It came from behind. “Go easy on the boy, will you?” The smirk never left Botolf’s voice. “He’s probably been boning the girl when you’ve not been looking. Best be careful,” the lean man said to the petrified boy, who was frozen halfway between sitting and standing up. “Make sure she doesn’t tell, or King Olav might take his stick and—” The gesture left little to the imagination, and the boy’s face paled even more.
Valgard got control of his breathing and turned. “What can I help you with?”
“Nothing,” Botolf said. “Got something for you, though.”
“And what might that be?”
“You need to come with me. It’s in my hut.”
He’d seen his share of captives, but once his eyes had grown used to the dim light in the side room of Botolf’s house he wondered if he’d ever seen one treated like this. The scrawny woman was unconscious, her head a matted tangle of hair and dirt.
“You’ve tied her ankles to her neck?”
“Had to,” Botolf said. “She took out two of Skeggi’s, bit the lip off one of mine, and head-butted one of Hargrim’s—broke his eye socket. If that bitch moves now, she’ll strangle herself.”
“And is that also why she is thrice gagged?”
“Not really; you’ll find out soon enough. But she knows something about the north.”
Valgard swallowed. “What do you mean? I don’t know what you mean.” The words tumbled out, and he cursed himself.
“Now now, Grass Man. There’s something up there and you’re planning to go looking for it.”
“How—?”
“Why else would you be in Trondheim? And have gone to such great trouble to get here?” When Valgard didn’t reply, he continued, “I won’t tell. I just want to know. I heard the stories about the woman on the ship. My mother was a Finn-witch, and if something is stirring up there I want to know. I want to be in on it. I won’t kill you in your sleep either, but you’ll need someone on your side who can fight.”
Valgard made a decision. It would be a long trip, with much food to prepare. Problems sometimes solved themselves. “Fine. Wake her up. Let’s hear what she has to say.”
Botolf approached the prone form with a measured caution that filled Valgard with unease. He’d not seen the knife-man scared of anything before, and while he didn’t look frightened, he was certainly . . . respectful.
Before he could reach down to touch the woman’s face, one of her eyes opened—then the other. She stared at Valgard but did not move. It occurred to him that she had woken up rather easily.
“Welcome back,” Botolf said. “I have brought a friend. Now—I’m going to loosen your gags, because we’re going to talk. Do you understand?”
The woman nodded, very carefully. Botolf reached behind her head and untied the gags. He moved as carefully as a dog-handler.
When the cloth was out of her mouth, she coughed. “Water,” she wheezed.
“Of course,” Botolf said, filling a leather cup from a flask in his belt. He knelt beside her and moved the cup toward her lips. Valgard expected her to bite his fingers off, but she didn’t. Instead she drank eagerly. When she’d finished the contents of the cup, she closed her eyes and appeared to relax. In the right light she’d have something of a harsh beauty about her, he thought. But then again, so did wolves.
She opened her eyes again.
“Well, aren’t you a pair of brave little cockless shit-eating teat-sucklers to have managed all by your twosome to tie up a little girl.” She smiled sweetly at them, and Valgard was again reminded of a wolf.
“Well met. I am Valgard,” he found himself blurting out. “And that’s Botolf.”
“Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Valgard. You know your name.”
“What’s yours?”
“I am Thora, and if you get me out of this spunk-dribbling town I can tell you everything you need to know about the north.”
BY THE NORTHWEST COAST OF DENMARK
EARLY NOVEMBER, AD 996
The waves stroked the sides of the boat, slapping against the cutting oars. The sails snapped in the wind. Above and behind them the seagulls cawed, hovering over two longships.
No one spoke.
The men rowed with a will, as if the farther away they got, the more they would forget, as if staring at the back of the man in front of them would make the images in their heads go away.
Audun sat with his back up against the mast, shivering despite the heat in his veins. He was covered from the chest up with congealed blood, gray