not go together, but somehow did. The two emotions trod hand in hand across her heart, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
She brushed her hand across her face, wiping at them, and Hod’s voice became even clearer still. Tears worked in the rune! Tears and spittle and blood, the stuff of life.
“Arwin is coming. I must go,” he said, regretful.
“Oh no. Not yet,” she begged.
“Promise me you will not give up.” His voice was fading.
“I will not give up today,” she said, the joy and grief still warring.
“And promise me you will sing to me again.”
“I will sing to you again. I won’t be afraid to try.”
“Liis?”
She jerked, pressing her hand to her heart.
“Hody?” she squeaked, disoriented all over again.
“Liis of Leok, who are you talking to, child?”
Master Ivo stood near the doorway to the sanctum, his hands wrapped around his scepter. She hadn’t heard him enter. She’d been too lost in her miraculous conversation.
She rose in respect, her hands clasped before her, her mind scrambling. What had he heard? What had she said?
“I see none of the other daughters. They are at supper where you should be. So . . . who . . . were you talking to?” He enunciated the word who like a whip.
“Only to myself, Highest Keeper,” she said. “To myself . . . and . . . to Hod.”
He gaped. “To Hod? The blind god?”
“Yes, Master.”
She’d stunned him. She’d stunned herself. She’d told the truth, but it wasn’t the truth at all, and she feared the old wizard would hear her lie.
“Of all the gods, why do you speak to him?” he asked.
“Because he . . . he is the best . . . the best listener, Master.”
The Highest Keeper stared and then he laughed, a cackle that made him sway with its power. He laughed, bent over his scepter, and she waited, trembling, and held her tongue.
“He is the best listener,” the Highest Keeper crowed, still snorting with laughter. “This is true. Imagine. Such a thing had never occurred to me. Hod hears better than Odin himself.” He laughed again. He shook a clawed finger in her direction. “You are a clever girl.”
“Thank you, Highest Keeper.”
“Now go. You should not be in the sanctum. You can pray to Hod elsewhere.” He laughed again, and she curtsied and fled, his chortle following behind her.
It was only after midnight on the following day, when the temple and all its occupants had retired to their quarters and the watchman on the mount wall cried out that all was well, that Ghisla dared to creep down to the stores beneath the kitchen and summon her friend. It was the only place in the temple where she trusted no one would hear.
The mice and spiders would hear, and some might come out to inspect. The thought made her shudder, but she wasn’t deterred. She lit a candle in the kitchen before pulling the door closed behind her and descending the stone steps to the nethermost chamber where meat was hung, dried, and salted before being stored. She’d thought about sitting in the room where the jarred fruit was shelved and casks of wine were kept but thought that room was more likely to attract late-night visitations. The hooks that extended from the ceiling were adorned with unrecognizable carcasses, and the room smelled of flesh and blood, but the keepers were nothing if not fastidious, and every surface had been scrubbed and every corner swept. It would do.
She was deep enough beneath everything else that no one would hear her, and she didn’t want a repeat of the episode with Master Ivo in the sanctum. She had no excuse—conversations with a blind god would not work again—for being out of her bed. With two doors and earthen walls between her and the floor above, she perched on the workbench and used a needle to prick her finger. She didn’t let herself think or doubt. She simply smeared the blood into the lines of her palm and called out.
“Hody?” she sang softly. She suspected one word was not enough, and she began to chant his name using the eight tones of the song of parting, hoping it would suffice.
Ho dy, Ho dy, hear me, Ho dy.
Ho dy, Ho dy, hear me, Ho dy.
It was no longer a name but a pealing summons. She closed her eyes and waited for the darkness behind them to merge with his. Her heart was banging so loudly she was afraid she wouldn’t