Skarga did not sleep so easily.
When she woke Thoddun was already up, shrugging into a tunic. She rolled over, taking the warm hollow furred he had left behind. He began rummaging amongst the piles of his own possessions, but evidently didn’t find whatever he was searching for. He felt her waking, and turned, looking back down at her. “There ought to be clean clothes here somewhere, and a comb,” he said, grinning as he pulled his fingers through the untamed tangle of his hair. The sombre intimacy of the previous night gone, his mood was now cheerful. The comfort of his own quarters appeared to have restored him. “Any special requests, child? Unfortunately you can’t piss out into the water. Shall I carry you to the midden, or are you still too shy?”
She wished he wouldn’t leave, and shut the thought quickly away. “I can manage,” she said. “I’m getting better on the crutches. I suppose you have to go. Will you be busy?”
He sat beside her to tug on his boots. “Busy, yes,” he said. “But remember this. You dislike me hearing your thoughts, but it can also be an advantage. I can hear should you be troubled, or attacked. I can hear your distress. I can smell it.”
She stared. “So I can call you if something bad happens. And you think it will.”
“It might,” he said.
CHAPTER NINE
Mandegga found her at once.
The great hall had already been cleaned, the fire relit. The scent of burning wood was musty with forest memories, pine needles and loam. The breadth and height of the walls was all ice which caught and flung back the firelight, but the many pillars which supported the roof and its weight were wood, massive, dark and carved. Balanced carefully on her crutches, Skarga explored. Whatever the new frenetic excitement of the community, its busyness was removed from the feasting hall, which echoed empty. The slow trickles of freezing seepage hummed a sibilant ooze, and in its hollowness away from the hearth the huge chamber felt chill with a faded aura of abandonment. The heaped furs around the fire seemed the only place to sit, and hampered by crutches, Skarga decided she could not recline, nor, once sitting, be able to rise alone. She turned to find another place. The voice behind interrupted.
“So you are the human,” Mandegga said, “who has seduced my husband.”
There was nothing of the wolf. Deep breasted and wide mouthed, Mandegga was as little and plump as any prettily human housewife. Her eyes slanted sharp above the high prominent curls of her cheekbones. Her hair, which she wore long and uncovered as a maiden, was light russet brown and made her dark eyes distinctive. A small rural busybody, dressed proud and fine and richly bejewelled.
Surprised, lame, hopping and a little haphazard, Skarga turned, mumbling, “Are you? Is he?”
Mandegga sniggered. “A simpleton. Are humans all so absurd? Or only the women perhaps?”
The spoken claim husband immediately explained the antagonism. Skarga looked down at her. “I was expecting to meet you soon. I wondered if I’d like you. You’ve answered my question.”
“I don’t make friends with humans,” said Mandegga. “Does my husband bed you out of pity?”
Skarga had been long abused, but she had been brought up a princess. She said, “We humans are so simple that we choose not to discuss our personal lives with inferiors. Thoddun has presumably told you already whatever he wishes you to know.”
Keeping a dutiful distance was the woman’s retinue; ten men wearing chain mail, although not openly armed. Hands behind their backs and stiff shouldered, they lined up behind their mistress and regarded Skarga with severity. Mandegga smiled, which did not suit her. “I and my husband spoke of other more delightfully interesting matters. Why should he mention you?”
Skarga regretted her crutches. “I imagine he did,” she said, “when he forbade you his room and his bed. And he did not refer to you as his wife.”
Mandegga’s smile widened and showed her teeth and the curve of her canines. “How remiss. Ask him. If he ever comes to you again.”
Skarga had learned long ago to use the advantage of her height. Only Thoddun called her little. She said, “We’ll have more important matters to discuss.” She wished Thoddun would come, or Orm, or even Egil, and then shut her thoughts.
Mandegga turned and clicked her little plump fingers. “I am sure you will. A great deal will be happening.” The shadows around her were growing, her retinue crowding closer. Their wide darkness and the eager determination of their expressions crowded the air and the space shrank.
Trapped only by her crutches, Skarga could make no dignified retreat. The wolves, Erik had said, being pack animals, read minds. She longed to march past them all but feared she might trip, or be tripped. She feared shame more than hurt. The wolf woman stared up at her, eyes bright and watchful.
Struggling to hide her thoughts, Skarga was immediately relieved to hear the approaching vibration of footsteps. The werewolf pack stepped quickly apart, stumbling, pushed aside. One large hand came high onto the pillar against which Skarga now balanced. The pillar shook. She looked up and over her shoulder. The pig eyed troll-giant was peering down at both women. “Do the lady need um?” Kjeld asked.
The giant had not explained which lady. “Fool,” Mandegga said. “Why would the she-wolf need the worm-brained walrus?”
“But t’were,” Kjeld pronounced carefully, “t’other lady I come for. ‘N real lady.” He bowed, his enormous bulk bending a moment towards Skarga.
Skarga gazed up at him, her advantage of height quite lost. He stood taller than half her body again. A pause, and ashamed to hear her own voice tremble. “I don’t think I need – anything. But thank you.” Then, understanding, “Was it – someone else – asked you to come?”
Kjeld nodded with faint relief. “Ah. That were it. Said to get what lady was wanting. Escort, he says. Fer haved broke a leg, in battle he says.”
“Thoddun said?”
Kjeld nodded, and the pillar onto which he still held shuddered. “Ah. Said lady done saved lord’s life. Wounded whilst doing the saving. Said to say so.”
Mandegga flushed, belligerent, arms tight folded over the jutting heave of her breasts. “This is inconceivable.” She stamped one small foot and the ice squeaked. “That this witless heap of walrus-hide should stand before me without trembling –” Her words faded like a stream in drought. Her retinue closed reluctantly closer.
Kjeld said, his voice echoing to the vaults, “Doing wot um’s told, and proper willing. Lord Thoddun. Orders.”
Mandegga turned abruptly on her heel. Skarga did not watch her leave. A drifting of shadows and the diminished stridency of breathing noted the departure of the entourage. Skarga said to Kjeld. “You’re very kind. Does she always behave that way?”
Kjeld scratched his head. “Wot way, lady? When wolf girl here afore, never spoke, we didn’. Not um’s proper place.”
“But she was – can I ask – Lord Thoddun’s – wife?”
“Um.” The giant swayed, uncertain. “Top dog lady. Lord’s harem.” He frowned and scratched his bristles. “Then done whupped. Sent away.”
Kjeld’s words were difficult to decipher. She wondered if Thoddun expected the giant to do something specific with her, but she found his presence uncomfortable, and his conversation unhelpful. She smiled, attempted polite friendliness, and suggested, “Perhaps you could tell me where to find Egil and Erik?”
“Little birds is off flying,” nodded Kjeld. His neck being buried wide within his collar, nodding encompassed both jaw and shoulders. “They’s busy. I’s not busy. Do wot lady wants, says my lord. Be nice to human lady, he says.”
Skarga thanked him and maintained her smile. “If we sit by the fire?”
Crouched beside the hearth, Kjeld struggled to look small and speak his clearest. He told of the wild gorgeous sea that called to him in summer. Of swimming through the deep undercurrents of rich perfumed cobalt, and surfacing in the sparkling cold shallows where the tidal spray thundered on the sands. He spoke of loyalty and the wonder of hi
s winter haven amongst those he loved. But he remembered little of the past. Huddled chin to knees, he stared into his own memory. “Goes out, I does, when the big dark’s done gone. Down by the big sea and watches them big whales blow. Stays mostly out there, till the long dark comes again. I comes back here when ‘tis black winter. Most of us comes and goes. Don’t remember much else.” He had some difficulty answering questions and when Skarga, hesitant, asked about the Shift, he blushed to his collar. “Not talking decent, t’wouldn’t be,” Kjeld muttered beneath giant flushes, and Skarga was silenced. Rubbing his nose very hard with his thumb, he stumbled, “’N not ter worry. ‘Case you was. Worried that is.”
“But I’m not worried,” said Skarga, shaking her head. She was becoming accustomed to his voice and was more easily understanding him. “Not now. Should I be?” she asked.
“Trolls,” said Kjeld.
“You heard what I said at the feast? I’m terribly sorry,” said in a rush. “In the town where I was born, the people were frightened of trolls and monsters, you see. People even claimed to have seen them and told stories about them. I was always scared of those stories when I was very young. Now Thoddun told me there aren’t any such things as trolls and he said you’re a very nice man. Very trustworthy.” She paused, reaching out to tentatively pat the bulk of his forearm. Then she said, “I was a fool. And rude. But I don’t know how to hide my thoughts, being a human. Now I know how wrong I was and I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” his face spread into a huge and lipless grin of pride. And Kjeld became her friend.
Alone and hindered by her crutches, Skarga found little to do in the long hours. She spent much time in the bedchamber staring out to the cascading water, charmed by its rushing rhythm. She snuggled into the warm luxury and the familiar smell of Thoddun’s bedcovers. And she dreamed.
When she ventured to explore further, something gradually impinged. She had no comparisons, never having experienced these halls under any other conditions, but it seemed obvious to her nonetheless that her own and Mandegga’s presence had altered the quiet freedoms of this vast transanima home. She heard quarrelling which stopped abruptly when she was noticed nearby. She saw two men grappling, gouging at each other’s eyes, and shouting of the bitch on heat, and how she might be tricked, courted and won. Others slunk away from her own appearance, looking aside, or glowering.
Skarga did not see the wolf woman again for some time. Had she seen her, she would have avoided her, but Mandegga also chose avoidance and kept her pride apart. Nor, for some days, did Skarga see Egil and suspected either Thoddun or the flying teacher of purposefully keeping him from her door. But it was Thoddun she longed to see again. He would, perhaps, be with his wife. He had not admitted Mandegga was his wife, and had expressed regret at her return. But a wife was a wife, and when women were a rarity, then even a reluctant lover might appreciate his marriage. Pain haunted her dreams. She often thought, and sometimes wished, contrary to logic, that Thoddun might hear her thoughts. She wished he would remember wanting her, and come to her. He did not. She slept alone.
It was Egil who came at last. Skarga was awake, judging it morning, had filled the basin from the waterfall and heard his voice, small and plaintive, outside the fur curtain. “Egil. Come in at once. I’ve been waiting forever.”
“Missed me then?”
“Of course not. Not in the slightest. I’ve been getting to know Kjeld.”
Egil disbelieved her and smirked. “Your friendly troll?”
“Sit down, brat. He’s nice and I should never have called him that. But I can’t know everything unless people have the common sense to explain beforehand.”
“Is that getting sniffy at me? Or Lord Thoddun?”
“I don’t get sniffy,” said Skarga. “Tell me what you’ve been doing. Kjeld said you’ve been flying.”
“Oh well, yes I have, with Erik. One of the Althing elders takes us. Safn, you’ve met him before, but he’s a raven and that’s not as good as being taught by an eagle.”
“So Thoddun’s too busy. With Mandegga I suppose.”
“How would I know? He doesn’t tell me what he’s doing.”
Alone and hindered by her crutches, Skarga found little to do in the long stretching hours. She spent much time in the bedchamber staring out to the cascading water, charmed by its rushing rhythm. She snuggled into the warm luxury and the familiar smell of Thoddun’s bedcovers. And she dreamed.
There were no more feasts, no more visits from Thoddun, no more encounters with the wolf woman. When she ventured to explore the ice tunnels, Skarga passed hurrying pairs of men who took no more notice of her than they would have in her father’s fields. The animals turned their heads from her, eyes vacant, denying her presence. The castle was a maze and within its glimmering labyrinthine passages, she was too quickly lost. From Thoddun’s chamber she knew her way only to the midden, where she returned repeatedly until granted privacy, and to the great hall where she often sat, usually alone. The oppression of the cold and of constant rejection troubled her mind. It troubled her that it troubled her. Dislike and ostracism had followed her since childhood, but, absurdly, here where she was alien and had less expectation of acceptance, the repudiation felt sharper, the humiliation more miserable, the loneliness more acute. She had, for the first time in her life, someone to miss., although, wary of her thoughts being overheard, she did not dwell on the missing, nor relive the times when companionship had been sweet. Skarga wrapped herself in Thoddun’s discarded bearskin, and smelled the sweat, not of the bear, but of the man.
Where there had surely been self-contained confidence and peace, the sudden arrival of humanity, and of the unexpected transanima female, brought uncertainty into the ice halls. Even anxiety. As the principal cause, Skarga wondered how deeply she was hated, and whether the people blamed their Lord Thoddun for both uncomfortable alterations in their routine. She also wondered whether those who yearned to Change, might resent the more normal change.
Once she saw Mandegga and Orm entwined within the furthest shadows of the empty hall, so engrossed in their explorations that neither noticed the human’s gaze. But Skarga saw the admiration in Orm’s eyes, a lascivious eagerness, impatient and explicit. Mandegga’s decorative elegance, uniquely feminine, was surely part of her attraction.
Few other transanima, apart from the wolf woman, bothered with the ostentation that humanity valued, and being too cold for lice, for fleas, for maggots, flies or tundra mosquitoes, most men either did not seem to wash at all, or did so when Shifted, when an earnest tongue would suffice. For any human chieftain a proclamation of power demanded an exhibition of wealth. A wise man dressed well, a rich man dressed better. A king draped himself in silks and furs and his wife jangled glass beads from Araby, silver from Gotland and gold from Jorvik. Grimr had loved his clothes and his jewels and his careful grooming. The transanima laughed at it all.
But Mandegga, who laughed at very little, loved her clothes. Her men were tidy, and Mandegga gleamed, bejewelled and polished. Her plump fingers sparkled, her belt was linked in silver, and she clasped her long hair with copper pins and combs of walrus ivory. Skarga could not imagine her grizzled, grey, and howling beneath the moon.
Skarga had accepted the avoidance of a community in which she deserved no place. Then Orm came to visit her. Thinking Thoddun had sensed her dreariness, and sent him to her, she welcomed him at first. Orm leaned patiently against the wall where the echoes collected in the angles of the corridor. Leaving Thoddun’s chamber, Skarga walked into Orm’s shadow. At once he stood straight and grinning. The back of his shoulders were covered in ice dust. She thought he must have been waiting some time. He put one large, damp palm beneath her elbow and helped her balance. She was now capable on her crutches and found his hand a hindrance. She thanked him anyway. “Lucky to see you,” he said. “Been thinking of you, as it happens. I reckon you need cheering up, lady. You’ve been left too much alone.”
She could hardly deny it. “It
’s true I’ve nothing to do. On my father’s lands there was always work. Brewing, cooking, the buttery, the stores, the laundry. Animals to look after, and supervising servants. Now I doubt I’m of any use to anyone.”
Orm smirked. “Not as if we’ve any of that to offer you anyways, lady,” he said. “The brewing’s done by those as want to, being mighty skilled, though the rest we barter. The cooking pretty much does itself, and as for laundries and butteries, well we’ve no such thing here, nor servants neither. Then – as for looking after the animals!”
Skarga blushed. “I didn’t mean that. I meant farm animals.”
“Well now, I know you did, with no offence,” said Orm.
“If,” said Skarga, “there’s anywhere I might help, I don’t sew very well and I can’t knit, but perhaps there’s something?”
“’Tis not a place with need of a human,” Orm said, “being as how you’re the first we’ve ever allowed in. And it’s a well organised life we have, and have had for many years. No help required.”
“I see. Of course.”
“And guests,” Orm insisted cheerfully, “don’t get put to work in general, I reckon. So it’s company and entertainment I was thinking of, lady.”
Orm’s reassuring hand was now firmly grasping her upper arm. Where the fingers encircled, his knuckled pressed uncomfortably against her breast. Unable to pull away without risking losing her crutches and tumbling. and unwilling to say anything pertinent, instead she smiled and said, “But I am perfectly happy I assure you. I don’t need escorting, or entertaining, or anything at all.” If he could read her mind, then he was too polite to call her a liar.
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 39