“Ah. In Restin, we do not need to declare a trade until fifteen. We’re permitted to try all the trades, to train with any we might consider while growing up. We can switch at any time.”
“That doesn’t seem like it would produce adults talented in anything.”
Iric gives me a look like I’m stupid. “Raz, it produces adults with some talent in everything. How else would Soren and I have survived if we didn’t know how to hunt, how to build, how to make our own clothing?”
“You’re right. That was a careless thing to say.” After all, I was groomed for leadership for most of my life, and I was always terrible at it. “Where did you get all of these? Surely you couldn’t have made all of this in the wild?”
“No. There’s a trash heap outside of Restin’s borders. Each time I go to retrieve one of Aros’s letters, I stop by and look for anything useful.”
“Is that where the window in the tree house came from?” It would explain why it was cracked.
“Yes. I’ve been able to repair most of the damaged tools I found while picking through the waste. I discovered a coal deposit not far from here, which serves as steady fuel for fire. Remember, I’ve had a year to make all of this. It didn’t happen overnight.”
“Doesn’t matter. I think it’s brilliant.”
“We’ll see how brilliant you find it after I’ve got you hammering for an hour.”
I can’t actually help with any of the hammering. Just gripping one of the tools has my stomach protesting. I had never realized how connected everything is to the abdomen. Breathing. Walking. Even holding things.
But I watch Iric work. I learn. Iric heats up metal until it is glowing red. He pounds it into shape. He pulls buckets of water from the nearby stream to the forge to cool the metal quickly.
It’s fascinating work to watch.
Honestly, I believe it is a shame that Restin is being deprived of such a talented smithy.
CHAPTER
13
Either Soren doesn’t do nearly as much work as Iric does around here, or he’s suddenly become much quicker at doing it, because he always seems to finish first and find time to come bother me.
Sorry, keep me company.
“Are you hungry?” he asks a few days later.
I look pointedly toward the bucket of berries next to me. “No.”
“Are you cold? I can get you another blanket.”
The sunshine from the window warms my cheeks, and a small fire in the hearth keeps the tree house a perfect temperature. “No.”
“How’s the pain? Do you need—”
“Soren!”
He sits up straight. “What?”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“I’ve already finished. I’m at your disposal.”
I consider telling him I’m tired and wish for quiet, but while the second may be true, the first is a lie. So I settle for a brutal truth. “You’re hovering. It’s driving me mad.”
“It is?”
“Yes.”
He ponders that a moment. “When I was ill, I loved it when Pamadel fussed over me.” That must be Iric’s mother.
“She must do it better than you do.”
He gives me a wide grin.
I can’t even make him go away by insulting him. Apparently, I’m too funny about it.
“All right, then,” he says. “What am I doing wrong? How would your mother fuss over you?”
Suddenly my chest feels heavier. My face grows hotter. “She wouldn’t. If she could get away with it, she’d lock me in a room without food or water and let nature run its course.”
That, at least, shuts him up, but it only lasts about a minute.
“Did she have something to do with your banishment?”
I would have thought Iric would have told him what happened, but it would seem he hasn’t shared our conversation. I only told him about Torrin, but if Soren is asking what happened, he doesn’t know any of it.
“Yes, she had a hand in my banishment.”
There’s a hole somewhere under my skin, where Peruxolo’s blade opened me up, but thinking of my mother is a far worse pain. And having shared that pain with Soren? A discomfort so rich shoots up and down my body, making me want to squirm from it. Why did I tell him that? I’m not at my best, injured as I am. I must keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want his pity or his sympathy or whatever else he’ll likely say.
Soren bends at the knees until he’s crouched in front of me, meeting my eyes. “When you kill Peruxolo, think of the look on her face.”
There’s something about the sincerity and fervor in his eyes that makes my stomach tingle. Something in my mind shifts, and suddenly I’m not in such a hurry to get rid of Soren anymore.
When, he’d said. Not if, but when. He believes in me. He’s still set on helping me.
We stay like that for a moment, each of us intently watching the other. It isn’t until the trapdoor opens with a bang and Iric climbs through that we look away.
* * *
I’M STUCK ON THE floor of that tree house for a week before I can finally rise on my own. In all that time, I don’t broach the topic with Iric regarding our mattugrs again. And I let up on Soren and his fussing over me.
Despite being able to sit up and lie down, I know that I can’t strain the injury. Running or swinging my ax could open me up again. The bruise on my abdomen has faded to yellow, and the bump has gone away, but the last thing I want is to start bleeding internally again.
So instead of leaving for my fort, I stay with the boys.
“I made you something,” Soren says when he arrives home after finishing his chores. He handles something bulky in front of him.
“What is it?” I ask. I hope the question isn’t rude. Am I supposed to know what that wad of hides is? Some sort of blanket? It looks far too coarse for that.
“I’ve sewed some hides together but left an opening right here.” He points to one corner of the fabric.
All right …
“It’s a mattress for you. I’ve started hunting the birds we’ll need in order to stuff it with down—only edible ones, of course, so nothing goes wasted. Whether you stay with us or move back to your shelter, I thought you’d want something of your own to sleep on.”
I can’t speak for a moment, I’m so touched by the gesture. “Soren—thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, a broad grin stretching his cheeks.
“You’re very kind. May the goddess take note of it.”
“And may your back never ache again,” he jokes awkwardly.
* * *
WHEN I’M BETTER ABLE to move around, I fall into more of a routine with the boys. I spend my mornings checking the traps for food, helping Iric in the forge, picking berries from the bushes, or chopping wood. In the afternoon, Soren and I run through stances with our axes, while Iric cooks dinner. In the evenings, we all talk. We laugh. We get to know each other better.
Without even realizing it, I’ve somehow come to think of both boys as my friends.
One morning, I’m helping Iric out in the forge. I hold a long sheet of metal steady while Iric pounds at it. He’s making me new guards for my forearm, since I lost those two sheets when experimenting with Peruxolo’s barrier.
I shake out my right foot. I’m not yet used to the silver dagger I keep in my boot. Soren helped me make a sheath for the weapon Peruxolo tried to kill me with, and now the blade rests against my lower calf and ankle. Someday, I hope I will get to return the weapon to Peruxolo.
Preferably by putting it through his eye.
Suddenly, Iric halts his pounding and turns to me, startling me out of the thought.
“When you teach me to swim, will you make fun of me during our lessons?”
The question comes out of nowhere. It’s something he’s clearly been thinking about for some time.
At last my patience is rewarded.
“Likely,” I answer honestly.
A slow blink. Deep
sigh. Another pound with his hammer. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I want to learn how to swim. Will you teach me, Raz?”
I try desperately not to show how deep my elation runs. “Of course. We’ll start tomorrow.”
He nods. “And I will start thinking about how to make you armor that isn’t made of metal.”
“Thank you. You will also want to come up with a way for us to be on more equal footing when facing the hyggja. We can’t kill it with our axes. We will need something else.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I already have some ideas, but it’s all moot if I can’t swim. I won’t be able to force myself near that lake if I can’t feel more comfortable around the water.”
“Do not worry. You will learn how to swim. It is not difficult. Your body floats on its own. You just need to learn how to hold it.”
Iric doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he’s committed. Tomorrow, we start swim lessons.
* * *
AFTER BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY, Iric and I head out together.
“Where are you going?” Soren asks. “That’s not the way to the forge.”
“We’re bound for the pools,” I say.
“Why? It’s not wash day.”
I look to Iric. Let him tell his friend what he wishes to.
Iric pauses such a long time, I think he won’t answer. Then, “Rasmira’s … teaching me how to swim.”
Soren actually takes a step back at those words. “I’ve been offering to teach you to swim for the last year.”
“And I’ve been telling you for the last year that I don’t need your help. I don’t want anything from you.”
Tension ripples between the two boys. I’m not sure if I should step in or stay out of it.
Soren is the first to look away. “I’ll come with you. Keep watch from the side.”
“We don’t need your protection,” Iric insists.
I ignore him. “We’d be grateful to have the extra pair of eyes watching our backs.”
Iric turns his disgusted look on me, but I don’t back down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I tell him.
I understand Iric’s frustration. It’s hard to allow others to see you at your weakest. I had to experience this firsthand while the boys were taking care of me. But I also know that true strength comes from being willing to fail in order to progress. That—if nothing else—is what I have learned from my mattugr.
Iric’s whole body tenses up, and I wonder if he will change his mind about the entire venture.
He surprises me by continuing toward the pools. I hurry to his side, and Soren drops back behind us.
“Hope you brought an extra shirt,” Iric grumbles out of the side of his mouth so Soren can’t hear. “You’ll want to double up, else Soren will lose his eyes as they bug from their sockets.”
He’s baiting me, angry that I’m letting Soren tag along. It’s not going to work.
“I’ve an extra shirt in my pack,” I say.
“Oh, excellent. And I’ll be doubling up on pants.” He smirks.
I snort. “I saw nothing that day you fell into the lake.”
He blusters for a moment. “A man is not at his best when submerged in cold water,” he says defensively.
“If you say so.”
“I do!”
“What are you talking about?” Soren asks from behind us.
“Nothing,” Iric says. He has his arms crossed angrily in front of his chest, while I try to hide a smile.
A twenty-minute walk from the tree house brings us to the pools. They’re a series of freshwater springs. Time has eroded the rocks, and some of the pools are several dozens of feet wide and reach depths well over our heads. Each pool runs into the one next to it. Little streams trickle off to the sides.
Another perk to living with the boys for the last couple of weeks has been discovering the pools they use for bathing. (They’re much preferable to the stream that runs by my shelter; I’m certain it’s ice-cold runoff from the mountain.) The pools are clear with very little plant growth. One can see straight to the rock-covered bottom of each one. Most importantly, they’re safe. Nothing deadly lives in them. Each pool is too small.
I lead Iric to one of the moderately deep pools. It’ll come up to about my chest. Deep enough to swim, but shallow enough to touch.
We shed our boots and armor and then lay our axes down to the side of the pool where they can’t get wet.
I enter the pool first, the cool water sending goose bumps prickling along my arms. Soren lowers himself to the ground and sits on crossed legs. He’s not at the edge of our pool. Rather, he’s distanced himself from us by a good forty feet, between us and the foliage of the wild. He pulls out a whetstone and takes it to his ax, his back to the thick expanse of trees.
I shout, “Won’t you be more effective keeping watch if you turn around?”
He ignores me, keeping himself pointed toward Iric and me, and I wonder what exactly it is that he came here to see.
“I was right,” Iric says as he steps into the pool with me. “I’m always right. Sometimes I hate being right.”
“What are you muttering about?”
“Nothing. By the goddess, the pools are especially cold today.”
It’s a poor attempt at changing the subject, but I let it slide. It was probably only a reference to Soren’s and my “inevitable” romance. I stifle an eye roll. Iric can be so deluded at times.
“Well, what’s the first step to learning how to swim?” Iric asks.
I think for a moment. I’ve never actually taught anyone how to swim. It’s something I learned at my family’s private bathing pools.
“Place your hands on one of the sturdy rocks lining the edge of the pool.”
He listens.
“Now I want you to hold yourself flat at the top of the water on your stomach. Kick with your feet and see how you do keeping your body afloat.”
I realize too late that I didn’t think that through very well. With the first kick, Iric drenches me, sending water into my eyes and hair.
I hear a snort and turn around. Soren’s looked up from his ax, but he quickly turns his gaze back to the weapon.
I change positions, moving toward the rock Iric is gripping so I’m not in the direct line of spray.
“Okay, stop,” I say.
Iric halts. “How did I do?”
“Well, there’s significantly less water in the pool now.”
“You said to kick. I kicked.”
“You’re like a rock splashing repeatedly into the pool.”
“Well, I stayed afloat, didn’t I?”
“Except for the part where you let one of your feet touch the bottom. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”
Iric has the decency to look guilty. “My head was about to go under.”
“It’s all right if your head goes under. You can hold your breath, can’t you?”
“I can, but I don’t like to. I can barely stand it when bathing.”
“Watch,” I tell him. I perform the same move I told him to do, only I let my feet kick gently at the water, under the water, so minimal splashing results. “Like that. Gently. Your body will float. Take a big gulp of air, and let it out slowly as you kick. I want you to release your air with your head under the water and only come back up when you need another breath. Can you do that?”
Iric tries again.
If anything, there’s even more splashing. And letting his chin sink below the surface doesn’t count as breathing out underwater.
“How was that?” Iric asks.
“Keep practicing.”
As Iric continues kicking, I watch Soren out of the corner of my eye. At first, I thought he was watching me, and I thought to be self-conscious about my poor lessons. But after a while, I realize his eyes are on Iric. Watching the friend who he helped get banished to the wild. The friend who wouldn’t take him up on his own offers of swim lessons. Iric is a proud man, and Sor
en is a bit of a broken man. He’s here because Iric won’t let him help, and all he can do is watch from the side as I do what Soren has been wanting to do.
I wave an arm at Soren, ushering him over. He returns his ax to his back before jogging up to me. Iric takes a deep breath and dunks his chin back in the water, kicking once more. If he notices that Soren has joined us, he says nothing of it.
“What should I have him do next?” I ask.
“He needs to get over his fear of having his head submerged. Have him dunk under the water.”
Iric stops kicking and puts his feet on the bottom of the pool so he can stand. “Rasmira is teaching me. Not you.”
“He has a point, though,” I say. “You need to be comfortable with your head under the water.”
He grits his teeth. “I can do that.” He takes a breath so deep one would think it was his last and goes down. The hair at the top of his head dunks under for not even a whole second before he comes up again. He wipes the water from his face. “See. I did it.”
“Do it again. Count to five and then come up,” I say.
Iric arcs back an arm and connects it at just the right angle to send a huge spray of water into my face.
“Hey!” I shout.
“You’re here to teach me to swim. Not make me do tricks!”
“It’s not a trick. You need to learn to hold your breath. How else are you to face a water beast?”
Iric stomps over to the edge of the pool, preparing to haul himself out.
“Wait.”
He pauses, but I can tell he’s already about to decide to ignore me. I place a hand on his arm. “Come here.”
Grudgingly, Iric lets go of the edge and walks with me back to the center of the pool. I take his hands in mine. “You’re not alone in this. Remember that. We’ll do it together.”
He looks down at our joined hands. Resolve takes over his features, and he nods. “All right.”
On the count of three, we both bend at the knees and go down. Iric’s fingers in mine turn into a death grip, but I don’t let go.
I cut him a break, and only count out three slow seconds, before tugging him back up. He doesn’t need any extra encouragement.
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