Hulda floated there and did not say.
He called, “I value all my people.”
“And yourself? What value do you set upon your own life, Gael? Are you worth more than your folk?”
That caused him to rear back a little. Aoedh had told her many stories. Her people prized the valiant. The tales teemed with self-sacrifice, or one for all.
Was this man not likewise valiant?
She bellowed again, “Let us talk about it.”
“Madness,” said Garik, behind her.
Ja, maybe she was about to die. But she did not think so. These Gaels loved their honor too well.
Before the man on the shore could reply, she called, “May I have your pledge of safe conduct for me and my men, until our talk is done?”
He hesitated. Her boat had floated in closer and she could now see his face more clearly. A woman needed to see a man’s eyes before she could judge him.
He seemed to make up his mind all at once, as if the answer came from beyond him.
“Aye. Come awa’ in.”
Chapter Eight
The Norseman splashedthrough the water without regard for the breaking waves. Of average height he was, and of slender build, with long strides that ate up the distance between him and Quarrie.
Quarrie experienced a moment of unreality, of time slipping in its steady pace so it felt he glimpsed another age, or perhaps events that had not yet happened or could not happen at all. An illusion possibly caused by the afternoon sun in his eyes that struck glare off the Norseman’s helmet and set the sea to sparkling. But it shook him.
It shook him.
Two other men came behind the first, one of them trailing the line of the small boat. They did not advance far but stood in the foaming breakers.
A hush fell behind Quarrie. Not one of his people but trained their eyes here, yet there was not a sound besides the pulse of the sea, like the pulse of the world.
“Are you commander here?” the Norseman asked in Gaelic with his gaze also hard on Quarrie.
He nodded.
“Good. I come to you with the offer of a bargain.” The man said it boldly, just as if he did not stand the focus of as many weapons as gazes. A strong, ringing sort of voice he had that called out, but the sound of it started an odd feeling in Quarrie’s chest.
He backed up a step. He did not want to, yet instinct made him do so. “Wha’ sort o’ bargain could ye offer me?”
“I will spare your settlement. Your people.”
“Och, will ye then?” Quarrie’s eyebrows shot up. This man spoke his language well, and that was but one of the chain of surprises.
He must be in his bed and dreaming all this. That was it—he’d never yet come awake this morning.
“Ja. I want but one man. You hand him over to me and I will go away with him, spare the rest.”
Quarrie flushed with heat, brought by disbelief or mayhap pure aggravation. He shook his head. “What man?”
“I do not yet know. He might be you.”
The Norseman took three more steps forward out of the sea and onto the shingle. Onto the soil of Scotland. Quarrie looked into his face and saw—
He was not ahe.He was a woman.
