Bjarni?s sister Gudrun took a basin of water and moved around the great room, sprinkling each one with drops flicked from a twig and murmuring: ?With water from the Well of Wyrd
All ill that has been;
All ill now becoming;
All ill that shall be;
I banish away.?
The younger godwoman took a drum and began to beat it; a walrus-ivory ring skittered across the taut surface, making the beat throb with a burring tone that filled the hall. She spoke from her stool, her voice low and hieratic: ?This hall is hallowed for Heimdall?s children,
Safe we sit at the sacred center.
Who will dare the waiting darkness?
Who will walk the way of wisdom?? ?I will,? Heidhveig said.
The seeress? voice was hoarse but strong. Rudi felt the skin prickle on his neck and between his shoulders as she pulled the thin veil draped around her shoulders over her head, so that it hid her face. When Thorlind spoke again, her words seemed to come from a depth-from a cave, perhaps, or a wildwood, or simply from the deeps of time: ?Sink down, then, and be at ease. You know the road well, the way through the Wood between the Worlds, and the plain of Midgard that lies within. Fare onward, wise one, down and around beneath the root of the Tree…?
Rudi found his own eyes closing, images forming behind them as the woman went on, leading them from world to world and depth to depth, to the very walls of Hella?s kingdom, that he had never expected to see as a living man. ?Down and around we fare, until we come to the Eastern Gate. Here we must wait. For one and one only the gate will open…?
Rudi sighed, resisting the unexpected attraction of that passage to the Otherworld. He could feel Matti sitting stiff beside him, and squeezed her hand, as much to keep himself firmly grounded as to comfort her.
Thorlind spoke again: ?The gate to knowledge gapes before us.
Seeress, is it your will to go through?? ?It is,? the seeress said.
Thorlind began to sing; one by one the rest of the Bjornings joined in. The tune was strange, full of odd sharps. It had a feel of ancientry to it, like old stone still strong but covered in moss and worn with the rains and frost of countless years: ?Seeress, thy way through the worlds thou must win,
Farther and faster and deeper within,
Fare onward, ever onward, ever on.?
Then she spoke sharply:?Tell us what thou dost see??
Heidhveig?s voice was distant, as if she told of a dream: ?I see the dark lake and on it the black swan swimming.
On the shore many fires are burning.
The ancestors are awake and waiting.
What would you know??
Thorlind chanted: ?The spell is spoken, the Seeress waits Is there one here who would ask a question??
For a long moment Rudi thought nobody would; the tension in the hall was palpable, almost like a taste of something sharp and acrid at the back of the mouth. Eyes gleamed in the shadows about.
Then the godhi stood. He cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that carried through the halclass="underline" ?I?ve a dispute with the men of the Hrossings. Both tribes have used the land between the Old West Road and Blood Creek for pasture in the summer and for hunting, but our numbers grow and we need to clear and till land there. Bjorning steadings are closer and the empty land should be ours alone, at least as far as the river. How shall we end this quarrel? Will Godhi Syfrid see reason, or shall we take it to the Althing and the law-speakers? Or must swords be drawn??
The gydhja spoke: ?Cease not, seeress, till said thou hast,
Answer the asker till all he knows.? ?I see the autumn woods,? Heidhveig said, her voice distant.?The stags are fighting. They clash their antlers, tear up the soil, grunting and heaving. The does are watching. Oh… there are wolves in the woods. They circle and leap, carry off some of the does…?
There was a sharp intake of breath in the Hall, and a moment of silence before the seeress went on. Her voice was less distant now, as if she had come halfway back to the world of men: ?I see now the meaning. You and Syfrid are so busy butting heads you don?t see what?s going on around you.?
The tension broke in laughter; Bjarni flushed but flung up a hand for silence, and the seeress went on: ?Watch out, or the human wolves will destroy what you?re fighting over.?
There was a ripple of comment in the hall; Rudi thought he heard approval. ?Ask for a meeting. You may have to give up something to make peace, but that?s better than losing all. It?s an ill time for good Norrheim men to draw blades on each other. This you know, would you know more?? ?Thank you, seeress,? Bjarni said drily.?I think I understand.. .?
The gydhja spoke, her tone formaclass="underline" ?Well hast thou asked and well been answered. Is there another who has a question??
A woman stood, young enough that some of the awkwardness of girlhood still clung about her. Rudi would have judged her to be two years short of Edain?s twenty. Loose hair of a dark yellow color like old honey fell past her shoulders, confined by a headband, which probably meant by the custom of these folk that she was unwedded; at least, most of the women older than she wore theirs braided and bound. Her hands knotted in front of her until she forced them still, licked her lips and stood proudly erect, ignoring the eyes upon her and the murmur of surprise. When she spoke her voice was firm and clear, though light: ?Sigurd Jeansson, called the Bold, my betrothed, has been gone since the fall harvest. He went north in viking with the men of Westmanland-thorpe to seek tools and trade goods in the dead cities, so that we might take up land and make our own homestead this spring at snowmelt, and be wed. When will he return to me??
The gydhja chanted: ?Cease not, seeress, till said thou hast,
Answer the asker till all she knows.?
Heidhveig sighed and bent her head beneath the veil.?I call the raven to my aid and take her form. Together we wing northward over mountain and forest and lake. I see a mighty river, and on its banks bare-branched trees beneath a sky like steel; ice floats in the water. A great bridge of the old world spans the broad flood, half fallen, and the current foams beneath it. Tall fire-scorched ruins rise on an island to the west. Was it to the Royal Mountain that he was to have gone?? ?Yes.? ?I can see boats on the river, a long canoe heavy with cargo, the Hammer painted on it and eight paddlers within. One is tall and ruddy, with black hair and a war sark of dark leather sewn with steel rings; he has a scar that turns a streak in his beard white. Is this your man??
The girl nodded, and the seidhkona continued: ?The other boats pursue it. They are many and fierce, some with their faces painted, some with strings of fingerbones about their necks. A man in a red robe with a rayed sun upon his breast leads them.?
Rudi?s breath hissed between his teeth. I know your mark, ill-wreaker! he thought savagely.
The voice of the seeress went on: ?They are shooting arrows-?
The girl gasped and stretched out a hand to the table to support herself. Her fair skin went chalk white, and her eyes very wide. ?Men fall in the canoe that flees; it slows, it cannot escape. It turns and drives towards the boats that pursue. More arrows fly, and then spears and hatchets. The man in the ring-sark takes up a great ax and leaps into the boats of those that harry him, into the midst of many foes. He is laughing as he strikes, he calls on the Allfather to receive him-?
The old woman fell silent again, then went on with a curious gentleness: ?If this is the boat your man was in, I fear he will not return to you. I am sorry. There is no more.?
The girl shook. Her voice choked as she spoke: ?All men are born fey. My Sigurd met his fate unflinching and feasts this Yule with the einherjar in Vallhol-?