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Chapter Thirty-One
Vemund stepped up onto the dais and took up his place next to Alfrun’s throne. What was undoubtedly a smirk pulled at his frog-thin lips.
“I have to admit,” Alfrun said, tilting her head, “you showing up here is convenient.” Her gaze shifted from Lilja to me. “I thought I’d have to fetch you from that wretched little town, Eivor.”
Lilja straightened. “I haven’t come to surrender.”
“But you will. And so will your friends.”
“The hell we won’t,” Helena said.
Slowly, almost lazily, Alfrun’s eyes settled on Helena. “Humans never leave my mountain once they’ve entered.”
Alma stepped forward. “But we will.”
“We’re not leaving without Lilja,” I said.
Alfrun thrummed her fingers against the armrest. “You’re quarrelsome,” she said. “Maybe I’ll let you go, but not like that.” She waved her hand at us. “I’ll trap Eivor in a statue this time. The rest of you as well. Doomed to an eternity of a living death.”
Norstad didn’t have much public art, but it did have a statue of some king of yore on the central square. Gustav the Second, Alma had told me. It had always unsettled me with its empty eyes that seemed to stare at nothing. The thought of my soul encased in stone, petrified forever, made me cold all over.
“We want to make a bargain,” Alma said, and her voice wavered. “My father deals in art and fine objects. I’ll get you anything you want in exchange for Lilja’s freedom.”
Alfrun’s laughter echoed against the stone of the walls. “I already have the best carvers and smiths. They can make me anything my heart desires.”
“You’re saying the work of your artisans is finer than the silver of Carl Fabergé? Your sculptures are better than Thorvaldsen’s? Your art more beautiful than Vigeé le Brun?”
Alfrun waved her hand. “All those you speak of are dead things. They possess no magic. They’re worthless.”
“They’re beautiful. That’s their worth.”
“There’s no beauty in human things. They’re worthless to me. The only bargain I’d consider is one to one. Bring me another girl, and Eivor might be free.”
Helena folded her arms. “We won’t do that.”
“Then Eivor will stay mine.”
Alfrun turned her head to the side, and when her lips parted, my feet stepped forward all on their own. I couldn’t let her give the order for her soldiers to take Lilja down to the dungeons.
I stopped when I was just two paces from the dais. “You like beautiful things,” I said. “I’ll make you whatever you want.”
Alfrun laughed. “You? You’re a toy maker. You think my treasures are toys?”
“I’m an excellent carver, and I can make other things.”
“Like what? A cartwheel? A barrel? I have no need for such paltriness.”
Alfrun’s gaze traveled to somewhere behind me. To Lilja, I guessed. Her prisoner. My mind was like an anthill, the thoughts swarming, crawling on top of each other in a confusing chaos. I had to suggest something she couldn’t refuse. But what?
An idea sprouted in the chaos of my mind, like the seedling of a sunflower among weeds. A contest. Alfrun had nothing but disdain for me, believing her and her kind superior in all things. If I could goad her into a competition, at least it would win us time and a chance to think of some other way.
“A trial,” I said before she could give her order to seize Lilja.
“A what?”
“A contest. Let me prove my skill by making you something. If it pleases you, you’ll let Lilja go.”
“Nothing from your hands would please me.”
