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And the wolves? Well.
The wolves were silent.
Lady Question
Many are the great houses of the North, but there is a division in them. For some love the Elder, and fought against the Enemy. Others gave their allegiance to the Black Land, and on the Day of Ash they slew their brethren without mercy, even within greathall and family, yea indeed like ravening beasts…
—Aethrasil of Haradhrun,A History of Töllmar
Their camp was a fair distance away, and I heeded little save the warmth ofsitheviel. Aeredh produced Eol’s small black flask, encouraging me to take yet another swallow, and I rode double with Arn as Farsight, looking well pleased with herself indeed, was led by the Elder upon his own mount. I did not even see the camp clearly, save to note two great slab-rocks tilted against each other sheltering the fire, which had burned down to blue-tinged coals.
I did not ask how they had performed such a miraculous rescue. Arn joined our mantles and shared her warmth, and though thesithevielburned in my middle and they plied me with much of their strange waybread I cared little for either, clinging to my shieldmaid. Eol and the others were absent, but I did not wonder at the fact.
I was simply too grateful for the luck of survival; great fits of shivering seized me over and over while I thought of the un-sheep creatures or the wolves finding this place.
At least the fire would keep the latter at bay. Or so I hoped, and fell into a deathly doze upon another pine-bough bed with Arn holding me close.
The next morn dawned bright, mostly clear… and shocking, for we were not merely two days’ journey from Dun Rithell.
At that distance the terrain should still have been familiar enough; I should have been able to discern familiar landmarks. Instead, peering from the two boulder-slabs sheltering our camp, I saw what could not be. Somehow we were upon the side of a stranger’s mountain, forested slopes stretching toward more great peaks and deep valleys almost sparkling with cold winter clarity. Upslope, bright snow mantled a knifelike summit I did not know the name of; we were upon a thin margin just above the trees.
Taking night-shelter in the forest might have been wiser. I could not say as much, though, for I was too busy gazing at sheer precipices and wondering how, by any and all gods, spirits, orseidhr, Farsight and I did not plummet to our deaths during our bruising, fog-choked gallop.
Morning also meant every Northerner had returned to the camp. Eol was deep in converse with Aeredh, their dark heads close together and the Elder occasionally tapping one finger into his opposite palm to accentuate a point. The rest set about their morning tasks as if it did not matter we were much,muchfarther away from Dun Rithell than we should be.
Of course Arn was awake far before her charge, and brought me a cup of warmed ale. “Drink every bit.” She glowered mightily, her hornbraids redone, her woad-stripe refreshed, and her freckled cheeks cheerfully reddened with brisk weather. “You fair had my heart to stopping, Sol. What were you thinking?”
It would do no good to point out it was not my fault. My shieldmaid’s anger was quick and sharp, like her tongue; it also died almost as ’twas born, like lighting upon Tarnarya’s hood. “There was not much thought involved, true.” I accepted the cup, though hot ale is never my favorite drink. “What was that thing? Dare they name it?”
“At night? I should hope not. It died hard; the scarred one Efain had the honor.” If that irked her, Arneior gave no sign; she folded intoan easy crouch, her spear providing balance. “The rest were driven away or died as well. The youth merely saidthey are twisted. The one I saw was like a sheep, but a few such wool-bearers might well give even Mother Hel’s shepherds pause.” Her words became a whisper as I held my nose, attempting to down the ale. “I do not recognize these mountains. We are much farther from home than we should be.”
Our gazes met, and held for a long moment.
I am more than willing, hers said.
Not yet, mine replied,though I mislike the wait. “So I see.” Whether or not there was weirding in our passage, I was weregild and held to certain behavior—not bondsmaid or thrall but constrained to obedience with good grace, in whatever direction Eol of Naras chose to travel.
The rules governing such things are strict, for debtor and lord alike. He could neither rape nor starve me, nor force me to overly harsh labor. I could not refuse any reasonable request, nor deny any aid I was capable of, nor question his decisions. There are finer points argued in the South and entire hedges of restrictions upon both parties; I could not think the North much different. If anything, their expectations were perhaps more stringent, and it behooved me to keep both eyes and ears well open to discern any arcane points of etiquette.
I was, after all, Gwendelint’s daughter.
Warm thick liquid hit my stomach, thought about revolt like a badly used thrall, and subsided. My position was not an enviable one, for all I had Arn to keep me from physical harm. I took a deep breath, held it, and swallowed the last half of the mug’s contents, tasting a bitter medicinal herb or two at the bottom. “Gah. You should keep the ale for your own belly, Arn, and leave mine be.”
“What manner of woman does not like ale?” She shook her head, and a flicker of a rueful smile submerged into watchfulness. “Your braids are coming loose. I hear they hunted more of those twisted things last night, in the dark.”
I shuddered at the thought. The Northerners did not seem to spend much time in their bedrolls, but if such creatures were about in any number I was more than content to have it so. And yet, whatseidhrdid they possess to stave off sleepless exhaustion? Such a thing would be worth knowing.
Perhaps it was an Elder trick. I would have to watch carefully—it is the height of bad manners to inquire too closely of another’s weirding. Such things must be freely given, or learned by observation and native wit.
For all that, I felt the instinct to both keep my knowledge of the Old Tongue secret and seem oblivious of Aeredh’s strangeness well warranted. Much ofvolvatraining is learning to listen to such small, still inner promptings. “Good fortune that you found me, then.” So good, in fact, I was beset with fresh suspicion. “There is much weirding at work here, my Arn.”
“Nowthis is revealed unto thee?” The old jest warmed her dark eyes for a brief moment; once more, she sobered almost instantly. “What should we do?” Her forehead wrinkled, and in that moment she looked very young.
Almost as young as Aeredh appeared. I could only hope my own unease was not so plainly visible. An uncertainvolvais close to useless, as Idra oft remarked.
Once I settled upon a course of action, Arn would see it done. So it had been for many a year, and she was well content to have it thus. Whatever insecurity I felt had to remain unvoiced, and hopefully unseen.
“We wait, and watch.”Learn all we can, and I intend to learn much indeed.I handed her the empty mug, grimacing again as swallowed ale fought for release. “Pay Dun Rithell’s death-debt and return home intact. ’Tis all we can do.”
