Hakon stared, surprised. “In the pastures above Skulisstead, about four leagues east of here. It was last night, just at dusk. I was bringing the children home—the master’s boy and girl. I’d heard the rumors and I was worried—”
“So you should have been!” his master snarled.
“Be quiet,” Wulfgar said sharply. “Let him finish.” He sat on a boulder and let his horse crop the sparse turf. “What did you see?”
Hakon glanced at the listening horsemen, at Jessa, Brochael, Skapti. Not at Kari. He looked tired, she thought, and there were bruises on his neck and face. Skuli must have made his anger felt.
“At first nothing. Then in the wood I knew it was there—sounds, rustles, following us. I got the children up a tree. Then it came out at me.” He shrugged, searching for words. “It was … whitish, the color of an ice bear, but bigger, upright. Bigger than a man. Heavier.”
“An animal?” Wulfgar said.
The boy hesitated. Then he said, “An animal, yes, I think … it’s hard to say. Snow drifted across it; it seemed blurred.”
“For how long?”
“Just seconds, lord. Not clearly. It had small, bright eyes.”
They were silent.
“And do you think it could reason, this creature?”
Kari’s question was quiet and unexpected. Hakon jerked his head up with a glint of fear. Then he glanced away, back at Wulfgar. “Yes. It was … it had something. Some sorcery.” Defiantly he looked up at the pale boy on the horse. “An evil sorcery.”
“It attacked you?” Wulfgar asked. “How did you escape?”
“Odin saved me.” He stammered into silence.
One or two of the men glanced at each other.
Skuli sneered. “I’m sorry, my lord. The fool thinks that the god cares for him. Warrior Odin, of all the gods!”
“He does.” Hakon looked straight at Wulfgar. “My lord, two great black birds fell from the sky. They fought off the beast, screaming at it, driving it back into the trees. Who else could have sent them?”
“Who else indeed?” By an iron effort of will Wulfgar did not look at Kari. Skapti grinned, and Brochael snorted with laughter.
“There may be some other explanation for the birds,” the Jarl said quietly. “But why didn’t you climb the tree with the children? It was dangerous to stay below.”
Hakon was silent.
“He couldn’t,” Skuli said bluntly. “We call him Hakon Empty-hand. He can only use the one. The other’s useless.”
Jessa saw the thrall straighten. Both hands hung by his sides. He looked at no one.
After a moment Wulfgar stood up, giving the farmer a cold glare. Then he said, “Thank you—both. This creature has been in my hold and killed one of my men. If it can be killed, I intend to kill it. I’ll need all the men I can get. Come back to the hold with us and have something to eat.” He glanced up, but the ravens were nowhere to be seen. “You may even see something that will surprise you.”
On the way back Jessa maneuvered her horse next to Kari’s. “Slow down. I’ve got something to tell you.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Jessa, you’ve had something to tell me since I got here. It doesn’t take sorcery or runemasters to know that.”
She laughed and took off a glove, flexing her fingers. “The weather’s getting warmer. Have you noticed?”
“It’s warmer than Thrasirshall.”
“Anywhere is.” She looked at him. “It’s about Vidar Freyrspriest.”
The ice-pale eyes glanced at her quickly. “What about him?”
Briefly she told him about the thief at Hollfara, and the man who had opened the door of the house in the Jarlshold.
“It was him, I know it was, but when they sent for him another wretch came, a man called Snorri. Vidar backed him up. It was all lies, and all planned. That’s what worries me. It means Vidar knows the rat-thief and probably what he does. More than that, he knows where he is.”
“In the hold?”
“Or just outside. He’s hiding him. Maybe even takes a share of the money. And what sort of adviser does that make him for Wulfgar? What sort of man of honor? Not only that, Skapti doesn’t like him.”
“Doesn’t he?” He smiled wanly. “Then it must be serious. Did Wulfgar believe you, about the thief?”
She shrugged, looking out over the landscape. “I pretended I was mistaken. I didn’t want to put the priest on his guard. He’s a clever man—he watches people. Have you noticed?”
His smile went. “I’d noticed.” He pushed the hair from his eyes and glanced at her. “And I’ll tell you something else about him. This man Skuli—”
“A real charmer!”
“Yes, well, Vidar knows him. They gave each other one look, just one, but I felt the knowledge of it tingle in my fingers. They know each other. Your Vidar keeps bad company.” He shrugged. “Maybe you should watch him.”
“I’d hoped you’d say that. We could follow him....”
Kari laughed then, something he rarely did, so that Brochael looked back, curious.
“Jessa,” he marveled, “do you think that I could slip about the hold unnoticed? The witch’s son, the sorcerer, the master of ravens? None of them trust me, you saw that. They can’t take their eyes off me. The Snow-walker’s son.” He shrugged bitterly, a little proudly. “Besides, I don’t need to follow him.”
She dragged hair from her face. “I know you don’t.”
“Then tonight, we’ll see what we can see. If your thief is in the hold, we’ll know. I’ll show him to you.”
“Thanks.” She nodded quickly. But the echo of Gudrun was in his voice, and though she hated herself for it, just for a moment, she feared him.
Fifteen
He could not away from me;
nor would I from him.
Crouched between two pines on the ridge of the forest the creature watched them go.
Even from here it could see the different shapes of them, her voice whispering each description in its ear. The dark one; the tall one; the big, bearded one; the one with long hair; the one with the scarred face. And the small, silvery one. My son, her voice murmured.
The creature lurched down to a pool in a hollow, smashing the thin linkings of ice with its claws. Peat brown water lapped at the soil.
Her face looked up at it as it drank, narrow and pale; silvery hair braided about it, her eyes colorless and bright as glass. My enemies, she said. Especially the last one, Kari. He and I are the same, and yet opposites. Once I cursed him that no one would trust him, not even his dearest friends, and he hasn’t forgotten that. She smiled, a sad, bitter smile. That’s the sorrow of power, and its delight.
The rune beast lapped at the brackish water, barely understanding. Water dripped from its raised face, soaking its pelt and the clots of old blood. It felt as if it had been drinking her, taking her coldness into itself. She reached out as if to touch it, and the pool rippled, wave-blown. There are plans working here, she whispered, and not only mine.
Confused, the rune beast tried to summon questions; the patterns of sound slid through its mind and were lost, and she laughed. The creature swung its slow head at the sound.
And each one thinks he plans for himself and is unseen. But I see.
Her reflection dissolved and shimmered; only her voice, like a cold echo of its own hunger, tickled the creature’s ear so that it scrabbled and scratched. Leave thinking to me. I am your thoughts. You’ve done well already. Now take as many as you can. Feast yourself. Take the dark one if you want, the Jarl, the arrogant one. But leave my son alone.
The beast swayed dizzily.
I’d see him betrayed by his friends first. I want him to feel that. Then he’ll act. He won’t be able to help it.