Odin's Child

by Siri Pettersen

  They laughed. Hirka felt a warm sense of fellowship. She was almost ashamed, because of what this man was.

  “So what do you have for me?”

  “Are you finished asking questions?”

  “For now, yes.”

  From his shirt pocket he pulled out a pendant that she recognized immediately. Rime’s. The shell with their points on the back. He dropped it into her lap.

  “Rime says he gives up. You win, girl.”

  Hirka felt her cheeks give way to an unstoppable smile. It almost hurt. She laughed and buried her face in her hands. Her eyes grew moist, and she had to blink a few times. Svarteld got up.

  “We need to get some food in you. Then we have to go out and train, now that you’re on your feet.”

  “Train? What for?”

  “Fighting. That’s what we do here. And as long as you’re here, that’s what you’ll do too.”

  “I haven’t even managed to stand up yet!”

  “Then it’s just as well you came here.”

  Hirka had a sinking feeling he was serious. But food sounded divine. “Do you have honey bread?” She gave him a hopeful look. Svarteld stared at her like she’d just asked for bloodweed and turned to leave.

  “Let me guess,” she muttered. “That’s not what we eat here …”

  THE Deal

  “Was that supposed to be vargnott? More like tied-in-knots.” Svarteld didn’t laugh at his own joke. He contented himself with looking skyward, as if to spare her blushes. Hirka glared at him. Her entire body ached, and she wasn’t making any effort to hide that fact. The dark-skinned man had nodded, indicating her discomfort was noted, but all the same, he asked her to try again. And again. And again. As if he wasn’t paying her any heed. Hirka would have damned him to Blindból if they hadn’t already been there.

  “It wasn’t vargnott. It was I’d-rather-not.”

  “Ah! I see,” he said. There was a brief pause before he continued. “Try vargnott.”

  Hirka shook her head despairingly, but Svarteld wasn’t someone you said no to. The man had high expectations, and she was amazed to discover she wanted to live up to them. After all, it was easier than being asked to bind. This was at least theoretically possible. She would always be able to move quicker or kick higher. She would always be able to do more and more, until she woke up one day the person Svarteld thought she should be. Imagining that made her feel like she could stay in Blindból forever. Of course, that was wishful thinking. She didn’t belong here, and she knew what she had to do.

  Hirka took two steps forward, lifted her thigh parallel with the ground, spun, and kicked. This time, she leaned her upper body to get higher, and she balanced with her arms. She put her foot down again without falling and turned to face Svarteld with what she knew was a smug smile. He didn’t look impressed. “I see we’ll need to work on your balance since you don’t have a tail,” he said.

  Hirka was contemplating throwing a rock at him when another Kolkagga approached from the path. The newcomer bowed with his hands together in front of his chest in the sign of the Seer. Hirka realized that a lot of things would stay the same even though everything had changed.

  “Master Svarteld, a party is coming from Eisvaldr. Three palanquins, eighteen bearers, and eight guardsmen.”

  Svarteld raised an eyebrow. “Councillors? Here?”

  “We think so, master.”

  “When will they get here?”

  “They’ll be here before nightfall, but it’ll take them a while to get up here. The bearers look fatigued. They might need help.”

  Svarteld looked at Hirka. “Sounds like a matter of great importance.”

  Hirka scooped up a couple yellowed leaves that the wind had swept into the room. There was nothing else to tidy. There was another building for meetings in the camp. It was as beautiful in its simplicity as everything else here, but there were benches with cushions for people who weren’t used to sitting on the floor. Hirka had decided she didn’t want to use it. If the Council was here to talk to her, they would have to come to her. On her terms.

  Only six months ago she’d have been terrified of such a meeting. She’d have bitten her nails to the quick. Now she only felt mild unease. And that wasn’t for fear of what they would say, but rather what she would say and how she would react when she saw them again. The same people who had made her an outlaw, thrown her in a pit, and sliced into her back with a sword.

  No good can come from collecting wrongs.

  She had wanted to change into her own clothes before they arrived, but Svarteld had said she should wear the clothes they wore while training here. He wanted to show the Council that they were looking after her. That she belonged here. Hirka had laughed and asked whose side he was really on. He’d said Rime’s.

  His name had gone through her like a stone through water, sending ripples of longing through her body. She so wanted to help Rime, to talk to him about everything that had happened. To see him. To check that he was still the same. Just one last time before she left this world for good. But Rime wasn’t with the approaching party, she was sure of that. He’d never let anyone carry him as long as he had legs.

  She sat down on the floor with the glowing hearth in front of her. She let her knees fall to each side, imitating the position Svarteld had been in when she’d first woken up here. It felt right. The traces of the Might were able to flow freely through her body. She blew on the coals and put a pot of water on to make tea. The door was open and she could see a line of guardsmen rounding the pine tree outside. All of them were peering nervously into the abyss. Hirka suppressed a smile. She’d only been in the camp for a couple days, but she was already used to living on the flat mountaintop. She couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than here, two steps from the precipice.

  The guardsmen didn’t come in. They split into two groups and positioned themselves on either side of the door. Erect and looking across at each other. Not even out here in Blindból could the Council move without making a performance out of it. But then again, they had traveled through the wilderness to see her. That was something.

  Eir Kobb climbed out of the first palanquin. The Ravenbearer. Hirka swallowed. This was serious. Behind her came a man she thought was Jarladin from the An-Sarin family, and a slim man she didn’t recognize. He could have been anyone. None of them really looked like their pictures on coins and amulets. The councillors came in without taking their shoes off. They looked around in bewilderment. There were no benches or chairs to sit on. Hirka gestured to three sheepskins on the floor. They would be sitting closer to her than she liked, but at least the hearth would be between them. The coals created distance, but she knew she didn’t need it. Not anymore. She had been one with the Might. The fire would always be between them.

  They kneeled on the sheepskins. Eir put her hands flat on the floor to support herself on the way down. She sat with her knees pulled up in front of her. Jarladin mirrored Hirka’s posture. He was visibly strong. He sat with his back straight like there was no other way, even though he had seen sixty winters, maybe more. The third councillor hesitated, but sat down once the others had done so.

  Eir had a lined yet childlike face. Roots from Blossa in the east. Large, deep-set eyes. A small, almost flat nose. She seemed fragile, but Hirka knew that was an illusion. The Ravenbearer rearranged her robe so it lay better on the floor before finally turning to Hirka.

  “You know who we are?”

  The question was unnecessary and they all knew it. The three people sitting before her wore identical robes and all had the same black mark on their foreheads. Hirka opened a wooden box and added a pinch of tea leaves to the pot.

  “You’re my executioners. Tea?”

  They exchanged glances. If they thought that was all she had, they were in for a shock. Hirka smiled coolly. “I don’t share your desire for blood. You’re safe to drink.”

  She felt stronger than ever, likely emboldened by the certainty that she was leaving for go
od. There was no reason not to say things as they were. No one could hurt her anymore. She was already dead, as Rime would have said.

  The third councillor, the one who had hesitated the longest, forced a laugh. Hirka handed him a bowl of tea and he took a sip. It seemed they really did need her for something. Something they were willing to risk a lot for.

  “I don’t recognize you,” Hirka said.

  He regarded her with sharp eyes. His hair was cut so short that his head looked bumpy. He was thin, with deep lines framing his mouth.

  “I’m Garm-fadri. I represent the Darkdaggar family on the Council.”

  Hirka nodded at him. “Garm. I’m Hirka. The tailless girl.”

  The other two looked at each other. They clearly hadn’t had to introduce themselves in years. Maybe they’d never had to.

  “I’m Jarladin-fadri. I represent the An-Sarin family on the Council,” said the strong ox with the shining white beard.

  “I’m Eir-madra, of the Kobb family. I bear the Raven.” The last word had a telling weight.

  “Still?” Hirka asked.

  Garm suddenly leaned over the hearth. “Who raised you, girl? Wolves? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

  Hirka took pleasure in how easy it was to get under his skin. Jarladin gave an almost imperceptible wave of his hand, and Garm leaned back again, his jaw clenched. Hirka poured tea into the other two cups and handed them to Jarladin and Eir. They exchanged brief glances as they drank. Hirka could almost hear Rime laughing behind her.

  Look at them, he’d say. Look at how they’re calculating their moves.

  Hirka would have replied that they weren’t being calculating this time. That they wanted to ask for something and simply didn’t know how. She decided to help them out. “What brings you here? I’d have thought Eisvaldr needed the Ravenbearer more than ever.”

  Eir met her gaze, her eyelids heavy. “Tomorrow is my final day as Ravenbearer. I’m passing the staff to Rime. It’s his. He’s earned it.”

  Hirka had feared and hoped for this. There would be a handover ceremony tomorrow. For Rime. Ravenbearer Rime … An unreal thought. But the reason she’d given was as false as could be. “You mean it’s the only thing you can do. Because people are demanding it.”

  Eir scrutinized her, put her cup down, and tried again. “The demands of the people are fickle. We focus on the demands we make of ourselves. But you’re right, Hirka. People saw him in the Rite Hall. Mannfalla saw him. Men, women, children, guardsmen, Kolkagga … They saw him, and it was like he had stepped straight out of the old stories. Borne by the Might, surrounded by ravens. And he has Ilume’s blood. He’s the lucky child. Loved and feared. But he took their Seer from them. That kind of damage can only be repaired by giving them a new one. So tomorrow, on the steps in front of what’s left of the Rite Hall, I’m giving the staff to Rime.”

  Hirka shrugged. “He’d have taken it anyway if he wanted to.” She threw a look at Garm, who suppressed a twitch of his top lip, dangerously close to baring his teeth at her.

  Jarladin intervened. He knew his colleagues well. “You have a lot to answer for, Hirka. You’ve torn down something that’s been standing since the start of our era. The damage is irreparable. When you haven’t seen twenty winters, you don’t understand the consequences. None of us doubt you had good intentions. Your hands were forced by Urd—”

  “Who was one of you,” Hirka interjected.

  He nodded. “One of us. But we—this Council—are all that is keeping the world from falling apart at the seams.”

  “The world was here before you, and it will be here long after you’ve been given to the ravens. The only threat to the world came from you. One of you. Rime was right. You failed us.” Hirka felt a tingling sensation. A familiar warmth crept up through the floor and into her thighs. “Let the Might lie, Eir. It won’t help you here. It won’t make you seem stronger or wiser. It won’t make me easier to convince. I know it too well.”

  The tingling stopped momentarily and the three councillors looked at each other with unconcealed astonishment. She could read the question in their eyes: was she bluffing, or could she feel the Might in them? She regretted saying anything for a moment. Rime clearly hadn’t told them everything. She couldn’t risk giving too much away, but she had put her fear behind her. Fear was an old friend, but it no longer had any place in her life.

  The wind tore at the trees outside. A couple of rust-colored leaves danced across the floor before settling and fluttering at the edge of the straw mat. A portent of autumn. A sign that there were still things left to lose. Hirka continued before they had time to think about what she’d said. “What time does the ceremony start?”

  Eir gripped the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. She had bags under her eyes. They were all exhausted. Garm was quick to anger, and Jarladin had started to slouch. Hirka felt a surprising stab of compassion. The Council had cost her more than she could say. But now they were balanced on a knife’s edge. They’d lost a lot as well. And if Rime wanted, they could lose everything. “You’ve built your own funeral pyres.” Hirka had meant it to sound comforting, but quickly realized it hadn’t.

  “You’re right,” Eir said. “We’ve failed in many things. We’re not too proud to admit that Urd was a mistake. Our mistake. The Council’s mistake. But the world hasn’t ended yet. We’re still here, and we need to create new order in the chaos. With Rime’s help. And yours.”

  Hirka wanted to laugh at the empty words, but she didn’t. She just waited, forcing Eir to continue. “Rime is being hailed—and rightly so—for stopping the blind. He is the new hope. But as long as you’re here, Hirka, they’ll be able to come back.”

  Hirka sampled her disappointment and concluded it wasn’t that bad. She’d expected something like this. They hadn’t come to ask for help. Or forgiveness. They would never accept her as an ymling. They wouldn’t even accept her as an outsider. They were here to ask her to leave Ym. If only they knew how unnecessary their journey was. Hirka had no intention of staying.

  “If they come back, we’ll stop them again. We know how,” Hirka said.

  “But you’re not safe here,” Jarladin said. “You’re a child of Odin. The rot. People will demand your blood!”

  “I thought you didn’t concern yourself with the fickle demands of the people.”

  Jarladin only hesitated for a moment. “They don’t need to demand it. They’ll take it if they want. Living in Mannfalla will cost you your life. A lot of people want to see you burn, Hirka.”

  “I’ve heard that a lot of people claim I’m the Seer too.” Hirka sipped her tea. It was lukewarm. She was tired of this charade. “Say it like it is. You have your hands full with Rime. You fear what we’re capable of together, and the idea of having a child of Odin in Eisvaldr sickens you.”

  “We don’t think—”

  “Particularly one with ties to Ravnhov. An embling you’ve made an outlaw, and who makes you look worse every day she continues to live.”

  Garm sprang to his feet. “This is pointless! She has no desire to help!”

  Eir tried to stop him with a look, but he left the room with his robe flapping after him. Eir looked at Jarladin. “Would you excuse us?” she asked him. She wanted to speak to Hirka alone. Hirka interjected before Jarladin got up. “No. I want to talk to him,” she said, nodding at Jarladin. The two councillors exchanged looks again before Eir got up and left. Hirka put the pot back over the fire and picked up his cup.

  “Is it from here?” he asked.

  Hirka smiled. This time it reached her eyes. “Yes, it grows wild in the mountains. In tall tea bushes that have been here since before the red dome was built. Before Eisvaldr.”

  “If only everything else were seen in the same light,” he said. It sounded like he meant it. Hirka gave him a fresh cup.

  “Listen, Jarladin-fadri …” He tried to suppress a smile at the sudden use of his title. It was charming and made him look younger. He
had narrow yet piercing eyes. His white beard was the same color as Rime’s hair. Maybe that’s why she’d chosen him. He drank as she spoke.

  “I know what I am. And I know what you’re thinking. You didn’t have any bad intentions either. We have to assume that all twelve—well, eleven excluding Urd—had the kingdoms’ best interests at heart. You acted out of fear and ignorance, but you want to repair the damage. I’m not part of that plan. I’m a rogue element. As long as I’m here, people will doubt you. Doubt your motives. Some people might want to elevate me to the Seer’s right hand. The girl who stood behind Rime. Other people want to kill me. Maybe you all still think that everything can be salvaged. That the truth about the Seer hasn’t spread or that you can spread another lie to pick up the pieces. Either way, I’m not a child anymore. I know you don’t want me here.”

  “We must seem like monsters to you.”

  “No. Not anymore. You want me out of this world, and Hlosnian knows how. But you don’t have the power to force me. You see … I like it here. Peace is assured. It’s a nice place to be. Tea grows wild and the mightiest man in the world is my friend. I’m safer here than anywhere else. Who knows what’s on the other side of the stones?” Hirka believed what she was saying, so it wasn’t difficult to lie. Jarladin closed his eyes. Moments passed before he opened them and answered her.

  “You have to understand, we’d never let you leave empty-handed. You’d leave a wealthy young woman. Perhaps with guardsmen at your side. You’d—”

  “I have everything I need and I can take care of myself. There’s very little I want in the world.”

  His eyes lit up. “But you do want something? Name it!”

  “Jarladin-fadri, I could make it easy for you. I could leave Ym and you could once again stand tall as the Council you’ve always been. You wouldn’t have any outlaws hanging around in Eisvaldr as living proof of the Council’s mistakes. Of how little the stones, the most powerful weapon this world has ever seen, are understood. No one knows where Urd got that knowledge from, but at least he understood the value of it. Yes, I could leave so everyone else could forget.”