Uspa shifted on her bench, moving closer to Elvar.
“What next for us?” she said to Elvar, almost a whisper.
Elvar looked at her, feeling a stab of sympathy for the woman. She was a Seier-witch, her husband Tainted, and her son too, but she had gone from a life of freedom with her kin to losing her husband and wearing a thrall-collar around her neck. Agnar and the Battle-Grim excelled at hunting down the Tainted and Elvar had always kept herself distant from their prisoners – she knew it was her living and her reputation – but this time she felt the twist of some emotion within her. Perhaps because of saving the boy from the serpent.
That was a business decision, she told herself. The boy will earn coin or be used as leverage against Uspa. A Seier-witch is a valuable asset.
But part of her could sniff out the lie in her own reasoning. She looked at Uspa and could not keep the pity from rising within her.
A hard truth or a soft lie?
“I do not know,” Elvar said, choosing the hard path. “Perhaps Agnar will sell you at the thrall-market, or keep you and sell Bjarn. Or sell you both, together or to different homes.” She shrugged. “I am not chief of the Battle-Grim to make such decisions.”
“But you are close to the chief,” she said, her eyes flickering to the troll tusk about Elvar’s neck, and the arm ring Agnar had gifted her.
Elvar just shrugged.
“We need to leave Snakavik,” Uspa said, with a flare of her eyes and nostrils.
She is afraid. But I would be afraid, if I were in her place.
“Why would you be in such a hurry to leave, with your husband a thrall of Jarl St?rr? He will only leave Snakavik for battle. At least if you remain here you will be close to him: may even see him, occasionally.”
“We need to leave,” Uspa repeated, a hiss.
The tavern door swung open, letting in the grey light of Snakavik, and a warrior walked in, a woman in fine war gear, her brynja gleaming as if freshly scrubbed with sand. Her dark hair was braided, a scar running through one cheek into her upper lip. Elvar recognised her.
Gytha, father’s champion. Gytha’s battle-fame was known to most; even now the landlord appeared in the kitchen doorway and half-bowed to her.
Gytha looked around and saw Elvar, and Grend sitting beside her. She dipped her head to Grend.
“Welcome home,” she said to Elvar, though her eyes rested mostly on Grend.
Elvar nodded, not trusting the words her mouth might utter.
There was a moment’s silence, Grend silent as a stone, then Gytha looked over her shoulder and gestured. Two more warriors walked in, carrying a chest.
“For Agnar,” Gytha said.
The payment for Berak. My father spoke true, he pays well for Berserkir.
Agnar rose from his seat, where he had been hidden behind the tavern door. Elvar saw his hand drop from his sword hilt as he stood. He barked an order and Sighvat stepped forwards to take the chest from the two warriors.
“Jarl St?rr is here to see his daughter,” Gytha said to Agnar and all in the room. She looked around. Confused faces stared back at her. Only Agnar and a few others knew of Elvar’s bloodline. Gytha’s eyes came to rest upon Elvar. “He wishes for some privacy.”
“A good time to take this to the Wave-Jarl, then,” Agnar said, slapping the chest. “Battle-Grim, with me,” he called as he walked through the tavern door. Sighvat followed him, and the rest of the Battle-Grim stood and filed out of the tavern.
Biórr looked at Elvar, noting that she made no move to leave the room. She could see the candle-light flickering to life in his thought-cage.
“That means you as well,” Grend told Biórr with a frown.
Biórr rose slowly.
“You will be… all right?” he asked Elvar. “I can stay.”
Grend snorted and put his hands on the table to rise.
Elvar touched Grend’s arm.
“I have earned my place in the Battle-Grim’s shield wall,” she scowled at Biórr, clutching the troll tusk at her neck. “Why would I need you to stay? You think me some nieing who needs protecting?”
He shrugged, holding his hands up, then gestured for Uspa and Bjarn to follow him. Thrud rose and put his knife away, falling in behind the woman and child. They were the last to leave.
More warriors entered the tavern: Jarl St?rr’s oathsworn guard. They spread around the tavern, checking the room was empty. Two climbed the loft-ladder and shouted down that all was clear.
Jarl St?rr entered the room. He saw Elvar and walked to her, figures filing in behind him: her brothers Thorun and Broeir, and finally Silrie, one of the few Galdurwomen in all of Vigrie, her necklace of animal skulls clinking as she walked. Jarl St?rr sat down opposite Elvar, Thorun and Broeir either side of him. Silrie stood behind him.