"No fire—except, I hope, in the hearth," Hamnet said. "Which of you snores?"
"He does." Ulric and Eyvind both said the same thing. They pointed at each other. Eyvind Torfinn added, "As long as we're talking about snoring, was that you or Audun sawing stone last night?"
"Yes." Hamnet let him make whatever he pleased of that. "I'm going to get Trasamund moving," he went on. "Then we ought to eat and we ought to ride."
Earl Eyvind rubbed his hindquarters. Ulric Skakki sighed a martyred sigh. But neither man said no. Hamnet Thyssen knocked on Trasamund's door. "You hit ours a lot harder than that," Ulric said. Yes, and I had my reasons, too, Hamnet thought. Ulric went on scowling.
Trasamund was also scowling as he opened up. But when Count Ham-net said, "We should be moving," the Bizogot's glower faded. Moving was something the mammoth-herders of the north understood.
They all went off to the common room. Hamnet Thyssen was ready for oatmeal mush swimming with butter or rye crackers or barley rolls or boiled goose eggs or whatever else the seraikeeper served for breakfast.
The barmaid was already busy, hurrying from the kitchen to other travelers waiting for their food. Count Hamnet noticed her only out of the corner of his eye. He stopped in his tracks at the entrance to the common room. None of his companions tried to push past him into the big hall, either.
From her perch on a bench near a fireplace, Gudrid waved gaily to them.
She hadn't come alone. Half a dozen stalwart imperial guardsmen sat across from her and to either side. Hamnet wondered how she’d talked Sigvat II out of them. Then he decided he didn't want to know, because talking might not have had anything to do with it. A heartbeat later, he shied away from hadn't come alone, too.
"My sweet! What are you doing here?" Eyvind Torfinn asked—a reasonable question, and much more mildly phrased than it would have been coming from Hamnet. Still sounding reasonable, and reasonably concerned, Earl Eyvind went on, "Is anything wrong down in Nidaros?"
"No, no, no." Gudrid laughed one of her silvery laughs. And then Count Hamnet discovered that he'd thanked God too soon, for she said, "I decided I'd come along with you, that's all."
Hamnet stiffened, as if taking a sword thrust. Eyvind's jaw dropped. Even the unflappable Ulric Skakki blinked. Audun Gilli's eyes widened. And Trasamund roared laughter himself.
"That's . .. impossible," Eyvind Torfinn said. Again, Hamnet would have told Gudrid the same thing. Again, he would have used stronger language. Earl Eyvind continued, "You couldn't possibly make it to the land beyond the Glacier."
"Why not?" When Gudrid sounded innocent and sweet, you were well advised to set a hand on your belt pouch.
"Because you're a woman, that's why not," Eyvind answered.
"And so?" Gudrid said. "If I can't ride better than Audun there, I'm a musk ox. And I can shoot—dear Hamnet taught me how years ago. I don't pull a very heavy bow, but I hit what I aim at."
She did, too. Hamnet Thyssen knew it. Trasamund looked from him to Gudrid and back again in surprise. No, the Bizogot jarl hadn't known of any connection between them. Hamnet hadn't thought he did.
"And besides," Gudrid went on, still sounding sweet and innocent and, if you knew her, deadly dangerous, "I'll have all you big strong masterful men to protect me, won't I? And these guardsmen his Majesty was kind enough to give me, too."
Some of the guardsmen looked mildly embarrassed. Others smirked. How had Gudrid persuaded the Emperor? And why were those men smirking?
"This is most unwise. It will not do," Eyvind Torfinn said.
"I agree. This journey will be complicated enough without, uh, complications." Ulric Skakki didn't put that well, and knew it, but also didn't leave much doubt about what he meant.
"Madness," Hamnet said.
Gudrid fluttered her fingers, literally dismissing that out of hand. "As if you'd say anything else," she murmured. Then she fluttered those slim fingers again, this time toward Trasamund. "And what does our valiant Bizogot chieftain say?"
The valiant Bizogot chieftain hadn't said much of anything. He'd listened to the backbiting with what seemed like immense enjoyment. Now he laughed once more. "Let the wench come," he said. "Why not? It will make the journey more entertaining."
"But—" Eyvind Torfinn said.
Trasamund cut him off with a slash of the hand. "I have said she will come, and she will come." He spoke with a jarl's hauteur—he didn't think Hamnet was the leader any more, then. "Raumsdalia does not have to go beyond the Glacier. Raumsdalia does not have to look for the Golden Shrine. We Bizogots can do it alone. The way north for you goes through our land."
Earl Eyvind made a horrible face, not because Trasamund was wrong but because he was right. When the Empire's needs clashed with his ... He scowled at the Bizogot and scowled at his wife, but in the end he nodded.
Hamnet Thyssen, by contrast, started out of the common room. "Where are you going?" Eyvind Torfinn called after him. His tone suggested a drowning man watching a spar drift away.
"Home," Hamnet answered. "The Golden Shrine can rot, for all of me, and the Gap, too."
Gudrid's laugh somehow struck him as ominous. "I knew you'd get stuffy about this, Hamnet. I knew it. Read this." She held out a rolled parchment.
He made sure he didn't touch her when he took the parchment. She noticed him making sure, and laughed again, this time at him. He ignored her. She thought that was funny, too. The parchment was sealed in wax of imperial gold, and had stamped on it a sabertooth's head—Sigvat's seal. Hamnet Thyssen ground his teeth as he broke it.
Most of the message was in a secretary's supremely legible script.
To Count Hamnet Thyssen from his Imperial Majesty, Sigvat ll, by God's grace Emperor of Raumsdalia. Your Grace—You are hereby requested and required to continue on your journey north to the lands beyond the Glacier and, if possible, to the Golden Shrine, notwithstanding the presence on the said journey of Gudrid, wife to Earl Eyvind Torfinn, whose intimate knowledge of conditions pertaining to the said Golden Shrine conduces to the success of the expedition of which you form a component.
A scrawled signature, unquestionably Sigvat's, lay under the body of the letter.
"You see?" Gudrid said, languid triumph in her voice.
"I see." Hamnet folded the parchment and put it in his belt pouch—he offered no offense to the imperial letter, though his first impulse was to fling it in the fire. "And I tell you this, Gudrid: no matter what this letter says, I am not a cursed component. I am a man—my own man, by God. I'm for my own keep, too, and the journey can go hang. And so, my former dear, can you."
He trudged out of the serai and off toward the stable, not a man in a hurry but not a man about to change his mind, either. He'd almost got to the stable door when someone behind him called, "Hamnet—wait."
If that had been Gudrid, he wouldn't have waited—though he might have drawn sword on her if she tried to insist. But it wasn't. It was Ulric Skakki. "Well?" Hamnet growled. "Are you fool enough to think you can make me change my mind? If Sigvat can't do it, you aren't likely to."
"I wouldn't dream of trying, your Grace," Ulric said. Hamnet laughed harshly—he knew a lie when he heard one. Unperturbed, Ulric Skakki went on, "I just wanted to tell you one thing before you go."
"Well?" Hamnet said. "What is it? Say your say, then, and be quick about it."
"I will," Ulric said. Whom he served—beyond himself—was a mystery to Hamnet. He hadn't been in the habit of talking about himself when he and Hamnet served together a few years earlier. Evidently he still wasn't.