A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (snow like ashes series TXT) 📗

exchanged a glance with Gerutha. ‘We had reason to hope he might be here. He served us well in the past.’ A towering understatement; she owed him her life. ‘Can he be found?’

‘I have no idea!’

‘Does anyone know where he went?’

‘Listen,’ snapped Osvald, losing patience. ‘Did you come here seeking a cripple, Lady, or an alliance?’

‘Erlan Aurvandil may be useful to us. I will reward any information about his whereabouts generously. Will you make this known?’

‘No, I will not make it known,’ Osvald replied in an acid voice. ‘Not until you give me your answer.’

Lilla hesitated, reluctant to return to the unwelcome condition of his agreement. ‘You ask a great deal—’

‘As do you, my lady. As do you. So what is it to be?’

Lilla gazed about for deliverance from some quarter but the starkness of the choice was inescapable and hers alone to make. The young servant girl was standing in attendance, clutching a silver pitcher. She held out her cup and the girl hurried forward and filled it, her big soulful eyes fixed on her task. When the cup was full she glanced up and Lilla gave her the glimmer of a smile in thanks.

‘It’s been a long and weary journey. I need rest. We all do.’ She turned back to Osvald. ‘As to your proposal, my lord – you shall have your answer. In the morning.’

They needed rest, true enough. But circumstance would not allow it. They were led to a smaller hall just inside the palisade wall and made comfortable enough with thick blankets and woollen mattresses stuffed with fresh straw. A fire was lit and they were left to their sleep. . . But they didn’t sleep; they talked. And the talk went round and round like a millstone.

Einar was all for acceptance. This was a good beginning, he argued, far more than they could have hoped for. ‘All right, so Osvald is hardly a leader to inspire, but it’s you who men will follow, not him. Once you have seven or eight thousand at your back, more will come.’

‘But how many? Will it be enough?’

‘If the gods are smiling.’

Lilla grimaced. Had they been smiling when Thrand took his pleasure with her? Would they be smiling still if Osvald had his way?

‘It’s all very well you telling our lady to sell herself so cheap,’ countered Gerutha. ‘It’s not you has to sleep with that greasy weasel.’

‘I wouldn’t call seven and a half thousand spears cheap. And if I could swive away on behalf of Queen Lilla, I would. Alas, I ain’t so pretty,’ Einar replied with a wink. ‘Listen, Lady Lilla, I mean no impertinence – and believe me, I don’t wish you in this position – but you have to face facts. You’ve no friends and precious little to bargain with. I hate to say it, but this is the best deal you’re like to get.’

Lilla nodded in silence. Precious little to bargain with. A chest full of gold. And herself. She remembered how her father had used her to broker peace – and what it had cost her then. All for nothing. The peace had shattered faster than an egg in a child’s hand. If she had nothing else to play with then this time she meant to use that piece wisely. But was there really nothing better?

‘Sometimes the gods send dreams of guidance when a choice must be made,’ offered Gerutha. ‘Wisdom comes from them, and with it, peace. Sleep is the thing, sweet lady.’

‘Aye,’ she murmured. ‘Sleep.’ As if a few hours of oblivion would wipe away her troubles.

Just then there was a knock at the door, faint as a whisper. The three exchanged glances. Lilla nodded and Einar went to the door and opened it a crack.

‘You?’ Lilla heard him say. ‘What do you want?’

Over the sound of the rain, she heard a small voice, a child’s voice, and after it a deeper, warmer sound, muffled by the door. Einar’s hand moved briefly to the seax-sheath on his back, then away again as he opened the door and admitted two very different figures.

The first was the thrall-girl who had served them supper, now wrapped up against the night, the damp wool of her cloak sparkling in the light of the fire. After her entered a tall, broad-shouldered man. He seemed old at first – his hair and beard were white – but his eyes had steel in them and he moved easily.

‘This one claims he knows where Erlan is,’ Einar said, closing the door.

The whitebeard chuckled. ‘I said I reckon I know which way he went.’

‘That’s not the same thing,’ said Lilla.

‘No. But it’s the best I’ve got.’ The man’s voice was deep and rich as Frankish wine. He was a handsome rogue too, and likely knew it.

‘Who are you?’

‘This one’s father.’ He nodded at the girl. ‘She said you want information about Erlan Aurvandil’s whereabouts—’

‘I do. Tell us what you know.’

‘She also said you’d a mind to reward whoever gave it you.’

Lilla sighed. Of course. ‘Give him a gold ring,’ she said to Einar.

‘But he’s told us nothing—’

‘Give it to him!’

Einar shrugged and went to the chest, dug around inside for a moment, then sent a gobbet of gold spinning across the room. The man plucked the ring from the air with a rakish chuckle.

‘There’s more for you if what you say is useful.’

‘Ah, you’re a generous soul, Lady,’ he said, examining the gold in his palm. ‘Just like your grandfather.’

‘My grandfather?’ Lilla frowned. ‘You knew him?’

‘I fought alongside him for nearly five years in the Estland Wars.’

‘That was twenty-five years ago.’

‘Aye. I was a younger man back then.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Valrik Viggorsson.’

‘Well, Valrik Viggorsson. While you may wish to waste time reminiscing about your youth, I have paid you for information.’

‘So you have.’

‘Go on then.’

‘It was about a moon ago. He left one night by the river in the same boat he sailed here. He would have slipped away unnoticed is my guess. Except for one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘He took my