Freya looked away, feeling awkward and useless and guilty for not telling him sooner, as soon as they were alone, but it had been the furthest thing from her mind. And even now as she watched him comfort the broken remains of his friend, her only thoughts were for Wren, Katja, and Erik.
Omar looked up at her abruptly with a confused and miserable look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Freya said. “I should have remembered sooner.”
“No, no, fair lady,” he said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong here. Not you. It’s just that it doesn’t make any sense. Riuza did steal the parts to build her boat, but when she was caught the king simply removed her from the project and made me the foreman in her place. She wasn’t imprisoned, she wasn’t even punished. She and I went on living in our own house not far from the castle. Skadi must have put her here after the disaster at the drill site.”
“I’m sorry, but is she your wife?”
A strange smile flickered across his face. “Not my wife, no, not nearly. But when you find yourself stranded at the end of the world where your language and your clothes and even your skin mark you as an outsider, then your closest friend may well be the one person who understands where you came from, even if you’re not particularly good friends. Riuza and I were, well yes, we were friends, eventually. Political allies, when necessary. And lovers, when drunk.” He smiled a bit more. “Just a few times.”
Freya nodded, knowing that she only partly understood what sort of lives these people had led before she found them. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She’s very weak.” In an instant all of the memories and sorrows in Omar’s eyes were gone, replaced by his usual clear-eyed certainty. He took up his sword and sliced through the chain on Riuza’s ankle as though the iron was as soft as moldy cheese, and then he sheathed the blade and picked up the woman in utter darkness.
They made their way back to the stairs and then back to Freya’s room where they gently laid Riuza on the bedding and tried to make her comfortable. The southern woman lay on her side, staring at the wall with glassy eyes, her cracked lips whispering silent words in a language Freya didn’t understand.
“She kept saying the word Morayo. Wren thought it was someone’s name. Does that mean anything to you?” Freya asked.
Omar seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers and nodded sadly. “Morayo! Yes, I remember her now. Morayo was the engineer on Riuza’s airship. She was a very charming young lady. Very clever. I liked her very much, but there was more to her than met the eye. She caused the crash, you know. Died in it too, poor girl. If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have been stranded here, and Riuza, well, she would be at home right now, wouldn’t she?”
“Oh. I’m so sorry, for both of you. I had no idea. Maybe I should go find Wren. She knows about herbs and things. She might be able to help her.” Freya barely reached the doorway before Halfdan appeared before her.
The captain of the guard said, “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I have news about your friend.”
“Wren? You found her? Where is she?” Freya asked.
“One of my men on the western seawall says he saw her walk off a few hours before sunrise. He says he didn’t stop her because he figured only a fool would go out there alone without a good reason, so she must have had a good reason, so he let her go.” Halfdan shook his head. “She left on foot, heading south.”
Freya blinked. “She left? By herself?”
Slowly, Freya turned back to look at Omar and Riuza.
She must have left during the feast. The changes must have scared her. She must have wanted to get away before they got any worse. Or… or maybe she really wanted to go alone. Maybe she didn’t trust me to help her.
Hell, the last thing I told her was that I was prepared to kill my own sister because of the plague. Wren must have thought that I would also… Oh, Wren!
“I have to go. I have to find her.” Freya pulled her heavy leather coat over her shoulders. The coat rustled and flapped over her shirt and arms louder than she had ever heard it before, as though the material was as large as a sail flapping in the sea wind right inside her ear. She looked at Halfdan. “I need you to help Omar, and his friend here. Whatever you’ve been told about him, whatever you think you’ve seen, you need to forget. Just trust me when I say that they are our friends, and we need to protect them for the safety of Rekavik.”
The warrior frowned at the southerners on the bed, but he sighed and nodded. “If they keep quiet, they’ll be safe enough for a while. No one seems to care much about our dead friend’s sudden return. Skadi has everyone thinking he was just hiding all this time, running from hole to hole to save his skin all these years, going mad with fear. It’s enough to make them pity him, but not enough for any to think him much of a hero. I suppose that’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Freya said. “He is a hero, and everyone will know soon enough. He has a cure for the plague, and it’s out there right now, moving through the city, and soon it will move out into the hills and the reavers will all just be folk again. But for right now, they need to keep their heads down. And I need to find Wren.”
Halfdan nodded. “Good luck to you. The little vala’s got quite a few hours’ lead on you. Any idea where she went?”
“Oh, that’s the easy part. What sort of huntress would I be if I couldn’t find a girl on a road in broad daylight? Just tell me where I can find Arfast.”
“He’s in the stable by the south gate,” Halfdan said. “No worries. I told the stabler that no one was to eat your elk.”
“Oh, good.” Freya reached up to scratch at her short hair, which felt uncomfortably twisted on top of her head.
“Freya?” Omar beckoned to her.
She knelt beside him. “What is it? Is Riuza all right?”
“Don’t you worry about us. We’ll be fine.” He reached across her shoulders and gently pulled her heavy leather hood up over her head. “You just stay warm out there. And when you see that handsome elk of yours in the stable, be sure to give him a second helping of barley for me, all right?” He winked.
She raised an eyebrow. “All right.”
Freya stood and gave Halfdan a curious look as she left, but the big man merely shrugged and stepped aside. She took up her steel spear from the cloak room, and set out. It was a long walk south through the winding roads of Rekavik, and several times she found herself in a lane that dead-ended in a ring of houses built into the same hillock.
It was in one of these dead-ends that she became annoyed with the edges of her hood blocking her vision, and she was about to shove it back off her head onto her shoulders when she remembered the strange little wink Omar had given her as he pulled the hood up. So as she walked, she gently pushed her hand back up under her hood, running her fingers through her hair over her head, wondering what he had meant about staying warm. When her fingers hit her ear, she didn’t know what to make of it. Her hand was in the wrong place, or her ear was. The sensation was dizzying, like being spun about on a high hill with her eyes closed.
My ear. It’s too high. It’s too… big? Pointed? Hairy?
She swallowed hard.
No, it can’t be. I was bitten by Omar’s bloodflies, they had the cure, not the plague. Unless.
She looked sharply in the direction of the castle.
He lied. Leif was right about him wanting revenge. Leif was right!
She gripped her spear and ground her teeth and for a half a moment she considered running back to plunge her spear through the southerner’s belly. But then she frowned.
If that were true, why would he want to hide my ears from Halfdan and everyone else? He was trying to protect me. If he wanted me dead, he could have killed me a hundred times over when we were alone on the moors, on the hunt.