After a dozen numbers, the North King clapped loudly and banged his cup on the table, and his men followed suit.
“You must sing us another before the night is over, Liis of Leok,” Gudrun insisted. “But we must entertain you now.”
Ghisla sank gratefully into her chair.
“We do not have a woman with beautiful, golden hair to sing to you,” Gudrun said. “But perhaps we can amuse you some . . . other way.”
King Banruud nodded, magnanimous, indicating Gudrun should proceed.
“Where is Blind Hod?” Gudrun said, and his warriors shouted, stomping their feet and banging their goblets in anticipation.
If Ghisla had not been seated, she would have fallen.
“Stand up, Hod. You must let our new friends see you.” There was a shoving and a shuffle, and a gray-robed man rose reluctantly from the table behind the North King. He was thin and grim, though his furrowed forearms bespoke strength and his shoulders were wide beneath the cowl of his robe. He shoved it back, revealing a tight, black braid that ran down the center of his skull. The sides of his head were shaved smooth above well-shaped ears and a lean, squared-off jaw.
When he lifted his eyes, they were an empty green.
Alba gasped and Banruud leaned forward in interest, but Ghisla could not feel her fingertips or the tip of her nose, and the room had started to darken around the edges. She swayed, knocking into Alba, and reached for the princess to steady herself.
“Liis?” Alba asked. “Liis, are you all right? You are so pale.”
But she could not speak. She could only tremble and stare as the Northman made his way around the tables, clearing his way with his staff, until he stood in the middle of the floor, between the two opposing sides.
“Father, Liis is not well,” Alba murmured. “May we be excused?”
Banruud ignored the question, or mayhaps he didn’t hear. He too was entranced.
“Hod is blind. Do you see his eyes?” Gudrun asked, warming to his game. He had rapt attention on every side, and the Northmen were beaming with anticipation.
“When we first met young Hod on the shores of Saylok, we thought he was a phantom come to kill us. Instead, we tried to kill him, and discovered the lad was quite handy with a stick. He still got beat within an inch of his life, but he gave as good as he got—maybe better—for he lived and one of my men died.”
“Two, my king. He killed two,” someone said.
“You found him on the shores of Saylok?” Benjie interrupted, like Hod was a box of treasure or an exotic crustacean.
“Indeed we did. He is one of you . . . though now . . . he is one of us.”
The Northmen guffawed and banged their fists at Gudrun’s flare for drama.
“We tried to kill him every day for about a month. Threw him off the boat, told him to swim after us, and left him behind. But he caught up to us hours later when we hit the doldrums. He could hear us—imagine that—for miles.”
“And if you hadn’t hit the doldrums?” Alba spoke up, her voice ringing with curiosity. “What would . . . Hod . . . have done then?”
“He would have died or learned to swim faster,” the North King leered. The men around him laughed again.
“I saw him once . . . years ago. In a contest on the mount. He is an archer. But he cheats,” Benjie insisted. The Northmen grumbled and guffawed.
“He cheats?” the North King repeated, and he laughed loudly. “How does a blind man cheat, Hod?”
“Well, I do hear far better than most,” Hod answered, and the sound of his voice crashed over her, tossing her about like a boat on the sea. She was going to be sick, but Hod continued, seemingly unbothered by her presence.
“Tell us what you hear,” Gudrun insisted, enjoying himself immensely.
“Three Bernian warriors stand near the doors,” he said. “They do not trust me. I can hear it in their heartbeats and the way they have shifted their weight to the balls of their feet. They are ready to rush me if need be. The man behind the king has drawn his sword.”
“You can hear a man’s thoughts?” Benjie sneered.
“No. I can hear his intention. His indrawn breath, his dry mouth, his disbelieving huff. His pounding heart and his grinding teeth. Sometimes, I can hear the blink of an eye. I can hear the whisper of an arrow in flight and the snick of a