“No, no, Gentlewoman.A friend of mine—Fell—has asked me to cast for him.I usually do anyway, but…”
The name struck my mind like a palm striking a drum.
It reverberated.
I remembered suddenly my dream from the night before—Fell had been in it.What he’d been doing, I couldn’t say.But I’d told him about what King Arik had done, that he’d tricked me into not speaking my own language for moons.Fell had laughed.
I’d told Fell to stop laughing.To come and help me.To be my Norser as was his role.I’d put on the bracelet he’d given me those moons ago, the dried grass ring he’d said would protect me.What I couldn’t recall was whether we’d been speaking his language or mine in the dream…
“He wrote you a letter?”I said.This was not a perfect response, but itwastruthful.The king had mentioned communicating with Fell, and I was trying to figure out how near or far Fell was without asking directly.
“No, no, Fell cannot write—not for my lack of trying, mind you.He is here, arrived early this morning.”
I stilled, keeping my eyes on the stones laid out before me.“What is he going to do?”A perfectly natural question.
King Arik snorted.“He didn’t say, which means it will be something stupid.”
“You’re worried about him?”
King Arik didn’t answer right away; he was still playing with the table grain.
“He is so unlike me,” the king said finally.This also wasn’t a perfect response, but I think it captured something truthful as well.His tone… this was the first time I started to grasp what was between Fell and King Arik: a love so strong and complicated it always contained a little pain.For the moment, all my frustrations with the king were gone; he looked lost to me.I couldn’t be angry at something that was lost.
“You wish to be alone?”I said.
“No,” he said.“I would like you to read.For Fell.”
How badly I wanted to refuse.How badly I wanted to acquiesce.I wanted to hear more about Fell.The man who was forsworn to me—the one I legally had to obey—had returned.This could have many effects on my life.
“Let us not tell Jorn, eh?”the king said.Since I’d told the story of the bloody elk, King Arik and Jorn had decided I wouldn’t read for either of them until I’d spent more time with the stones—Jorn was worried they were influencing my readings too much.
“Do you have a specific question?”I said, weaving my fingers through the pouch to give the stones a little stir.The smooth coldness of them was something I’d come to enjoy.
“No… or… yes.How is he faring?”
I stood, bringing the pouch to King Arik’s driftwood table.I drew three stones and set them on the table in order, bone white against bone white.As I had found every time I used them, what they suggested seemed simple and clear, if not uselessly vague.“He… they say he is tired, but eager, but uncertain.”
“More detail.”
“There is no?—”
“More.”
“He…” I scanned the runes—all were dry side up.Stop pretending you don’t understand, they seemed to be saying.“Fell needs rest but will not have it.”
“Ever?”
“What?”
“Will he ever have rest?Or just not now, not today?”
“Uhh…” I hadn’t thought to narrow my question by time, nor did I think that what I was doing was anything more than making up a story using a few prompts.I took another stone out of the pouch and set it down.Everything morphed.“He is used up and ready for it—I am not sure whatitis—but he is ready for it to be over.A new way of…” What?I was story weaving.“I don’t understand,” I said.“How, no,whatare you to him?”How hadn’t I asked that question yet?I lifted my gaze to the king.“Are you his father?”
“Ha!Gods no, woman!Could you imagine?How old do you think I am?That I fathered him at ten?”
“I don’t know his age.I just… It’s hard to make sense of what I’m seeing.There is a bond… I think if I understood how the two of you?—”
“Skael,” King Arik said, turning to look out the window at the chunks of ice bobbing atop the roiling sea.“He was given to me by life.I was given to him.To what end, only the gods know.You may go.Keep practising.Ask the stones questions you already know the answers to.Study how they respond.”
