“We need only to set him ashore, and he will do the rest for us!”
“It is in his blood now,” one warned me.“You will never take him from the sea.”
In the mornings, when Fell was finished rowing, he’d sometimes take Halvar to the head of the ship and hold him near the edge so the sea could spray him.This struck me mad with terror, but Halvar would get a shocked look on his face and then make a spitty sort of sound that drove Fell wild with laughter.
And it was on the way to Byernen that Halvar began to pull his body along the deck.He wasn’t yet crawling—it was a terrible, floppy mess—but still, he moved himself, and I felt so overjoyed and terrified and cherished and abandoned that I grew dizzy and had to sit down.
“The sea makes him strong,” Flojer remarked patting my shoulder as Fell cheered for Halvar.
“You can do it, reach.Yes!You are so strong!”
Halvar flailed in my direction.
Quickly, a chorus formed.
“Go Kakyi, go!”
“Come on, come on!”
Most of the crew were a fair bit older than I was, but there was one among them who was younger than I: Yarlav, son of Flojer.He was twenty-one, and I recognized him from his visit to court, when he’d demanded Flojer’s release.He was mildly drunk the night Halvar first pulled himself across the deck.It was a common jest that Yarlav got drunk quickly, and several on the crew tried to fashion a crawling race between Halvar and Yarlav, as surely Yarlav was drunk enough, having had his second helping of mead, that the contest would be fair.
Wagers were placed, though the contest didn’t actually occur, as Halvar grew distraught, I think from so many people looking at him.
The following afternoon, with Fell resting his head on my lap, trying to sleep in preparation for his next turn on the rowing benches, with Halvar squawking in Rowan’s arms in the cutest of ways, I learned that everyone on the crew was from a mountain village called Gyden.The village was so small that they had only one ship, and even then,The Fearsome Beastdidn’t have as many rowers as other ships.
“Norsern think because Gyden is so far south, it is not truly Norsern,” one man said.
“But this is false thinking,” said another.
“Every rower from Gyden is as strong as seven regular Norsern.”
“At least,” agreed another.“And when Yarlav is bigger, and more practised, we will say nine Norsern.Maybe even ten.”
Yarlav frowned.“I cannot be pulling down so?—”
The man who’d spoken wrapped an arm around Yarlav’s neck, playfully—but forcefully—pinning the young man to the deck.
“It is the most feared of all ships,” said another.
“The young woman spends her time at court.She has enough nonsense to deal with without you all telling tales about this ship.”
Everyone sat up straighter as Flojer approached.He’d been in his cabin since midday.
He squinted in the sun.“Yes, my crew is strong, but this is not what makes them great.They are watched by the gods.Theyobeythe gods—this is what is important.”
“Always he says this,” Yarlav whispered to me when his father walked away.“That the day will come when the gods ask something special of us.So he does not prepare us for raiding.He prepares us for doing the work of Hyrold.”
The oldest man on the crew was named Aslak.He wasn’t thick like most of the rowers, but thin and lanky with grey hair.He was the ugliest man I’d ever seen, and it didn’t help that he always looked terribly uncomfortable.Whenever my eyes met his, I knew in the pit of my stomach that he was capable of dark and twisted things.I kept away from him, and he mostly didn’t partake in anything that was ongoing, but that afternoon, he’d heard what Yarlav said.
He scoffed.“You have never rowed on another ship, so you cannot understand your father’s words.”
Forty-Eight
Our fourth day at sea, when the wind was fresh and the sun was gleaming in the clouds, Flojer granted me usage of his cabin so I could feed Halvar in peace and give him a little time out of the sun.Flojer did this every day.But unlike previous days, when I was finished and stepping out, Flojer asked me to stay for a few moments and hold the edges of his map, so he could re-pin it to his table.There was a chair that hung from the ceiling—made of rope, like a net—that rocked gently and kept Halvar wondrously content.I left Halvar in it, my eyes flicking over to him every few moments as I held Flojer’s map, and he readjusted his pins.
“You believe your ship works for Hyrold?”I desperately wanted to speak to him of Hyrold, but at the same time, I was nervous.How could I explain what had happened the night Halvar was born?The night I opened Arik’s forbidden room?I shivered.
Flojer didn’t look up from his map, but he laughed, short and sharp.“All ships row for Hyrold, whether they know it or not, butmyship especially.”
