lashes and closed her eyes again, not wanting to hear, not wanting to hope. Hod was pleading with his teacher, his voice low and urgent.
“I did not take her deep into the cave. She has stayed with me since I found her on the shore.”
“You cannot see her! How would you know what she has seen, you fool!” Arwin scolded.
“I have not left her side, Master.”
“You are slow. Dulled. She has to be destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Hod gasped.
“She has to leave,” Arwin amended. “She cannot be near you. She cannot stay here.”
“She is alone . . . like I was. She is from Tonlis. I told you; she is a Songr, Master. I heard her. Even through the storm. She was singing . . . and I heard her. I waited all night for the storm to end, and the waves washed her up onto the sand. I could sense her, even when she stopped singing. A vibration still rose from her skin. It is loud, Master. Louder than even you are, and I can hear you for miles.”
“You did not hear me today!” Arwin reminded, silencing him. When Hod spoke again, his voice was pleading.
“Her life song is louder than any living thing I’ve ever heard. You could teach her. Like you teach me. She has nowhere to go. And she is a girl. She is precious. We cannot turn her away.”
“She blinds you.”
“No . . . she helps me see!”
“She blinds you, Hod,” Arwin repeated. “All your other senses fade to nothing. You know it’s true. I can see it in your face. I struck you, and you did not feel it coming. You did not hear me coming. I walked into the cave fearing the worst, and you were not here. I had to go looking for you. When I saw you . . . lying in that clearing, the witch dancing around you . . . I thought you were dead.”
“It was innocent, Master. She is innocent.”
“Innocent or not, for the first time in your life you were truly blind. She does not help you see.”
“I need only to practice,” Hod pled, but Ghisla heard the wavering in his belief.
“You will lose the sensitivity you have honed. If she is here, you will choose sight instead of insight. She will weaken you. She has weakened you already!”
“She is alone,” Hod whispered. “She has no one. Nowhere to go. And she is a girl, Master. A girl! She needs protection.”
Silence rose between them, and Ghisla didn’t dare open her eyes to see what was unfolding. Her limbs were heavy, pain throbbed in her head, and she lay in dark misery, awaiting her fate. It was minutes before either of them spoke again.
“I have been to Temple Hill,” Arwin said. “There is much talk. King Banruud has asked that a girl from each clan be brought to the temple mount. I will take the girl to Chief Lothgar in Leok. He will be relieved to have someone to send.”
“But . . . ,” Hod protested.
“It is a perfect solution. It is as if Odin himself delivered her.”
“He did not deliver her to Leok . . . He delivered her to me,” Hod argued, his voice so pained, Ghisla felt a twist in her own chest.
“You are already attached to her,” Arwin lamented. “She has ruined you.”
“I am not ruined. I am . . . I am . . .” Hod searched for the word and could not find it.
“She will hurt your training, boy,” Arwin said, almost gentle.
“Then I will work harder. Please do not send her away.”
“I do not have permission to teach her,” Arwin yelled, all gentleness gone as quickly as it had come. “The runes are forbidden to her.”
“But you would send her to the keepers?” Hod shot back. “To the temple?”
“Master Ivo is keeper of the temple and the runes. He will have to decide what to do with her . . . and the other daughters who are sent there. That is not my charge. She is not my charge. You are.”
“Her heartbeat has quickened. She is waking,” Hod said, his voice bleak.
A moment passed, and she felt them at her bedside, their combined presence blocking out the firelight that glowed beyond her lids.
“You put stones around her bed? And marked them with runes?” Arwin said, incredulous.
“I only used the runes to help her rest. And to help her wake. And . . . to rid her hair of bugs,” Hod confessed, sheepish. “Three runes