Arten frowned and rolled his eyes. “So? Give him a tumble an’ he’ll move on. Or not. That’s no reason to run from your duty, miss.”
Saeun affected affront to hide her dismay. “Of course not! I endured his attentions, but then he—” What would be bad enough to persuade Arten? “He traded my, my favors for a gambling debt.”
The merchant frowned again, but didn’t comment. Saeun decided to push harder. “He gambles and loses often. The last time he traded me to a brute who gave me to his thrall while he watched.” Gert choked and covered it with a cough. Saeun spared her a glance. Was she troweling the story on too thick? It’s too late to pull back now. “When I complained, he said my aunt could assume my duties if I was too nice to carry them out. Please, let us come with you.” At least the pleading in her voice was honest.
Arten rubbed his face with a callused hand. “I’ll not be party to robbing a man,” he warned.
Saeun understood and let pride stiffen her manner. “I’m a free woman.”
Arten scowled. “I’ve heard of such goings on amongst the lords, but I never…. Aye, you can come with me, when we go.”
“When you go? Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? You’ve been here a tenday already.”
“Aye, but there’s no sense in leaving when those Tewas have just arrived. They might want a bit of fine Nuvinland goods to take back with them, or some entertainment,” he said, patting the side of his puppet stage. “And if not them, the local folks comin’ in to get an eyeful of these drylanders will.”
This was awful—and made perfect sense. I should have anticipated this. “How much longer will you be staying?” She couldn’t dally; whoever had taken her divining tools might descend on her at any moment.
“Till after Winterfest, most like. Depends on the trade.” Saeun must have looked as fearful as she felt, because Arten added gruffly, “Bear up, girl. You’ve stood it this long—another night or three won’t harm you any. Check back in a few days. And be ready; I’ll not wait. Now go on with you.”
As he turned away he muttered, “Thank Freya my girl is safely wed to a farmer.”
Saeun drew Gert some distance away and stopped, not sure what to do next.
“We dare not wait for Arten to leave, my lady.” Gert spoke the obvious truth, her forehead creased with worry.
“I know. But to go alone…”
Saeun pulled the older woman closer as if to confer about the cheap jewelry in the booth where they stood. She felt exposed, despite the crowds milling through the aisles of wares on display. There were any number of windows from which people could be looking down into the courtyard market searching for her, not to mention the arched bridge between the north and west towers. And the crowd itself could easily conceal someone following them.
Saeun came to a decision. “We’ll slip out when the local merchants leave,” she said in a low voice.
Gert nodded, then gave her a sharp look. “Did you tell Lady Celia not to expect you at the lesson?”
Lady Celia had been teaching her and a few other women the defensive skills she’d learned in Midgard.
“I expect she canceled the lesson when the Tewakwe arrived.”
“Still, you can’t be sure,” Gert said. “We wouldn’t want her asking questions and starting a search for you before it must. I’ll arrange for a message to get to her through Thora. I’ll say the same as I said to Lady Kaidlin, that you aren’t well. No, wait—Thora’s been assigned to that Tewa woman. It’ll have to be Halla. Meet me by that booth selling honey-bread, dear. I’ll be back, quick as Sleipnir.”
*
Ragni called Baldur’s blessing down upon Odin’s gift as Sangor spread the leather inscribed with the circle of the futhark. The meeting with the Tewakwe had concluded mid-afternoon. Neven had immediately summoned the skald. They needed knowledge and wisdom only the gods could provide.
“Friends fear and bear warning. Which path leads to peace?” Neven intoned the question as Sangor shook the stones.
It was never easy to petition the gods through the runes; they didn’t respond well to demands for information. Queries must be oblique and had to be phrased carefully to avoid opaque or misleading answers.
Sangor upended his pouch over the leather. Five stones landed face up. Not an auspicious number.
The skald paused, considering Odin’s gift, then began to speak. “A journey now may leave Quartzholm vulnerable to disruption, but the valiant will overcome adversity. There is much coming that is unclear; the Norns’ weaving is not yet cast. Battle may come, but for now the stones warn that a proposed course should be put off until after the time of ice.”
Dahl made a surprised noise and said, “That seems clear enough.”
Ragni could almost laugh. His brother had little faith in the usefulness of the runestones. This augury, however, seemed quite understandable—especially since it said what Dahl wanted to hear. He didn’t laugh, though. As a prism could shatter light, a clear augury could shatter truth.
“Too clear, perhaps,” Ragni said.
Neven’s eyebrow lifted as he shot a sharp glance at his younger son.
Sangor drew his portly frame up straight. His dark beard jutted out over his chest. “My augury was as true as the blessing, my Lord. I can’t—I won’t—speak more or less than the gods see fit to reveal.”
Neven clapped a hand to Sangor’s shoulder. “Nor do we ask it of you.”
Ragni reined in a sharp retort to Sangor’s near insult. He could feel the skald’s flare of insecurity. Given the ignominy of his predecessor, the skald’s sensitivity to doubt was understandable.
“It seems obvious,” Dahl said. “A journey now will leave Quartzholm vulnerable. It should be delayed until spring. We can spend the winter preparing for battle should it come to us. Or perhaps when the passes open, we should take the fight to the clans who threaten us and our allies.”
Sangor looked somewhat mollified as he bent to gather the runes back into his black pouch. Neven honored him further by walking him personally to the door.
As the door closed on the skald, Dahl turned to Ragni. “That’s the first comprehensible augury I’ve ever heard. What fault do you find in it?”
“Che’veyo seemed quite positive of his gods’ will, while ours contradict.”
“Since when do you listen to Tewakwe gods?”
Beneath Dahl’s sharp words lay an unease bordering on fear. Dahl afraid? Of what? Ragni shook his head and spoke in a deliberately mild voice. “You said yourself this was an unusual augury.”
“Do you suspect Sangor is as false as Eirik?” Neven asked, pinning Ragni with another penetrating glance.
“Not at all. He read the stones truly. But the gods delight in testing us and reward the clever; thus, the stones speak in riddles.” Ragni looked Dahl in the eye. “And there is more than one kind of puzzle.”
“The obvious should not be trusted?” Neven mused, stroking one braid of his beard.
Dahl snorted in disgust. “We can’t understand the runes when they speak in riddles, and we can’t trust them when they don’t. What good are they? And what assurance do we have that Che’veyo’s gods speak any more clearly than ours?”
“And yet he seemed quite positive,” Neven added.
“A priest of any religion must speak with certainty,” Ragni said, a half smile playing on his lips. “The gods are not required to. And remember, Mother said Nai’awika admitted their shamans were in disagreement over the cause of these disappearances.”
“There’s little doubt the Elves are involved,” Neven said.
Again a surge of unease came from Dahl. He’d confessed his encounter with the Elves to Ragni months ago, wondering if he should step aside as heir now that he was Fey-marked. Ragni hadn’t hesitated. His brother was as fit to become Jarl now as he had ever been.
“No,” Dahl said. “No doubt at all.”
Dahl and he had agreed Neven shouldn’t be told about Dahl’s encounter with the Elves. The other Jarls
, not to mention the people of Quartzholm, would never accept Dahl as Jarl if they knew he was Fey-marked. With Neven ignorant, a Truth Sayer Talent would find no deception in him. For a moment Ragni wondered if he’d made the right decision, but reason quickly reasserted itself. Dahl was an excellent warrior and thoughtful leader. He would make a fine Jarl. Fey-marking hadn’t changed that.
“Now the only question is: what are we going to do?” Dahl asked.
“Yes, that is the question,” Neven said. “But even if I do agree to this quest of the Tewakwe, you won’t be going. I won’t risk you being Fey-marked.”
*
Dahleven walked down the corridor in step with Ragni as they headed for his rooms in the family’s wing. Their father had listened to both his and Ragni’s counsel, but Neven would make his own decision. Dahleven shook his head. He respected Loloma as a leader, but the idea of setting out on a quest in winter with no clear goal or destination and with little hope of glory attached seemed ridiculous. Especially when the stones counseled against it. Not to mention the risk of becoming Fey-marked. His gut twisted at the irony.
He turned his mind to another unpleasant matter. He had to tell Ragni the whole truth. He’d botched it with his brother this morning. This time he’d be clear about Saeun. Dahleven gritted his teeth. He’d rather be facing an Outcast with a sword in his hand than this conversation. If he’d told Ragni from the first of her involvement with forbidden magic, this wouldn’t be happening. But the girl had helped him when no one else could. She posed no threat to Quartzholm, and Ragni hadn’t been involved then. It seemed right to keep their secret. And his brother was a priest of Baldur, after all, sworn to uphold the Laws of Sanction. He may have forgiven Thora’s possession of an unsanctioned amulet, but he’d have been duty bound to prosecute Saeun—to prosecute them both. Dahleven hadn’t wanted to put Ragni in the position of choosing between his loyalties. Now there was no choice. Ragni had to know.
They turned the corner and nearly ran into one of Wirmund’s acolytes. The startled boy rocked back on his heels. “Oh! I beg your pardon! I mean, Lord Dahleven”—he bowed twice—”Father Ragnar. I was sent to find you, Father. Father Wirmund requires you attend him.”
It was Loki’s timing.
Ragni turned to Dahleven. “Later.” From another man it would have been almost a threat.
His explanation would have to wait.
*
Ragni followed the acolyte while curiosity warred with irritation. What could Wirmund want? It was unusual for the Overprest to command Ragni’s presence. He must have a good reason. He’d better. Ragni would much rather be hearing Dahl’s excuse for being an ass about Saeun.
Saeun. Ragni smiled. Even more than Dahl’s explanation, he wanted Saeun. Where was she now? Probably distracting little Bjorn so Kaidlin could find some peace. Or maybe she and his sister were out shopping. He wished he could join them. Ragni shook his head in wry acknowledgment of his fall. He was truly besotted if he wanted to go shopping with her, and he hoped never to recover. He’d teased more than a few of his friends when they’d succumbed to love. Now it would be his turn. He’d take their mockery with good will. Saeun was worth a few jibes.
Their arrival at the Overprest’s rooms pulled Ragni from his reverie. The acolyte bowed him into Wirmund’s presence and withdrew. At least one curiosity would soon be satisfied.
“Father Wirmund.” Ragni placed a hand over the crystal shard that was his badge of office and inclined his head and shoulders. As Wirmund’s second and Neven’s son it was more obeisance than he needed to give, but he was annoyed. “You required my presence?”
Wirmund gestured for Ragni to be seated. The Overprest of Baldur was thin, but no one seeing his sharp eyes would mistake that for weakness. “I won’t waste your time, Father Ragnar. Indeed, I recommend you act swiftly. You must tell your sister Lady Kaidlin to dismiss Lady Saeun immediately.”
Ragni’s pulse quickened. Only his years dealing with political necessities as the Jarl’s son and later as a priest kept Ragni from showing more than normal surprise. He let the silence pool around Wirmund’s words for a moment while he collected himself. “Indeed. What urgency demands this, Father?”
Wirmund patted his chair’s armrests, carved like the great paws of a mountain cat, with his large-knuckled hands. “The Laws of Sanction have protected us for over five hundred years, since we left behind the apostasy of Nuheimjord. Jorund reminded us that there are those among us who have no respect for those laws, though they protect us all. My search to root them out has borne fruit. Lady Saeun will soon be arrested and tried for using unsanctioned magic. I would not have your Lady sister embarrassed by the association. Let her dismiss the girl at once.”
Ragni felt the blood drain from his face. His hands went cold.
Saeun! Was it possible? Could gentle Saeun have hidden such a thing from him? How long had she trafficked in magic? Why? Had she hoped somehow to bring him down with it? But even as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. He remembered the warmth of her love, and her dark fear of loss. A reasonable fear, he thought grimly. Now she would lose even more than his love.
Ragni’s mind raced. Wirmund made no mention of his own association with Saeun, but he knew the Overprest must be aware of it. He and Saeun had been discreet, but not secretive, and Wirmund had his informants. There was very little that escaped his notice. This was Wirmund’s way of warning his second to separate himself from the possibility of scandal. He might even be expecting Ragni to denounce Saeun himself.
Ragni shook his head. “It’s hard to believe. You have proof of her perfidy?”
Wirmund nodded. “Objects of forbidden ritual, hidden among her possessions.”
What objects? Ragni almost asked, but it wouldn’t matter to Wirmund. It shouldn’t matter to him either. Apostasy was absolute, whatever its degree, when it came to the Laws of Sanction.
Oh gods! What has she done? He wanted to wail, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. Ragni nodded and heard himself say, “Thank you for the warning, Father. Kaidlin will be grateful for your vigilance.”
Wirmund smiled. “You must act swiftly to separate the apostate from your family. She will be Outcast and Exiled.”
CHAPTER SIX
SAEUN TRIED TO pull her cloak tighter against the chill wind with one hand while she steadied the carry sack that hung from her shoulder with the other. The canvas bag thumped against her thigh with every step, making the steep path even more difficult. Ahead of her, Gert set a steady pace. And I thought she was too old for such a journey.
They’d walked out the main gates of Quartzholm along with the day merchants and villagers, seemingly without a second look from anyone. All the way through the village that sat on the skirts of the castle, Saeun had fought the urge to turn and see if anyone watched or followed. She and Gert had left the main road as soon as they were out of sight. When pursuit did come, they’d have a better chance of evading it in the mountainous forests.
The tall fir trees on either side of their path whispered in the wind. Saeun almost felt that if she stopped and listened just a little harder she’d be able to make out the words. It wasn’t the first time she’d imagined such a thing. When she’d been young she’d spent many a happy day in the forest surrounding her father’s, holding imagining conversations with the trees. Saeun shook her head. She didn’t have time for now for childhood memories. She hitched her carry sack higher and trudged on as the last sliver of sunlight dropped below the ridge.
How long would it take them to get to Forsvaremur, traveling this roundabout way? And would the Daughters of Freya even welcome them when they got there? Rumored to be witches and whores, the Daughters had to be circumspect in their actions to avoid turning mere censure into active oppression. It was one thing to take in a beaten, runaway wife, quite another to give succor to a practitioner of unsanctioned magic. Lady Solveig had given the Daughters land for their enclave in her Jarldom. They might not want to test their patron�
�s tolerance, even if the Daughters of Quartzholm had vouched for her.
Gert paused at a flat space. She took a moment to catch her breath before speaking. “We’d best stop here for the night, my dear. There’s a nice drift of needles to make our bed soft, and this rock will block the wind.”
Gert was right. As Saeun climbed to stand beside her maid, she stepped into a pocket of still air. She felt instantly warmer and she smiled at the small comfort. “How do you know so much? I can’t imagine you learned to get along in the mountains while tending my mother all those years.”
A gleam sparkled in Gert’s eye. “I haven’t always been an old woman, dear. I listened when my lovers bragged about their adventures.”
For a moment Saeun didn’t know what to say. Gert had lovers? She’d always been there, dear old Gert, first serving her mother and then herself. She’d never given much thought to the woman’s life beyond that. Saeun had had the ordering of the house after her mother passed on, and had supervised the servants and thralls until her father died and her elder brother married. Gert had guided her until she knew what she was about. Gert had always just been there, dutiful and loving. Why had she never considered that her maid had a life beyond her service?
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“I’m not. I’m …I just never …never thought about…” Saeun glanced away, embarrassed. She looked up again when Gert spoke.
“Most never do, dear. And you’re young yet. But remember this: if you ever have a staff again and wish to have their loyalty as well as their obedience, it helps to see them, and to listen.”
Saeun nodded, tucking the older woman’s words away for further thought. She shivered as the wind whistled in the branches overhead. “Let’s gather wood for a fire.” The sharp resinous smell of the forest grew even stronger as she ventured a short way under the trees, stooping to retrieve fallen twigs and small branches. A fire would make little difference to their chances of being discovered. If those who’d found her tools of divining discovered their escape too soon and sent a Tracker after them, their flight would be useless. Someone with a Tracker Talent could find them, fire or no. She and Gert had known the truth of it from the first. Their only hope lay in the chance that no one would look for them for a day or, if their luck was very good, two. Only a very strong Tracker could follow a cold trail. After a few days they’d have to rely on physical signs, and that would slow the pursuit. But that chance was hardly likely. They would be missed, and soon. Lady Kaidlin would inquire after her health or, if the Tewakwe delegation didn’t keep him occupied, Ragni would be after her again to explain the fear he’d felt in her.
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