‘You minded to take it?’ asked Jenner, bushy brows high.
Raith made himself look right in Skara’s eyes. As if it was just the two of them, alone. Man and woman rather than killer and queen. ‘If you can spare me.’
Perhaps there was the faintest flicker of hurt in her face. Perhaps he just wanted to see one. Either way, her voice stayed smooth as glass. ‘You are a Vansterman. You have sworn me no oaths. You are free to go.’
‘I have to,’ said Raith. ‘For my brother.’
It actually hurt in his chest, he hoped so hard she’d say, No, stay, I need you, I love you.
But Skara only nodded. ‘Then I thank you for your faithful service.’ Raith couldn’t stop his cheek from twitching. Faithful service, that was all he’d given her. The same as any dog. ‘You will be much missed.’
He tried to find some sign in her face that he’d be missed at all, but it was a mask. He glanced over his shoulder, saw a messenger from the Prince of Kalyiv waiting, fur hat clutched in eager hands, impatient for her moment.
Mother Owd was frowning down mightily at him. ‘If there is nothing else?’ No doubt she guessed some part of what had gone on and was keen to see his back. Raith could hardly blame her.
His shoulders slumped as he turned away. Felt like he’d outwitted himself altogether. Used to be the only thing moved him was the chance at punching folk in the head. Skara had showed him a glimpse of something better, and he’d traded it for a vengeance he didn’t even want.
Blue Jenner caught up to him in the doorway. ‘Do what you have to. There’ll always be a place for you here.’
Raith wasn’t so sure. ‘Tell me, old man … if you’ve done evil things … does that make you evil?’
Jenner blinked at him. ‘Wish I had the answers, boy. All I know is there’s no changing yesterday. You can only look to do better tomorrow.’
‘Aye, I reckon.’ Raith wanted to give the old raider a parting hug, but that gold chain made him seem too grand. So he settled for just an awkward grin down at his boots, dirty from digging, and skulked away.
Head and Heart
The dawn was crisp and clear, and Skara’s breath, and Laithlin’s breath, and Druin’s breath, and the breath of their gathered guards and slaves and attendants made a gently rising cloud of smoke as they looked down from the ramp leading to the harbour.
King Uthil was ashes and King Druin too young for the task, so it fell to Father Yarvi to lead the fleet to their reckoning with the High King in Skekenhouse. Standing for Father Peace did not prevent the young minister of Gettland from doing Mother War’s work that morning, and as well as any warrior.
As Mother Sun showed herself bright over the looming walls of Bail’s Point she cast long shadows from dozens of prow-beasts, lined up neatly as the heads of horses on parade, every oarsman calm and ready. Father Yarvi gave one grim wave to Queen Laithlin, then his high, hard call rang out across the silent harbour, and as though all those hundreds of men had one mind and one body, the ships began to move.
‘It seems Father Yarvi has become our leader,’ said Skara.
‘War has a way of revealing things in people.’ The pride was plain in Laithlin’s voice as she watched the ships of Gettland glide out to sea, two by two. ‘Some flourish and some falter. But I always knew Yarvi had resolve in him. Yours has surprised me more.’
‘Mine?’
‘Did you not stand firm here against the numberless armies of the High King? You are very much changed, cousin, from the girl brought wet-eyed and weary into my chambers.’
‘We all are changed,’ murmured Skara.
She saw Thorn Bathu stand scowling at the prow of her ship, one boot up on the rail as though she could not get to Skekenhouse fast enough. The boat had belonged to one of Bright Yilling’s Companions, a golden ram for a prow-beast, but Thorn had charred it black so it better fitted her black mood and, if you stood on the High King’s side, her black reputation. Skara’s eyes moved down the crew on their sea-chests, dangerous men all bent on vengeance, until she saw a white head bobbing with the stroke and made herself look away.
Yesterday, in Bail’s Hall, she had wanted to ask him to stay. To order him to stay. She had opened her mouth to do it, but at the last moment, she had let him go. She had made him go. She had not even been able to say a true goodbye. It would not have been proper.