“All three of you,” said Karin, looking at the kings and queen, “came north seeking a lost daughter or son, and two of you have found them.”
“Valmar had better just be lost in the woods at home,” growled Hadros, then stopped, raising his eyebrows. “All three of us?”
“I think,” said Karin, looking levelly at the queen, “that it is time to tell Roric his real parentage.”
Roric clapped his hands over his ears. “I told the Witch that I renounced all knowledge of my father.”
Queen Arane took a deep breath. “You shall not learn of your father from me. But I think it time that you learned of your mother.”
The telling took a while. Hadros was at first furious, then abruptly began to laugh. “Fooled by a woman!” he said, slapping his knee. “You knew I was ready to believe, wanted to believe my own wife’s barrenness was not due to me. And you also knew that a king’s son, even if not acknowledged, would be brought up fit to rule. Are you going to tell us more about that winter when somebody fathered this lad?”
Roric mostly looked stunned. “This is not the kin I thought I had. I always assumed I was the son of a serving-maid, not a queen!”
“How about it, No-man’s son?” Hadros said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Ready to conquer yourself a kingdom as I’ve been trying to persuade you to do?”
“How about mine?” asked Queen Arane.
Roric stared at her. “You are suggesting that I bring warships and pillage-”
“Not at all,” she said with a smile. “I am suggesting you appear before my kingdom’s Gemot and have them elect you as my heir. It will be difficult enough persuading some of my powerful lords, especially the ones who have long hoped to become heirs themselves, for you to find all the glory you want.”
Hadros reached into his belt pouch and pulled out something. He flipped it to Roric who caught it one-handed. “If you’re planning to become a king,” Hadros said gruffly, “I guess you won’t want to be my sworn man anymore. But you might as well have your ring back.”
Roric suddenly grinned at Arane. “I presume some of the potential heirs to your kingdom would not mind trying to assassinate me? I’ll do all the sword can do to persuade them I’ll make a good king. And my queen,” with a squeeze of Karin’s hand, “will do all the persuasion at which women excel.”
By late afternoon they were ready to leave. Roric and some of Arane’s warriors had climbed up to the dragon’s den and come away with as much treasure as they could carry, but before they left they levered huge stones into the entrance. All the old stories agreed that a dragon’s hoard was always cursed, and that if any man tried to carry away more than a reasonable amount he would become consumed himself-by greed, or by the next dragon to scent the gold.
The ship had been afloat for three hours without leaking any more than might be expected, and Hadros declared it ready for the sea. “We’re too far from home for a raven-message,” he said, “but in a few days we should be able to send one to Dag and Nole and reassure them they were not visited by wights from Hel.” He added, half under his breath, “But if Valmar is there they already know that.”
“If any of the Fifty Kings were planning to conquer Eirik’s kingdom,” commented King Kardan cheerfully, “we should tell them this is no fit place for a man to rule. I’m glad you set the prisoners free, Hadros; trying to live on here is the worst punishment anyone could wish on a band of outlaws.”
With Karin with him again, he thought, he should be able to end his sorrowful worry, to enjoy watching her and the grandchild he should have sometime next year. He could rule as king for a few more years, give her time to gain a little more knowledge of the kingdom and its governance before becoming sovereign queen. Home was a good place to be.
But he had, he thought, strangely enjoyed this trip, now that it was ending happily-at least for him. Next time, perhaps he should invite Hadros to go somewhere a little more civilized in his longship.
They were about to push the ship out into the channel when Kardan saw someone coming along the salt river from the direction of the sea: two people, he realized, a man and a woman, walking with hands clasped. The woman was young and dark haired; the man had a full red beard and was powerfully muscled. King Hadros beside him let out a gasp.
“I know I am not yet of age, Father,” called Valmar. It had to be Valmar, Kardan thought, but he seemed both bigger and older than the boy he remembered. Hadros had sprung from the ship to the beach and was pounding toward him, stiff leg or no stiff leg. “So I shall have to ask your permission. I would like to be married.”
5
Roric and Valmar stood at dawn in a circle formed by all the warriors. Each held a gold ring and waited for his bride.
Men always waited and women always came, to make it clear that the women were not being married against their wills. But Roric thought that Karin and Wigla seemed to be taking their own time about it, having chosen as the starting point for their procession a rock a quarter mile away and coming at a leisurely stroll, talking and laughing with each other.
Hadros, grumbling, had agreed that another day’s delay would make no difference. Now that Valmar was back and the blood-fee paid with the dragon’s wealth, Roric was freed from his blood-guilt, and since Valmar most definitely did not think himself betrothed to Karin there was no reason for the two couples not to be wed at once. Hadros had mumbled that he was not sure he wanted his heir to marry a woman without kin who looked to him like a siren, but there was no force in his objection.
“So you think there will be fewer wars in mortal realms now?” Roric asked Valmar as they watched the women slowly approach.
“There should be. But mortal realms were not remade, only the lands of voima. It may be generations before the change is complete, before humans are able both to follow the wandering paths of glory and to keep hearth and home-theirs and others’-safe and secure.”
“Eirik’s men may have trouble adapting to the change,” Roric commented.
“I’m looking forward,” said Valmar with a grin, “to hearing how my brothers did defending the castle against them.” He paused for a moment, then added, “They will be surprised when we all arrive, married to those they will think are the wrong people.”
“Oh, I think I can keep there from being talk about my wife,” said Roric lightly, tapping his fingers on his sword.
“And I can assure that no one says anything against the purity and constancy of my sister,” said Valmar.
The two women were slowly drawing closer. “Men and women have never been as clearly separated in their abilities as the Wanderers seemed to think,” said Roric thoughtfully. “Why do we men wander far, after all, if not to return at last, at the end of adventuring, to make a secure hearth and home?”
Valmar glanced at him sideways. “I think I figured that out myself.”
“It would be good,” Roric continued, “if more men could have women like Karin along with them, doing the plotting and planning, rather than thinking honor required them to be left at home.”
“And I think you shall find, if you face her in the practice ring, that Wigla’s as good a warrior as most men.” Valmar hesitated for a moment, then asked as though casually, “In your experiences in Hel and in the realms of voima, did you ever learn your father’s name?”
Roric shook his head. “I have renounced knowledge of my father. I had thought it would be hard knowledge to give up, but in fact it frees me. I have kin now and a mother, but I have no father, glorious or inglorious, either after whom I have to mold myself or else whose shame I have to overcome. My identity as No-man’s son will satisfy me well.”