In the wood, new shoots of bracken and nettle were poking through the dead leaves of last autumn.
‘I’ll pick those sprigs for supper on the way home,’ thought Thora, as she hurried in the direction of Bolverk’s farm.
She reached the edge of the trees, and paused.
To her left, lambs chased each other up and down the mountainside, while ewes enjoyed the fresh spring grass. To her right there were glints of sunlight on water. It was the river, wending its way to fjord and sea – the river that always seemed to carry her off to adventure with her friend Oddo.
In front of her, the rich soil of Bolverk’s field was black and gleaming, with rain pelting down on it from a single cloud in the blue sky.
‘Oddo’s doing,’ she thought.
And there he was, standing by the field and talking to the cloud.
‘Hey, Oddo!’ she called. ‘Can you make that rain stop for a moment? I want to show you something.’ The downpour petered out, and she raced across the field. ‘Look, I’ve got a new rune for you!’
She crouched down and began to scratch a mark into the damp earth with her finger.
‘No!’ Oddo pushed her arm away, and scuffed out the line with his toe. ‘I’m not trying anything with runes again,’ he said. ‘You know what happened last time.’
‘But this time I’ve got it right!’ she assured him. ‘Maybe I can’t do spells like the rest of my family, but I can copy a rune. Farmer Ulf asked Father to make a ceremony to help his seeds grow well, and Father drew a rune in the earth. I watched so I could show you.’
Stubbornly, Oddo shook his head.
‘Your father is Runolf the Rune-maker,’ he said. ‘If he wants to carve runes to make barley grow, or make someone wise or rich or brave or whatever, that’s his job. I’m not trying it again. Anyway, I don’t need a rune to make seeds grow! You know I can change the weather, and keep pests away just by talking to them. I can grow the best crop in the district. Father said so.’
‘Bolverk said that?’
Oddo grinned, and she saw a proud flush of pink steal up his cheeks.
‘And he sounded really pleased with me,’ he said.
Thora stared at him, remembering the timid boy she’d met two years before, the boy who thought his father didn’t love him, who was scared to open his mouth for fear he’d do magic by mistake. Now he was boasting about his powers. For an instant she felt a twinge of regret. He didn’t need help from her any more.
She stood up and looked at the wet earth clinging to her apron dress. She gave it a shake.
‘You’re right, you don’t need a rune,’ she said. ‘But . . . make sure you grow lots of barley, so you’ve got some to pay the King’s taxes when the Sheriff comes back.’
‘The Sheriff? Who said he’s coming back?’
‘Mother. She scried it in the fortune-telling bowl.’
‘That’s not fair! We already paid.’
‘I know, but I guess King Harald’s used up all the grain and butter and stuff we sent him last year.’
‘How are you going to pay?’ asked Oddo.
Thora grinned at the sight of his worried face. Oddo knew how difficult it had been for her last time. Thora’s family didn’t sow seeds or churn butter. They didn’t even own a cow. They were spellworkers. Since Thora was the only practical one, they expected her to find a way to pay the taxes. Last year, she’d nearly failed, and her family had come close to losing their home and their freedom. But this time . . .
‘Remember that bag of silver I lost?’
‘Have you found it?’
‘Not yet. But if I go down the river to Gyda’s house, I will. I’m sure we dropped it when we climbed out her window.’
‘But . . . That was ages ago. Last year. Last time the Sheriff came.’
‘Gyda will be keeping it safe for me, if she found it.’
She pictured the midwife’s cosy home, and then she saw again the startled look in the old woman’s eyes at the sound of Grimmr banging on her door.
‘It was funny when I magicked a storm inside her house,’ said Oddo. ‘And she and Grimmr went screaming around in the dark.’
‘And then you tricked them into thinking we’d fallen down the cliff,’ said Thora. ‘That was mean. Gyda was really worried.’
‘Well, what was I supposed to do? I had to stop that greedy Grimmr from chasing us.’
They both swung round to look at Grimmr’s farm.
Thora saw a strange boy working in his field.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Thora.
‘Grimmr’s new thrall,’ said Oddo. ‘Keep away from him. He’s dangerous. And crazy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He ate the raw seeds I put down for the birds.’
‘That doesn’t make him dangerous,’ said Thora. ‘He’s probably starving. Look how skinny he is. I bet Grimmr doesn’t feed him.’
‘Well, that’s no reason to spit at me when I try to be friendly, or swear in a strange language.’
The thrall seemed to sense they were talking about him. He picked up a clod of dung and hurled it over the wall.
‘See?’
Thora shook her head. ‘Of course he’s cross, poor thing. How would you feel if someone captured you and turned you into a slave? And look at his bare legs. He must be freezing!’ She fingered the pin on her cloak.
‘Don’t you try giving him your cloak,’ warned Oddo. ‘He’ll just throw something at you.’
