Chapter Twenty-seven

The day after she and Magnus talked to the elders, Donata went home. Magnus drove her back on the Sunday a week and a half after Thanksgiving, six weeks after she’d arrived. So much had happened, it felt more like a year.

Their drive back was mostly silent. Occasionally they’d chat about something inconsequential, but for the most part they were each lost in their own thoughts, neither willing to broach the subject of an uncertain future.

She’d already promised to come back for his induction ceremony at the winter solstice, so they knew they’d see each other at least one more time. Beyond that, nothing had been discussed or decided on. Donata just knew it was time to go home. As much as she loved Magnus, she didn’t belong in his world. She suspected he no longer belonged in hers.

She didn’t know whether to be grateful or bereft when the seemingly endless trip was over.

He stayed the night and they made love one last time, and in the morning he was gone. Life went on. If it was a little bit emptier than before, well, she had plenty of things to fill it.

Explaining her pregnancy to Ricky was surprisingly easy (he took it well, all things considered, and immediately started planning how to fit all the necessary baby things into the relatively small apartment). Explaining it to her best friend, Doc Havens, was a little bit more challenging, although Doc was as supportive as usual (as long as it didn’t mean she’d have to babysit). Donata’s family, on the other hand, proved more difficult, although eventually her parents seemed to come around to the idea of having an unexpected grandchild, and her sisters to becoming aunts. Thankfully, there was no stigma attached to unwed motherhood in the Witch world, although Donata had to persuade her mother that she didn’t need a professional nanny, an entire nursery’s worth of top-of-the-line baby furniture, and a proper Witch husband. Not necessarily in that order.

On Tuesday she went back to work, resigning herself to the dubious joy of digging through the teetering mountains of cold cases for the next month and a half. Life went back to normal, more or less, other than the fact that she missed Magnus most minutes of most days, a lot more than she’d expected to.

She’d think she saw him walking down the street, and would open her mouth to call his name before she realized it was just some other tall man with broad shoulders and long blond hair. At night, her dreams were filled with images of the two of them together, and some mornings she woke to find tears on her lashes, and the sheets twisted around her like a straitjacket.

It was hell, but she was going to have to get used to it. He’d worked like a demon to get his place with his people back after so many years cut off from the clan ties that were everything to an Ulfhednar. She wasn’t going to ask him to give it all up again simply because she missed falling asleep next to his large, warm body and talking over their problems together and making love. That would be too selfish, even under the circumstances.

Donata considered—briefly—giving up her life in the city and going back to Gimle. But the thought of abandoning everything she’d worked so hard for, not just for herself but for the Witch-cops who would follow in her footsteps, was just untenable. A year ago, she might have done it. She’d been burned-out by talking to the dead and discouraged from being stuck in the basement at the precinct and ignored by all the Human cops who were uncomfortable with the strange and somewhat unsavory job she did. But everything had changed when she’d gotten involved with the Pentacle Pentimento, and these days she actually loved her job and felt as though she was serving an important purpose.

Not to mention that now that she was pregnant, she wanted to be near her family, despite the challenges in their relationships. Unfortunately, she would never really feel at home in a tiny rural town in Maine, no matter how much she liked the people.

The day before the winter solstice, she drove a rental car back to Gimle, retracing the trip she’d first made almost two months before. She missed Magnus’s amusing stories on the way, and the journey seemed twice as long. But it was worth it when she pulled up in front of the compound and Astrid opened the front door, a huge smile on her wide face and a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies in one hand.

She hugged Donata with the arm not holding the plate. “How was the drive, dear? You should have let Magnus come and get you. He would have been perfectly happy to, you know.”

Donata grabbed a cookie and stuffed it into her mouth. Her sweet tooth had been working overtime lately, for which she blamed the baby and not the sadness that dogged her like a perpetual low-grade fever.

“These are great,” she said, coming into the front hall. “And I told him it didn’t make any sense. He would have had to make an extra trip to get me, then an extra trip to bring me home.”

Astrid sighed. “Oh. I thought perhaps you’d be staying. You would be welcome, you know. Both you and your baby. Even if it turned out not to be Magnus’s. We Ulfhednar love children.”

Donata grinned. “I know. I had a hell of a time convincing the annoying man from the Alliance Council that in all my time here, I’d never seen any evidence of an Ulfhednar couple having more than the two offspring they were allowed by the rules of the Compact.”

“And did you, dear? Convince him, I mean?”

Enar and Erik came screeching into the hallway, moving at top speed as usual. “Donata!” Enar yelled. “We made you something. Wait until you see.” Erik grinned from ear to ear, gave her a hug, and they both raced off again.

Donata laughed at their retreating backs. “Suspicion isn’t evidence, Astrid. I was honestly able to tell Clayton Moore on my honor as a Witch I’d never seen anything to prove his theory, and he had to take my word for it. Hopefully the Alliance will give all the Ulfhednar some space for a while.” She hung her coat up on a hook that was made out of an impressive set of antlers, and helped herself to another cookie. “Any idea what they made me?”

Astrid beamed proudly. “They’ve been working with Halvor in the woodshop since you left. They created a lovely cradle, carved with suns, moons, and, of course, the occasional bear. I hope you like it.”

Donata hoped she wouldn’t burst into tears when she saw it. Those boys. “I’m sure it is terrific. I’ll have a Kobold nanny rocking a cradle made by Ulfhednar. If you would have told me a year ago that this would be my life, I would have had you institutionalized.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen the people I live with. I think that would probably be redundant.”

They both chuckled as Donata followed Astrid down the hall to her old room. Her heart clenched as she walked in the door; it felt so much like coming home.

“Is Magnus around?” she asked in as casual a tone as she could muster.

“Oh, no, dear. Didn’t he tell you? He and the other new Ulf are taking part in a traditional cleansing ritual before their ceremony. Most of the other clans are already here, and each of them has their own sweat lodge and camping space, where they’ll keep separate from all the others until it is time for the investiture. That way no one knows the exact number of any other clan until the moment of truth.”

“Oh,” Donata said, disappointed. “That’s why Magnus said he’d have to pick me up a day early if he came for me himself. He didn’t mention he wouldn’t be here tonight.” She brightened at a thought. “So none of the clans will know who has the most Ulf until the actual ceremony tomorrow?”

Astrid’s eyes got a wicked glint in them. “No, they won’t. And I think the badgers are in for a very rude surprise, thanks to you.”

The winter solstice celebration began as the sun rose on the shortest day of the year, and would continue until it rose again on the following morning. A huge bonfire was set up in the meadow, to be started with the remains of the Yule log from the previous year. The fire would burn for the next twenty-four hours, and then a piece of this year’s Yule log would be set aside for that same purpose next year. The Ulfhednar still followed many traditions from the old country. Donata found it charming, if chilly.

The mid-December air was cold against the few exposed parts of her body, but like the others, she was dressed in warm but festive clothing—in her case, a crimson cloak worn over a long deep-forest-green velvet skirt and tunic, with fleece-lined boots that went up to her calves. She wore her hair loose for once, under a garland of green holly leaves and their bright red berries. Thankfully, at two months along, she could still fit into all of her clothing. She was enjoying it while it lasted.

Donata stood with the Torvald family at the edge of the clearing, along with some of the other Gimle folks. The other locals were scattered around the bonfire, playing hosts to the visiting dignitaries. Otherwise, most of the people there were grouped together by clans; all the boars in the southwest quadrant, the wolves in the northeast corner, and so on.

As the sun rose over the edges of the trees, Thorsen, the huge black-haired Chieftain of all the Ulfhednar, lit the bonfire to officially begin the ceremonies. A huge roar went up from the crowd as flames shot toward the sky, and children rang bells or beat noisemakers together, as excited as Human youngsters on Christmas morning.

Young men and women from the six different clans walked out from separate sections of the woods. The newest Ulf were clad only in leather pants and vests, each of them wearing the freshly tattooed emblem of their clan totem animal on their upper arm, where all present could see. Donata’s heart beat faster when she saw Magnus standing with the remaining members of his training group, his face proud and solemn but his eyes gleaming with barely suppressed joy.

As each set reached the area around the bonfire, they were joined by the existing Ulf of their clans, at least any who had been able to make it for the formal rites. Those who had obligations elsewhere were represented by their clan’s head Lawspeaker, who held a staff decorated with one ribbon for each absent member. Donata could see people in the crowd counting silently, their lips moving in the cold.

Thorsen held up his own staff, the insignia of his office, a massive piece of oak as thick as Donata’s forearm. “Welcome, Ulfhednar!” he roared. “Welcome to you all, and especially to the new Ulf among us. It is my honor and my privilege as your Chieftain to officially recognize your hard-won status and to make the count that will determine which clan leads the rest for the coming year.” He raised the staff in the air and brought its ironclad base down against a rock with a clang. “The clan with the most Ulf, thanks in part to the most recent batch from right here in our host town of Gimle, is the bears!”

“You lie!” said Oluf, stepping out of the group of badger clan members. “Your numbers can’t be that high. We heard that two of your Ulf trainees had to drop out due to injury and another died, in this town alone.”

“That is true,” Halvor said, moving to the front of the bear Ulf. “But we still have six who completed the tests successfully, including my son Magnus. Added to the Ulf from other towns, we have a larger total than the wolves by three and the badgers by two. This is the way our law works. Try not to be a sore loser, Oluf.”

“Sore loser!” Oluf yelled, his face turning as red as his beard. “The bears cheat. I was told you would have few if any new Ulf this year. The same with the wolves. You must be lying about the number who actually finished. Perhaps your son failed, along with his companions, and you simply don’t wish to admit it.”

Halvor growled, his berserker coming dangerously close to the surface. Oluf responded by preparing to unleash his own Shapechanger beast.

“Hold,” Halfrida said, moving out of the crowd. “Oluf, you said that someone told you the bears and wolves would not muster the numbers they needed this year. Who was it who gave you this information?”

Thorsen stared with piercing black eyes in the badger leader’s direction. “Yes, Oluf. Who was it who said there would be no new Ulf among some clans this year? I would be most interested in talking to this person.”

Donata noticed one man toward the back of the badger contingent trying to edge unobtrusively out of the circle of Ulfhednar. “Might that be him?” she asked loudly, pointing her hand in his direction. After a gesture from Oluf, a group of his own people herded the man up to the bonfire to stand before the Chieftain.

“I know you,” Thorsen said with a frown. “You are Arne, the Lawspeaker from Hagebak. Your town has been rivals with Gimle, among many others, for years. What would you know of their Ulf numbers?”

“I, uh, heard rumors,” Arne said, his beady eyes darting back and forth.

“More likely you’ve been spying on us,” one of the Wolf clan said, his fists curled at his side.

“It’s worse than that,” Halfrida said in a calm, clear tone that reached to the edges of the clearing. “Arne Arnesen of the badger clan, I accuse you of trickery and interference in our sacred traditions, leading to the injury and death of those from various other clans.”

Growls and hissing could be heard rising from the crowd. Thorsen, of course, showed no surprise. Halfrida had informed him as soon as the elders of Gimle knew the truth.

“Silence,” he roared. “Halfrida of the bears, of what crimes do you accuse Arne of the badgers?”

“One,” she said, raising a finger, “that he brought in a Witch to call the dead, and then used his own village’s priestess to coerce them into leaving Valhalla to haunt those who loved them, in the hope of sabotaging the training. And two”—a second finger joined the first—“that he made abundant sacrifices to the goddess Idunn to persuade her to distract Odin, so he would not hear the prayers and pleas for help from his people. All with the goal of ensuring that for once, the badgers would have the highest number of Ulf.”

Gasps went up from those to whom this was news. Those who already knew simply glared in Arne’s direction.

Arne glared back. “I have been unfairly passed over for years. I am known among my people for my strength and wisdom. I should have been Chieftain long ago. Deciding the leadership of an entire people based on an outmoded custom is ridiculous. The Ulfhednar need to move with the times instead of living in the past.”

Thorsen swung the massive staff in his hands without warning, knocking Arne to the ground. “This is not for you, or any one man, to decide. You should be ashamed, Arne Arnesen. You caused the injury and death of our people, simply to further your own ambitions. You not only interfered with the natural progression of the Ulf testing, you obstructed the communication between many in the clans and their god. You are not fit to rule an outhouse. And after today, you are no longer an Ulfhednar. You are banished.”

The staff hit the ground three times, making it official. Arne hauled himself painfully up off the dirt, his face pale. But he didn’t argue.

Donata took one step forward. “Before he leaves, I would very much appreciate the name of the Witch who helped him with this crime. I assure the Ulfhednar, that person will be made to take responsibility for his or her part of this abomination.”

Thorsen nodded his approval. He beckoned to Oluf, the badger leader. “This man is your responsibility. Get the information she needs, and then see that he never returns to our lands or our communities. Any other punishment I leave to your discretion.”

Oluf bowed his head. “The badgers are ashamed on his behalf, Chieftain. I myself am appalled that he did all this without my knowledge, and I believed his lies without evidence.” He glanced around at the others of his clan who clustered near him. “The badgers will not seek the office of Chieftain for the next ten years, as our atonement for Arne’s deeds.”

“Your forfeit is noted and accepted,” Thorsen said grimly. Donata suspected that he would have demanded something along those lines if the badger Lawspeaker hadn’t volunteered it. “And perhaps it is time to consider, as a people, whether or not this method of choosing a leader still works for us. Change comes slowly to the Ulfhednar, it is true, but there is nothing to be lost by having the conversation.”

The clearing was silent after this pronouncement, and all those present watched as Arne was hauled away by five large badgers to face whatever fate his Chieftain had in mind. It probably didn’t matter what that was—nothing could be worse than the sentence of banishment, forever forbidden to be with those he knew and loved. For an Ulfhednar, to be alone in the world with no clan was the worst punishment there was. Donata knew that from watching Magnus during all the years he’d struggled with his own outcast status.

For a moment, the atmosphere was tense and mournful, but then Thorsen rapped his staff on the ground one more time. “Ulfhednar! This is a celebration, not a wake! Here are your new Ulf, the strongest and the best among us.”

After that, he called out the names of each of the men and women who had passed the testing this year, greeting each one by name and tapping them lightly on the shoulder with the staff before handing them a goblet filled with mead. Each one drained the goblet and held it up to show the crowd, who roared their approval and stomped their feet on the ground. When Magnus took his turn, he raised his glass in Donata’s direction before drinking, and she had to dash a few tears from her eyes.

When each of the newest members of the elite Ulf contingent had been acknowledged, they rejoined their clans. Thorsen turned to the bears and said, “My year as Chieftain is over. Who do the bears choose to take my place and lead our people until this time next year?”

With one voice, the bears yelled Halvor’s name, and he walked proudly out to accept the staff from Thorsen’s hand. Next to Donata, Astrid wept with pride.