Odin's Child

by Siri Pettersen

THE VOICE

  Urd ran into the nearest bathhouse, catching two young men in the act. The two servants ran off, still in a state of undress, shirt tails flapping behind them.

  How much time did he have? None. No time at all. Just the few moments the Council would spend running around like headless chickens out there. He could hear the clinking of chainmail in the corridors. Half the guardsmen in Eisvaldr were on their way to the Rite Hall, as if they would make any difference in all the chaos. Ilume had ordered people out and closed the hall, while Garm had declared that nobody was to leave the room. The guardsmen hadn’t known what to do. Sigra was probably already on her way down to the vaults to execute the girl, as any good Kleiv was wont to do. As for Eir, she had completely lost the power of speech. She’d just sat there, as though staring into Slokna, while the world fell apart around her.

  He had been so close. He had touched the girl at the teahouse. Could have put his hands around her neck there and then, on suspicion alone. Now it had been confirmed. She was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

  Urd kneeled down on the blue tiles in front of the pool and tore off the collar. His hands were shaking, but he managed to pull out Damayanti’s bottle from the inside of his robe. He swallowed the splash of raven blood that was left. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. It felt as though every drop of blood in his body was surging toward his throat. First an intense, hot stinging. Then pain. He stifled a scream with his hand. Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped into the water.

  His throat began to move. He could feel the raven’s beak opening and closing. The wound was torn open again. The wound that would never heal. The wound that was starting to rot. To think that he had once thought he could still be saved. He laughed. A choked, gurgling sound that nearly made him vomit. His nostrils were assaulted by a smell he knew only too well. Nauseating, metallic. Then came the Voice. Half inside and half outside of him. As though it were his own.

  THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT, VANFARINN.

  The Voice was hollow and metallic. He always spoke slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Every word tore at Urd’s throat. The hairs on his arms stood on end. His body’s natural defenses, which constantly had to be suppressed.

  “I found her! I found the gift! The stone offering! She’s here. Not just here in Ym, she’s here. In the Rite Hall!” A moment’s silence. Then the conclusion.

  YOU ARE MISTAKEN.

  In the midst of all his pain and fear, Urd felt a spark of satisfaction. The Voice was not infallible. He wasn’t so all-knowing that he couldn’t be shocked, like they all had been. Urd clung to that fragile sense of security.

  “I swear. She’s Rite-ready, tailless, and unearthed. Not only have I seen her, I’ve touched her hand. She’s real and she’s here!” Urd gasped for air. If anyone came in and found him like this, on his knees, his throat torn open, up to his elbows in blood … but he had no choice. He had to know what to do. Now. Before the Council reconvened.

  The Voice didn’t respond straightaway. The pause ought to have been immensely satisfying, but the wait was unbearable. The water gurgled through the channels leading to and from the pool. The light played on both walls. Malevolently flirtatious, daring him to come closer. To look. Urd leaned over the edge and stared at his own reflection. He gave a start. It had gotten worse. Again. The skin on his throat was sallow, bruised yellow and green, like he’d been throttled. Blood dripped from a gaping hole in his throat where the raven beak was pressing through. You could see it inside, if you looked close enough. He never did, despite the fact that he’d lived with it for half his life.

  ISOLATE HER! BEFORE ANYONE REALIZES.

  Urd squeezed his eyes shut. This was what he had feared. But there was no point in holding back.

  “They know. Everyone knows. The Ravenbearer laid hands on her. She knows what she is. Everyone knows what she is! The Rite Hall is full of people, and the girl has been thrown in the pits. I tried to kill her. I sent Hassin, but she had already—”

  KILL?!

  Urd jumped. He coughed and spat up more blood.

  WE HAVE SUCCEEDED BECAUSE SHE LIVES! THE RAVEN RINGS LIVE AND DIE WITH HER! YOU HAVE ONE TASK, VANFARINN. PROTECT HER LIFE WITH YOUR OWN UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME.

  Urd put his hands on his head and curled up on the floor. It was an impossible task. The Council would act rashly. They were going to kill her, if for no other reason than out of fear of the blind.

  The Voice withdrew, and the relief was instant. The wound in Urd’s throat closed. The muscles relaxed. Urd hung over the edge of the pool, waiting until he had the strength to stand. The pain was worse each time. All was lost, he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Had he been like everyone else, the signs would have been wasted. But he was better than them. More alert. Always thinking several steps ahead.

  The girl was here. She should never have been here, at least not alive. But the Voice knew. Damayanti knew.

  The raven rings live and die with her.

  Urd had been lied to. Betrayed. But for how long? Since he had taken the chair? Or always? The certainty was suddenly all-consuming. Stark. Painful. He battled his instincts. All he wanted to do was lie down on his side and block out all sound. Find his strength again. His calm. Think back and see everything in this new light.

  But he had work to do. He had to find the rest of the Council. They were probably assembled in the dome already. Urd used the Might to get to his feet. He washed his hands and his neck. He closed the collar and checked that his clothes were clean. The blood slowly dissipated in the water. It flowed through the channels and out the sluices, draining into the gutters of Eisvaldr.

  SPY

  An embling? A child of Odin?

  Seer preserve us all! Why didn’t you say anything?

  But Rime knew Hirka never would have told anyone, especially not him, a son of the Council. One of them. Why would she trust him? Nevertheless, she had asked him for help. She must have been terrified. And not without cause. Rime had feared she was dead—broken by a fall in Ravnhov. A fate that might soon prove to have been preferable. Rime had no time to spare. He had to act now.

  The Rite Hall was awash with a chaos never before seen within its walls. Black-and-gold-clad guardsmen tried to maintain order while people shouted and shook their fists like they were at the market. The guardsmen at the western entrance had been told to keep the doors closed, but the eastern entrance was wide open to the stream of panicking people who wanted to get away. Away and out into the city to spread the terrible news. Menskr in Ym. Perhaps the blind as well.

  Children of Odin and the blind weren’t the same thing at all, but Rime had learned never to underestimate people’s depressing ability to lump things together in stressful situations. You only had to look around. A merchant with his son in tow tore a woman away from the crowded exit, trying to get past. The woman didn’t put up a fight. She dropped her thin shawl and was knocked off her feet. She lay there with a hand on her chest, doubtless clutching a Seer amulet. Rime threw his helmet aside, ran over, and tackled the merchant to the ground. He pressed his knee into the man’s back and held him down.

  “Open the doors! Open all the doors! Now!” Rime drew on the Might and heard his own voice carry across the room. He didn’t have the authority to give such an order, but the guardsmen obeyed anyway. He might have been new to the guard, but he was still Ilume’s grandson. For once Rime was glad of the advantages that afforded him.

  The merchant stopped squirming when he heard the order. No one was going to be shut in. They were free to leave the hall, and most of them did so, more than willingly. But some refused to go. They had closed in on the guardsmen in front of the steps. They wanted answers. They wanted to know what would happen. Who was the child of Odin? What was she doing here? Would the Seer protect them? Rime couldn’t blame them. He needed answers too.

  He ran up the steps and through the red doors. He put the shouting mob in the Rite Hall behind him and hurried onward. He needed to get up into the dome. And
he needed to get there before the Council convened.

  The corridor was open on one side with archways facing onto one of the many gardens that were half-outside and half-inside. Rime spotted Noldhe, Leivlugn, and Jarladin in a frantic group, surrounded by guardsmen receiving contradictory and ill-considered orders. He couldn’t see the rest of the Council. His heart sank. Was he too late? Had they managed to convene already? No one was going to take any notice of yet another running guardsman, so Rime darted past them, through the garden, and up the stone steps. As he’d hoped, the guardsmen outside the Council Chamber had long since been summoned to the Rite Hall. The door was unguarded. He opened it and looked in. The room was empty. The coast was clear.

  Rime shrugged off his chainmail. He needed to be rid of any steel. His gauntlets, sabatons. Anything that would make noise. He hesitated for a moment with the sword in his hand. He couldn’t be without it. He might need it.

  Against your own family? Against Ilume? The Council?

  No. He’d rather take what was coming to him. This thought brought a familiar calm. He was safe to act as he needed to. He had devoted his life to serving the Seer. He was Kolkagga. He was already dead. Dead men had little to fear.

  He was just about to chuck his armor into a storeroom when he realized that the Council would be sitting for a long time. A very long time. Servants would come in with food and wine, and they would use the storeroom, so he would have to find another solution.

  The garden.

  He threw his armor over the railing. It landed in a heap behind a dense clump of trees. It would be safe there for a while. He couldn’t bring himself to leave his sword, so he took it with him. He slipped into the dome room and closed the door behind him.

  The room was unfurnished apart from the table in the middle, surrounded by twelve white chairs. Narrow windows ran all the way around. They extended from the floor right up to the vaulted ceiling. Daylight pushed itself through in concentrated shafts. There was only one place to hide. Under the table.

  Gold glinted along the edge of the solid stone tabletop. Twelve family names. Rime gave a lopsided smile. In theory, anyone could sit around this table, if they were skilled in binding the Might, worked hard, and distinguished themselves during their schooling and service in Eisvaldr. But it was a false hope. This table and these names had all but never changed.

  The tabletop was scarred in two places, from the edge into the middle. You had to look closely to tell, but one section of the table had been replaced a little over three hundred years ago when the Jakinnin family became part of the Council. Probably the most affluent family in Mannfalla. Simple as that.

  Rime found his own name. An-Elderin. He laid a hand on the back of the chair that had been intended for him. The chair he would never sit on.

  Someone’s coming!

  Rime ducked under the table and immediately realized he had a problem. If he had a clear view of the door, they’d have a clear view of him. He would have to get closer to the tabletop itself, hang beneath it. It rested on two pedestals—solid stone crosses almost six feet apart.

  He pushed himself up on his arms and hooked his feet over one of the crosses. He stuck his arms through the other so he could rest on his elbows. He hung there with his back to the tabletop and his face to the floor. He had to tense every single muscle in his body. The stone dug into his forearms, which he had to press out to the sides to hold himself up. He pulled his tail up after him.

  Rime thought about what he had been through while training under Svarteld in the last few years. He’d run for days on end. Held swords out to both sides until he’d thought his arms would drop off. He’d been positioned much like this, straight as a plank with his stomach muscles tensed and all his body weight on his arms. And just when he’d thought he was going to break in two, Svarteld had told him to continue on just one arm.

  He was Kolkagga.

  But even so, Rime knew this was going to be impossible. The situation in Eisvaldr was critical. The Council’s discussion wouldn’t be over by the time the gong next sounded. Perhaps not even by the one after that. They would sit here until the day was done. Perhaps into the night.

  He started to lower one of his feet back down to the floor, but quickly pulled it back up again when the door opened. Familiar voices, talking over one another as they took their places around the table. He heard the voices of Jarladin, Leivlugn, and Noldhe. More soon joined them.

  Now he had no way out. He had to stay hidden.

  The Seer will know I’m here. He’ll sense me.

  Truth be told, Rime didn’t know what powers the Seer had. It was said He was omniscient, but what did that really mean? Could He see through stone? See Rime’s body beneath the tabletop? Would Rime be exposed as soon as He entered the room? If that was the case, then so be it. The Seer would also see that Rime wasn’t acting out of defiance. Either way, he’d made his choice, and in one way or another it would cost him.

  “Where’s Eir? Isn’t Eir coming?” Noldhe’s nervous voice.

  “She’s with the ravens. She’s on her way,” a voice replied.

  Ilume.

  Rime watched the swish of their robes as they took their places around the table, one by one. Someone paced to and fro next to the table instead of sitting.

  “Is the hall empty?”

  “The doors were supposed to be closed! How could you let people leave?! The whole city will be panicking soon.”

  “The city’s already panicking, Sigra.”

  “How many guardsmen have been posted in the vaults?”

  “No more than before, unless you’ve given them different orders.”

  “Has anyone seen Urd?”

  The door opened and the last two councillors came in. Urd and Eir sat down. Rime was surrounded. Unseen, but surrounded. He took a deep breath. He’d have given anything to be able to bind. It would have helped hold him up, but those around the table who were most attuned to the Might would perhaps feel it. Like Hirka could. It was too risky.

  Where is the Seer?

  Rime squeezed his shoulder blades together and prepared his body for a trial he wasn’t likely to recover from anytime soon.

  Sweat dripped from Rime’s forehead down onto the floor. The drips exploded on red-flecked granite and settled like dew. His hair hung in front of his face. Every time he breathed out it tickled his chin. His abdominal muscles burned.

  But at least he needn’t have worried about anyone hearing him. The Council tore into each other like never before. They were divided. Fragmented. Broken.

  Crises separate friend from foe.

  Rime hung beneath the table, listening to the world come undone.

  “We don’t know what she is or who she is. We have no other choice but to detain her.” Noldhe’s voice trembled.

  “Lock her up?! And wait for the blind? Wait for her to destroy us?”

  Sigra Kleiv. Impatient. Bloodthirsty.

  “Destroy us? How? Sons and daughters of Embla are mightless!”

  “She’s already caused widespread panic! What more do we need?”

  “What we need is to complete the Rite. Think about it. The city is bursting at the seams. You heard the guardsmen. The merchants guild is already railing against us. They want answers, and they have the means to challenge us. They won’t stand for the Rite being put off while we’re dithering.”

  “Touching of you to think of the practical aspects of the matter first, Saulhe, but pray tell, have you forgotten we have the rot sitting in one of our pits?”

  “Someone here has to use their head!”

  They all started talking over each other and didn’t stop until someone slammed their fists down on the table. It was Jarladin An-Sarin. Rime remembered him well. A gaze that never faltered. When Rime was little, he had thought of Jarladin as an ox because his nostrils were so big. His strong jaw was now hidden behind a white beard. He was a good friend of Ilume’s. His voice was deep and made people listen.

  “Show your met
tle, dear councillors! We know that postponing the Rite will have consequences. We know the city is overflowing with people telling tall tales about the blind in every corner.”

  “Tall tales? Surely you don’t still think they’re tall tales?!”

  Jarladin continued unperturbed. “It doesn’t matter what we think at this point. We know that the nobility and the merchants won’t want to wait for us. But let’s acknowledge the severity of the situation. This is critical, but that’s why we’re here. This is our job! If we can’t do it, no one can.”

  Rime smiled to himself under the table, but not for long. It suddenly occurred to him how different his own fate would have been if everyone around this table had been like Jarladin. If Rime could have had an ounce of faith in them.

  Leivlugn Taid spoke up. He was allowed to speak uninterrupted despite his low voice and how long it took him to say anything. His words were drawn out, as if he had to dust them off first.

  “The girl makes it clear that the gateways to Ym are open. Odin’s kin? The blind? What you’re all failing to consider is whether we ought to cancel the Rite entirely under such circumstances. We might turn out to have greater need of binders than ever before.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Greater need of binders? What does he mean?

  Rime shifted his arms uncomfortably, but the edge just dug in even more. His stomach felt like it might tear. He would have to lower his feet soon. Just for a moment, before his muscles started to cramp. He clenched his teeth.

  “A good theory, Leivlugn, but when did we last discover anyone with blue blood? I was a child the last time anyone exhibited a strong affinity for the Might, and that was old Vanfarinn. One of us!”

  “Oh, come now. We’ve rejected a lot of people who could have been something.”

  “Something won’t help us now, Leivlugn.”

  Sigra interjected, “What will help us now is destroying the gateways and killing the embling. That’s our only option! She’s brought the blind back, and there might be hordes of them!”