Once they were outside, Gunnhild heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank Freyja. I don’t know how much more of his posturing I can take. Gods, how I loathe that man.”
“Gunna—，” Oddny began.
“Cookhouse first,” Gunnhild said. “I meant what I said about seeing Vigdis.” She looped her arm through Oddny’s. “And then I thought we could build a fire if the pit is still there, and sit out for a bit like we used to. Unless it’s too cold for you.”
“Not at all,” Oddny said, for she wore her shawl, and she was relieved to be free of the commotion of the hall. As they walked, she clung to Gunnhild out of a childish worry that if she let her friend go for one moment, she would vanish just as she’d done the last time they’d parted.
Ulfrun was in the cookhouse as well when they arrived. After a tearful reunion with Vigdis, Gunnhild said, “I need your help tomorrow night with a ritual.”
Vigdis and Ulfrun looked at each other. Oddny, who had reattached herself to Gunnhild’s side the moment she’d broken from Vigdis, said, “A ritual?”
“Yes. After supper, will the three of you sing the warding songs for me? Right here in the cookhouse, with any of the other girls here who know the songs?”
“No seeress has been through here since the one who took you away,” said Vigdis carefully. “It’s only the three of us, I think. Solveig has forbidden us to teach the songs to the younger ones. She thinks them cursed.”
Gunnhild scowled. “She would think that.”
“We’ll do it,” said Ulfrun. “If only because we’ve let you down in every other way, lamb.” Her eyes were misty again as she came forward and took Gunnhild’s hand. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t protect you from her.”
Vigdis’s lower lip trembled. “Have you seen her yet?”
“I must go. Oddny and I have much to discuss. Thank you for your help,” Gunnhild said stiffly. She slid her hand from Ulfrun’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once they were clear of the cookhouse, Oddny said, very quietly, “Would that my mother had gotten you away from her. She tried—”
“I know,” Gunnhild said, staring straight ahead as they made their way across the darkening yard, ignoring the clamor from within the hall. “Yrsa was a good woman. She didn’t deserve her fate.”
“Which raises the question,” Oddny said, “of how you already seemed to know what had happened to her before your father told you.”
“From the moment I was taught to leave my body and travel as witches do, I came back as often as I could. As a bird.” Gunnhild looped their arms together again as they continued onto the beach, the grass giving way to pebbles. “I’ve been keeping watch on you for many years. That I happened to be there for the raid was a coincidence: a good one for you, because I could help you escape, but a poor one for my mentor. She died that day. I wish I could have done more for you both. And for Signy.”
“A bird?” Oddny’s steps faltered. “You were the swallow? The one who attacked—？”
Both of them stopped. Farther down the beach, someone had already started a fire in the pit. The two women exchanged a look and approached with cautious steps until the shape of Halldor materialized.
“And would that I’d succeeded in taking out his eye,” Gunnhild said coldly. “What is he doing here?”
“And here I thought that one random bird simply had it out for me,” Halldor said. “Interesting to know the truth.”
“How did you—？” Gunnhild began.
“You talk very loudly for two people attempting to have a private conversation.” Halldor added another log to the fire, then sat back against the rock behind him.
“Halldor, this is Gunnhild,” Oddny said, “the long-lost daughter of our host.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said. “The whole place is talking about her.”
Oddny gestured at him. “Gunnhild, this is Halldor. He was thrown overboard after the raid and washed up here. Your father is making him pay me compensation on behalf of all his fellows. Twelve marks of silver.”
“Eleven and a half,” Halldor said. “Remember?”
“Right.” Oddny sat down near the fire, opposite him, and bade Gunnhild do the same. “Why aren’t you at the feast, Halldor? If you mean to join the king’s hird, it would seem prudent to introduce yourself.”
“I don’t like crowds.” Halldor shifted. “And I’ll introduce myself tomorrow on the practice field, with a weapon in my hand. It’ll make a more memorable impression.”
Gunnhild looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been spying since the raid, so I believe I’m missing something: How is it that we’re sitting here so comfortably with one of the men responsible for what befell your family?”
“Halldor and I have an understanding,” Oddny said. “Your father thinks I’m going to use the silver he pays me to find a husband and rebuild my life, but I intend to use it to rescue Signy. Halldor says she’ll most likely be sold at Birka, because that’s where the raiders winter.”
Gunnhild cut him a suspicious look. “But there are other market towns well before—”
“Well, Kolfinna is banned from Denmark,” Halldor said. “She wouldn’t stop there. She’s . . . noticeable.”
“How is that possible?” Gunnhild asked. “Women can’t be outlawed.”
“I didn’t say she was outlawed. It was more that she was asked to leave and never come back. Politely. At sword point.” Halldor shrugged a shoulder. “It happens when you kill enough people during alehouse brawls without paying their families compensation. Anyway, as I’ve already told Oddny, even if you went to Birka, the chances of finding Signy would be very slim. She would only be passing through. Even if you got there before the start of winter, you’d be stranded there before picking up the trail.”
“He also told me that the crew were paid to raid my farm,” Oddny said. “By some witch who takes the form of a white fox and communicated only with Kolfinna.”
Gunnhild pursed her lips. “This all aligns with what I witnessed that day. Kolfinna was furious that this man let you escape, Oddny. I’m not surprised she gave him to Ran’s daughters. Thorbjorg cut half their pay.”
“Thorbjorg?”
“That’s her name. The white fox,” said Gunnhild. “I learned from Eirik that she works for King Olaf of Vestfold, and studied witchcraft under Eirik’s brother Rognvald, whom he killed.”
“If that’s so, I understand her anger,” Oddny said slowly. “But what does any of that have to do with you, and with Signy and me?”
Gunnhild looked away. “All I know is that she foresaw something. Something to do with . . . us. I haven’t pieced it all together yet, but I will.” There was fire in her eyes when she looked back to Oddny. “The reason I’m doing the ritual tomorrow is to ask the spirits where Signy has been taken. The dead don’t just know the future—they know everything. And once they’ve told me where to find her, we will bring her home.”