Chapter 31

Freja went into the children's bedroom. Bain, despite his earlier protests, was fast asleep. Sigrid was sleeping too, lying on her back with her tiny fists curled above her head. Freja paused, almost unwilling to disturb the peaceful scene. But she didn't hesitate for long.

'Bain,' she said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. He stirred and rubbed his eyes.

'Ma?'

'Come on, lad, we're going for a walk.'

Still bleary from sleep, he got out of bed with little complaint as she went and picked up Sigrid. The baby woke as she was moved, and promptly began to cry.

'Hush,' Freja murmured as she grabbed an extra blanket to wrap Sigrid in. 'Bain, get your coat and your gloves. It's cold today.'

'My gloves all have holes in them,' he said.

'Get them anyway.'

'Where are we going, Freja?'

'To get you some new boots,' she said, hoisting Sigrid onto her hip. 'Ready?'

'Yes,' he said, tugging his coat on clumsily. She bent and fixed it for him.

'Da said that I don't really need new shoes,' he said.

'That's right,' she said with forced cheer, straightening and grabbing his hand with her free one. 'That's why this is a special treat.'

They went out to the main room, where Bard was pulling on his heavy boots. He took Sigrid from her arms so that Freja could put on her coat.

'Are you sure about this?' he asked in a low voice. 'With me looking… like I do?'

She glanced at him. His face was still frightening to behold, one eye swollen almost shut and purple bruises mottling the rest of it.

'I'm sure,' she said. 'If you don't want to come, I'll go alone.'

'No,' he said flatly. 'You aren't going without me.'

She nodded and bit her lip. 'I just… can't know what I know now and not try to find the truth,' she said quietly. 'This is… everything is connected, and I can't stop until I know how.'

'I know,' he said, tucking the blanket closer around Sigrid. 'Alright. Let's go.'

It was freezing outside. The clouds were thick and wispy, and they had descended from the sky to lay a thick mist over the Lake. It hid the Mountain and obscured the path ahead as they walked. It would have been subdued were it not for Bain, who darted about, pushing at moored boats and jumping up and down to see if the wooden gangways they walked on would break. He chattered excitedly about his new shoes, how he was going to keep them clean forever.

'We're nearly there,' Bard said after a while. 'You know the plan?'

'Yes, I know the plan,' she said shortly. 'I came up with the plan. And it's barely a plan anyway.'

'Just checking,' he muttered.

She sighed. 'I'm sorry. I'm nervous.' He glanced sidelong at her, and she drew her coat closer around herself and smiled a little. 'That's not true. I'm terrified.'

'Whatever happens, I'm with you,' he said earnestly. 'We'll fight our way out of there if we have to.'

'I lost most of my faith in your fighting ability after you came home looking like this,' she said with a small smile.

He grinned in return. 'You should have seen the others. But I mean it, Freja. We're in this together.'

She nodded. 'We go in, you distract them, I go upstairs,' she said.

He smiled at her, warmth coming into his one visible eye. 'See? A good plan.'

'Here we are,' she said, her heart clenching as she looked at the familiar, shabby building that hat emerged from the mist. Above the door hung a sign with a picture of a hammer and a shoe.

'Ready?' Bard said.

'Ready,' she replied, feeling determination creep in to sit with the fear. She crouched down to look at Bain. 'Now, no matter what, you stay with Da, alright?' she said. 'Right next to him.'

'And be very, very quiet,' Bard added. 'No talking allowed. Understand?'

'Yes, Da,' Bain said, wide-eyed.

Bard nodded and pushed the door open. A little bell tinkled and, exchanging a glance, they went in together.

The cobbler's shop was badly lit, but clean, just as she remembered it. It smelled of freshly cured leather, and its walls were lined with shoes of all kinds. In the middle of the room was a bench covered in pieces of strangely shaped leather that would someday be shoes.

Behind the workbench stood Kristoff, Stefan's son. His face lit up when he saw them, and he began to make his way around to come and speak to them.

'This wasn't in the plan,' Bard whispered urgently to Freja.

'I forgot he was apprenticed to Leif,' she whispered back, her anxiety doubling. 'What do we do?'

'It's alright,' he said. 'It's fine. We can still do this.'

She took a deep breath and turned to face the tall young man, who was shooting them a strange look. 'Hello, Kristoff,' she said with forced brightness.

'Afternoon,' he said, the suspicion leaving his round, guileless face. 'How wonderful to see you here, with your family! How are you?'

Bard blinked. 'Well enough, thank you.' Kristoff's smile faltered a little when he caught sight of Bard's semi-pulverised face.

'Is Yulla in today?' Freja asked, craning her neck in an effort to see to the back of the shop. 'Or Leif, perhaps?'

'Did I hear my name?' came a thin, high-pitched voice. Yulla came into view, but she welcoming smile froze on her face when she saw Freja.

'I thought I told you to stay away, Freja Gustafsdottir,' she said coldly.

Bard stepped involuntarily closer to her, and she glanced at him gratefully. Feeling his solid presence behind her, she drew in a breath and smiled. 'I'm only here for a pair of boots, Yulla. Would you turn away honest business?'

Yulla moved closer, suspicion still sharp in her thin face. Her eyes roved over Bard and the children. 'I see you've found yourself new lodgings,' she said.

Freja swallowed a lump in her throat. 'I got married, if that's what you mean,' she replied, her voice wavering slightly. She felt Bard move closer to her still.

'Hm,' Yulla said, looking unimpressed. 'Well, are the boots for you?'

'They are for our son,' Bard said, his voice hard. 'But if you are so disinclined to have us in your shop, we can take our business elsewhere.'

'Leif is the best cobbler in Esgaroth,' Yulla said sharply. Her face melted into a practised smile, and she gestured to a shelf. 'Why don't I show you around?'

She began to walk over, and Bard nodded significantly at Freja over her head. She nodded back.

'I'm just going to have a look over here.' She muttered the poor excuse and half-walked, half-ran to the back of the shop. While Bard held Yulla's attention, she slipped through the doorway and into the storeroom.

She turned right and raced up the familiar, rickety wooden staircase. She knew she wouldn't have long before Yulla realised what she was up to, and she would only have one opportunity to do it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she tried the handle, praying that the room would be unlocked. It grated on loudly its hinges, making her wince, but it opened wide enough for her to slip through. When she was inside, she froze.

Nothing had changed. Every single piece of furniture, every article of clothing, every piece of rubbish was where it had been the day she'd been forced out. There was even a stale piece of bread on a chipped plate on the table. It was freezing, and the smell was awful; she guessed that Leif and Yulla hadn't bothered even to open the door since she'd left.

But she didn't have time to become lost in memories. Jolting into action, she went to the cupboard and opened it. It was a mess of her father's torn, dirty clothing, their cracked crockery on the top shelf and their shoes on the bottom. She rifled through, searching frantically for what she needed, her heart thundering in her ears.

But then the door groaned as it was opened further behind her, and she leapt around, clapping a hand to her mouth. Kristoff stood in the doorway, looking at her with his jaw ajar.

'Mistress Freja,' he said in confusion. 'What are you doing?'

'Kristoff,' she breathed, removing her hand and trying to stay calm. 'Is – is Yulla coming?'

'What?' he said. 'No, she's with Bard in the shop. I saw you come up here, and I followed.'

She relaxed slightly, half turning back to the cupboard to look again, but Kristoff took a step forward.

'I'm going to tell her that you're up here, though,' he said, and she turned back to face him, wide-eyed. 'You have no right to be here, and this is private property!'

'Please don't do that, Kristoff,' she said softly, her heart in her throat. 'Please. You don't understand, I used to live here…'

He paused, his eyes flicking down to take in the room around them. 'Here?' he said disbelievingly, his nose wrinkling. 'This is awful.'

She pursed her lips. 'Well, it was all I had.'

He shook his head, puffing out his chest again. 'Well, that changes nothing. This place doesn't belong to you anymore, and you ought not to be here!'

'Kristoff, please!' she pleaded. Precious minutes were passing while the block-headed young man wasted time. 'I was forced to leave without having a chance to gather my things. I only want to take back something that belongs to me, something that I really, really need. Please, from one friend to another…' she met his eyes with desperation. 'Please. I need this.'

Kristoff hesitated, his jaw working. He glanced back down the stairs behind him, then back at her, bouncing on his toes. Then he shook his head.

'What are you looking for?'

'Thank you,' she breathed, turning back to the cupboard. 'It's a book, a ledger bound in green. On its cover is written Debts.'

Kristoff went over to the bed and began to look around. It went on for another two minutes before he drew in a sharp breath.

'Mistress!'

Freja turned to see him holding up a thin, green book triumphantly. She exhaled in relief.

'Thank you,' she said, going over and taking it from him. She tucked it away inside her coat. 'Thank you, Kristoff.'

'I knew it!' came a shriek from the door, and Freja looked up in sudden terror. Yulla was at the door, red-faced and pointing furiously. 'You two-faced, conniving little liar! You come into my shop and take advantage of my trusting nature! You – you worthless piece of dragon-shit!'

Freja set her jaw, staring at Yulla. She didn't know what to say, what to do, and her heart was hammering in her throat. But she also had the triumphant warmth that was her father's ledger in her coat pocket. So she said nothing.

Somehow, this seemed to enrage Yulla further, and the woman practically spat at her. 'Get out!'

Freja brushed past her gladly, quickly descending the stairs and making her way quickly back to the front of the shop. Bard was there, rocking a screaming Sigrid in his arms.

'I'm so sorry,' he muttered. 'I tried to stop her…'

'I got it,' she said quietly, not slowing. 'Let's go.'

She opened the door for him and he ushered Bain through.

'You aren't welcome here, you wretched girl!' Yulla howled after them. 'Get out! Get out, and keep your stinking family away too!'

The freezing cold afternoon air felt almost soothing on Freja's face as they strode away from the cobbler's, Bain trotting along in his new boots to keep up with them.

'You said you got it?' Bard said anxiously, shifting the howling Sigrid from one arm to another. Freja reached inside her coat and pulled out the book, brandishing it with pride.

'Here,' she said. 'You take this, and I'll take the baby.'

They swapped the book and the baby, and stopped on the gangway as snow began to swirl around them. Bard stared down at the book as Freja settled Sigrid in her arms.

'It might prove nothing, you know,' he said. 'It might be useless.'

'Only one way to find out,' she said grimly. Bard nodded and opened it. He ran his finger down the column of names on the first page and shook his head. He flipped to the second page, then the third, and fourth, and fifth… but halfway down the sixth, his finger stopped.

'Freja…' he breathed, his eyes growing wide. She stepped closer, trying to get a glimpse.

'What is it?'

'Him,' Bard said. 'Jurgen. He owed your father money!'

'We were right!' she said, a grim kind of satisfaction creeping into her heart. 'I knew it! But how much did he owe?'

Bard looked back down and traced his finger across to the figure written beside Jurgen's name. Then he looked back up to Freja, slack jawed.

'Nine hundred silvers,' he whispered.