Something in the way Uspa spoke convinced Elvar it was the truth. Agnar leaned back in his chair, fingers tugging at his beard.
He believes her, too.
Agnar leaned forwards.
“You will take me to Oskutree first, and then I shall find your son for you,” he said.
Uspa barked a laugh. “Do you think me such a fool? I would be worthless to you once you set eyes on Oskutree. My son first.”
“It could take a year to find him, and I do not have the coin and silver to fund a search of great length.”
“Then find him quickly,” Uspa said.
“There are no guarantees,” Agnar said. “Oskutree first. I will swear to you an oath.”
Uspa opened her mouth, then paused, her face shifting.
“An oath,” she murmured. “Perhaps. There is an oath that you can make. That we can all make to one another. But it is not just words. Our lives would be bound, and the breaking of the oath would have… consequences. Swear on it and I shall take you to Oskutree first.” She held Agnar’s gaze. “The blóe svarie,” she said.
Elvar felt a chill in her blood at Uspa’s words, though she did not know what they meant.
“What is that?” Sighvat rumbled. He was standing close to the doorway, ensuring there were no prying ears.
“The blood oath,” Kráka said. “It is made with blood, runes and words of power. To make the blóe svarie is to bind yourself to your vow, and to those who take it with you. It is a seal in your body unto death and to break it is to die.” Kráka looked at them all in turn. “Painfully.”
“If all here make the oath, I will show you the way to Oskutree,” Uspa said, looking from Agnar to Elvar, then Sighvat, Grend and Kráka.
“What do you mean, painfully?” Sighvat said, frowning. One hand crept up to the pendant at his throat, the clawed foot of a frost-spider, Sighvat’s first kill in the Battle-Grim.
“We will swear the oath and seal it with our blood and Seier-magic,” Uspa said. “That will bind us so long as blood flows in our veins.”
“Painfully?” Sighvat repeated, glowering at Uspa.
“If you break the oath before you die, then your blood shall boil in your veins. You will die screaming,” Uspa said. She looked at them all. “This is the only way I will agree to take you to Oskutree before you search for my Bjarn.”
Sighvat blew out a long breath. “Don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered.
“I have made one oath. I shall not make another,” Grend said, breaking his silence. He looked at the white scar etched across his left palm.
“All of you must take the oath,” Uspa said. “You have all heard Oskutree spoken of. It is the only way that we can trust one another.”
“No,” Grend said.
“Uspa is right,” Agnar said, leaning back in his chair. He looked from Grend to Elvar.
“Grend is oathsworn to me,” Elvar said. “Wherever I go, whatever path I choose, Grend will follow. He can be trusted with or without your oath.”
“No,” Uspa said, a crack to her voice like a leather whip. “All or none. This is the greatest secret in all of Vigrie. I will not share it without your oath and your blood.”
Elvar looked at Grend, knowing the circumstances and significance of his last oath. He stared back into her eyes, seeing the hope and desire within her. Muscles in his cheek twitched. Eventually he nodded. “I will take your oath,” he said, “but only for Elvar. None of this matters to me.”
Sighvat snorted.
“Close the door,” Uspa said to Sighvat as she stood and walked to one of the benches. Agnar nodded and the big man did, shutting out the light and noise from the tavern. Uspa picked up a chopping board and a sharp knife, then sat back down at the table.
“Gather close,” she said, Sighvat and Grend stepping up to the table, and Uspa set to carving runes into the chopping board. Three, four of them, a series of straight lines, some angled, all deep into the wood. At the sight of them Elvar felt a thrumming in her blood, a buzzing building in her head.
Do I want to do this? Bind myself to the fate of a Tainted child? Go up against Ilska the Cruel and her Raven-Feeders? She could see Bjarn’s face: remembered when he had been hurled from the Wave-Jarl into the sea, how she had leaped after him.
I am bound to him already.
And the thought of Oskutree swirled through her like mead in her blood. Intoxicating, overwhelming. Fear and excitement fluttered in her veins, blending into a heady mix.