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“I am weregild no longer.” The words stung my mouth with almost the same timbre as the voice speaking couplets through me in the great palace of Nithraen. Anyvolvaknows the uneasy sensation of a throat being used by a passing spirit or god, and without that deep, irresistible discomfort such words must be held as merely spoken in anger or fear. I had no little of either at that moment, it is true—and yet, speech passed through me with a ring as of true metal upon the anvil. “I have pledged myself as an ally to the house of Naras instead. It is a poor ally who shows cowardice, even if brought to the battlefield under false pretenses.”
A faint whisper came from the dverger-runes tangling over the walls, as of a mountainside whispering before it shifts. Mehem’s eyes narrowed, and as he sat bolt upright in his great thronelike chair his callused, forge-blessed hands tensed.
“Ally?” Aeredh now chose to inquire of this openly. “I have heard this said, though I do not know how it happened.”
“There seemed little harm in the swearing of such a vow.” Efain moved uncomfortably in his wooden chair, his scars bearing a brief flush. “I would have promised her anything to gain cooperation. The orukhar were hunting us; and besides, we did not treat her fairly, my lord Aeredh. You know it as well as I.”
“Muttering in your foreign babble.” Arn tapped her spear again, and even my imploring would not have restrained her. “Were it left to me I would take my Solveig home, and leave you to your falsity.”
I could hardly reveal my understanding of the Old Tongue now; instead, I was finally forced to speak against my own deepest wishes. “It is unlikely we would reach Dun Rithell unless the Wingéd Ones consented to carry us. For better or worse, my shieldmaid, we are trapped in the North.”
“What is this talk of falsity?” Daerith inquired, somewhat archly. “And does that armed child mean to threaten my king?”
“You saw her face a trul alone, my friend.” Aeredh clearly intended some moderation. “The touch of the Blessed is upon both these women. And yes, I bear a shame and a heavy debt to thealkuine, for we brought her northward with a not-quite-lie.”
“Let their anger fall upon me.” Eol shook his dark head, blue highlights running in his hair. “It was my brother who—”
Daerith did not like this turn of conversation; the harpist spoke sharp and peremptory. “Do you forget what we face? Any means of fighting the Enemy is permissible, and—”
“By the Blessed,” the heretofore-quiet blond Elder upon his other side interrupted. “Do the Secondborn forget by whose grief and labors their soft southron lands are kept safe?”
“Enough.” Tarit’s voice sliced the rising hubbub, and his eyes had kindled nearly as bright as an Elder’s. His counselors remained silent, no doubt sensing their lord needed no aid upon this field. “If not for my sister in Dorael and thus my unwillingness to leave Aenarian’s border unguarded, I would ask Lady Solveig to accept my aid upon her homeward journey. You shame not only yourselves but those slain by the Enemy, speaking thus.”
“I begin to think the son of Hajithe forgets his place,” Yedras snapped.
“I forget nothing.” Tarit’s gaze was utterly level; I sensed a prickle in the air, as a storm descending the slopes of Mount Tarnarya to speak with Odynn’s thunder-voice over Dun Rithell. “And I will not allow Elder to mistreat any Secondborn, much less a woman. You hold yourselves proudly, which I do not grudge—but we have our own pride, and are children of the Allmother as well.”
“This Dorael is a refuge.” I hurried to forestall more wrangling, as a herd-dog will dart among sheep when the shepherd whistles. So far, this was indeed very much like an Althing, or sitting in judgment between touchy smallholders and warlords. “And Aenarian Greycloak is the high king of the Elder, is he not? Perhaps he should be the one to judge what is to be done, and should I visit that place I may take kin-words to the daughter of Hajithe.”
“By the Blessed, these Secondborn are haughty.” Yedras did not look away from Tarit, and I thought it quite likely the two of them would confine themselves to silence or icy formality after this discussion. “It is for the son of Aerith to decide what to do with his witch.”
Eol turned his head slightly, but the tension in him intensified. “Yedras,” he said, quietly. “I will meet you, in whatever form you choose. Or you will offer an apology, though the ladyalkuinemay not understand the insult. That girl has faced the Enemy’s servants with bravery unsurpassed, and ill deserves such language.”
“And I would meet you as well, but for my lord Aeredh’s regard.” Yedras stiffened, though, as if he would rise.
“This is a holy place,” Mehem barked. “No blood must be shed here.”
Aesyr and Vanyr, give me strength.“My lord Eol, please.” I flattened my palms upon the stone table again; strange, I would not have expected the captain of Naras so quick to anger. “I am not your weregild now.”
“Nevertheless.” That colorless ripple, not quiteseidhrbut not entirely unrelated to the great tree of wisdom, hung over him. The wolf in his skin was awake, and straining for release. “There has been enough of insult and to spare today. You are most forgiving, my lady Solveig. I am not.”
“Let us not distress our hosts.” I did not think my temper forgiving at all, and Arn might have concurred. Still, I had what I wished of this council, and surrounded byorukharand even less wholesome things as we were, it seemed better to smooth the raised hackles than further brush against their grain. “If it pleases the lord Elder to insult me, let him. You and I shall confine ourselves to better behavior.”
Arn tapped her spear again. No doubt she roundly enjoyed both the prospect of a brawl and the implication that an Elder could be ignored like a child yelling foul words at a feast.
“Yedras.” Aeredh, for once, laid aside his refusal to command his fellow Elder. “The ladyalkuinedid something none since Faevril have accomplished, and a gleam from the West I thought never to see again was given to Nithraen for a few moments. I well remember your part in my father’s departure, yet in this matter we are as allies, and Solveigdaughter of Gwendelint a gift from those we turned our backs upon ere the Sun rose. My lord Tarit is right to be proud, for he has achieved deeds even one of our own might call mighty; the Secondborn are, after all, granted the Allmother’s favor and greatest gifts though we know not whither such boons lead them beyond the world the Children of the Star are bound to.” He paused, and even Mehem held silence, ready to hear more. “The Enemy warps all words, deceives at every pass, and treats all living things as his thralls. We have fought him so long, and at such great cost—yet as the son of Hajithe reminds us, we must notbecomeas him.” He inclined his head in Tarit’s direction, and though he was crownless long before and after, Aeredh of Nithraen was regal that day. “We shall go to Aenarian’s realm if our gift of the Blessed wills, and I entreat her pardon for the journey so far.”
In truth I had not yet decided whether to chance Dorael or this Hidden City; my only purpose was to fix Arn’s and my status as allies instead of mere baggage to be dragged hither and yon. I could have said the former, if not the latter, but Eol’s gaze was fixed upon me and forestalled whatever I would have uttered.
“My lady.” He was not nearly so grim now, though his black-clad shoulder was presented to Yedras in a manner no southron warrior would mistake. The glitter of the gem in his swordhilt was an ice-spear; he wrapped it before sallying forth, but would not inside these walls. “The risk of Faevril’s sons doing some mischief should we go to Dorael is high indeed. I have little right to ask, yet I would not have their father’s oath bring some harm to my lord Aeredh, or to you. Caelgor may have spoken fairly, but you are merely a means to an end for him.”
“No more than for you, or for your Elder friends.” I could not help but make the point. “I am your ally, Eol of Naras, and my mother raised me to act accordingly. I would accompany you for the asking, and for strict truth in our dealings henceforth.”
“Better than Naras deserves,” Tarit muttered.
Eol made no answer, studying me as if he suspected some hidden slight, or as if I had spoken in a tongue we did not share.
Daerith broke the resultant silence. “We go where you will send us, son of Aerith. And I offer any apology necessary to the Secondborn,with good grace.” He did not look at his brethren, but something in his posture said he wished to and only refrained by an effort of will. “The life of an Elder is long, and I have been wrong more than once in the course of mine. Yedras?”
