The Wizard And The Warlord (7 page)

Dagrun propelled Sigurd from the chamber and closed the door, muttering, “That’s a fine show of gratitude, even for a Scipling. A worse case of conceit I never saw. Whatever is in that box, I’m sure you’re not worthy of it. I hope you’re not thinking of maybe running away from Hrafnborg. If you are, you’ll have to match your wits against mine, and I’m a clever old dog, I assure you. I’ll see to it everyone here knows your inclinations. You shall be restricted to the area within the earthwork to start with, unless you’d rather begin by being locked up for a while. How much freedom you continue to enjoy here depends upon your actions.“

Sigurd surveyed Dagrun’s authoritative posture and the menacing look of command in his eye and decided he had underestimated the man’s authority, as well as his cunning. It would be difficult to escape with Dagrun so suspicious of him, but it was apparent that escape would be Sigurd’s first priority, since Dagrun was already threatening him with imprisonment. The threat was likely to become action at a capricious whim of Dagrun’s.

“I shall attempt to be sensible,” he replied, with a touch of sarcasm. Dagrun raised one gingery eyebrow, but decided to let it pass for the present.

“Time alone will prove it,” the Alfar answered gloomily and beckoned to Rolfr. “Come here, you jackdaw; I have an assignment for you.”

Rolfr looked dismayed for a moment. “What have I done now? I thought I was reasonably blameless for once, Dagrun. Unless it was that witch Ragnhild,” he added in a murmur.

“Never mind, you great calf. This Scipling is your assignment. I want you to billet him near you, and you’re to keep both your eyes upon him so he doesn’t foolishly wander into mischief. I know I’m telling the goat to guard the grain, but you’re the low man on the roster, and we can spare you the most easily from the patrols. It’s senseless to try to advise you not to discredit Hrafnborg and Halfdane to this stranger, but I order you to win him over to our side and make him understand the desperate threat the Dokkalfar are to civilization in general. You do comprehend, don’t you?”

Rolfr’s expression changed from one of woe to astonishment and elation. He turned to Sigurd and shook his hand. “Well, then! You see, Siggi, I knew we’d become great friends. I’m sure we have a natural sympathy for one another. It will be a pleasure getting you settled. You’ll share withold Adillsandme, if you’ve no objection to a moldering cellar of a room, and old wizard, and sixteen dozen bats—and me, of course.”

Sigurd had no time for any questions and managed only a parting scowl for Dagrun before Rolfr led him away on a tour of inspection over the entire hill fort. The houses and barns ranged from small wattle-and-daub huts to expansive longhouses where several families resided together, often accompanied by their horses and other livestock at one end. Sigurd observed watchmen everywhere on the earthwork and the cliffs; no approaching enemy could escape detection—nor could anyone conveniently depart by stealth.

Rolfr’s quarters were in the sunken remains of an old round tower that had probably been on the site long before the hill fort. Most of the roof was gone, but that was no matter to Rolfr, since he lodged in what seemed to be a cellar beneath it. Plenty of light filtered through a large rent in the stone flooring overhead, where the supporting posts had rotted away and collapsed. Rolfr explained that he hung something over it in the winter; otherwise it was very convenient for letting out smoke when he wanted a fire and for looking at the stars.

Sigurd stumbled down a short flight of shifty stone steps and knocked his head on a beam, causing a sifting of dust to fall on him. The place seemed more like the inside of a well, furnished with beds, a table, and a tangled disorder of saddles, bows, and cloaks and boots. Seated at the table was a very old man, sitting primly upright and fast asleep with a book in his hands. The end of his beard lay across the book, and a cat was curled inside out on it, twitching in its sleep.

“Well, here it is. I hope you like it. You’ll sleep over there,” Rolfr said, pointing to a heap that might have concealed a straw tick. “Plenty of fresh air and light, lots of room if we move some of Adills’ lumber around a bit, and nobody will bump you out because they’ve been fighting more years than you have. Nobody wants to share quarters with old Adills, and he’s been here longer than anything, not to mention the bats.”

“This is the wizard?” Sigurd lowered his voice and looked at Adills with awe.

“No need to lower your voice; when he’s like that, he’s deaf as a post. Older than the roots of Yggdrasil and forgetful as the middle of last week, but he’ll still show you a thing or two. He’s helping me study to be an apprentice to a wizard. Those are the bats.” He nodded upward at the high gloomy recesses of the ceiling, where the bats hung in sober festoons. Their tiny eyes winked at Sigurd in the darkness.

Sigurd stepped back. “You must be crazy to want to stay in a place like this. It would be better to sleep on the floor in the hall than with all those bats. And that wizard—what’s the matter with him? Are you sure he’s not dead? A person can’t sleep sitting up like that.” He looked around him in contempt, feeling another clutch of homesickness as he compared the disorder to Thorarna’s orderly way of doing things.

Rolfr shrugged, undisconcerted. “I’d rather have my own place, even if it is rather unusual, than no place of my own in Halfdane’s hall. Sometimes I even do my own cooking down here; and in the winter, it’s quite cozy. No drafts, you know. Adills doesn’t mind the company, although the bats aren’t friendly and sometimes they get noisy at night. I expect they’ve been here as long as Adills, and he’s nearly fossilized. He won’t bother you. He’s very seldom awake. I haven’t seen him move for over a week.” He saw Sigurd’s outraged expression and hastened to add, “Oh, don’t worry about it, that’s just the way wizards are sometimes. You know how bears hibernate, don’t you?”

“How?” Sigurd demanded truculently, but Rolfr chose not to hear him and went on chattering about some sort of nonsense, constellations and falling stars and eclipses of the moon. Sigurd sat down experimentally on his bed, after shoving off some boots and an old horse cloth. He lay down, keeping the box under his arm, astonished at how wonderfully comfortable he suddenly felt. In a moment he was asleep, leaving Rolfr rattling on about cooking up a huge mess of something on their own fire, just the way it ought to be done, and not murdered the way Halfdane’s cooks would do it.

When Sigurd finally awakened, he looked around at the unfamiliar room, trying to remember where he was. His reason struggled to deny that he was actually inside an Alfar stronghold in the hidden realm, but his eyes beheld the strange evidence in the form of old Adills, still sleeping bolt upright over his book at the table. Rolfr sat on the other side of the room, polishing a saddle and some boots.

As Sigurd watched, Rolfr pointed to a boot brush on the floor beside Sigurd and the brush promptly slithered across the beaten earth toward Rolfr. With a twitch of his shoulder, Rolfr closed the door behind him, which was making a draft, and a slight nod urged another stick of wood onto the small fire crackling invitingly in the center of the floor. He whistled softly to himself without looking up. In a moment he said, “Now that you’ve slept away a day and a half, don’t you think it’s time to get up and start learning to be an Alfar, Siggi? If you’re going to stay with us, you may as well become one, don’t you think?”

Sigurd sat up stiffly, stretching his exhausted muscles. “A day and a half I’ve slept? Well, I’m not surprised. I didn’t get much rest with those trolls digging at the roof every night. If you think you can make an ordinary Scipling into an Alfar, you’re perfectly welcome to try, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do the things I just saw you doing.”

Rolfr’s mouth fell open. “What? You mean polishing boots? There’s nothing to it, Siggi. You just—”

“No, no. I meant all those little tricks you just did. Like shutting the door without touching it and making the brush come to you. That’s rather spooky, Rolfr.”

“Those are nothing,” Rolfr exclaimed. “You should see some of the old Alfar, and Adills, and the other wizards. An infant can do these simple things, but it takes years of study and practice to get your power in your control, so you can do wonderful things like shape-shifting, treasure hunting, and repelling spells and curses. Or better yet, casting spells and curses. I should be an apprentice right now, but my family was too poor to get me articled, so I joined Halfdane. I am a tolerably good shot with a bow. When I’ve learned enough on my own, perhaps I can beg a decent wizard to let me work for my keep.“

“What about Adills?” Sigurd nodded toward the old wizard.

‘“He’s very helpful, but he spends most of his time in his fylgja form, spying upon the Dokkalfar. He teaches me when he can, and I pester Mikla to show me what he learns from Jotull. You’ll have to get to know Mikla. He’s not much older than we are and an admirable little fellow, when he can escape from Jotull long enough to have some fun.”

“I’m simply starved, Rolfr. I’d rather have something to eat,” Sigurd said a little irritably. “And you might remember that I’m not an Alfar, and I doubt if you can teach me much.”

Rolfr pulled on his boots, “Halfdane’s got a decent meal tonight, for a change. Sometimes he’s too heavy on the bread and cheese and a little close with the meat, but last night’s patrol killed a bear, so there’s plenty of fresh meat for a while. You’re not very pleased to be here, are you, Siggi?”

Sigurd averted his eyes, wondering if Alfar possessed the ability to read thoughts. If so, Rolfr would know that his only desire was to escape from fee restrictions of Halfdane.

“No, I’m used to having my freedom,” Sigurd replied. “No one has ever told me where I can’t go or what I can’t do. I get the idea that all of you men here are nothing but Halfdane’s puppets. You certainly jump when he or Dagrun says leap.”

Rolfr lost his benign expression for a moment. “Siggi, one important lesson you must learn in this realm is not to bite the hand that feeds you, or vice versa. I know the Sciplings have their earls and rulers; surely there was someone you owed fealty to.”

“No, never, not even with the vikings,” Sigurd replied proudly. “Thongullsfjord had no need of governors. We were all equals.”

“I don’t mind having Halfdane for a lord,” Rolfr said, “although I do complain about the food and accommodations sometimes In a desperate situation such as the Ljosalfar are in now, it’s wise to ally yourself with someone far stronger. I know it must seem like a frightful loss of freedom to you, but it works out best in the long run for everybody.”

Sigurd put on his cloak “Let’s go eat, shall we?” They left Adills and the cat still sleeping soundly. A night patrol was leaving as they emerged from Rolfr’s grotto. Twenty riders cantered past, exchanging insults in high spirits and bidding farewell to their companions who were staying behind. Sigurd looked to see if it was Halfdane leading them, with the notion that perhaps he might not be so well watched if Halfdane and Dagrun were gone.

“That’s Alfgeirr’s patrol,” Rolfr told him “It goes out six days and then rests here for six days for five turns, then Sjaundi’s and Toki’s patrols take five turns while Halfdane’s and Alfgeirr’s guard the hill fort. As soon as I’m off home duty, I hope you’ll ride with Halfdane. I’ll see to it you get a decent horse ”

The hall was crowded with men noisily enjoying the company of their fhends and the huge haunches of roast bear meat, charred black on the outside and pink and succulent on the inside. Roifr cleared a space for them to sit, amid much good-natured banter on both sides and friendly nods to Sigurd from the others, who knew that nothing was more unwelcome to a stranger than questions and too much curiosity. The food and drink were excellent. As soon as Sigurd dispatched one slab of tender meat, someone flung another piece onto his plate with gruff generosity. The mitigating effects of the ale soon con vinced him that the Alfar were the finest, jolhest fellows he had ever known. Once he glanced toward the dais where Halfdane and Dagrun and other important Alfar sat and met the warlord’s baleful gaze with a haughty stare. It was then that he discovered a girl sitting among the grizzled warnors and wearing the same arrogant expression as Halfdane. She was richly dressed in red, with a fine shawl over her shoulders fastened with a large brooch, she wore her hair in a coil of braids around her head.

“Who’s that? His daughter?” Sigurd asked Rolfr.

“No, you dolt, that’s a cousin of his. She’s here because the rest of her family is dead and Halfdane is her only relation. Her name is Ragnhild, and I’m madly in love with her, although she does have the worst disposition you can imagine. If she were a berserkr, she’d have all of Skarpsey quivering in terror. Her temper makes all the milk in the dairy go sour if she just walks past the open door. I think she had a troll for a nurse to learn such savagery. ” Rolfr smiled and sighed in admiration. “She hates me from the depths of her very soul and never fails to do me the most abominable tricks. She’s done me a particularly grievous wrong lately, Siggi, and I want you to help me get even with her. I happened to commit a regrettable mistake last week and she was tattling to Halfdane almost before I knew what I’d done. She is delighted whenever she can get me into trouble. You see, I’m also a poor and distant relative of Halfdane’s, and she thinks I’m not quite as good as the dirt under her feet.”

Sigurd shook his head. “You must be crazy, Rolfr. You say you’re madly in love with this creature?” He looked at Ragnhild and found her unfriendly gaze fixed upon him, as if she had guessed what Rolfr was saying. Sigurd had never encountered such an alert and terrible gaze since Trygvi’s vicious old bull had chased him.

“Yes, indeed, Siggi. One day she’ll tire of abusing me and begin to admire me for my persistence. But in the meantime, you’ve got to help me humiliate her. I have an excellent plan.”

Sigurd looked away from Ragnhild’s challenging glare. “I don’t think I want to get involved in your petty broils with Ragnhild. It sounds like madness to me.”