Page 90 of Lord of Fire and Ice

The chamber Hilde assigned to Brandr and Katla was dazzling. Each of the massive pine bed frame’s tall posts was carved with writhing beasts, gripping one another in such a tangle, Katla’s eye couldn’t follow all the curves to their end without getting lost in endless twists and turns. The bed was piled with linens and furs and a rich silk covering. Katla felt the sumptuous layers tugging her toward them the moment she stepped into the room, but if Brandr had no rest, in good conscience, how could she?

A large, empty trunk waited to receive their clothes. Hilde had dispatched a pair of burly servants to fetch their baggage from the coracle, but it would take time for them to haul everything up the steep path. In the meantime, she arranged the old baby clothes and swaddling cloths Hilde had lent her in one corner of the trunk.

It pleased her Hilde didn’t ask any questions about the babe. She wasn’t inquisitive about why they’d arrived with none of the usual provisions one needed to care for a child or why Katla was unable to nurse the child herself. Perhaps Hilde was so bowed down by her own secrets and problems, she had little interest in the details of other’s lives. Despite Hilde’s cool detachment, Katla decided she liked her tall, grave sister-in-law very much.

Katla was playing a silly game of peek-eye with Linnea that had the bairn giggling uncontrollably when Brandr finally joined them in the well-appointed chamber.

“Is all well?” she asked, distressed by the deep marks of exhaustion under his eyes. He seemed to have aged years since she last saw him.

“My brother is dying,” he said, stripping out of his travel-stained clothes. “The chieftains are restive, and to make matters worse, war is on the wind. And Arn wants to do nothing about it.” Naked, he plopped across the bed lengthwise and spoke into the thick bedding. “No, all is not well.”

Katla put the baby down in the cradle Hilde had set up in the corner and knelt beside the bed to stroke Brandr’s head. His hair had grown long enough to lie down now instead of sticking out all over his head like a cankerwort seed. She trailed a fingertip across the back of his neck along his hairline. A lump of tenderness formed in her throat for this good man.

“What will you do?” she asked softly.

He turned his head and drew a deep breath. “Whatever I must.”

Before Katla could ask what that meant, Linnea began fussing from her corner. Brandr made a low growl in the back of his throat and covered his head with a pillow.

This was no time for the babe to make a problem of herself. Not until Katla had a chance to convince Brandr they should raise her as their own. She scooped her up and headed for the door.

She paused for a moment, thinking to snuff out the lamp, but it flared briefly and then puffed out before she put her hand to it. In the darkness, she heard a soft snore.

Brandr had put out the lamp before he winked out himself.

Being a fire mage does have its uses. She pushed past the heavy door and closed it softly behind her. Linnea still fussed as Katla walked along the corridor, dodging servants with trays piled with meat or planks to set up as tables in the great hall. She’d seen so few servants earlier she could only surmise that Hilde had recruited some of the villagers. Judging from snippets of overheard conversation, the night meal was going to be a celebratory dinner welcoming the jarl’s brother.

She was glad Brandr was receiving his due.

But no one gives a plum for the jarl’s brother’s wife and child. She pressed up against the wall while the servants hurried by, oblivious that Katla jiggled a crying babe and could use some assistance. She tried patting Linnea’s back and rocking her while she hummed a tuneless little ditty.

Nothing helped.

“The child is hungry,” came a wobbly voice from behind her. The thump of a cane on the slate floor punctuated her words.

Katla turned to see an old woman weaving toward her. She patted Linnea’s bottom, trying to shush her, but the babe launched into a full-blown wail. “How can you tell?”

“Lots and lots of practice,” the old woman said, stopping before them.

The woman peeled back enough of the swaddling to peer down at Linnea, making a soft noise like a dove settling on her eggs. The babe quieted, looking intently at the new face for a moment before she seemed to remember her empty belly. Her lower lip started to quiver, and she cried afresh.

“Well, aren’t you going to take the babe to her nurse?” the woman asked. “Naught else will satisfy her.”

It irritated Katla that this stranger should be so presumptuous. “I think I know what’s best for my own child.”

“Mayhap that would be true if she were your own.”

Katla’s gaze jerked to the woman’s face. She didn’t have the sly, calculating air of a seid-woman who looks to make her living selling potions and runic charms, but she spoke with such conviction, Katla couldn’t help asking, “Why do you think she’s not mine?”

“Prove me wrong. Fetch out your breast and give her suck then.”

“Women sometimes lose their milk, you know,” she said defensively.

“Ja, but that’s not the case here, is it?” The old woman made a clicking noise with her tongue and teeth that distracted the babe long enough for her to stop fussing. “There’s not a thing of either you or Brandr in the babe, though I have great hopes for her in your care.”

“Thank you,” she said with a doubtful tone. Slightly mollified, Katla took Linnea to Una’s door and left her with the wet nurse.

“Do not fret that you cannot meet the child’s every need,” the old woman said, following behind them with her rhythmic, shuffle-clump gait. “No one can ever satisfy all of another person’s needs.”