by Julia Ember
“Now!” I growled. My change in tone had all of them on their feet and out of the house in an instant.
I went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. Ersel’s tentacles had vanished completely, replaced by her mermaid’s tail. As I watched, her body convulsed, and her scales vanished. The tail remained, but with its bare, sensitive, pink skin exposed. Ersel let out a chilling scream before she shifted back into a human girl.
“I don’t think she can control it,” Trygve said. “Maybe the healer will let some of her blood to get the infection out.”
I clasped Ersel’s clammy hand. Her eyes were focused on the headboard. I wasn’t sure she was aware I was here. How had this happened? Of all of us, she had eaten the best on the journey. She’d never suffered from illness at sea, and we hadn’t come close to anyone sick on shore.
She convulsed again, and three tentacles grew alongside her human legs.
The healer wouldn’t be able to help her. I knew that. From the way she was moving between forms, losing control of her abilities… there had to be a disease in her magic. The only being who could help her was the one who had given that power to her.
“We need to pray to Loki,” I said.
“No!” Ersel wheezed. She attempted to sit up, then fell back on her pillows. Her bloodshot eyes locked on mine. “I never want to see them again. I told you that. Promise me.”
“Shh, I won’t.” I stroked her hair while looking sharply at Trygve. Ersel’s fear of the god was clouding her senses, just as before. I wasn’t stupid enough to make a deal with Loki. But what could it hurt to pray to them? To bring them here? I didn’t have to agree to their terms, and they might be able to save her. They had followed us across the sea and tried to destroy us with a hurricane. I had believed that was all in pursuit of Ersel, but after what Jarl Honor had told me, I wasn’t so sure. If they had their own stake in my homeland, in my navigator’s marks, didn’t I deserve to hear for myself how the god wanted to use me?
I drew Trygve into the corner of the room. “We need to summon them.”
Trgyve shook his head. “They’re a god. You can’t just send one of the men to fetch them from the tavern.”
“They’ll come. They want something from me too.”
“You said you wouldn’t,” Trygve said stubbornly. “You promised her.”
“So what?” I hissed. “I let her die because she’s scared? She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s delirious. After everything she went through with Loki, she’s still alive, isn’t she? If they had wanted her dead, they’re a god, I’m sure they could have found a way.”
Trygve’s shoulders slumped. “As you think best.”
The bedroom door banged open and Torstein appeared, an elderly woman in tow. The healer was small and prim; her long gray hair was swept back into a utilitarian bun. She held a suede-covered equipment roll in her arms. I moved aside to let her sit by Ersel. She shook her head and did not move from the doorway.
“What is she?”
Ersel’s body convulsed and shifted fully into her mermaid’s form. The healer screamed. “What is she?” the old woman repeated and glared at Torstein. “I was told to come treat one of the jarl’s guests who had taken ill with fever. I assumed she would be human. Not some kind of god-spawn.”
“She isn’t god-spawn,” I said and fought to keep my voice gentle, even though I wanted to grab the old woman and shake her. “She’s a mermaid.”
“Mermaids aren’t real,” the healer sniffed. She crept cautiously over and then gave me a pat on the arm. “If that’s what it told you, then you’ve been deceived. Maybe it’s one of Loki’s beasts.”
“She’s not a creature of Loki,” I snapped and rolled up my sleeves so she could see my moving tattoos. “The only one here who is god-spawn is me and I’m pretty sure the jarl knows about that.”
“Just give her something for the fever.” Trygve pointed to the roll in the healer’s arms. “You must have something that will bring it down.”
“Whatever she is, her constitution may not be like ours,” the healer said. “Whatever I give her could be poisonous to her system. The jarl will throw me in the dungeons if I poison one of her guests. I’m sorry. I cannot treat her.”
She clutched her roll and rushed for the door.
“What will she do to you if you let one die?” I screamed at her back, but the door slammed closed.
Torstein edged over to Ersel’s bed. Her tentacles flashed, then changed color, each long limb a different hue of gray. “What’s wrong with her?”
I closed my eyes. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have sent you to fetch that old bitch.”
“We think it’s a disease in her magic,” Trygve said. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Torstein understood the dismissal. He shuffled to the door. His hand had closed on the knob before he said to me, “We’ll keep her in our prayers, styrimaðr.”
I was so shocked by his words that I said nothing as he left the room. Praying for her? They all hated her. And with magic she couldn’t control, they should fear her more than ever. Ersel whimpered, and I took her hand. Their hatred of her was my fault. How many times had I used her to threaten them? She had been my weapon against them all along.
I ripped off a piece of the blanket and submerged it in the now-freezing bucket of water. I pressed it to Ersel’s cheek. Her sickness was my fault too. I had taken her hundreds of miles from her home, with no regard for how it might affect her. She hadn’t started eating human food until a few days ago. Maybe the healer was right—our food might be toxic to her, and it was the only thing I’d thought to offer her. I’d even ridiculed her the first night, when she had refused Halvag’s porridge.
“Keep her cool and get her to drink if you can,” I said. “I’m going for a walk.”
Eleven
Ylir
Odin’s Month
November
Despite my tired legs, I trekked to the practice field. It was the only place I could think of to be alone. I’d left without my cloak, and the sharp wind made the hairs stand up on my arms. The field looked bigger and emptier without my men and when the dim winter light elongated all the shadows.
I knelt in the grass, thinking that Loki might respond better to an attempt at piety. Unlike Ersel, I was a vár child. The God of Lies had no innate affinity for children born in my season. Ersel was of haustr. The Trickster’s changeable autumn nature was in her blood. The damp earth soaked through my trousers. I rested my hand and hook in my lap. At first, the markings didn’t move, but when I brought my wrists together, the map stretched on my skin, showing a more detailed view of the city farther down the mountain.
I glanced at the purple dusk sky. I didn’t have a lot of experience in praying to the gods. I’d prayed a few times at sea to Aegir or Ran, but that had been fear talking. Nobody in my family was very religious. Mama, certainly, had never prayed. We were beyond the gods’ reach, she had told me, smoothing back my hair, when I’d asked why we never made offerings like the other families’ in the town. And they are no less flawed than we are.
Even then, Mama had refused to tell me the whole story. Heimdallr had fallen in love with my ancestor and had left her, cursing both to a life of sadness and want. The gods were selfish, calculating beings. They would only help me if they thought I could offer them something. According to Mama, that was all I needed to know.
My stepfather had been more pious and had told us some of the gods’ legends. He had kept a statue of Frigg in his workshop and had sometimes kissed it while he murmured his prayers. Of all the gods, I knew, Loki interacted most readily with humans. Sometimes they bestowed blessings—incalculable wealth and prestige—on the worthy. At other times, they played with their human supplicants, pitting them against each other and stirring the embers of conflicts that lasted for centuries. More than one war had begun because of the Tricks
ter’s meddling.
I whispered a prayer to the wind. Ersel thought of Loki as malice made divine. As I knelt in the field, I wondered which version of the god would come to me. Would the god bless me or curse me? Why had they trailed our ship?
I expected a grand entry. When Loki had first come to Ersel, they had appeared in the form of a sea turtle, then dramatically shapeshifted into a human. But instead of a magnificent appearance, the god just left me to wait. I knelt until my knees cramped, with only the sound of the wind and the distant murmur of the city for company. I sat, crossed my legs, and plucked absently at a blade of grass.
Maybe the jarl had been wrong. Maybe the Trickster had no stake in this at all, and their pursuit of our ship had been all about reclaiming the mermaid. Loki had tried to break Ersel, and she had beaten them. Impressed, they had offered her greater magic and a role as their agent. Ersel had refused, but she still bore their magic in the talisman she wore around her neck. Maybe the god simply could not bear the idea that they had lost to a mortal.
“What are you doing alone up here?” asked a child’s voice. “It’s late.”
I turned to see a servant girl running toward me. She wore a faded green tunic with the jarl’s sigil embroidered on the sleeve. It was so large for her that it hung past her knees. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she whispered.
“It’s fine,” I started to say, but her eyes had rested on my hook and the markings on my arms. I’d thought to display them, so the Trickster would know me, but now I was just cold and in no mood to be stared at. “Why are you here? Can’t you see I’m praying?”
She cocked her head, blonde curls blowing everyway in the wind. “Praying for what?” She pointed to my markings with one of her slender fingers. “Is that a map?”
I clasped my arms behind my back, out of sight. “Don’t you have work to be getting on with? I don’t want to be disturbed.”
She peered down at me with wide, unblinking green eyes. “I thought the whole point of coming here alone was that you were waiting to meet someone.”
“What?” I demanded. But then I stopped and processed what the little girl had said. Her eyes brightened, the color intensifying every second until they matched the cyan waves that had tried to capsize my ship.
For a second, I contemplated prostrating myself at the god’s feet. But Loki was already playing tricks on me, testing me. In all the stories, the people blessed by the Trickster had been strong and smart, worthy of a god’s respect. If I wanted help, real help, I had to prove I was worth it too.
I stood and raised my eyebrow just a fraction. My heart beat wildly. “You took long enough.”
Loki laughed in a child’s high pitch. “I was busy with a believer in the city.” They twirled around, letting me get a full look at them. “This girl, Aelin, died last night. She had the sweating sickness, as did her whole family, but she offered me her voice if I would help her brother to live. The boy will remain on the earth for now. I have a soft spot for the selfless.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t help wondering what they were insinuating with their words. I was far from selfless. I had ambitions and had done things I wasn’t proud of to fulfill them. “Why not save the girl too,” I asked, “if it was within your power to cure?”
“I have to get something out of it, don’t I?” Loki asked, curling their legs and sitting on the ground. They patted the earth beside them. They wore a patronizing smile that did not belong on their child’s face. “I have a soft spot for them because they are something I am not. They fascinate me. But my help never comes for free.”
I reluctantly sat beside them. “Do you know why I called on you?”
“I expect it has something to do with your dying mermaid.” Loki pointed down the hill toward the guesthouse. “We gods can be in more than one place at a time. Even now, I’m watching her through the window.”
“What did you do to her?”
Loki sighed. “What’s happening with Ersel has nothing to do with me. Whatever form she takes, she is a mermaid. Rán’s children can’t venture too far from the sea. The ocean is their lifeblood.”
“Then how do I help her?” I asked, even though I thought I already knew the answer. If I wanted Ersel to live, I had to take her to the sea, maybe even all the way to her people. She was too sick to just abandon at the shore. And to do that, I might have to give up the chance to win Honor’s allegiance and free Yarra. I wasn’t sure I could make that choice.
Loki watched my face intently. “I might be able to help.”
I braced myself. I had no intention of making a deal with them, but I did want to know what they thought I had to barter with. “What is it that you want?”
Loki looked down at their lap; full eyelashes swept down to curtain their emotions. Then the god’s fingers brushed over their lips. A green mist erupted from their hand and washed the glamor of magic away. The girl’s freckles and bright smile faded, replaced by Loki’s own face. The god’s eyes were that same shocking, unnatural cyan, and their cheeks were sharp like chiseled stone, but it was the threads binding their true lips that held my stare. Blood crusted the black string and open sores covered their mouth. I’d never imagined a god bleeding.
“To be heard,” Loki said softly.
I swallowed. The sight of the strings binding their mouth was making me feel sick. What would I do to free myself from centuries of suffering? My amputated limb ached almost every day, and while I did not regret the decisions that had led to my injury, if someone offered me the chance to get rid of the pain, I would take it. “And you think I can help you with that?”
Jarl Honor had said that Loki’s creature guarded the fortress where the children were being kept. I had told Haakon’s men that the navigator’s marks could show up at any time, and they had believed me. What bargain had those men already struck with the Trickster god? If there was something the god needed us to find, then it made sense for them to help guard Heimdallr’s other descendants. But Loki was a god. They had to know what the warriors did not: that I was the only one still living in our generation who would ever bear the marks.
Loki nodded. “You are of Heimdallr’s blood. His magic conceals pieces of a dagger that can break these ties. It’s bloodbound magic. He’ll never forgive me, but his kin can set things right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. The god moved closer to me. Their gaze focused on the exposed skin of my arms. Self-consciously, I crossed them over my chest.
“What do you know of your family’s story?”
Admitting my ignorance was dangerous. Loki could spin my family’s history however they chose. If they lied, I would be none the wiser. But Mama had taken the secret to her death, and I was tired of other people knowing more about my family—more about me—than I did.
“Not much,” I whispered. “Only that the god Heimdallr had a child with my ancestor, a girl with red hair, and then left her.”
“A girl?” Loki gave a delighted cackle. “If Sigrid could hear you, I’m sure she would have something to say about that.”
“Sigrid?” It was the same name that Honor had mentioned. “The jarl?”
“She was at sea,” the god said. “She was returning from a battle in the North that had claimed most of her most trusted thegns. A plague claimed the others. She was alone, ferrying their bodies back to their families when Heimdallr found her.”
My eyes bulged. My ancestor had been a jarl. It seemed so outlandish that I struggled to believe it. And yet… if our ancestor really had been a simple peasant girl, why had Mama always shut down when I asked for more of the story? She had hated the idea of me following in my uncle’s footsteps. How much more persistent might I have been, had I known my ancestor had been a such an acclaimed warrior?
“And they made love?”
“Worse. He fell in love with her.” Some feeling—was it sadness?—tugg
ed at their lips, causing the threads to tighten. “We gods do not control our own hearts. They belong to the Norns, mothers of fate. They gave Heimdallr’s hjarta to Sigrid. So he accompanied her to her people. He lived with her, fought beside her. They had children together.”
It seemed so cruel, for the mothers of fate to pledge a god to a mortal, whose years would be so short in comparison to his own. “And she died?”
Loki shook their head. “No. Heimdallr has a special place among the gods. It is his responsibility to guard Odin. When Asgard found him, Odin demanded that Heimdallr return.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “So he left her?”
Loki’s eyes shone with a glassy brightness I couldn’t quite read. “Yes,” they said. “And Sigrid was a proud woman. After he left her and broke her heart, she wanted to make sure he couldn’t return on a whim.”
“And you helped her?”
“The Norns also pledged my heart in an… inconvenient fashion.” Loki sighed and looked down. Then, as if suddenly noticing they still wore their child’s attire, they snapped their fingers. A cloud of cyan enveloped them and they shifted into a lean, adult body to match their face.
“I hid Sigrid from Heimdallr, at her behest. But Heimdallr holds that against me.” They traced fingers over the threads binding their lips. “When Odin bound me, he didn’t intend for it to be forever. The only way I can cut these bonds is with a dagger, split in pieces across the world. Odin entrusted it to Heimdallr, who will never help me. You can find it.”
“That’s why you followed me.” I stretched out my legs, seeking a more comfortable position now that my fear of the god was easing. “And you guard the children, because if I can’t help you, maybe one of them can?”
“We both know none of them can.” The Trickster rolled their eyes. “But in fifty years? A few of those children have the blood. Their descendants may bear the marks, so when the leader of Haakon’s men called upon me and alerted me to their whereabouts, I was happy to make a deal with him. But I have been waiting a very long time already.”