The next morning, we awoke to the wonderful smell of fried ham and eggs. The rooms Freya and Pratyi had provided our party opened onto the great hall, so as soon as we were decent, Jane and I stepped out, sat down, and dug in.
Veethar and Meuhlnir sat across from us, each intent on a bowl of something that looked like steaming mud. Of our hosts and the others, there was no sign.
“Early birds?” I asked between mouthfuls.
Veethar glanced at me and turned his gaze back to his mud, or whatever it was.
Meuhlnir swallowed and took a drink. “No birds,” he said. He pointed at his bowl with his spoon. “It’s a mixture of—”
“No, like the expression…you know, the early bird gets the worm?”
Veethar shook his head without looking up. “All birds eat worms,” he muttered.
“Oh,” grunted Meuhlnir with an amused glance at Veethar. “The women are still sleeping or doing whatever woman-thing they do in the morning.”
“I can see why they threaten to beat you all the time,” said Jane with a quirky smile.
“They do that because my prettiness leaves them in a state of exultant awe, and they don’t want anyone to know.”
“Ah,” said Jane. “Good to know.” She looked around the hall. “Are Mothi and Sig outside?”
Veethar nodded and spooned another glop of the foul-looking stuff from his bowl into his mouth.
“They were leaving as I came out,” said Meuhlnir. “Boys will be boys.”
“Could… I mean, given last night, could that be dangerous? Sig running around Suelhaym?”
“Mothi is with him,” said Meuhlnir with a shrug. “And in any case, I don’t think the Black Queen is prepared to act at this moment.”
Jane nodded.
“But she knows where we are,” I said. “And that’s not good.”
“No,” said Veethar.
“I gave this some thought last night. We will need to evade her watchers as we did before we traveled to Piltsfetl to rescue Jane and Sig.”
“Another glamor? Would that work twice?”
Meuhlnir shrugged but looked uncomfortable. “Who can say? But letting her maintain such an advantage is sheer folly.”
“Agreed. We don’t need more sea dragons following us. I wish I had any idea how we could pull it off.”
“It’s good I came along, then,” boomed Mothi as he came through the door.
“Oh, yes,” said Meuhlnir. “We need someone to wash dishes.”
“I’ll wash you, old man. But, hey, if you don’t want to hear the answer to your dilemma, I can go back outside and teach Sig more curse words in the Gamla Toonkumowl.”
“You better not be teaching him to curse,” said Jane.
Mothi shrugged. “All boys curse.”
“And all mothers kick the asses of those who teach their boys to curse in the Gamla Toonkumowl, big-ass axes or not.
“What’s the solution, Mothi?” I asked with a wry grin.
“Lottfowpnir, here,” he said, stepping aside and ushering the karl inside the great hall. “If you recall, he and his father deal in textiles, shipping goods to and fro along the coast.”
“Of course,” muttered Veethar.
“Ah, that may be the first good idea you’ve thought of before I did, Son,” said Meuhlnir.
Mothi scoffed, grinning and rolling his eyes.
“Greetings again, Yarls,” said Lottfowpnir. “Mothi has said you want to leave town unseen. I believe I can help with that.”
“Before you say any more,” I said, holding up my hand. “You should know what you are up against. The Dark Queen, herself, is the one we need to evade. She knows we are in Suelhaym—in this house—and she knows where we’re going. She won’t look kindly on you or your family if you help us.”
Lottfowpnir shrugged. “We are beneath her notice.”
“Not if you help us,” warned Meuhlnir. “The woman holds many a grudge.”
“She’s an evil woman,” said Lottfowpnir and then he paled as if he just remembered we were all yarls. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so. She’ll manufacture a grudge if it suits her, so I might as well act as I see fit.”
“Well said.”
“How do we do it?” I asked.
“I have a caravan leaving today. We can hide most of you in the carts until we are well outside the city. We can put your horses in the traces, and no one will be the wiser.”
“I’m not sure those horses will appreciate—”
“I’ll handle it,” said Veethar. “They will do as I ask.”
“Has anyone found Althyof yet?”
“He stumbled in around dawn. Drunk.” Meuhlnir hooked his thumb toward a room near the door. “That’s his.”
“At least we won’t have to put on a search,” I sighed. “Can you accommodate all twelve of us? Is the caravan large enough?”
“There will be fourteen,” said Freya from the doorway to the kitchens. “Pratyi and I are coming along, as well.”
Meuhlnir and Veethar glanced at each other but said nothing.
“We are coming, Meuhlnir.”
“Freya, I never said otherwise.”
“Well…good. We’re packing now. How soon do we leave?”
Meuhlnir arched an eyebrow at Lottfowpnir. “At your convenience,” the karl said.
Meuhlnir nodded. “And how do we get from the palace to your caravan?”
“My father owns a warehouse close by. With Lady Freya’s permission, I will send carts to pick up linens and rugs, as if you were sending them out for cleaning. From there—”
“No, that won’t do,” said Freya.
“It’s for show, Lady Freya. You won’t—”
“No!” she snapped. “My sister would see through that in half a breath.”
Meuhlnir quirked his eyebrow at her. “What wouldn’t she see?”
“Instruct your caravan to stop here on their way out of town. I will make substantial purchases—enough that the fourteen of us will fit in the space left by what I buy.”
“Uh… Yes, Lady,” said Lottfowpnir.
Freya tossed a purse to him, and from the look of it, it was heavy with coin.
“No need to pay, Lady. Have your thralls return the goods to the warehouse as soon as we’ve left the city.” He made as if to toss the purse back, but Freya held up her hand.
“No. Take the silver. We will keep what I purchase. There’s no reason for your business to suffer losses over this.”
“That’s unnecessary, Lady. We—”
“You will accept my payment,” she said in a tone that brooked no further arguments.
“Thank you, Lady Freya,” said the karl.
“Good. How soon can the caravan be here? I still need to pack a few things, and I will need time to make my selections.”
“I can have it here within the hour.”
“Do that,” she said and turned back toward her quarters.
It took five hours for Freya to pick her goods, and Yowrnsaxa pitched in by buying bolts of light linen that Freya would store for her until we returned from Kleymtlant. Sif spent the time buying specialized supplies for her medical bag and mixing a batch of the concoction she promised would work better than my methotrexate. In the end, we had enough room in the carts for comfort. Lottfowpnir’s men stacked the remaining bundles of clothes and tapestries to form a small room at the bottom of each cart. Our packs and gear took two carts. We piled in, two to a cart, and the caravanners stacked bolts of woven cloth across the top of the hidden place, then put more bundles of clothing on top.
The cart Jane and I shared lurched into motion, the wooden axles beneath us groaning under the weight. It was bizarre, riding tucked down inside, unable to see our progress with our own eyes, and before long, the heat and the gentle rocking of the cart lulled me to sleep.
I awoke when the cart ground to a stop. I was sweating and parched. By the groggy look on Jane’s face, I imagined her head felt as stuffed and achy as my own. My knees and elbows had stiffened due to the cramped circumstances. Above us, bundles and the bolts of cloth were removed, and blessedly sweet, cool air flooded into the small space.
“You survived,” said Lottfowpnir.
“Had a nice nap, too,” said Jane, climbing out of the cart. I followed her out, trying to keep my groans to myself.
The caravan’s carts were parked in a circle, with the horses tied to a line stretched between two trees outside the camp. Thralls were busy building a fire and others unloaded the cook’s cart, setting up a folding table and benches that could fold flat.
“Quite an operation,” I said, pointing with my chin at the table and chairs.
“Travel is no reason to be uncomfortable,” said Lottfowpnir with a grin. He and his men moved to the next cart in line and shuffled the bundles around to allow the cart’s secret occupants to get out.
“Did you have any trouble?” I asked.
“Trouble? No. I spotted a large number of tretyidnfukl on the outer wall of Suelhaym, but none of them followed us.”
“You spotted a large number of what?” asked Jane.
“Tretyidnfukl. They are small flying creatures that look a bit like a miniature dragon, but act more like eagles or hawks, hunting small game and rodents.”
“Is that unusual, that they should roost on the walls of Suelhaym?”
“Yes, it is,” said Pratyi, helping Freya out of the cart behind ours. “They are territorial by nature, and solitary. We may see one flying high overhead, but they almost never come close to the town.”
“The Dark Queen?”
Pratyi spat over the outside edge of the cart. “Yes. She can influence creatures—”
“Like sea dragons, yeah, we learned that not long ago.”
Pratyi nodded, a grave expression on his face. “It’s probably how she knew you had arrived at the palace. No one would think to notice tretyidnfukl flying high overhead.”
“We should have,” grumbled Meuhlnir, climbing out of his own cart. “She used similar tactics during the war.”
“Yes,” said Freya. “She succeeded that time, too.”
Meuhlnir looked away and walked toward the fire.
I followed him and stood next to him, though standing in the heat of a blazing fire was the last thing I wanted. “Do I sense an issue between Freya and Pratyi and the rest of you?” I whispered.
Meuhlnir grunted, wearing an expression as if he’d eaten something sour. “Can’t discuss it here,” he whispered back. “But think back on Kuhntul’s warning.”
I looked at him askance. “Betrayer?” I whispered.
His gaze flickered to mine and away. “We’ll find time to talk later.”
“How do we know that the Dark Queen isn’t watching us now?” I asked in normal tones.
“She’s limited by the creatures she co-opts. If the tretyidnfukl didn’t suspect the caravan—didn’t follow it—the Dragon Queen has no idea where we are. She’s not omnipotent, though she does a good job of appearing so.”
I nodded. “So we’re okay? Until she spots us again?”
Meuhlnir nodded and stretched his lower back, his vertebrae crackling. “No more hiding in the carts.”
“Good,” I said. “I’d never have thought I’d look forward to spending a day astride Slaypnir’s back, but after today…”
“Yes,” said Meuhlnir. “Perspective is everything.”
Once everyone had disembarked from their carts, we stood around watching Lottfowpnir’s crew setting up a comfortable looking campsite, complete with chairs near the fire and large tents for us to sleep in.
We sat at the table, to a chorus of groans, and the thralls began to lay out the meal. We dug in as if we had done more than lie in the back of a cart all day, and it was good, but nothing compared to Yowrnsaxa’s camp cooking.
Lottfowpnir’s crew ate in silence—awed by the presence of so many Isir. They ate with none of the banter I’d expected, often staring surreptitiously at one of the Isir women, Jane included. After catching me watching them, Mothi caught my eye and smirked.
“So, Aylootr…any plans for the evening?” he asked. “Breaking the legs of people ogling your wife, maybe?”
“Why, do yours need breaking?” I asked, mimicking his tone. After that exchange, the thralls kept their gazes on their plates.
The sun set while we were eating, leaving us bathed in the gloom of early evening. Lottfowpnir stood. “Guests, would you join me by the fire?”
We moved to the fire and sank into the folding wooden chairs that the thralls had set up earlier. They were something akin to Adirondack chairs, and as such, were comfortable, but I didn’t think I’d ever get back out of mine.
It was a warm evening, made even warmer by the blazing fire, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We sat in companionable silence for a while before Lottfowpnir cleared his throat. “Yarl Aylootr, it is common practice in these caravans to pass the evening with stories. Would you tell us a story of Mithgarthr?”
“Didn’t we agree you would call me Hank?”
Lottfowpnir glanced at his thralls but nodded. “Yes. Forgive me.”
“What kind of story? A myth? Something from my life? What would you like to hear?”
Lottfowpnir shook his head.
“I could tell you a tale of my ancestors. It involves a rich king, a young hero, a demon, and the demon’s mother.”
“Ug, Dad. Beowulf? Really?”
I shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Aylootr, tell us about something from your life there,” said Mothi.
One of the horses screamed before I could speak, and, in the space of a breath, they were all squealing. Something growled in the darkness beyond the horses. I’d grown up with dogs, and as an adult had raised several Rottweilers and the growl that came out of the darkness sounded big and angry.
Veethar was already moving, ducking under the tongue of the cart near the horses. I struggled up and out of the chair, along with everyone else. Sig started toward the carts, and I pointed at him. “No, sir. Don’t you dare.” He looked at me, a blush creeping up his cheeks, but he kept his mouth shut.
I strode out of the circle of firelight, awkwardly climbing over the tongue of the cart Veethar had ducked under. There was a scent in the air—something wild, something predatory with a distinct charnel edge.
The cart horses were squealing, tugging against the high line that held them, at the edge of panic. My hand dropped to the butt of Kunknir, and my mind inexorably brought up the ever-diminishing number of rounds I had left for the pistol. Until we opened the preer again, those rounds were the last rounds in the universe.
Slaypnir stood tall amongst the panicking cart horses, head up, nostrils flared. He stared at a point in the darkness, blowing hard through his nostrils. He pawed at the ground and swished his tail. Skaytprimir snorted next to him, something I’d never heard him do unless he was running full tilt.
“What is it?” I hissed.
Veethar, standing next to the horses, shook his head. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but his lips moved without sound.
“Au noht,” I said, remembering that first fight against the harriers with Meuhlnir’s family. During that fight, Yowrnsaxa had said the words, and like that night, a cold, soft pressure encircled my head, and my eyes began to sting and water. But after I wiped away the water, I could see as if it were daylight.
I looked where Slaypnir was staring. A huge, yellow-eyed canine shape stood in the trees fifty yards away. Its pelt was shaggy and black, and its tail was rigid and straight up in the air. Its eyes tracked to mine, and when our gazes met, the thing snarled deep in its throat.
It looked like a wolf, but it was too big to be one. Its shoulder was as high as my waist, and it appeared to be close to three hundred pounds. It was thin-hipped, but wider in the chest, with long, narrow legs. Its ears laid back against its skull, and its lips curled, showing its long fangs.
“It’s a wolf,” I whispered. At the sound of my voice, the wolf stepped forward, stiff-legged and snarled louder.
“Yes,” said Veethar. “And no.”
“Bring spears,” called Lottfowpnir. “Yarl Aylootr says it’s a wolf, and where there’s one, there’s another.” Thralls bustled out of the camp, bearing spears and shields, and the wolf glanced at them but snapped its eyes back to mine. It took another threatening step toward me, growling all the while.
I put my hand on Kunknir, and the wolf’s eyes followed my movement. I couldn’t afford to go around spending bullets as if they were plentiful. Only about fifty rounds remained for Kunknir and a little more than that for Krati. “We can’t let it get at the horses.”
“No,” said Veethar.
Meuhlnir, Mothi, and Pratyi came to stand nearby, and I didn’t see them, but I knew my Alfar tutha verntar had to be close by. “How do you fight a wolf?” I asked.
“Your guns won’t be effective?” asked Mothi.
“Ammunition is…scarce.”
“Lottfowpnir has the right of it in that case,” said Meuhlnir. “Spears.”
While we spoke, the wolf’s eyes danced from one to another, following whoever was speaking. Its growling was a constant undercurrent of our words.
I stepped forward and raised my arms. “Get out of here!” I yelled at maximum volume. The wolf tensed, and its growls turned into snarls, but it didn’t back off. “Go on! Get moving!” I shouted, using my Cop-voice and putting as much volume into it as I could. The wolf’s tail dropped until it was horizontal and held stiff. On a whim, I snarled back it.
“Yarl Aylootr!” called Lottfowpnir.
I glanced in his direction, and he tossed me a spear. It was six feet long and tipped with a nasty-looking barbed metal blade. I caught it but fumbled it a moment before getting a good grip. I lowered the spear to point at the wolf. “Get gone while you still have a choice!” I yelled.
The snarling wolf took a stiff-legged step to the side.
“That’s right! Go on!”
The wolf’s snarl deepened, and the beast crouched, like a Rottweiler who was about to jump.
“This isn’t—” As soon as I spoke, the wolf hurled itself through the air, straight at my throat, mouth wide.
I didn’t know how to use a spear, but instinct took over. I planted the butt of the spear in the ground at my feet, angling the point up to catch the leaping wolf on its tip. The weight of the beast buckled the spear’s haft, but not before the wolf impaled itself on the blade. Even so, the weight of the huge wolf slammed into me, sending me reeling to the ground, the wolf on top of me. It was still growling deep in its chest, and it was snapping its teeth, but its movements were weak and getting weaker by the second.
The others rushed forward, kicking the wolf off me. “Are you injured?” asked Mothi.
“Sif, get your bag!” yelled Meuhlnir at the same time.
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “Not a scratch.”
The wolf lay to the side, its flanks heaving as it tried to breathe. Blood trickled out of its maw and pooled beneath its chest. Even dying, its yellow eyes tracked my every movement.
“This is strange behavior for a wolf,” I muttered.
“That’s no wolf, Aylootr,” said Mothi. “That is a varkr. See the size of it?”
“What is a varkr if not a wolf?” I murmured.
“It’s related to a wolf,” said Mothi. “But it’s different.”
“Think of it as a primal wolf,” murmured Veethar. “An ancient species from the start of time.”
“A primal wolf? A dire wolf?”
Mothi shrugged. “It’s a varkr.”
“Are all varkr as aggressive as this one? A wolf should have run away when I yelled at it.”
“Why?”
“I’m bigger, louder. Scarier.”
Mothi shrugged. “Well, this is a varkr, not a wolf. They don’t run, they attack.”
“Now you tell me.”
Mothi grinned and slapped me on the shoulder, and I winced.
Something moved in the underbrush beyond the dying varkr. The brush parted, and two varkr pups stumbled out and trotted to the adult, sniffing the air as they came.
“Brave little guys, aren’t you?” I said. One pup stopped and stared up at me, challenge in the lines of his body. He growled at me a moment and continued to the adult’s body. The pups sniffed the dead varkr before throwing back their heads and yowling as if they were grieving, and it broke my heart. “Come away from there, pups,” I crooned. “Lottfowpnir, may I have the leftover scraps of meat from dinner?” I asked.
The karl squinted at me, his head tilting to the side, and I thought he would refuse me for a moment. He might have, I suppose, except for the ironclad rules of the caste system. In the end, he snapped his fingers, and a thrall darted off, returning a moment later with a plate full of gristle and meat scraps.
I nodded my thanks to Lottfowpnir and bent to the task of winning the pups over. “This may take a while,” I said over my shoulder. “And will be easier if there’s nothing to distract or startle them.” They left me then, walking back into camp, all except Veethar, who stood still as a statue, watching me.
The two pups watched me with the intensity of a lion watching a gazelle. I picked up a strip of meat and tossed it in front of them, far enough from the adult varkr that they would have to leave its—her—side. “Come on, fellas. It’s yummy meat.”
“Give them a moment,” whispered Veethar. “They are uncertain.”
I nodded and waited, letting the aroma of the meat do the seducing. Though they were pups, and young ones by the state of their fur, the young varkr stood about a foot at the shoulder already. The larger of the two waddled a short distance from his mother’s body, eyes glued to mine the whole time as if he were daring me to move.
When he reached the meat, he stood for a moment, staring at me before the puppy in him took over. He dropped his front shoulders almost to the ground, wagged his tail, and yipped at the piece of meat. After a moment, he pounced on it, grabbing it in his teeth and shaking his head.
The other pup gave their mother one last look and trotted over, looking at me with an expectant expression on its little face. I got another strip of meat and tossed it at the puppy’s feet. The pup sat and cocked his head to the side, staring at the piece of meat. His brother swooped in and grabbed the meat and ran a few steps away to eat it.
“Hey there, Greedy, there’s plenty to go around,” I crooned and tossed another piece of meat to the smaller pup.
“You will need names for these two,” whispered Veethar. “Keri means ‘the greedy one’ in the Gamla Toonkumowl.”
“Keri,” I said. “I like it. What do you say, little fella? Is Keri a good name for you?” The pup who’d stolen his brother’s meat looked at me and quirked his head to the side. His little tail came up and wagged back and forth a time or two. “There it is, then.”
“Yes,” murmured Veethar.
The other puppy finished its morsel of meat and sat back, staring at me. After a moment, he raised a paw and scratched at the air. “Hungry, are you?” I crooned. I tossed him another bit of meat, and he fell on it like he was starving. I glanced at Veethar, who squatted, his face filled with delight. “Well, Veethar, how do I say ‘hungry one?’”
“He’s not hungry—he’s ravenous. Fretyi means ‘the ravenous one.’ I’d use that.”
“Well, little guy? Is Fretyi your name?” Fretyi yipped twice and bounded over to me, sniffing the air, looking for more meat. I put my hand out and let the varkr pup sniff my fingers. He wagged his tail and nuzzled my hand. “Amazing he’s willing to be my friend after I killed his mother.”
“His memory of her is already fading. They are young, and now that you are providing for them, in their eyes, you are their parent.”
“Thanks for not saying I’m their mother. How smart are these varkr?” I kept doling out the meat, keeping my two new dependents happy.
“They make excellent companions when captured at a young enough age. After they have developed to a certain point, they will always be wild and unpredictable. These two are young enough.”
I glanced at him as that was the most I’d ever heard him say at one time. He smiled and shrugged, and his eyes drifted back to the animals. He moved his lips in silence, and the air had the heavy feel to it I associated with Meuhlnir’s vefnathur strenki. “These two are young enough. They are binding their spirits to your own, Hank Jensen. See that you are worthy of it.”
“I will.” I turned back to the pups, trying to entice Keri closer by tossing his chunks of meat closer and closer to my feet. Fretyi had moved to sit next to me, leaning against my leg and taking meat from my other hand.
“Dad?” called Sig from the camp.
Keri crouched, ears back and growled his puppy best. “It’s okay, Keri. That’s your big brother.”
“I’ll go,” said Veethar, rising to his feet and walking away.
“Now, little dorks, let’s get back to making your tummies fat.” I tossed more meat toward Keri, getting him a few steps closer each time.