Maarika nods. “I know, Elli. But now you need to go out there and show them that you mean no harm—and that you have nothing to hide.” She disappears into her chamber.
I meekly follow Freya through the main cavern as she barters bundles of Oskar’s elk sticks and fur pelts for other basic necessities, like thread and cloth, a few loaves of bread, and a fat cube of lard. She introduces me to everyone as “the girl Oskar saved from a bear trap” or “the girl Oskar found mostly dead in the woods.” None of the cave dwellers are openly hostile, but they’re not a talkative, friendly bunch. I feel their wariness like a firm hand pushing me away. And I realize—all of them have something to hide. That’s why they’re so nervous.
I find myself wondering which are wielders—and which are criminals.
As we trade, I begin to notice signs of magic all around me. Small. Subtle. Unmistakable. We exchange a pelt for a stack of firewood with a black-bearded man named Ismael, who is coaxing a fire to full flame—even though he’s using soggy leaves as kindling. Next Freya heads over to trade with a woman cooling a cup of boiling tea for her daughter with a swirl of her finger. It turns out to be Senja, the one whose husband, Ruuben, was worried I’d draw constables here in search of the councilman’s pregnant runaway daughter. Senja licks tea from her finger as her gaze drops to my belly, and I smooth the loose fabric down so she can see there’s no baby hiding in there.
“Lovely to meet you,” she says brusquely, pushing her long blond hair over her shoulder and setting the cup in front of her daughter, who looks to be about six or seven years old. “Kukka, it’s warm. Drink up.”
Kukka, whose golden hair is curly and tangled, stares at the tea with a mischievous smile on her face. The tea in the cup freezes instantly.
My eyes go round and Senja groans. “Stop doing that, you little scamp!” She gives me a nervous look and blocks Kukka from my view. “I’m sure you have work to do elsewhere.”
“I would never tell,” I say, though I’m still staring at the frozen lump of tea in Kukka’s cup.
Senja’s eyes narrow. “Well, I would hope not,” she snaps. “Because anyone who tries to take my daughter from me will—”
“Thank you for the stockings, Senja. Enjoy the pelt!” Freya grabs my left hand and pulls me away from their shelter, telling Senja that Maarika will drop by later with some of the corn cakes Kukka loves so much. I trail Oskar’s little sister through the cavern, my thoughts whirling. Senja’s a wielder—and so is her daughter. Is magic passed from parent to child? I’d never considered that. Wielders don’t have children; it has always been forbidden for priests, apprentices, or acolytes to marry, let alone breed. But then again, I’d always thought all magic wielders resided in the Temple on the Rock, devoted to the Valtia and a life in service to the Kupari, and apparently I was very wrong.
“Freya, is Maarika a wielder?”
She gives me a sharp look as we reach a shelter near the back of the cave. “No. Why would you think that?”
I blink at her. “No reason.” Except that I’ve spent at least an hour each night watching beads of sweat turn to frost across Oskar’s forehead. The suspicion on Freya’s face is enough to shut me up, even though I’m wondering about their father, too. None of them ever mention him.
“Harri,” Freya suddenly calls out, waving to a young man with curly black hair who has a shelter full of fine weapons, several cloaks and pairs of gloves, and even a small pile of copper baubles like those worn by the wealthier women of the city. He trades us a new hunting knife for Oskar in exchange for a bundle of elk sticks, a beaver pelt, and the next turkey Oskar bags.
“Tell him it had better be fat,” Harri says with a laugh, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks.
Freya puts her hands on her hips. “You know Oskar would never give you a skinny bird to pay for goods.”
Harri puts his hands up. “I’d never challenge him on it. He’s way too grouchy.” He winks at me. “But maybe our new girl is putting him in a better mood?”
I wish that were true and am about to say so when Freya’s mouth