at Balan to know he was smirking dreamily. ‘Finish your fare,’ Balan said as he sat there, thinking.
I nodded and ate. It was a long uncomfortable breakfast, swathed in silence, and finally I could not bear it any longer. ‘Where is Shaduril?’ I asked him innocently as I struggled not to lick my fingers after a sweet bread dipped in honey.
He snorted as he saw my struggle and then waved his hand towards Dagnar. ‘Taram told me you met her. And more. He was enraged, as you probably guessed. Felt you are slighting our house by dreaming of her. She is meant for the king, boy. You know this. That means she has to be there where he can see her, and she suffers her presence. She is my daughter,’ he said, looking down at his hands that were trembling. I felt sorry for him. I did. I did not think it was possible, but I did. He sighed and waved his hand for Dagnar. ‘Magor Danegell is probably staring at her as we speak. There, in the throne room, he dreams of war and Shaduril’s warm embrace. She holds up, but I cannot understand why he is not into Lith, for she is a rare harlot, but no, it is Shaduril. He writes to her, you know? Of love. Of heirs, if you can imagine. To his lover? He has no heirs since the Cataclysm, and his queen while still beautiful, and is too old to squeeze out any. And Morag would have to touch the queen, of course, to get any, but he rather enjoys his lovers. Shaduril is his favorite. Let us hope that lasts until Yule.’
‘How old is he?’ I asked him. ‘Morag?’
He smirked. ‘Old as Hel’s milk. But not old enough to let her be at nights.’
I choked and nodded in agreement, rage playing inside. ‘Yes. Lord. We can only hope for better days?’
He nodded. ‘Hold that rage in check. We will do more than hope. For Red Midgard, we will. For my family, also. Now, if you will kill the queen and make your escape, it might even be that Magor hopes to marry Shaduril. He will rip his tunic to show some proper anguish for the queen, and then he will have the Lord of Life bless them. He has promised Shaduril this.’
‘The king has promised …’ I said chokingly. ‘To make her the queen? What if he sails away with her and marries her elsewhere? What if—’
‘Yes,’ Balan told me glumly, his feral smile uncannily white in the semi-dark. ‘I see what you are saying. Of course, I do. Nevertheless, he will die. Here or out there and if not, then we need not worry about it. We will all hang, together or separate, and Red Midgard will sink with us. But the place where he holds his power is his throne room. That is where kings marry. That is the custom. And he makes some promises he keeps. Especially if he stands to gain something from them. Gaining Shaduril as a queen is something, he greatly desires. I thought you should know this.’ I said nothing and wondered if he tried to make me feel inadequate. I munched on some cold eggs that tasted spicy and splendid and tried to concentrate on Balan’s words as he spoke on. ‘Also, he has told me I shall get a position in his court, should the queen die one day. The queen has blocked all our ambitions for years since he began looking at Shaduril. Of course, he has no idea what kind of position in the court I desire.’
‘Black and White,’ I said darkly. ‘And the Red Brother. Sand and I. We have business with them.’
‘Black and White and the damned Red and the rest of them,’ he sneered, ‘are but simple henchmen. You are a crucial piece in the whole plan, Maskan. Your actions will bring the man to justice. The king. And we must move quickly. The Yule is here before we know it. And now for the plan.’
‘Yes, Lord,’ I told him angrily. ‘But I cannot help but rue not seeing them die. These … simple henchmen. Shaduril said we will see it take place.’
‘The Brothers will fall with the king,’ Balan said. His eyes flashed. ‘You might or might not see it. Depends on how this will play out. I have plans yet that need to be tied together for the eventuality of a royal death, and Rose Throne has to find a sturdy ass to fill it. The remaining houses have to work together. Danegells have ruled for thousands of years, and that brings me to the issue I wanted to discuss. Do not interrupt me again.’
‘Why don’t you take the throne, oh keeper of secrets?’ I asked very unwisely.
He laughed. ‘No, our house is not illustrious enough for the throne. Lord Captain Crec Helstrom will take it. I told you.’
‘The Butcher,’ I grumbled.
‘The Butcher and the Lord of the Mad Watch,’ he agreed. ‘I see. You hate him. You despise him. So do I. But some things cannot be had. It must be Crec of the Second House, which, of course, will be the first house after the coup, who will take the crown. He will marry my Lith, and we will all be rewarded as that marriage is surely going to be profitable. Hate Crec, but do not dare to touch him.’
‘Lith?’ I asked him, stunned.
‘Yes, Lith,’ he agreed dryly. ‘She has charmed him and is probably part of the reason Crec works with us. I said I had an ally. And my girls are all doing their part. What? Don’t tell me you are laying a claim on her as well?’
‘No Lord,’ I said, blushing.
He looked at me incredulously. ‘Ah, to be young again. Stay far from Lith, boy. Perhaps from Shaduril as well. She is not … well in the matters of the heart. Don’t risk this by falling in love with her.’
‘My friend Sand said the same thing to me,’ I told him dryly.
‘Ah, he has the practical wisdom of the peasant, he does. But yes, Lith. Crec is a man to enjoy a girl like her. I’m sure they will be very happy. She will drive him mad. Utterly mad. But she will be a queen, won’t she? But that is not enough.’
‘Crec the Butcher is surely enough? He commands the Mad Watch,’ I said and regretted it, as Balan looked at me with pity.
‘Are you a politician?’ he asked. ‘A wise one? Elder? Or a scoundrel from Bad Man’s?’
‘A scoundrel from Bad Man’s Haunt, Lord,’ I told him angrily.
‘We need three houses to cooperate. I hold the secrets of the past. I will do the deed. Crec will make sure things don’t get out of hand during and after. He will take care of the Brothers that might be out of the Tower. He will keep the Mad Watch and the Hawk’s Talon in check. And Gal will get us into the tower. The door to the Tower of the Temple is an artifact, by the way. Only usable by the Danegells. So we need Gal.’
‘I see,’ I said unhappily. ‘I figured this out already. But why will he help us?’
‘Because he can gain power?’ Balan asked with a smile. ‘Our gratitude?’
‘More likely to lose power,’ I growled. ‘He is already very mighty.’
‘Come, think!’ he chided me. ‘Oh, scion of his house.’
And I did. And then it came to me. ‘Because you can use me to supplant him? I am … the heir?’
‘You are,’ he said happily. ‘Well done. Very much so. We have him by his wrinkled ball hide, Maskan. All we need. The army, a way in, and royal deaths.’
I squirmed in my seat. ‘So you will promise him wh
at, exactly?’
‘He is predictable and will want peace, assurance, Maskan,’ Balan said. ‘And this is crucial. You must trust me. He will ask for you.’
‘My life?’
‘Yes,’ he laughed.
‘And you will promise it?’ I asked him, fiddling with a fork.
‘I will give him a solemn promise that you will enter his house the day the queen dies. He will want your ring as well, won’t he? Tal’s mark of rulership over his house.’
I stared at him, hoping he would go on. He did not, but looked at me with a mocking smile. ‘Just tell me this, Lord Balan. What words of yours am I to trust?’
‘The ones I give you,’ he hissed.
I shook my head. ‘What if Gal asks you to give over your family as a hostage until the matter is settled? My death that is. I don’t like it.’
Balan leaned over the table. ‘What do you want, Maskan? You wish to have assurances? I have nothing I would not sacrifice, boy, for this home of ours, but I am here and freely admit what I am planning for. I do so solemnly. You could just run away, could you not? You could disappear easily with your skill! You would only have to leave Sand behind.’ And there was the threat, and I knew why they had let Sand come, why Shaduril had wanted to hide him, and why Balan had asked for him. He was a hostage.
‘You would threaten him?’ I hissed.
He looked disappointed. ‘You are not very subtle. Yes! But you could destroy us if you decided to leave him. I trust you. I trust in your love for your Sand. I trust you, and you will have to trust me. But if you must have an oath,’ he said conspiratorially, ‘I can swear you on my soul we are allied. Don’t break up the alliance, Maskan, and remember your dead mother.’
The Beast of the North Page 19
