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A short while later, I sat on the side of the neatly made bed in my green winter dress, fragrant of packing-resin and bearing Astrid’s rune-tangle embroidery at neck and cuffs, rebraiding my damp hair while Arn, in fresh linen and quilted padding, worked her way into her second-best hauberk. I could have wished Astrid was there to help with both Arn’s armoring and twisting my hair into submission, but I had to content myself with each red coral bead being a reminder of home. The door to the hall, slightly ajar, quivered under a mannerly knock, and at my bidding to enter opened silently to reveal Eol, his scorched mane neatly trimmed and the rest of him haggard, but his dark gaze clear and his black cloth reasonably clean. The gem upon his swordhilt winked at us, unwrapped and catching a stray gleam from the wall-illumination.
“My ladyalkuine.” He even bowed—somewhat stiffly, true—and though I did not like a man not my kin seeing me in the act of braiding, there was no help for it. “And my lady shieldmaid.”
Arn muttered what might have passed for a polite greeting, yanking at the hem of her hauberk to situate it correctly, and my fingers were oddly clumsy. A chunk of red coral almost skittered free, but I held it grimly to its task, and the ribbon too.
“You seem recovered indeed.” It did gladden me, though even to myself I sounded merely, coldly polite. “I am sorry I did not attend to your wounds, my lord. It is avolva’s duty, and I failed in it.”As well as everything else.
It stung all the more deeply because I had not seen or avoided the trap in Dun Rithell. Was being ignorant of the danger lurking in the North better? The question occurred to me over and over, while my hands were busily attending to other matters.
Even the dream of ash-choked iron towers and that low, awful reddish glow did not occupy me so much.
“Ah. Well.” Eol’s black eyebrows drew together, his mouth turned down at either corner, and he stood very straight indeed, though something in the set of his shoulders said it pained him. His hands, kept at his sides, were tense as well. “The house of Naras is hardy, my lady; I did not wish you to waste your strength upon my small hurts. We were more concerned for your injuries, and none can tell me who struck you.”
I glanced at Arn, who settled upon the trunk to deal with her boots. She wished to be fully armored for the day, and I could not blame her. I could not touch a bee-end of my torc, and while occupied with twisting my hair I was at a distinct disadvantage in this conversation. “The whip-monster—it hadseidhr. I could do no more than scorch and slow it, and it marked me in return.” I finished the recalcitrant braid, secured it, and set to work at the next. The stock of beads, ribbons, and bent pins in my lap shrank correspondingly.
“It is a mighty thing to even delay atrul. The Elder are saying that if the women of the South are this brave, the Enemy will find them a difficult foe indeed.” Eol paused, closely regarding my work; perhaps Northern women let any man watch them thus. It is one thing to speak half-glimpsed from a window with your hair unbound, it is quite another to let a strange man see your ribbon-weaving performed—or so it suddenly seemed to me that day. “There are some matters we must speak upon, Lady Solveig.”
Could you not wait until I have at least had breakfast?“Then speak, son of Tharos.” I might have added I could hardly avoid hearing him, that as weregild or ally I was still obliged to listen in any case, and a few other sharp observations besides, but I was not at home and could not give the sharp edge of my tongue so freely.
I was beginning to suspect I would never see Dun Rithell again. Sometimes I flinch to think of how long it took me to realize as much.
“We are safe enough here for some short while,” he began. “The petty-khazalMehem and his sons know these passages, but ’tis easy for others to become lost. You will need a guide, do you venture into the halls.”
Khazal.I stored the word for later tasting; if it was the Old Tongue, I had not heard it before. “Very well.” I did not add that Icould simply touch a wall, or the floor, and more than likely garner enough information to wend my way to an exit if need be.
Just like untangling a snarl of thread, or of yarn. The fact that I was lost in a larger mess of half-sensed ropes did not bear mentioning either.
Eol paused as if expecting me to say more. The silence was not quite excruciating, but the fire snapped as if it had an opinion, and when it had finished he continued. “Tarit leads the Secondborn here; he is Lady Hajithe’s son and was fostered in Dorael for some time. Some of his men are not of the Faithful, buthecan be trusted.” Another pause, as if he expected some reaction, but I gave none, merely gazed steadily upon him until he coughed slightly again and continued. “You will be well-guarded here, yet eventually we must leave. Should the worst happen, my ladyalkuine, I must ask you to let us fight without worry. You cannot risk yourself.” His gaze settled upon Arn, perhaps seeking to enlist her agreement; she busied herself with her boots. “I would bring you safely to our journey’s end, and I beg you to understand as much.”
“I understand you will not tell me where such end rests.” It also nettled me that he would dare tobeg, as if he did not hold the upper hand—at least, until I could manage to wrest the advantage away, as I had with his men. At least three of them had sworn allyship, and that is a weighty oath. “But perhaps you should. I am no longer your weregild, son of Tharos. You would do well to treat an ally with less secrecy.”
He could have sought to challenge my assertion, to demand the life-debt’s payment despite any treachery his brother had committed. Then it would become a case of legal argument, but he had a half-dozen warriors set against one lone spear and avolva—and possibly Aeredh’s help as well, to corral a pair of intractable women. I did not think the lord of Redhill would intervene on our behalf unless I could put the matter to him with both urgency and unimpeachable logic.
I waited, my heart attempting to lodge in my throat, for Eol of Naras’s next words.
“So you know.” Did he wince? If he did ’twas no more than aflicker, there and gone like lightning. “I deserve your anger, and you may vent it as you wish. But you must not risk yourself, Lady Solveig. On this point the Elder and the house of Naras are in complete agreement.”
I could not let my relief show. His acknowledgment meant my status was no longer mere weregild, and welcome was the change.
“Neither you nor your Elder friends need worry,” Arneior said, tartly. She did not reach for her spear, but straightened and gave him a baleful glare. Her hauberk gleamed; metal loves the light of a dverger home, and takes on a richer glow under it. “Sol has me.”
“Even so.” Eol granted her a short, stiff nod. “We would not like to lose you either, my lady shieldmaid.”
“Arn and I look after each other, my lord.” Having achieved at least one goal, I did not think it wise to let Arn’s temper mount even further; she had achieved no breakfast yet either, and consequently was in no forgiving mood. “I ask for your honesty, which is little enough to grant a woman you have wronged. Where is this Hidden City you mean to take us to, and shall you begin treating me as an ally deserves or must I expect more lies and obfuscation? I can hardly distinguish between you and the Black Land’s lord at this point, for he is said to be false as well.”
I did not expect my words to have such a marked effect. Eol paled, his mouth turned to a thin line, and his gaze kindled with anger. Arn was on her feet in an instant, though but newly shod and without her woad, her spear making a soft sound as its end touched the floor, braced in case she needed to move swiftly.
At least I had enoughseidhrto see the wolf in the Northern captain, peering through dark eyes, its muzzle lifted and a growl just on the edge of loosening from a black-furred chest.
“I hope you never learn the true difference between me andhim, my lady.” Brittle formality edged every word, and his right hand twitched as if longing for a hilt. “I regret I am not at leave to discuss the end of our journey, even did I know its exactness. A heavy charge is laid upon all who know even of its existence, and despite what you may think I would not be forsworn.” He visibly swallowed other words, perhaps not so restrained, and gave a final short, stiff bow. “Ishall send someone to bring you to breakfast, so you are not forced to endure my presence.”
With that, the heir of Naras turned upon his heel and vanished through the door.
I finished my braids in silence while Arn studied where he had stood, her brow furrowed. The silence between us was familiar, and comforting.
Finally, she turned to me, the ghost of woad lingering yellow upon her cheek and forehead. “Well done.” No sarcasm sharpened her tone; so long as my behavior gained a shieldmaid’s approval, I could be certain of its propriety.
She was myseidhr-needle, my small one, for all her usual solution to any problem was a quick application of her spear. Mine was to wait until I knew more, and between the two of us, the eager and the dilatory, we managed well enough.
