hung to his knees, and it bounced like a snake, writhing and wriggling as he struck Hod, who did nothing to defend himself.
“What have you done to my boy, witch?” the man yelled. “What have you done to my boy?”
Hod’s nose was bleeding, and he swiped at it, leaving a streak of red across his hand.
“Arwin?” Hod asked, voice ringing with amazement.
“He does not know his own master!” the man wailed, gripping Hod by the shoulders and shaking him.
“No . . . Er-Arwin. I am f-f-fine. I am well,” Hod stuttered, trying to pull free, and Arwin shoved him aside.
This was Arwin? Hod’s teacher? He was not the wise and gentle figure Ghisla had imagined. When he turned on her, she felt a jolt of the same fear she’d felt when she realized she was not going to follow her family into death. He jabbed at her with his staff, the end punching against her belly, forcing her back against the tree Hod had climbed for his honey.
“Get back, witch.”
She obliged, shrinking against the trunk.
“She is not a witch, Arwin,” Hod protested. “She is a girl. A Songr. When she sings I can see. I can see, Arwin!”
This revelation seemed to horrify the man, and his black eyes widened in his wizened face.
With the sharp end of his stick he scratched a symbol into the dirt, mumbling words that sounded like a curse, and it was Hod’s turn to gasp.
Arwin sliced at his hand, still mumbling, and held his dripping fist over the lines he’d drawn between them. Blood dripped onto the ground. Hod stepped toward her, his hands outstretched, one toward Arwin, one to her, as if to connect and calm them all. But the air sizzled and sparked like a heavy log tossed onto a flame, and Hod froze.
“Master . . . what are you doing?” he moaned.
“I have trapped the wench.”
Ghisla tried to run, but the air crackled again and lightning shot upward from the ground when she took a single step. She fell back, clinging to the trunk of the tree.
“Let me go,” Ghisla demanded.
“She has shown me her thoughts, Master. You have taught me to hear deception. She is afraid, and her heart races. But she has not sought to deceive. She is not a witch or a siren or a fairy. She is a Songr. A child. A girl child.” Hod said girl child like she was a chest filled with treasure.
“She is Loki in disguise, here to trick you, just as he did with your namesake. She is here to destroy you.”
“She is not Loki, Master. She has dwelled with me here for nigh on a week and has done nothing but sing to me.”
Arwin gasped as if that were proof of her perfidy. “It is as Master Ivo said. The keepers will be destroyed. It has begun.”
“Master Ivo? You saw the Highest Keeper?” Hod gasped.
Arwin shook his head, his beard writhing, but he did not answer Hod. Ghisla attempted to run again, darting in a new direction, and was knocked off her feet. Her head bounced off a rock, stunning her, and Hod cried out.
“She seeks to escape,” Arwin howled. “Who sent you, witch?”
His voice wavered like he stood a long way off, and Ghisla’s consciousness flickered. Unfortunately, her pain revived her. She whimpered, rubbing at the back of her head. Her hand came away bloody, and Hod cursed.
“She is bleeding, Master. You have hurt her.”
“Your senses must be returning,” Arwin said, his relief evident. “I have weakened her.”
Hod scraped at the forest floor with the butt of his staff, and Arwin screamed in protest.
“Don’t!”
A moment later, Hod was kneeling beside her, his fingers finding the lump forming on the back of her head.
“Are you all right, Ghisla?” he asked.
She was not all right. She was terrified. She swatted at his hands and staggered to her feet. Whatever barrier Arwin had erected around her was gone, and she lurched forward, temporarily freed, temporarily euphoric, her vision still spinning, and ran headlong into the trunk of another tree.
This time Ghisla succumbed to the deep well of unconsciousness.
When she surfaced again, she found herself on the bed Hod had made her in the cave, but her nest was no longer a sanctuary. Arwin had returned, and Ghisla was not welcome or wanted. Her head throbbed and her stomach rolled, but she didn’t dare move. Hod and his master were in deep conversation, their backs to her. She observed them through the sweep of her