Seven Endless Forests - April Genevieve Tucholke Page 0,31
groan and held up both hands. “One at a time, one at a time. What are your names?”
“Ingrid.”
“Ingvar.”
“Ivor.”
“Everyone just calls us the Arrows, for short, and because they can’t tell us apart,” Ingrid added.
“You say your father doesn’t know where you are?” Madoc glanced at Ink. “How far is Cutross from here?”
She shrugged. “A few miles.”
Madoc turned back to the children. “So while the Night Wild is raging in Cutross, you three sneaked away from your father’s archery stall to fight wolves?”
“Yes. We are skilled archers.”
“Vorseland needs us.”
“Father won’t let us join the Quicks, so we have to prove to him we’re worthy.”
The three Butcher Bards exchanged a look, and Stefan laughed again. “Change of plans. It appears we are going to a Night Wild tonight—we need to return these three rascals to their poor father.” He turned to Gyda and me. “You two need better blades, in any case.”
Madoc crossed his arms and stared down the three siblings. “Pack up the tents and put out the fire. We’re taking you back to the market.”
The Arrows roared in protest, waving their bows in the air.
“You can’t tell us what to do—”
“We can take care of ourselves—”
“We are skilled archers—”
“We can slay the wolves, just give us a chance—”
“No one tells the Quicks what to do or drags them back to their father—”
Gyda’s mouth twitched. I didn’t dare meet her gaze, or we would both burst into laughter. These charming ruffians, with their bravery and scrappy innocence … I had a high tolerance for mischief, especially in children, and especially when accompanied by such valor.
Madoc groaned again. “Look, Arrows. If you let us return you to the Night Wild, I will tell your father that you rescued us from a band of woodland thieves, using nothing but your quick wits and your skill at archery.”
That did the trick.
The Arrows discussed the offer quietly among themselves for a few moments, and then Ingrid turned to face us.
“We will go back to the Night Wild,” she said. “But if we meet any wolves on the way, you will let us fight them.”
Madoc fingered his dagger, thumb rubbing the hilt. “Deal.”
TEN
We cut across open meadows and through dark ravines, over rolling hills and flat, tilled farmland. The Arrows moved easily and were nearly as quiet as the Bards.
I expected the children to talk all the way to the outskirts of Cutross, but they were focused and silent, eyes on the shadows. They took wolf-hunting seriously.
We were forced to slow our pace slightly as we picked our way across a muddy field. Stefan glanced over his shoulder at Gyda and me. “Is this your first Night Wild?” he asked quietly.
We both nodded.
“You’ve never been to a Night Wild?” Ingrid looked at me with big blue eyes full of pity. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“The Night Wilds make life worth living,” added one of her brothers, “along with archery and killing wolves.”
“I’d be ashamed if I were as old as you two and had never been to a Night Wild,” the last boy chimed in helpfully.
Gyda just laughed, soft, whispery peals, and I grinned.
“The Wilds are held all summer along the Stretch,” Ingrid said in a voice that was charmingly arrogant and condescending. “Many traders believe that buying and selling at night brings good luck and goodwill from the gods. There are jugglers, singers, actors, storytellers, mystics, and magicians. There are exotic fruits, and cloaks edged in magical golden threads, and necklaces woven from the virginal tresses of Gothi nuns. You will find everything your heart desires and many more things besides.”
Morgunn had often expressed a desire to see a Night Wild—she used to sit up late by the fire, her voice low and gentle, almost reverential, listing the stalls she’d like to visit, the sellers and goods she’d heard tell of, the food, the entertainers, the mead, the Vite, the wine.
Gyda put a hand on my arm. “I miss that little imp,” she said, reading my thoughts. “I think of her often.”
My gaze met hers, and I saw my heartache echoed in her eyes. She hadn’t known Morgunn long, but she felt some of my pain. Morgunn was easy to like—she was Vorse to the heart, to the bone, like a character in a fireside tale, like Olli from the Blood Frost Saga, daring and brave, with just enough mischief to take the edge off.
To my left, I saw Madoc shake his head in warning. “Remember, everyone. We need to stay on