Page 67 of Soul of Fire

“Anders.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and took several deep breaths to calm myself and stop my racing heart from pounding out of my chest. “Why on earth would you say it like that?”

“Sorry.” He had the decency to look chagrined as he took a large bite from a slice of bread. “Sorry. I meant she’s literally gone. Went to bed one night and was just gone the next day. All of her things were gone too.”

“Hearthmother, spare me.” I looked up to see Arik’s beard twitch ominously. At least he was enjoying my distress. “How can she just have disappeared? Did she not tell you where she was going?”

“No, sorry.” Anders looked momentarily deflated, then suddenly perked up again. “She left something for you, though!” He bounded up again and was gone before I could ask any more questions.

“Can’t deny the boy has energy,” Arik commented, settling back in his chair and slathering a slice of bread with jam. He pushed it toward me. “Eat something. You’re pale.”

“I’m always pale, and I don’t want jam.” I took the plate, despite my protests. Idunn practically moaned as I took a bite. It was so good, it took everything in me not to look like I was enjoying it. “Why aren’t you upset?”

Arik raised a brow. “Should I be?”

I swallowed the bread, wishing I had something to wash it down with. Maybe Anders could make tea. If he ever came back. “Sigrid is the whole reason we came here! You’re not annoyed she’s not here? She could be anywhere, and she’s old and frail and—“

“Kjære.” Arik patted my hand, looking characteristically indifferent. “I believe Sigrid is a lot tougher than you think. And we couldn’t have known she wouldn’t be here.” Arik tapped my plate. “Eat more.”

He sat back as his eyes darkened, and I knew he was trying once again to reach Baldur.

Idunn let out a pitiful whine that hurt my heart, and I took a bite of the bread to mollify her.

Anders returned and placed something on the table in front of me. “Here. Sorry, it’s a bit crumpled. She told me you’d come back, and I should give this to you, but she didn’t say when, and she told me not to open it, so I hid it under my mattress and—“

“Anders.”

“Yes, sorry, anyway.” He nudged the paper toward me, looking apologetic. “Stein is back in the kitchens prepping for the day. I’ll go make tea!”

And he was off again.

“Oh, to have the energy of youth,” Arik commented wryly, his beard twitching. “What does it say?”

I wiped my sticky fingers off on the woolen overdress before examining the letter. It was extremely crumpled, no doubt from Anders’ mattress, but the hand that had penned my name made a neat scrawling script I had never seen before.

I frowned. “I didn’t think Sigrid could read or write. All of her stories were told from memory.”

“More surprises. Open it.”

I gave Arik an exasperated look as I broke the wax seal. Had Baldur been around, I would have told him to stop bossing me.

There was only one page, also filled with that same scrawling handwriting. I was embarrassed to admit that, out of practice as I was, and especially with only dim candlelight, it was difficult to read.

But I was also determined to read it myself. Arik waited patiently, cutting off a chunk of cheese and adding it to my plate as I sorted out the letters and spaces.

After several minutes, I believed I had pieced it together.

Sigrid did have more surprises than I knew.

Dearest Eisa,

If you are reading this, then it means you came back for a visit. I am sorry I was not there to receive you.

I have gone Home to be with the Goddess. If that mate of yours has any sense, he will know where to find me. (And if he doesn’t, maybe find yourself a smarter man).

Mormor

P.S. - Use the mirror. It will be faster than flying.

Below the note were five neatly drawn symbols that I couldn’t begin to decipher. The first looked a bit like the diamond scar on my chest, the second like a pointed R, and the third an M. The last two symbols were just vertical lines with shorter lines intersecting them.