Текст книги "East "

Автор книги: Эдит Патту

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Troll Queen

HE CANNOT GET USED to being without fur. I see him nab at his skin, and he remains quiet most of the time.

I call him Myk now, and he seems to understand it is his new name. Beyond the sadness, the quiet, I see the softskin boy that I first met in the green lands. He is all I ever wanted. His voice; his soft, warm skin; even the smile, which it is true I do not often see now. Two days ago was the first time, some caper of Tuki's. But it was as I remembered it, like sunlight on the snow, melting, good.

I continue with my arts, trying to soften my own skin so that he will feel more as if he is with his own people. So far the change is only temporary, which is frustrating, but I will keep experimenting.

Tuki is acting strangely with me. He scurries away when I come near. I can see Urda is worried; she knows what I will do if he gives trouble. Perhaps it was a mistake sending him south with Urda, to be so long gone from here, but Urda would have been too lonely without her son there. It is her own fault anyway; she admits she should have kept a closer eye on him and not let him spend time alone with the softskin girl.

The changes to Myk's quarters are almost complete. He has books and musical instruments. It may have been a mistake to make the flauto just the same as his favorite one in the castle. I saw a look in his eye the first time he held it, as though some small memory was pricking at him. But it passed. And the thanks he gave me were deeply felt.

I am pleased to be home, and to have him here with me at last. Now there is only the wedding to prepare for. So much to be done, but such delicious planning. Much as I want him to be my husband at once, now that he is here I can take the time to make the wedding feast as it should be. But not too much time.

It will be the grandest and finest celebration ever in Huldre. Perfect. Lavish. All the most important of our race, from all corners of the earth, shall be here.

An event to do us both honor. The queen and her king.

Rose

I COULD NOT at first take it in.

I was alone, completely alone on the vast sea, in a battered, broken, waterlogged knorr. The mast was gone; all that remained was a jagged stub little taller than I. The sail had come loose from its lashing, and part of it lay draped across the deck while more than half of it hung overboard, dragging in the sea. And there was a large tear through it. The steering oar was gone, and it looked as though much of the cargo had been swept overboard as well.

I began to shake.

The wind had subsided to a stiff breeze and the knorr rode the waves, oblivious that its sole occupant was a disheveled, terrified girl. My trembling grew worse. Then, telling myself I must not give in to panic, I stood up. I needed to find a bucket. The knorr had taken on a great deal of water during the storm and was riding dangerously low.

But I could see no buckets for bailing. What if they had all been washed overboard? Perhaps one had gotten lodged under the sail. With difficulty I lifted one side of the wet, heavy sail. Gazing down I let out a gasp.

At first I thought the thing was a dead sea creature, then realized with horror it was a bloody leg. It lay oddly, looking as if it were disconnected from a body. My heart beating fast, I heaved up more of the sail.

There was Thor. The leg stuck out at a strange angle from his body. As I pushed the wet sailcloth off him, I saw that his eyes were closed and his face, too, was covered with blood from a jagged gash on the forehead. He looked dead—his skin was gray and there was so much blood—but then his body twitched and he let out a soft moan.

One arm, too, was bent at an awkward angle, and the hand was clutching the broken-off tiller. I leaned over him, feeling for his pulse. It beat under my fingers but was slow and irregular. Thor moaned again.

It took all my strength to wrestle the huge sail completely off him. Breathing hard from the exertion, I searched for something to stanch the flow of blood from his forehead and his leg. I found several cargo boxes lodged underneath the deck boards, and inside one was a large bolt of linen. I went back above and got the knife that Thor wore at his side; his eyes barely flickered as I removed it from its sheath. Returning belowdecks I used the knife to cut and tear off a length of the fabric. I took it back up to Thor and swabbed at the cut on his face. The cut was deep, with jagged edges, and I could see the whiteness of bone underneath. It needed stitching, I thought, reminded of injuries I had seen back on the farm. For the time being I tied a makeshift bandage tightly around his head, then turned my attention to his leg. The gash there wasn't as deep, I was glad to see. But his leg definitely looked as though it was broken. His arm, too.

Thor's eyes flickered again as I worked over him, but then he lapsed back into unconsciousness. After wrapping his arm and leg to keep them steady, I covered him up to his chin with dry cloth, making him as comfortable as I could.

I rested a moment, then shakily got to my feet. I searched the ship from fore to aft, assessing the damage and confirming the grim truth that both Gest and Goran were nowhere to be found. They had been swept overboard. Anxiously, but with a sense of futility, I scanned the sea around me. Nothing but water. No sign of man or cargo, or even land.

My head pounded from the blow that had knocked me out. I sat there for a long time, staring at the water. I wanted to cry for the two men who had been swept into the sea, but I could not.

I remembered Gest, his courtly, laughing jests, as well as the musty, fishy smell of him. And Goran's slow movements and calm manner. How could they be gone, just like that?

As for Thor ... He was lying there, not very far from death himself. It was a miracle that I had survived the monstrous wave. And it was because of Thor that I had. I laid my head on my knees and closed my eyes. I listened to the water sloshing over the sides of the boat. I ran a finger across the smooth silver of the ring on my thumb.

Then I felt a warmth on the back of my head and raised my eyes to see the sun piercing the gray mantle of clouds above. Somehow the sight brought me out of my own private grayness.

I glanced over at Thor. If I was going to survive, I needed him. And I had to survive, because of the thing I had set myself to da Gazing up at the sun's position in the sky, I guessed that there were several hours before nightfall.

I retrieved my pack from under the deck boards and crossed to Thor. He was still unconscious, his pulse the same. I unwrapped the bandage on his head, which had soaked through with blood, and using a needle and a length of flaxen thread, I stitched up the gash. I had a fair amount of experience with such needlework; early on, Father had put me in charge of stitching up the wounds of the animals on our farm. Using a couple of broken planks and more cloth, I also did the best I could to set his broken leg and arm. Thor came to as I worked over him. An agonized scream burst out of him as I forced his leg bone into place. And another one, less intense, when I set the bone in his arm, pain shuddering through his body. By the time I had finished, he was unconscious again.

I made him as comfortable as I could, laying him on his side and covering him with dry cloth. Then, taking the piece of steering oar from Thor's hand, I went to inspect the tiller, wondering if there was some way I could repair it. It looked bad but not impossible, I thought.

First, though, the sail. It took some time to drag up the portion that hung over the side, but finally I had it all in, stretched out on the deck to dry in the sun. There was a jagged tear across much of the bottom of it. In the process of moving the sail, I found one of the buckets and bailed until well after sunset.

I thought the ship might be headed west, because the sun had set directly in front of us. But east or west ... in truth it mattered little in which direction we were heading because I had no idea where we were.

It grew cold without the sun. I searched but could not find any of the skin-sacks we had slept in on the ship. Exhausted, I crawled under the cloth I had used to cover Thor and lay beside him, thinking to keep us both warm. I must have dozed, for I suddenly came awake, uneasily, with the feeling that I was being watched. Disoriented, I thought for a moment that I was back in the castle and had just awakened beside my visitor.

But it was Thor's blue eyes that were gazing on me. They were unfocused and unreadable, but they were open.

The night was surprisingly bright; the moon was half full and the stars were like a million cold-flamed flickering candles spread across the sky. I could see Thor's face clearly. I sat up.

"Thor?" I said. He did not reply; nor did his gaze waver from my face.

"You were injured," I explained.

He blinked and tried to move his injured arm toward his face. Then he let out a groan and stopped moving.

"Gest, Goran..."

I could just barely make out the mumbled words. "They are gone," I said simply.

He closed his eyes then and kept them closed.

"Thor?" I whispered, feeling for his pulse.

His lids twitched.

"Rest now," I said, and I settled back down beside him. I listened intently to his breathing, which was ragged for a while but finally became more regular. Then I, too, slept.

When I awoke again it was dawn. The wind had freshened and the sun shone in a cloudless sky. Thor still slept.

I rose and stretched. If only I could repair the sail enough so that I could use it, maybe I could sail the knorr on my own. But even as I thought that, I knew it would be impossible. I hadn't the strength or the skill. I cursed myself for not paying closer attention to the men as they worked the sail. What would I do if Thor did not recover?

Luckily, there was food as well as water. I had found both when I searched the ship. Secure in a spot under the deck boards of the stern had been a crate of hard bread as well as a barrel of smoked and dried fish. I had also been quite excited to find a small box filled with pears from Fransk, which Gest had told me Thor planned to sell to the Njordens for a profit. But most important of all, I found two large casks of freshwater, along with four of ale and several of wine. I should have known that Thor's precious ale would survive—he stored it in the most protected spot on the ship.

I moved toward the center of the ship to see if there was any way I could light a cooking fire. I had found the cauldron and tripod the day before, also lodged under the sail, but there was nothing dry enough to use for kindling. I hurriedly ate a small meal of bread and smoked fish, then went to Thor.

He was awake, staring up at the sky. I filled a cup with water and sat beside him.

"Thor, drink this."

He glanced at me, then turned his gaze upward again. "Leave me be," he muttered.

"Just a little water," I coaxed.

He ignored me.

His manner frightened me. There was a blankness in his face, and it seemed as if he had made a choice to die rather than fight.

I sat still, uncertain of what to do.

"Thor..." I said. "You need water."

He did not respond.

I held the cup to his lips. "Please..."

He reached up with his left hand and, with a jerking motion, swatted the cup. The water spilled out, soaking the front of his clothing. "Leave me be," he repeated.

I felt a stirring of anger. He had wasted a cupful of precious water.

I left him. The sail was almost dry and I set about mending the tear in it. The cloth was thick, and it was difficult working a needle through it. It took most of the day to complete the mending. I checked on Thor frequently, each time offering food or water. But he continued to ignore me. I had seen his look before, in the eyes of a mother cow that had lost too much blood in a difficult birth and in those of a lamb whose neck had been broken in a fall.

I felt grief for the man, but also fear for myself. And I felt occasional surges of careless anger as I sat, thrusting my needle through the heavy cloth of the sail. Let him die if he chooses. I will manage.

But then I would look at the broken mast, the endless sea around me, and knew I could not.

I made the final knot and gazed at my handiwork with a sense of futility. I would never be able to raise the cursed thing. With an oath that would have done Thor proud, I stood and crossed to the dying man.

Standing over him I said loudly, "All right, go ahead and die! You called Gest and Goran cowards for lowering the sail, but it is you who is the coward."

His eyes flicked over at me and I thought I saw a spark of something in them.

"I did not think 'twas the way of a Viking to slink into death like a wounded lamb," I went on recklessly.

Then Thor muttered something I could not hear, but it sounded like he was cursing me.

"You may curse me all you like, but I am not the one who has given up," I said.

He raised his head and said, his teeth bared, "I am no coward."

"Then drink this," I challenged, holding the cup of water up to his face.

"To Niflheim with your blasted water," Thor rasped. "Bring me ale."

Without hesitating I quickly went to the casks of ale and drew him a brimming cupful. I held it to his lips, but he brought up his left hand and roughly took the cup from me. While he drank I got some hard bread and smoked fish. The ale was gone when I returned, and he snatched the food from me, crumbling it into pieces that he stuffed in his mouth.

"More ale," he muttered between bites.

Neddy

THE LETTER FROM ROSE arrived just after the fall harvest.

Dear Neddy,

I am writing to tell you that I am safe and well and no longer living at the castle with the white bear. It is a long story and one I hope to tell you at the end of my journey. But I made a wrong choice, one that hurt someone very badly, so I must now undertake a journey to afar distant land—one that lies east of the sun and west of the moon.

Because you are cleverer than me, you will have already figured out that there is no such land. Nevertheless, I go there. It seems right somehow that I should journey to a place that does not exists it is where Mother always feared I would end up.

And please tell Mother the candle worked all too well. But tell her, too, that the choice to use it was mine and I do not blame her.

Just as the blame is mine, the journey, too, is mine, and I must undertake it alone. So do not try to come to me. I need to set right the wrong I have done, and when I have I will return home. Trust me, Neddy, and try not to worry.

Tell Father I love him. And tell Mother and Sonja and Willem and Sara that I miss them and hope that we will all be reunited before too long.

My love to you, Neddy.

Your sister, Rose

Rose

DURING THE NEXT FEW days the weather stayed fair. Thor continued to lie where he was while I brought him food and ale—mostly ale. He finally had me roll the cask over and set it beside him so that he could refill his own cup.

I had my doubts that ale, especially in the amounts he was consuming, was a particularly healing drink. But at least he had decided to live, and he had the constitution of an ox. Each day he gained in strength. The gray pallor was gone and the wound on his forehead was healing.

Thor was soon sitting up and, on the second day, even stood for a few minutes, leaning on a makeshift crutch I had fashioned from a splintered deck board.

As he lowered himself back into a sitting position, I asked, "Do you think it possible that Gest and Goran could have survived?"

Thor snorted, then took a long draught of ale.

"But they might have gotten hold of something to float on. They were good swimmers, and perhaps there was land..." I gazed out over the endless expanse of water. "Well, isn't it possible?"

"Anything's possible," Thor said. After refilling his cup he leaned back, eyes closed.

"I had a son once," I heard him say.

"You did?" I said stupidly. I had never pictured Thor as having any kind of life outside the ship, especially not a family.

"Egil was his name. Died at the hands of a band of thieves and murderers. Along with his mother. My wife." His voice had softened slightly as he said wife.

When he opened his eyes, they were laced with bitterness. "It is possible they would have lived if I had been there to protect them. But they died. Like Gest and Goran. And like I would have if you'd left me alone."

"Well, I couldn't leave you alone. And you saved my life, sticking me under the deck boards the way you did. 'Twas only common courtesy to return the favor."

Thor suddenly threw his head back and laughed. It was a full-throated reckless sound, and I liked the sound of it, even though I knew he was drunk.

"May I commend you on your manners?" he said.

I laughed, too, and there was some sort of softening between us. After that, if we were not exactly friends, at least Thor did not act as though I were not there.

Later that day I asked Thor if he had any idea where we were.

He finished the ale at the bottom of his cup, then looked up at me with something like a smile on his face. I thought he might even laugh again. "Hafvilla, "he said.

"Where?"

"Hafvilla. 'Tis a word in the old language," he explained. "The Vikings used it when they found they were hopelessly lost."

"I think we have been heading mostly west, since the storm," I said, attempting to be helpful.

With a shrug he refilled his cup.

"Is there any way we can rig up a new mast?" I asked, trying a different tack. "I mended the sail."

"Well, aren't you the clever seamstress?" he responded unpleasantly.

"Thor..."

He shrugged again, gazing critically around the knorr. "We might fix something up—not as tall, of course, but enough to catch a little wind."

"If you tell me what to do ... I am stronger than I look."

"Are you indeed?" Thor replied with a trace of skepticism, looking me up and down.

"And I want to learn, all that you know—about sailing the knorr, how to navigate, everything..." I said in a rush.

He was silent for a time, then he turned and stared at me, as though considering me in a new light. "You don't fancy floating around on the sea forever with a drunken old sot, eh? Well, maybe I will teach you. I'm not much good as a captain, am I?" he said, gesturing at his bound-up leg and arm. "And my ale supply will run out sooner or later."

"Sooner, I should think," I retorted.

"You'll need to pay close attention. I'll not say things twice. And I am not a patient man."

That was an understatement. Thor was ill mannered and ill tempered, and how much of either depended on where he was in his drinking. If he'd had too little, he was impossible; if too much, he was careless and impossible.

Still, he managed to cram a great deal of information into a short span of time. His knowledge of the ship and of the sea was impressive, and it was obvious how much he loved it all, which made up for his gruffness. He instructed me as I repaired the steering oar and then rigged up a short mast from deck boards. He taught me about the rigging, and even explained to me the smallest details of how the knorr had been built.

Finally he launched into the subject of navigation.

"There are as many ways to find your way as there are sailors. Smell the different flavors of a stretch of coast, listen for the curve of the shore, taste the air," he said to me.

He explained how to read the stars, the sun and moon, the tides, the weather, fish and bird life, and even water temperature, color, and texture. And then with great solemnity, he showed me how to use his highly prized leidarstein.

Much of what he taught me had a practical simplicity to it, but taken altogether it was overwhelming, and there were times that I despaired of remembering it all.

By the end of the first two days of Thor's instruction, my hands were raw from handling the rigging, my back was sore, and my head ached from all I'd been trying to absorb. I recalled my previous ocean crossing—the simple, dreamlike trip through the sea, wrapped in a sealskin and carried like a baby in the mouth of a white bear. And I realized how much more complicated life is without the benefit of magic. Rubbing linseed oil into my blistered hands, I thought wistfully of how magic lets you skip over the steps of things. That is what makes it so appealing.

But, I thought, the steps of things are where life is truly found, in doing the day-to-day tasks. Caught up in the world of enchantment as I had been at the castle, it had been the routine things I had missed most, which was why I had set up that laundry room and insisted on doing my own washing. But I had missed so much. Sitting at the table back home and peeling potatoes with my mother and sisters in a companionable silence. Feeding the chickens, their urgent feathery bodies crowding my legs, and looking up to see Neddy coming back from the fields. Going on one of my long exploring walks, having a blister come up on my heel but at the same time stumbling upon a fox den and catching a brief glimpse of a mother fox nursing a brand-new litter of kits. And though I might have wished away the blister, slowing down to favor the pain in my heel was part of how I came to see the kits.

And I knew, without ever having been told, that the white bear would have gladly traded the comfortable magic life in the castle in exchange for a whole horde of blisters on his feet.

Finished with the linseed oil, I took up some rigging that needed repair, and I had a memory, clear as day, of the face of the stranger who had been the white bear—and of the hopelessness in his eyes. I could not help the hot tears that smeared my vision.

"Work too much for you, eh?" I heard Thor say.

I quickly blinked away the tears and looked over at him, a cup of ale in his hand and a sneering look on his face. "Of course not," I retorted.

"A little too much sun in the eyes then?" he asked sarcastically.

"I was remembering something," I replied stiffly, and focused on the length of rope in my hand. "Someone."

There was a silence. Then, "Forgive me. 'Twas ill spoken," came the unexpected words from Thor.

I looked at him, amazed.

"Why do you go to Suroy?" he suddenly asked. It was the first time he had ever asked me a question about myself.

I looked at him and for some reason I told him the truth. I think it was because of his eyes. They reminded me, for just a moment, of Neddy's.

I spoke for a long, long time, telling the whole story. I expected at any moment he would interrupt me with a shout of laughter or disbelief. But he did not.

When I came to the end, I took a deep breath, my fingers unknowingly twisting the ring on my thumb.

Thor was silent. Then he said, "'Tis a strange tale." There was a pause. "And so you go north, to make things right with this white bear. Or the man that was the white bear."

I nodded.

"My grandfather said once that a white wolf spoke to him. But then, he was overfond of mead." Thor grinned. "An appetite that runs in the family." I did not return his smile, and his faded, too.

"I have traveled north," Thor said, a far look in his eyes. "Well beyond Njord. Saw a white land way off in the distance, but I had to turn back because of the ice. If something remains of magic in the world, I believe it would lie in the far north, in the places where people cannot go."

We fell silent.

Thor broke the silence at last, and it was the first time he called me by name. "Well, Rose," he said, "once we get that sail raised, the knorr shall take you north. After all, you did save my life. And 'tis only common courtesy to take you where I said I would."

We both laughed then.