“What good are runes if they are not used when they are needed? She did not see the runes . . . or understand them.”
“I did not raise you to be foolish,” Arwin spat.
“You did not raise me to be fooled. I have passed all your tests, Master. I considered that she was disguised . . . that you had sent her. But there was no deceit in her. Not in her breath or her heartbeat. Not in her fear or her words. You must listen to her sing, Master. Then you will know.”
“I don’t want to listen to her sing. She will beguile me like she’s beguiled you.”
But there was doubt in his voice, hesitation, and when Ghisla opened her eyes he was there, hovering above her, Hod beside him. His beard tickled her nose.
“Where did you come from, girl?” Arwin demanded.
She groaned, and her head spun.
“She is hurt, Master,” Hod said.
“Don’t touch her!” Arwin yelled, slapping at his charge.
“Who are you, child?” Arwin asked.
“I am Ghisla,” she whispered, and her head screamed.
“It would cost you nothing to take her pain away, Master,” Hod said.
“Shh,” Arwin growled. “Pain doesn’t lie.”
“Of course it does,” Hod argued. “There is no liar as skilled as pain. Pain will say anything to save itself.”
Arwin grumbled, but his fingers, probing and sharp, found their way into her hair. He traced the bump on her forehead with his thumbs and prodded the wound at the base of her skull with his fingers.
“She is a Songr. She has rune blood, Master,” Hod said. “You need not use your own.”
“Quiet,” Arwin demanded, and Hod obeyed. A second later, the old man drew something on her brow, his fingers wet with the blood from her head. His mouth moved over words she couldn’t hear, but Hod seemed to, for he exhaled in relief.
Her relief followed instantly.
She blinked up at Hod’s teacher. She’d known she didn’t like him. But the absence of the pain in her head made her feel slightly more charitable toward him, though he had caused it. She eased herself up so she was sitting with her back to the wall of the cave.
“Ghisla,” Hod said, his voice kind. “This is my teacher, Arwin. You mustn’t be afraid.”
“He thinks I am a witch,” she said. Of course she should be afraid. But she found her fear had fled with the pain in her head, as if Arwin’s mark had freed her of both.
“Who sent you?” Arwin demanded, holding his staff like a spear, the sharp end only inches from her breast. He was afraid too, she realized suddenly. The thought was almost comical. He was bigger and stronger. He knew magical runes, and he was not bleeding, homeless, and huddling at the end of a sharp stick.
“Who sent you?” he asked again, prodding her ribs with his staff.
“No one sent me. There is no one left,” she cried, swatting at the stick.
Hod’s brow furrowed over his mossy eyes. She had not told him everything.
“No one?” Hod asked.
“My family is dead,” she amended.
“How did you find him? How did you find Hod?” Arwin asked.
“I did not find him,” Ghisla insisted. “He found me.”
“This is true, Master,” Hod interjected.
“Shh,” Arwin spat. “She found you, Hod. She found us. She is here, isn’t she?”
“I am here . . . but I know nothing about you . . . or this place,” she said.
“Ask the runes, Master. Then you will know she speaks the truth,” Hod urged.
“Silence, boy!” Arwin yowled. He reacted thus with every mention of the runes, as if he thought she had come to take them . . . or see them. Or learn them.
“How old are you, girl?”
“Fourteen summers.”
“No,” Arwin scoffed as if she’d lied, though she had no reason to do so.
“Yes,” she answered.
“You are small. You haven’t a woman’s form. You look much younger,” Arwin argued.
He was right. She had no breasts or hips. And though her hair was long, with Hod’s old tunic and leggings, most would think her a boy.
“You don’t have the face of a boy,” he mused. It was like he read her thoughts. “Too pretty. Lips too pink, eyes too knowing.” He nodded to himself, persuaded. “Aye. No doubt about it. You’re a witch.”
4
STEPS
It was not Ghisla’s song that convinced Arwin she was not a witch. It was the fact that he was not nearly so affected by it as Hod, who sat in rapt stillness as she sang