Chapter 39
This house is mine. What a thought. What a feeling. Unbelievable.
I’ve lit the hearth. The crackling birch wood spreads its sweet scent.
The room is also lit by the candle mounted on the wall—placed by the thrall Sigurd sent to prepare my quarters.
Who would have guessed robbing Asbjorn’s house would lead to me being given my own?
I must be the luckiest slave girl in the world.
It’s small, not lavish by any means, but it’s enough.
Two benches flanking a solid table, two more benches along the edges of the walls, a bed in the corner, a fireplace. What more does one need?
I grab fresh pelts from the stack on my table, spreading them on the benches and my bed.
My father—he would have liked this, been proud of his girl.
A flayed and gutted rabbit hangs from a hook over the fireplace.
It’s not easy being a horrible cook, but I have to start sometime.
Ari’s tips will help. He seemed so somber on our descent, so—
My heart jumps at a knock on the door.
“Hello?”
“It’s Eidunn,” says a muffled voice through the wood.
I rip the door open, unable to hide a beaming smile as I welcome my first guest ever.
“Welcome,” I say. “Please come in.”
Eidunn smiles, holding my eyes as she enters slowly.
“Look at you,” she says before expanding her grin. “Not bad for a slave.”
“You would know,” I jab back, closing the door. “Love your braid.”
“Thanks,” she says, stroking her thick hair. The braid begins at the nape of her neck, elegantly interlaced to pull back her mane for a clean look. The opposite of my hurriedly fixed mess.
“You’ll have to teach me,” I say. “Sit, sit.”
“Sigurd sent me,” she says without sitting.
“What for?”
“To help you.”
“With what?”
“By Odin, Kilda, with anything.”
“Why?”
“Aren’t you a Volva now? How do you know so little?”
We both laugh. I’m happy Eidunn isn’t openly angry or jealous. My fear had been that the other slaves would despise my better treatment. That they would hate me.
“Us humans never stop learning. Our journey continues until we die.”
“Now you sound like a Volva.” She folds her arms, keeping her smile. “So, what do you need me to do?”
“Well, I was going to cook this rabbit, then practice enchanting.”
“I will cook—I even brought some thyme. You practice your craft.”
“Are you sur—”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Eidunn finds the cutting board leaning against the wall, places the rabbit on it, and pulls out her knife.
She gets to work. I can’t believe it. Jarl Sigurd must really want me as Volva—he’s even sent Eidunn to free my hands and mind.
I consider asking her about Njord, if he has kept harassing her, but it’s probably best to wait. For now.
“Sigurd really thought of everything I need in here,” I say.
“Sigurd? Don’t be silly. He asked me to set the place up for you.”
“Is it true?”
I hug Eidunn from behind, giving her a good squeeze. Few folk have ever been so grateful as I am now. What a blessing from Freya.
“It’s true,” she says, pushing me away with her elbow. “Careful! I’m holding a knife!”
“Please, sit down, Eidunn.”
“Who sits while they work?” she says, shaking her head.
“Don’t think of it as work, we’re two friends about to share a meal.”
Her rump finds the bench as she releases a short laugh.
“I’m eating in the thrall room later.”
“Nonsense!” I shout, barely noticing my rise in volume. “You eat with me.”
“If it’s your order, my lady,” she says sarcastically.
“Please, I didn’t even ask for this. I just want us to eat together. Relax as friends.”
“Okay, Kilda, fair enough. I’ll try. Now do your work while I do mine.”
Ylvin wanted me to explore enchantments beyond temperature.
To expand my horizons. Problem is, she did not give much instruction.
I would figure it out, she said. Do the same as with the cold, she said.
Feel it, she said. Not very helpful. Ylvin pushed my boat into the waters, but learning to navigate the waves—that’s up to me.
A Volva’s power is a blessing from the gods, but is tethered to her being.
“Let’s see,” I whisper, uncertain what to practice.
“What will you do?” asks Eidunn.
“I… Ylvin said… you will think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.” She smirks, leaning on her palm.
“It’s hard to describe. I’ve already performed a basic enchantment—making something cold.”
“Making something cold?”
“Yes.”
“I thought enchantment was about warding the evil eye and all that.”
“I thought the same,” I whisper excitedly. “But this is more than that. This is the real deal.”
“Real deal?”
“It’s… magic.”
“So how do you make something cold?”
“I almost drowned up there, in the freezing waters. In the dark. When I use that experience as some kind of anchor, I can manifest the same impression in an object. Or transfer it, perhaps. It’s hard to—”
“Rubbish,” she scoffs. “Children’s tales.”
“I swear it.”
“Do it then.”
“Fine,” I say, my cheeks flushing. “Give me something, anything.”
“Here.” she passes me a bone—the rabbit’s forearm.
Clasping it between my palms, I close my eyes and recreate the feeling of drowning in the river. Sure enough, the bone grows colder, and colder, and colder. Relieved it works, I hurriedly pass it to Eidunn. It lands in her hand.
“Fuck the gods,” shouts Eidunn as she drops it on the table. “It’s colder than ice!”
“It is,” I say. She’s impressed. Victory.
“How did you do that?”
“Like I said, I focus on an experience, and manifest it within the bone.”
Eidunn’s wide eyes dart from me to the bone. People are afraid of real magic, like Ylvin said. I would have been unsettled myself a week ago.
“It’s not dangerous,” I say.
“If you say so.”
“I swear. Ylvin, the Volva, told me to practice other types of enchantment.”
Eidunn’s body leans away from me. She grips her knife tightly, as if she’s ready to defend her life if necessary.
“What type?” she whispers.
“She mentioned Cloaking, like Loki, and Thrust, like Odin. I’ve been thinking about what experiences to anchor them to.”
I scratch my temple, looking up, raking my mind for ideas.
“And?” she asks, pouring water into the iron pot.
“I have an idea for Cloaking. Thrust will be harder.”
“What do you mean by cloaking?”
“Supposedly, it’s a concealment charm. Hiding, blending in. Invisibility, even.”
Eidunn laughs, smacking her hand on the table.
“That should be a breeze for you then, sneaking in the night!”
“Aw, come on, I—”
“You’re my favorite thief,” she says, chopping cabbage.
“I had to steal so I could—”
“Though that’s not hard, since you’re the only one I know.”
Her voice is chipper. Though I am slightly offended—stealing is not honorable—I understand that I should give Eidunn space to feel we are equals. Even if Sigurd has ordered her to obey me. I want her friendship. I want her loyal.
“Okay, fair enough,” I say, lifting my palms at her. “I’m a thieving scoundrel, a menace, a—”
“Stop it, I’m just teasing. Do your magic, I’ll do mine. I also brought dried juniper berries.”
She resumes her cooking, turning her back to add rabbit meat and vegetables to the boiling water and stirring. She adds spices—salt, thyme, dried juniper berries. I’m grateful to have a friend like her. And a cook, if I’m honest.
Okay. Sharpen up. Or ease up, perhaps. Stop thinking. Mind of a Volva.
It’s time to practice. Find focus. Breach the veil. A bone left over from the rabbit will do the job. Rabbits are fast, elusive. Like me. Untouchable. Asbjorn captured me, true, but not in the act. His men were impressed by my stealth. I close my eyes, drifting back to that fateful night.
Everybody thought I was sleeping. My shadow on the wall. Masked. Unknown. I snuck along the wall. The door—a simple task. I enter their private space. They don’t even know. They sleep. I prowl. A predator.
A lynx.
The house is dark, best for me. The smell of boiled meat. I remember it, I’m hungry for more.
Waves of vibrations ripple through my body as I manifest my memories.
My feet test the floorboards. Avoid the creaking ones. Silence, my closest ally. The mist of night permits me. Through the fog, I see no lights.
I know what I am. Just a simple trickster. A thief. I belong in the night. The night belongs to me. The strings of fate brought me to my position.
My decisions.
“Uh… Kilda?” says Eidunn, jolting me from my trance. Like tossing a pebble into a serene pool. “You here?”
My eyes are opened. I turn to Eidunn with a raised eyebrow. I was entering the calm, centering my mind. I need tranquility to practice. Bad time to interrupt me.
“Kilda?” she says again, scanning the room, staring right through me. She looks insecure. Afraid.
“Yes?” I reply.
She shrieks, falling backward on my bed, knife raised. Has she lost it?
“Eidunn, what’s—”
“Where are you?” she screams as she retreats to the corner, still with her knife held up. She stays there, curled into a ball, eyes darting around the room. Her eyes never focus on me. Is she blind or something?
Then I notice it. My body is gone. My arms, nonexistent. I raise my hand to my face, feeling its movement, but there is nothing to see.
“Oh, shit!” I shout.
My chair tilts backward. I crash on the ground and slam my elbow. My hand releases the rabbit bone. Instantly my form becomes visible again. My legs reappear before me.
“What the fuck!” shouts Eidunn.
I sit up, massaging my elbow.
“That was unexpe—”
“That’s fucking witchcraft!”
“Well, darling, I am a witch.”
“I believe you now.”
I point at the rabbit bone.
“Touch it, see if it works.”
“Fuck that!”
“Oh, come on.”
As I stand, my body vibrates from head to toe. Flashes of light invade my vision. The buzz culminates in my head. I give Eidunn a drowsy smile. My eyelids grow heavy.
“Smells amazing, Eidunn,” I say like Father after too much ale.
Taking a step forward sends my world spinning. My knees buckle. Slushy knees.
Eidunn surges forward as I collapse.