“Do you want to keep the door open?Or do you want to close it?”
“I… it is already open, is it not?”
“There is tea that can close it.I mean, it does not always work.My mother took it, yet I am here.But mostly it works.”
I shook my head.“What happens to…itif it does work?”
He shrugged.“It goes back to the top of the mountain, waits for another door.”
“No,” I said, knowing instantly, in my gut—with full certainty—that I didn’t want the tea.“No,” I said again, even more firmly.
“Very well.”Fell smiled so tenderly that it broke my heart a little.“You will play mother.I will do as you tell me.”He laughed and, for a moment, that made all fair.
He kissed me, and that made all more than fair.
Fell pulled his head away from me and turned to the king.Keeping one arm around me, he pointed the other at Arik.“You are going to throw us a party.”
“Oh, I am, am I?”
Fell grinned that dangerous grin of his.“Yes.And you will use the good wine, the drylands wine.”
They had one of their special staring contests in which Arik’s face was trying to be firm or reasonable and Fell’s was trying to have fun.
Arik lost as he always did.“I am happy for you Fell, but why—for all the gods have given us—why did it have to be her?Of all the wombed beings?—”
“I like her,” Fell said.“She plays good music and her smile is very, very expensive, but she lets me purchase it often, and this makes me feel like a wealthy man.”
He turned back to me and whispered playfully, “We are not still pretending our time together is a secret, are we?”
I laughed.“No.”
“Good,” he said.“That would be very tricky.”He turned to Arik again.“Now, move these maps.We cannot have anyone spilling wine on your beloved maps at our party.”
King Arik huffed though he was smiling.“No, we will leave them here and go to the hall closest to the sea.She should have fresh air, no?”
Ivar nodded.“Yes.And many other things.I will join the celebration when I have gotten started…” He hurried out the door.
And so began a riotous affair, which was typical for the Norsern.But what was new for me was the raw-fish game wherein each person in attendance tried to feed me a small piece of raw fish from their hand straight to my mouth, as this was apparently a common way to celebrate the announcement of a door opening.Naturally, I was appalled.
“Do you want a strong child or a weak one?”Ivar said when I refused the third time.
“What?”
“We would like strong,” Fell said.He turned to me, “Right?”
“Then eat the fish!”
I felt insane.“What?”
“Each person has their own strength, yes?Their own kind of struggles they have overcome, yes?The fish soaks it up from their hand, and it goes into you.So, the more people who feed you, the stronger the child.”
Fell held the smallest piece of fish up, his eyes daring me.
I scowled because I had a hard time refusing him and was only just beginning to realize he knew it.“Fine.”I opened my mouth slightly.It wasn’t fish as the Norsern usually ate it.It was wrapped in a mint leaf and alive with fresh flavour.
So, I begrudgingly ate a lot of fish from many different hands, including King Arik’s.
His fury had been washed away.He drank a hefty amount, and the drunker he got, the more people he ordered to come to the hall to feed me fish.
