“Oh.” Freya stared over the smoldering bones at the black waters of the bay. She whispered, “I miss him.”
Omar nodded.
“I keep looking out there like he’s just going to come up out of the water without a scratch on him, smiling. Holding a fish. But he’s not, is he?”
“No, it’s been far too long. I’m sorry, but if that drop of my soul inside him was going to save him, if he was going to come back, he would have by now. I’m sorry.”
She sniffed and exhaled loudly. “So it’s really over then. What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I should leave before I cause any more disasters around here. I don’t really belong here,” he said. “Not that I belong anywhere, but I definitely don’t belong here. It’s too cold and gray and quiet for my taste.”
“So your homeland is hot and bright and loud?”
He smiled a little. “Something like that.”
“Oh. I think Erik would have liked a place like that.”
Chapter 33. Kingcraft
Halfdan sat uneasily on the wooden throne of Rekavik. He shifted his weight, first asking for a cushion, and then putting it aside. And every time the wood creaked beneath his weight, he winced. Finally he stood up and said, “My cousin Ivar was a good man, and he’s dead. His son Magnus was a good man, and he’s dead. We’ve all lost good men and women over these last five years. Ysland has bled too much. There will be no more killing today. Turn them loose.”
The guards let go of the prisoners’ wrists, and Leif and Thora stepped away from them, rubbing their sore arms.
Freya stood on Halfdan’s left side with Omar, and Katja and Wren stood on his right in matching vala black. A single night’s sleep in a bed had brought Katja back from the shock of her cell, and now wearing one of the dead queen’s simpler dresses, she looked as confident and wise as ever, if a bit thinner around the waist and wearing a new pair of ears. Nearly everyone gathered in the new king’s audience chamber wore the fox ears now, and more than a few women had covered theirs with scarves, and some of the men wore caps, and some people couldn’t seem to stop tugging and picking at the soft furry things on top of their heads.
Freya touched her own ears. She kept forgetting they were up there. She wasn’t in the habit of fiddling with her hair, or wearing scarves, or looking in mirrors, and it was so easy to forget that they were up there. They felt soft and downy and warm, and they could bend and flop a little bit. Rubbing them gently sent a shiver down her scalp and spine, but mostly from the strangeness of it rather than any sort of pain. And they tickled sometimes when her short hair blew about in the wind. But otherwise, they were invisible to her.
I have a fox-soul inside of me.
And I have Omar’s soul inside of me.
What does that even mean?
The question faded as soon as she asked it. It didn’t matter.
“Leif Blackmane,” Halfdan said loudly. “You murdered many free and innocent men, and you allied yourself with the reavers, who also killed many free and innocent men, but you did so at the command of your queen. So you shall not die here today.”
“I’m telling you, I never spoke to any filthy reaver! It’s a lie!” Leif shouted. He turned toward Omar. “He’s a damned liar!”
“Shut up and be condemned like a man!” Halfdan snapped. “You are hereby banished from Ysland.”
The scowling youth looked up sharply. “ From Ysland? Where am I supposed to go?”
“You have six months,” the new king continued. “When autumn comes, if any man should find you still in Ysland, he shall be within his rights to strike you dead where you stand. And you, Thora Ingasdottir, for keeping Skadi’s secrets and knowingly, willfully aiding her in her schemes to seduce the king, to seize the throne, and to lead Rekavik into ruin, you are also banished from Ysland.”
The tall girl said nothing. She stared down at Halfdan’s feet with haunted, miserable eyes. But then she slowly lifted her gaze and turned to look at Freya, and Freya saw the cold hatred in the apprentice’s face as the tears tumbled from her unblinking eyes.
Halfdan grunted. “It’s only three hundred leagues or so to Alba. If you start swimming now, you may reach it before your six months are up. Guards, throw them out.”
The guards took the exiles out of the room, and the crowd of onlookers at the back all seemed to relax and exhale and stand a bit easier.
“Finally.” Halfdan sat back down on his throne, which creaked, and he winced. “Omar Bakhoum.”
Omar stepped out in front of the throne and turned to face the king.
“You came to this country as a friend, and you were treated poorly. Yslanders pride themselves on their hospitality, and you were most grievously wronged by Skadi and Leif. But despite that, you returned to us, you killed the demon Fenrir…” He trailed off with a frown.
Freya understood. They had told him earlier that morning, after he received his royal torque and sword, that Fenrir had been his cousin Ivar.
“You defeated our enemies and cured the plague,” Halfdan said. “For this, our entire country is in your debt, and anything you ask will be yours.”
Omar smiled brightly. “Well, that is most kind, my lord. I can see you will be every bit the king that your wise cousin was before you. But as for me, I’m merely pleased that I was able to right the wrongs that I helped to create, and all I ask now is for some small help in constructing a ship to carry me home south. A small sailing ship should suffice, an elegant xebec, perhaps. I can sketch something up later.”
“But we have no wood for making ships,” Halfdan said.
“That’s no problem, my lord. We’ll make it of steel. I’ll teach you how. And after I’m gone, well, if the Yslanders wish to take to the seas once more on ships of steel, well, that would be a very fine day, wouldn’t it?”
A happy murmur ran through the crowd behind him.
“Then you will have everything you need and every comfort as long as you are with us,” Halfdan said. “And the last bit of business to deal with, before I can get off this damned chair, is the small matter of our new vala.” He turned to the young ladies in black. “Is there anyone interested in holding this important position and fulfilling its sacred duties for us here in Rekavik?”
Wren and Katja exchanged smiles and nods, and Katja stepped forward. “I would be honored to serve you, King Halfdan.”
The king nodded. “And I’m honored to have your wise council. And what of our other little wise woman?” He smiled at Wren.
She smiled back nervously. “Actually, I’m far from being ready to serve anyone as a vala. I only know a few things, and I only have these eight unhelpful old ladies to guide me.” She held up her hand wearing the rinegold ring of Denveller. “So I think I’d rather continue as an apprentice. For now.”
“Ah, under our esteemed Lady Katja?”
“Well, no, actually.” Wren looked across the room. “Under Master Omar, if that’s all right. He seems to know more about the spirit world than anyone else alive. I can’t imagine a better teacher.”
All eyes turned to the southerner, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh very well, little one, but don’t expect to learn much from me. I’m sure I don’t know anything interesting.”
Everyone laughed.
Halfdan stood up from his wooden throne. “Freya Nordasdottir, please come here.”
Her heart pattered just a bit faster at the unexpected summons, and she felt momentarily nervous and even guilty, wondering why she was being called to answer to the king. But the girlish feeling vanished as quickly as it came and she stood in front of the bearded man. “Yes?”
A sad and weary look filled his eyes as he looked down at her. “Ask. Ask me for anything. Nothing in Ysland could reward your courage, or restore what you’ve lost, but ask anyway, so I can give you something.” He stepped down off the dais of his throne and stood in front of her, looking so much like her father that she almost wanted to hug him to make him stop looking so miserable.