choose him.” Dred pointed at Bayr, and all eyes followed his finger.
“He is not yet grown,” Erskin argued. “How can he lead a clan?”
“Have you killed a man, Bayr of Saylok?” Aidan asked.
Bayr nodded once. “Yes.”
“Have you bedded a woman?” Lothgar boomed.
Bashti snickered and Elayne gasped.
“Th-there w-was no b-bed,” Bayr stammered.
Lothgar grinned, and the men at Dred’s back relaxed infinitesimally.
“Sounds like a man to me,” Aidan said. “Looks like one too.”
“He has protected the temple and the princess since the king was crowned. He has not failed or faltered. But he has a clan, and his clan has claimed him, and you cannot deny us our chieftain,” Dred pressed.
Ghisla watched Dagmar wrap his hand around Bayr’s arm, as though willing him to yield, to trust.
“The clan has not made their selection. Your people have not spoken. You cannot speak for them, Dred of Dolphys,” the king argued.
“I can’t. But the boy must come to Dolphys and be heard,” Dred insisted.
“This is a farce,” the king argued, his tone glacial.
“It is not,” the Highest Keeper intoned from the shadow of his hood. “Dred of Dolphys is a man of vision.”
Erskin scoffed and Lothgar folded his powerful arms in disbelief.
“Dred of Dolphys forsakes his own claim to the chiefdom for another, better man,” the Highest Keeper argued. “Would you do the same? I can think of many warriors in Ebba and Leok who would lead their clans with great distinction.”
“The clan will choose him,” Dagmar’s voice rose, strong and sure. “I am a keeper of Dolphys. In the temple, it is I who represent the clan. Bayr of Dolphys has my blessing.”
“He cannot forsake Saylok for a single clan,” King Banruud protested.
“He is not a slave, not a supplicant, not the son of the king,” the Highest Keeper said. “He has fulfilled a duty and will now fulfill another. When you were chosen as king, Sire, you did not break an oath to Berne. Someone took your place. Someone will take his place.” The Highest Keeper’s voice was so mild—and cutting—none could disagree.
“And if he is not chosen?” Lothgar interrupted.
“If I am n-not chosen . . . I w-will return,” Bayr promised, and Dred of Dolphys looked at him like he wanted to clap his hands over Bayr’s mouth.
But Bayr’s vow eased the tension in the chieftains, and Aidan of Adyar grasped his braid with one hand and his sword with the other. “He’s been claimed. Let him go. If the Norns will it, he will return.”
Lothgar of Leok echoed the motion, but Erskin of Ebba and Benjie of Berne did not. The king’s face was a mask of indecision, his big legs planted, his arms folded, his shoulders set. Still, no one stepped forward to impede the boy’s progress as Dagmar escorted Bayr the final steps to Dred’s side.
“To Dolphys,” Dred shouted.
“To Dolphys,” the warriors behind him hollered, and as one they turned for their horses.
“To Dolphys,” Dagmar ordered Bayr, his voice firm.
Bayr swung up onto his mount, his eyes clinging to his uncle’s. Then he looked at the keepers and the daughters, a fleeting glance filled with pain and apology.
“No,” Juliah moaned beside her, and Elayne clutched her hand.
“What will we do without him?” Elayne wept.
“I don’t know,” Ghisla whispered. “Odin help us.” Odin help her.
The moon was full and the hour late when Ghisla picked her way down to her favorite overlook on the east face of Temple Hill and sat in the grass, tucking herself back into the shadows so she could call out to Hod. Below her was the long, grassy slope spotted with rocks and trees that eventually flattened in the Temple Wood below, but she could see in every direction. If she saw anyone or felt any danger, she could scurry back to the tunnel in the hillside and be back inside the temple in minutes.
Eleven tunnels crisscrossed the mount. Tunnels from the temple to the castle, from the sanctum to the throne room, from garden to garden, and from the cellar to the hillside. Bayr had shown her all of them.
But now Bayr was gone. The occupants of the temple were reeling. Dagmar had shut himself in the sanctum, and Ghost had disappeared after supper, though Ghisla thought she was probably with Alba, who had been inconsolable since saying goodbye to the boy who had guarded her since birth.
Poor Alba.
What would they all do without him? Elayne’s question had echoed continually. Ghisla would have to face the king alone. She would have to sing