Lord of the Runes (10 page)

Magnus grimaced. “Love. This is our sister we're talking about. Not some starry-eyed girl. She can't go off with a low-ranked rune caster who wanders from land to land with nothing to offer her but the road they walk on.”

“She was a starry-eyed girl once. But that was torn from her.” He faced Magnus and leaned forward, his hands around the mug on the table between them. “Eirik was touching her, and not only did she not try to gut him, though she had a lot of sharp instruments nearby, but she didn't stop him either. What if he, whoever he is, is the only man who can awaken her? Shall we deny her this chance? Maybe it will come to nothing. And if he hurts her in any way, we can always slay him. But should we discount him out of hand until we find out more about him?” He drank down his beer and wiped his mouth. Then he chuckled.

“Perhaps he's actually a misplaced jarl who's wealthy and powerful. Isn't that how the story should go?”

“Should I have any idea what you're talking about?” Magnus sighed in exasperation.

“Gods, I hope not. That would be disturbing.”

“And then there's the tiny detail about his having killed his wife. By his own admission.”

“When he was fevered. Listen, Magnus, I'm not saying let them go for a romp in Asa's bed. Not yet, anyhow. But I think we need to watch and wait. It's going to be a long winter and you never know what's going to happen.” He nodded to a table across the room. “And Estrid has her sights set on him as well. This might be interesting, and the gods know there's not much else to do during the winter but stare at each other.”

Estrid sat at a table with several other women. They were all sewing, but her work lay in her lap, forgotten. She had her chin on her hand and her eyes on Eirik.

“She likely sees him as a way out of here,” Magnus said. “Maybe we should encourage a relationship between them. When he leaves in the late winter, she would go with him and Asa would remain here. We would win twice.”

“What has Eirik done that you would saddle him with such a burden?” Leif frowned into his empty mug as though it offended him. “I wouldn't do so to my worst enemy. Then again, maybe I would. She'd kill him and save me the trouble.”

“You have no enemies, Leif.”

“True. Everyone loves me. I'll have to get some enemies then, so I can foist Estrid on them.” He cocked his head to one side. “Just how
do
you go about making enemies, Magnus?”

“Leif.” Sometimes his brother made him want to pound his head on the table. Of course, he could always pound Leif's head on the table. Much better.

Leif rose, holding his mug. “Don't condemn Eirik to that fate. I rather enjoy his company. Something dark lies within him, as I said. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of it. I would, however, want to fight at his side, if it came to it. Now, all this depressing talk is thirsty work. I think that pretty little serving girl is in the brewing room. I'll just have to persuade her to, oh, fill my mug.” He winked and left.

Magnus sighed. What should have been a quiet winter had started off in a bad way. A fever was raging just outside of the village. The band of outcasts was robbing farmsteads, and the blizzard had brought a stranger to live among them. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to offer Eirik shelter. But what choice did he have? It was the way of their people that they would take in any traveler, especially during the brutal winter in the
fjells
.

And what if the rune caster truly was the one for Asa? He had long ago accepted that he could never force her to marry, no matter how politically advantageous it might be. His own guilt about what had happened to her froze him when it came to decisions about her. If his father had lived, she never would have been hurt. But Magnus had failed her.

He shook his head. What was past was past. Now, everything might have changed. What if he didn't need to persuade her to marry? What if she wanted to wed a man of her own choosing? He had political connections enough. He'd always thought that being with a man would make her miserable, frightened, and angry. Not to mention it might be dangerous for the man, her talent for weapons. What if he kept her from the one man she could love? Might that not be just as destructive to her?

Though the runes had warned him that, through his inaction, he'd cause harm to someone he loved, he'd back off and watch throughout the winter. He'd keep a very close eye on the situation between Eirik and Asa. He wouldn't interfere. For now. Asa was a woman grown, not a young girl. And she was a shieldmaiden. She could handle herself, for he and Leif had given her that.

All he wanted was a peaceful winter to think about where he would trade in the spring. There was always the East, where his father had traveled. Where the sun was warm, the women exotic, and the silver lay in piles on the tables of the merchants. He smiled to himself. Eirik had mentioned that the women glittered like gold—

“Magnus.”

He looked up, blinking that particular vision from his mind. Asa stood in front of him, pain in her eyes. “What's wrong, Asa?”

“We've lost Alv. He died from the fever and now Hetha is ill.”

He closed his eyes.

So much for his brief moment of dreaming.

* * *

The pillar of smoke from the pyre rose heavy and thick over the trees. Eirik tilted his head back to watch it flow into the low clouds. It elevated Alv to the other worlds where he would dwell. It was a fitting ceremony for him, and his ancestors would be pleased.

Asa stood with her brothers. She had dressed as befitted the sister of a jarl, with a fine wool gown, hemmed with colorful ribbons and fastened at the shoulders with two gold brooches. Her cloak was of white fur, closed with another intricate gold brooch. A string of amber and rock crystal, hung with silver charms and coins, dangled between the brooches on her gown. Her hair hung free, showing her unmarried state, and it shone like a sunset over the western sea. Falling snow settled on it, diamonds nestled in fire.

She stood, quiet and reserved, as they all did. Her eyes shone a bit too bright, as though she was on the verge of tears. But she would never show her grief. No one would.

As the flames died down, the people walked away toward the longhouse. Eirik stayed behind, listening to the crackling of the pyre. He had not been able to attend the funeral for his father, and he needed to remember to keep himself from becoming too complacent. The fire of revenge must continue to burn in him, strong and bloody. The thought of his mother's and sister's suffering was ever in his mind, fanning the blaze.

They'd eat the deer the men had hunted the previous day, but the feast for the dead wouldn't take place for another week. It involved a great deal of drinking and marked the true end of life. He had never drunk to his father's life. After he returned home and regained his birthright, he would remedy that. He'd host a
sjaund
unlike his people had ever witnessed.

First, he had to honor another man. He went into the warm stables. His horse nickered to him and he entered the stall and stroked his thick neck. The gelding nuzzled at him, looking for the carrot he often brought.

“I don't have anything right now.” He chuckled as the horse nipped his cloak. He was hardly lacking for food, for there was a large pile of hay in the corner. “But I'll get something for you at the feast this day.” He ruffled his mane, stepped back out of the stall, and walked to the back where the stableboys often sat. They had a small brazier there and the heat from it, combined with that of the horses, cows, sheep, and other livestock, made the stable warmer than the longhouse was.

“Sjurd?”

The young brown-haired man rose with an easy smile and came over to him. “Yes, rune caster.” He glanced back at the others, then said in a low voice, “I found a place that may have what you're looking for. And there's a small storage shed out behind the stables where you can work without anyone knowing.”

Eirik smiled. He'd spoken with Sjurd many times about his horse, and he was a good man. He'd taken him into his confidence about his plans, for he would need help to implement them. He'd also promised him a gold coin for his silence.

“Then tomorrow we can go?”

“Yes, rune caster. As soon as I've finished my chores. It'll be daylight by then.”

“Excellent. I'll be here.”

He walked to the longhouse. The snow fell harder and he bent his head against it, so he didn't see Estrid until he almost ran into her. He'd wanted to avoid her. She'd watched him in the past days, when he was playing
tafl
with Leif, or just speaking with the other men in the common room. Her attention on him appeared to sharpen after he'd read her runes, though he couldn't remember saying anything encouraging.

“You didn't come back right away, so I wanted to be certain you hadn't become lost in the falling snow.” She gazed up at him, moistening her lips.

Coldness lay in her blue eyes, like a layer of ice over the water of a still lake. Her beauty left him untouched, sending a chill into his heart. It was obvious she wanted to find him here by himself. The snow wasn't falling so hard he couldn't see the longhouse a short distance away. And if he could see it, anyone there could see them, as well.

He needed to get her back to the others, but he couldn't be impolite. “Then we'll both head back there now. We wouldn't want to be late to the meal.”

She smiled and tried to take his arm. But he tucked her hand back under her cloak and pulled it around her.

“It's too cold out here. Stay warm inside your cloak. You wouldn't want to catch the fever.”

“That's thoughtful of you.” She walked close beside him, leaning against him when she could. “The ground is slippery and you're so solid and strong.”

He kept himself from rolling his eyes and was careful to disengage himself from her by opening the door so she could enter before him. Once they were inside, he nodded to her and squeezed himself onto a bench at an occupied table so she couldn't sit next to him.

He'd had women chase after him before, but he could always leave in a ship and sail on to their next stop. Although there was that girl in Gotland . . .

That was long in the past. And he might be stuck here for the winter, but he was hardly defenseless. If it came to it, he would have to let Estrid down gently. Unease curled through his mind. Was this his gut warning him? It had saved his life more than once. But that was on the battlefield. What harm could a young, pampered woman do to him?

He thanked the serving girl who set a platter of venison in front of him, and speared a slice with his knife. That night, he'd think on the runes for Asa's dragon. Then, he would help her draw and carve them. They'd be very close then, his hand on hers, whispering the right words, showing her just how to carve them. Perhaps if Estrid saw that, it would dissuade her from her pursuit. That way, he wouldn't have to let her down. Her pride should keep her away.

He didn't want to give Asa the wrong idea, though. And yet, she didn't seem to harbor any fantasies where life was concerned. She saw clearly.

The image of Asa's warm brown eyes melted the lingering ice around his heart.

* * *

“Have any of the men from the village been up this way?”

Eirik studied the footprints. The snow had stopped during the night, so these could have been made any time since then. But he didn't like how close they were to the holding.

Sjurd knelt beside him and touched the prints. “No, not since the fall when we gathered the animals from the slopes for the winter. The animals we don't slaughter for meat stay in the barns until the grass returns. There would be no reason for anyone to be up here now. Except for us.”

Eirik smiled as Sjurd stood. “And I doubt anyone else would be here looking for a stone for carving. You were right. These are fine.”

A cliff on the side of the mountain was exposed and part of it had come down. Several large, flat stones lay on the ground. He could use any of them. He loosened his sword in its sheath. The outcasts weren't often bold enough to come this close to a jarl's house, but if they were desperate enough for food, they might risk it.

He and Sjurd walked through the stones until one caught his eye. It was half his height, about as wide as his arm was long, and flat on one side. Perfect. Perhaps the gods were smiling on him for doing this and had guided him to this place.

That, and Sjurd. He was proving very helpful and resourceful, and perhaps he knew of tools he could use. Many farms had hammers and chisels for other purposes. If he asked Asa for some of her tools, she'd have to know why. And most of her tools were iron. The metal would clash with the power of the runes. Though it was softer, a copper chisel would be best.

He needed to figure out a way to get the stone down the slope and into the small storage shed. Once it was there, he'd work on it whenever he could, in secret. Magnus had a sled. If he could use it, and his own horse, it just might work. Between Sjurd and him, they could lever it up onto the sled.

The hair on the back of his neck rose. Keeping his head still, he scanned the area around them. Nothing moved, but they were being watched.

“I have an idea of how to get this stone down to the holding,” he said. “Let's head back.” He didn't want to alarm Sjurd. The young man likely hadn't had a chance to fight much yet, living as he did with merchants. Eirik could hold his own, especially against outcasts, but if he had to protect Sjurd also, it could get dangerous.

Once they returned to the village, Eirik studied the slopes behind them. Perhaps the outcasts often came this close and it was nothing out of the ordinary. He would let Magnus know. But what could he tell him about why he'd been up there? The runes. He'd never lie about any aspect of them, but he could say it had to do with them. No one would question him further, having too much respect for his art. His mother had been right in thinking his talent would be to his advantage.