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“His kind ever love music.” The lady’s berry-reddened mouth turned down at both corners. The hall quieted afresh, though the translators returned to their murmuring work.
“’Tis said the Allmother sang the world into being and we merely follow suit, my lady.” I could not decide if I was to pretend not to know what she meant. The Elder were indeed held to love all manner of song and instrument, and to have taught mortals their use. Mortals of Eol’s kind were rumored to be great singers in their own right as well, though their sagas are rather dour, which was attributed to the weather or the memory of the Black Land’s days of power. “What does the North do upon winter eves for amusement? It seems southron merriment is not to your liking, and we would be good guests.”
“Ah, young one, you remind me of my Laleith; she ever finds most value in laughter.” Lady Hajithe essayed a smile, and for a moment she looked much like my mother when a subject not fit for children’s ears has been brought to their vicinity. “You are fine guests indeed; I am merely of stern temper. We play a similar game of a winter evening in the North, but in the Old Tongue.”
“I am to spend a year and a day in the North, after all.” I was tempted to bring forth a couplet in said language to please her. But avolvadoes not tell all she knows, Idra had repeated over and over, and the instinct to keep my cunning to myself remained clear and steadfast. Though I doubted myself in that moment, my conscience pinching slightly. “I should inquire how to best please my hosts.”
“A year and a day?” Lady Hajithe looked to Aeredh, as if she had not quite heard me aright. The servers were busy bringing fresh platters and jugs from the kitchen, a familiar bustle. “Is it only expected to take so long, son of Aerith?”
It was Eol who answered, in the Old Tongue. “This is a different matter, my lady, and one best not spoken upon.”
Arn glanced at me, then just as quickly reached for her newly filled goblet. I could tell her what was said later; now I was happy indeed I had held my tongue. There was something deeper thansimple weregild afoot, and their unguarded speech might cast light enough upon it to grant my shieldmaid and me some advantage.
My unease sharpened; I sought to keep a pleasant, faintly mystified expression as if listening to neighbors argue over a wild, unmarked sheep.
“Are you the son of Aerith, to answer me so?” The lady’s gaze sharpened, and a chill fingertip laden with dread traced down my back. “There is no love between our houses, son of Tharos; I will have an answer from those I question in my own home.”
“By the vigilance of the house of Naras, too, are the Eastron Marches kept safe, my lady.” Eol did not quite scowl, but his expression was not kind, and the chill down my back intensified. “I do not seek to keep my lord Aeredh from answering, merely to save our precious guest from any discomfort.”
They spoke almost too swiftly for me to untangle meanings. My comprehension of the Old Tongue as they used it was improving at a marvelous rate, but I would have to think long and hard upon this to make certain I was not mishearing aught.
In any case, whatever reply the lady would have made was forestalled. “Precious indeed, and rare.” Aeredh lifted his goblet again, honoring the ruler of this hall. “We return northward without what we were sent for, but bearing hope nonetheless. More I cannot say at table, but would crave your pardon and ear in private.”
So I was not what they had been sent for, but avolvawas a prize to be taken north instead? They had to haveseidhrof their own, if Elder still walked their lands. I quelled a restless movement, listening so intently my ears all but tingled.
“Then you shall have it.” Lady Hajithe inclined her head, crowned with braids longer and more complex than my own though no silver touched their strands, and her air was again so like Gwendelint of Dun Rithell’s I was obscurely comforted. “Forgive us, young one. The wolves of Naras sit among us, and it moves me to caution. I should not speak in a language my guests lack.”
Wolves of Naras, as if their sigil was famous in the North? Questions crowded my throat, and it irked me to keep my facility with the Old Tongue hidden now that she had spoken so fairly. “There isnothing to forgive,” I answered, cautiously. “It is an ill guest indeed who brings discord, my lady. Perhaps I should retire.”
“I would not have it so.” She gestured as the servers finished their work with well-practiced coordination, and the next course could begin. “I miss my son and daughter, Lady Solveig of Dun Rithell, and you much remind me of the latter. There is a comfort in such memory, so stay if you will, and tell me more of the South.”
What else could I do? I obliged, seeking to put her at her ease.
I do not think I managed it.
How Men Think
When they woke they were much amazed, for at their fire was one of the Elder, who sang to them in his own tongue. At first they thought him one of the Blessed and were afraid, but his song spoke to them of wonders and of kindness, and they listened with growing comfort. Thus it was Aerith met their chieftain Eofred, grandfather of Asdrax, and great was the love between them.
—The Saga of Icevein
Well?” Arn whispered, snuggling next to me. We had been lucky indeed to reach this shelter before the new winter’s deepsnow descended; the wind had risen too, though in the Eastronmost Steading’s windowless depths I could barely hear its breath. “They gabble in weirding-speak like you and old Idra. I can make out a word or two, but only just.”
“I can make out somewhat more, though they hardly speak enough to grant real understanding.” The closet was warm, and paneled in some fragrant wood. I yawned, my mouth tingling from tooth-cleaning, and propped my head upon my bent arm. The luxury of being warm, clean, and alone with my shieldmaid—I did not know which to thank the gods for first.Finallywe could be reasonably sure of privacy. “There is no love between the lady of this place and Lord Eol’s family; she mentioned the wolves of Naras—Ithink that is his house, at least. They were sent south to find summat or gain allies against some foe, but did not manage it and perhaps consider me a replacement? Aeredh will be speaking to the great lady here in private; I begin to think there is some troublesome warlord in the North. But if so, why did they not take Bjorn?” Our whispers could not possibly be heard in the hall, and yet I was uneasy.
That is the wrong word. I was beginning to be afraid, yet I had no real hook to hang the fear upon.
“Perhaps they want my spear instead of his lumbering axe.” Arn’s laugh was not quite forced; a familiar line deepened between her coppery eyebrows. Her face was scrubbed free of woad for the moment. A faint yellowed ghost of its dye lingered, blessedly familiar, and for once she did not need me to warm her. “If they wished for avolvainstead, though… what use could they have for you?”
“I will think upon it,” I whispered. “And perhaps dream.”
“You must dream of your mother, too.” My shieldmaid moved restlessly. Her sleep-braids gleamed ruddy, and this close the fine lines of gold amid the brown of her irises were visible. “She will be worried.”
“We have been gone hardly long enough to worry anyone, I suspect.” Two days’ worth of travel, and yet we had come so far—even for one familiar withseidhr, it was barely credible. Their Elder Roads were a mystery I longed to untangle, even if they were populated by fell creatures. “You have seen Aeredh’s ears. He isElder, Arn. We are lost in a tale, or a saga.”
“His…” A strange look crossed Arn’s face. “I thought him only like the others. And yet, if you say so… You are jesting?”
“I am not.” My half-voiced hiss grew fierce; I was unused to disbelief from this quarter. “You said you noticed.”
