19

"Stop, please," a voice said from behind me.

I turned quickly, hand on my sword, half-expecting some kind of attack.

But the woman who faced me was alone and unarmed. She wore a grayish dress and large fur boots, and a thick fur cloak was over her shoulders. Her sharp, proud face was lined with age and her long brown hair was streaked with gray, but she was strong and attractive for her age. One hand clutched a gemstone hanging from a beaded string hanging around her neck.

"What do you want?" I asked warily.

"Listen," the woman said, coming forward and speaking in a low voice. "You can take that stupid woman with you. I know where she is, and you can just take her and go, okay? Just leave and don't come back."

I lowered my hand from the sword. "What are you talking about? I don't know any women here."

"Well, you must be looking for her."

"I'm not looking for anyone," I said, shaking my head. "I came from the Imperial fort to warn your clan chief that the Legion thinks the Nords might be responsible for the attack."

"We didn't attack her," the woman snapped defensively. "She came here causing all sorts of trouble, and –"

"The fort was attacked yesterday," I said firmly, "and a lot of their men were killed. The Legion might come here looking for revenge. That's all I came here to tell you."

"And what about the woman?"

"What woman?" I asked again. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"The cultist!" the woman snapped exasperatedly, as if I was some kind of idiot. "The one from the fort! They must know she's missing by now. Do you mean to tell me you don't even know she's here?"

I shook my head again in frustration. "I don't have a clue who you ..."

But my words trailed off as I realized that I did know who she was talking about. In fact, I had even promised that I would look for her, although I never would have suspected she was in Thirsk. It was the Imperial Cult woman named Mirisa. Her fiance Jeleen had told me about her before I left the fort.

My eyes narrowed as I regarded the Nord woman in front of me. "Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Svenja Snow-Song."

"You're Wolf-Runner's wife."

She pursed her lips and nodded curtly. "Yes, I am. And he does not know that I am here helping you."

"Is that what you're doing? Helping me?"

"I will show you where your Imperial woman is, and then you can take her and just leave, okay? I don't want her here. She stuck her nose in our lives and now she's suffering for it. I just want her out of here."

"Show me where she is."

Svenja led me back to the mead hall and through a doorway in the rear of the building. There was no one guarding the rear entrance, and I suspected that Svenja had dismissed them before coming to me, so that no one would see me go inside. The doorway led to a narrow entrance hall with some benches, but no one was there either. Svenja glanced back at me without speaking and led me up a staircase just to the right of the doorway.

I put my hand on my sword, still expecting some kind of trick. Svenja looked back at me and frowned, suspicion and annoyance flashing across her face. The stairs creaked as we ascended, and clumped snow fell from our boots, leaving wet footprints behind us.

When we reached the top of the stairs, Svenja went first to see if anyone was there. She quickly waved me over and led me down a cramped hallway that led to some rooms that I guessed were living quarters.

"Here," Svenja said, opening a door and peeking inside. "She's in here. Now just take her and get out of here before anyone sees us."

I steeled myself for the worst and stepped into the room. The place was a mess, with dirty furs all over the floor and wooden cups and other objects scattered everywhere. There was a bed and a table and no other furniture.

Mirisa was in the corner, looking up at me with pleading, desperate eyes. Her hands and feet were tied and there was a gag in her mouth. Her dark red Cult robe was tattered and ripped, and her face was streaked with tears.

I drew a knife and went over to her, quickly slashing the ropes. I pulled out her gag and she immediately began sobbing, reaching out for me. Tossing the bindings aside, I grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, practically dragging her out of the room as she sobbed and whimpered, covering her face with her hands.

"Thank you, thank the Nines, I was so scared. Thank you, thank you. Please help me, I've been here for days. I thought he was going to kill me, but I prayed, I prayed. Thank the Nines, thank you so much."

Svenja stared at me coldly, as if all of this was my fault. I pulled Mirisa into the hallway and she clutched me like a lifeline. Svenja gestured back the way we had come. "Go that way and get out of here."

I let go of Mirisa and she fumbled after me, but I pushed her away. I went up to Svenja and glared at her until she was forced to look away.

"Who did this?" I asked, barely able to keep my voice in check.

"Just get out of here," Svenja said. "She's alive, so just take her back to her people and leave me out of it."

"I asked you a question," I growled, and jumped at her to latch my hand across her throat. She yelped in surprise, but her cry died in her throat as I pushed her back until she slammed against the wall. She clawed at me, eyes wide open in fright, but she froze when I pulled my sword free of the scabbard with my other hand.

"You wouldn't dare ..." she choked out, staring in shock at the sword.

I leaned in until we were face to face. Looking into my eyes, her resistance seemed to wither away, and she shrunk back, holding her hands in front of her face. She trembled slightly, forcing herself to look away.

"Who did this?" I asked again.

"It was Erich Stag-Horn," Svenja managed to say. "One of my husband's warriors."

"And where can I find him?"

"Down in the hall. Through that door."

I pushed Svenja away and stalked back down the hall toward the door at the other end, past Mirisa, who had slumped to the floor, her legs folded under her. She grabbed at my jacket desperately and tried to pull me back.

"No, please," she sobbed. "Please, you don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," I said.

Svenja, regaining some of her dignity and composure, stood defiantly at the other end of the hallway, wrapping her fur cloak tightly around her. She looked back at me and shook her head in a gesture of pity and disappointment.

"Stag-Horn is one of the strongest fighters we have," she said. "If you try to confront him, I promise that he will kill you."

I turned to look back at her, and even across the hall, the look in my eyes made her step back in self-defense.

"I'm sure he'll try," I said, and then I went through the door.