I found Grenwin and Ygdis a few minutes later, breaking their fast together sitting out in the green while reading the morning report Ame had written up. Dodging past a gaggle of young men, I joined them, sitting next to Gren.
"Morning," I said brightly, happy to find them so quickly.
Ygdis gave me a smile and a nod, focusing on the tablet. It was just something she did when she was absorbed, it seemed to me, whether reading or sparring or anything else.
Grenwin's bright green eyes met mine, her head cocked in a question.
Last night, I think I told her something before I left. I couldn't remember what, but it felt like the truth.
"Ellir gave me something that really fucked with my head, and I let it as part of a ritual." I moved to give her an apologetic bow, "Please, forgive me. I don't exactly know what happened last night."
Strong hands gripped my shoulders firmly, pushing me back to sitting.
"Thought I told you to stop doing that," she said lightly. "I thought it was a dream for true." Her reassuring smile lifted a weight off my chest I hadn't realized was there. "So, it wasn't?"
"As far as I can tell, no," I offered, unsure. "I ended up staring at the heart tree for a few hours this morning. Wasted good time," I groused. "Anyway, we've got to do something about the new folks."
Grenwin looked uncertain but went with the change of subject. "We've already been working out any existing feuds and grudges as can, and Ame's report today has a list of those we're aware of. So far, the leadership coming in is working with us, and I'm sure most of them will come to this morning's planning meeting." She beamed proudly, "We've got it handled, Maia. Five hundred people, and the plans we've made are working."
As if to interrupt her, a massive young man who'd been lurking nearby approached, asking, "Is one of you the queen?" Dressed in the Nightrunner fashion, he looked part Ogier for his size across the shoulders and the girth of his limbs. Despite his size, I thought him only in his late teens.
"Who's asking?" Ygdis sharply said, looking up from her tablet and pinning the boy with her eyes.
"Sturla," he said simply. To my surprise, he knelt before us, "I wanted to ask the queen to test my strength."
I was surprised at the odd pigeon laugh that burbled up my neck. It felt like an old habit I'd forgotten; Something of Mai's, then. "Why?" I asked, "A man of your scale must have proven yourself many times over."
"In battle, I am the best." He said it simply, like he thought it the truth of the world. "Yet, I have no men to call brothers or women to call sisters. Wyck told me what it means to him to be a soldier, and I think I like that."
"You want to be a soldier?" Grenwin asked, considering the mountain of a lad. "Or do you want to fight?"
"My mother is dead, my father is dead. I have no brothers or sisters, and so all I have is to fight where my chief tells me. I kill for no better reason than I am told." He gave a helpless shrug.
"You've talked to Wyck?" Ygdis inquired. Wyck was in her chain of command, so it was natural she'd want to know.
Sturla nodded. "He is a very wise man, and he said the queen could tell me more, if I asked."
"And you want her to, what, tell you what to do?" I asked him, curious. From the sounds of it, he only really fought because he'd been told to. With a bit of effort, I stoked my inner spiritua, listening without ears for the resonance.
His inner fire was muddled and confused, yet it had a shocking clarity I haven't felt before. All I could gather was that he was conflicted and trying to cover it well.
He was struggling to find an answer.
"Sturla," I said, "Take some time to get settled, if you're going to be staying. If you're curious about the military, we run drills every other evening, and we'll have one tonight. Even if you don't fight for us, you're not going to be left behind. Alright?"
Sturla frowned, "Yes. I think I see." Nodding, he stood and walked away.
Neither Ygdis or Grenwin seemed shocked or confused. "Hey, can you break down what just happened?" I asked them.
My friends exchanged glances, Ygdis answering, "He was offering to fight at your command. Not mine or Grens, yours. Dunno how trustworthy he is, but he's stumbled across something Gren and I have been talking about."
"You need a personal guard," Grenwin said with finality, "People who can stop you from making stupid decisions. If you really do still want to fight on the field, you're going to need a squad that works alongside you."
"And it would be helpful to have when infiltrating the south," I murmured, thinking about it. "A noblewoman has more social access than a peasant, and a noblewoman would travel with her retainers. A personal guard might mark me as high nobility, which would excuse any displays of extravagance or wealth…"
Grenwin poked me in the shoulder, interrupting me. "You aren't mad?"
I goggled at her, confused. "Why would I be? It makes sense, knowing what kind of diplomatic challenges are coming. If I ever go to negotiate with the nobility, I want people I can depend on at my back. I've been blindsided too often to know that I need backup. Last night, I should have told Ellir not to let me leave, to distract me, anything. Having multiple people who can do that would be great."
Realizing something, I added, "I want people I can get along with. People who know I'm just a bit of a dumbass when it comes to some things. Is that fair?" Frustrated, I murmured, "I need people who know I'm human."
"Ah." Grenwin murmured, thinking. Eventually, she shrugged. "We should keep an eye out for good candidates."
"Teagj?" I offered, "Dagmoor, Lorni, his brother Jorni?"
Grenwin thought about it, "Dunno, maybe. I'd want you to have a few spearwives, at the very least. What's that fancy word for a noble lady's personal servants?"
Ygdis looked up, "Handmaidens?"
Grenwin nodded, "Yes, that. Dress them up subtle, so they don't stand out."
"We've time to think about it," I said, "Time to find the right people, time to train them."
The hilt of my sword radiated a soft warmth.
"Do swords normally talk?" I blurted the question.
"Uh, no." Ygdis told me, looking at me quizzically.
"What does it say?" Grenwin asked seriously.
I blinked, "Uh, she's mostly called me interesting so far."
"She?" Ygdis pounced, "You found a talking sword? Can you show us?" She beamed excitedly.
Grenwin remained reserved, "Please, show us."
I looked around at the crowded green, and the paved plaza around it. "Uh, let's go somewhere more private. In the shelter, we can take one of the archive offices."
My friends nodded, rising. I stood to join them, then we made our way to the side offices.
It was occupied by two young men, arguing over something. Projected on the nearby wall was a diagram of early chemistry equipment. They took one look at Grenwin and left in a hurry, leaving us alone.
Ygdis closed and locked the door, covering the small window. While she did, I was untying my sword.
I put it on the table, then sat in one of the comfortable office chairs. "The sword I've had all this time can talk, apparently."
"When did it start?" Grenwin asked, concerned.
"You believe me?" I asked back, curious at the odd responses from my friends.
Grenwin shrugged, "At this point, if you say something is acting strangely, I'm not going to argue. So, when?"
"Last night. I met a woman who taught me a ritual of some sort, dripping my fresh blood onto the runes along the blade." I picked up the sheath, putting a hand on the hilt. "This happened next."
Like with Mance, I only partially pulled the white-hot blade out. The scarlet fire, rippling along the sword, dripped and pooled in small puddles on the table, flowing like water.
Both of my friends sat heavily. Grenwin regarded the sword like it was a venomous snake, ready to leap away should it lash out. Ygdis stuck her finger near the puddle of fire, then into it.
"It's warm, but not painful." She said, "When does it speak?"
"When I choose." The voice was clearly feminine, now, matronly in a way.
I flinched, dropping the part-sheathed blade onto the table. It splashed in the scarlet flames.
"Who are you?" Ygdis asked, surprise on her face, yet her voice was steady as if she were talking to anyone else.
"When I was flesh and blood, this one was named Yin Nis. When I came to dwell in this metal, I bore the name Gracious Gift of Tears."
"Why were you, less?" I asked, not sure how to phrase it. "When I woke in the snow with you, you were just warm, that's all."
"I was bound before you first drew breath," The sword told me, "By a thief who desired my power. That he survived the attempt to draw me by force surprised this one, and he used the opportunity to suppress my power. Bound by his blood, yet his own daughter released me."
There was a lot in there, and we were quiet as we processed it.
"Who were you, Yin Nis?" Grenwin asked.
The blade's tone turned sentimental, "This one is the best damned Magesmith that has walked the vastness of the Earth. I was a priestess of the Moon, and I'd enjoyed six hundred years in the flesh at our sect."
"What happened?" I asked, "That you'd come to be a sword?"
The scarlet-black flames stilled for a moment. Was that the blade's doing?
"I was away from the sect, attending a Magesmithing conference, accompanied by my apprentice. When we returned to the sect, we found it in ruins. The Goddess herself had blessed us, and no man could enter our grounds or temples. Until a powerful warlord took his forces and smashed our wall, slaughtering any women he didn't take, and taking all the girls he could."
"My forge was intact, and the Goddess herself came to me. She demanded a blade be forged, a blade of retribution. Four times, I attempted to forge a suitable blade, only to be shattered at the quenching. The Goddess' wrath could not be contained by normal steel, and so I prepared in secret and sent my apprentice away. In the forge, the Moon herself assisted me for ten days and ten nights. We wove our strongest enchantments into the finest metal, aligned the matrix beyond perfection, and when the time came for the quenching, the Goddess plunged the blade into my breast herself. My soul entered the blade to dwell evermore as my body fell."
"You…" I was horrified, unable to grasp the concept. "Soul?" I latched onto the first thing I could.
"Soulcraft is a dangerous art, but it is an art nonetheless. It is easier to move a soul from place to place than create a new one, and it was my intent to continue my apprentice's education."
Ygdis was writing everything down on her tablet, typing furiously.
"What happened next?" Grenwin asked, enraptured.
"My apprentice found me and my cooling body in the forge. At once, she knew what I'd done, and was very upset with me. It took twelve years and the death of the warlord for Yin Tar to forgive me."
The more the sword spoke, the less terrified I was of her. There was a woman in there, locked away in metal for who knows how long, and she did it on purpose.
On one hand, I could respect that determination. On the other, that sounded a nightmarish existence.
"You're not going to possess me?" I asked her, suddenly feeling foolish. "I thought, with the way the fire acted…"
"This one apologizes for the discomfort. I wasn't fully aware of myself, only that a vast wellspring of vital energy was nearby."
"Why do you have to be so reasonable?" I asked in exasperation, "Couldn't you have led with this, instead of being cryptic?"
"If you won't listen, there's no point in wasting the effort to speak. Clearly, the situation has changed."
"She really does talk," Grenwin mused, closing her eyes. "And she was a smith!"
"This one was many things during her life. Daughter, lover, warrior, bard, scribe, teacher, healer. Above all, I remain a student."
I sighed, resting my face in my hands. "How much of our time together do you remember? Before I broke your bonds, as you said."
The sword was quiet for a long moment. "Some. There are flashes of memory, moments in battle. We have healed together and killed together, I think."
"You have," Grenwin told it, "A few times now."
"I see."
"You forged the sword," I realized, finally having the chance to ask a question that had been puzzling me for so long now, "Why is it so large?"
The sword was quiet.
"Yin Nis?" I asked.
"…This one will admit, the amount of enchantment the Moon demanded be placed on her vengeance was excessive. This was the minimum possible size for a weapon destined for battlefield use."
"Good to know even the best had limits," Ygdis observed, "Why battlefield use? Wouldn't a knife in the dark kill the warlord just as easily?"
"I think the Goddess wanted to send a message. 'Mine is bigger,' perhaps."
Grenwin grinned, sharing a chuckle with Ygdis.
"What do you want?" I asked the woman who is a sword.
"It has been long since I've taken an apprentice, but you'll do." A tendril of flame was curling around my belt-knife, still sheathed at my belt. "Rough, the work of a skilled amateur. You've potential I will see cultivated."
"I accept," I said without hesitation. The best damn Magesmith in the world, the one who had forged this blade? I wanted to learn whatever she could teach me!
"Good choice," she replied. "I understand you have other obligations, so we will work around them as we can."
"Do we say anything about this?" Ygdis asked Grenwin and I, uncertain.
Grenwin considered, small smile on her face. "Yes. Yes, we should. It's too visible and making it known now gives us all a chance to get used to it."
Ygdis looked at me, shrugging.
"Yeah, we can do that." I shrugged back at her, "We should probably be up front about the supernatural stuff as it comes up."
"I may have a few suggestions." Yin Nis offered.
Together, we began assembling a presentation on the supernatural. Answers to questions we knew people would ask, at the very least, starting with 'Why is it so hot here?'
Half-Ear Clegg's black woolen mitts held onto Sally's reigns, walking slowly across the top of the Wall. He reckoned he must be somewhere just between Castle Black and Eastwatch, ambling along eastward. Sally the Mule was loaded down with seawater, and as Clegg walked, he occasionally ladled some and tossed it anywhere the ice was weeping.
It had been a long summer already, and the Wall needed to be upkept. Three steps, ladle, toss the water. He repeated this, long experience making his movements steady and regular, carefully doling out the water he used. Most of this load would be used to patch up a larger crack a few hours walk eastward, and then he'd make his onwards to Eastwatch.
A sound, like ice falling, came from over the southern side of the Wall. Cautiously, ever-vigilant of Wildling ambush, the watchman picked his way over the ice towards the edge. Laying down, just in case the noise was a sign of collapse, he gingerly wriggled his way over until he could just peer out over the edge of the Wall.
It was a shockingly long way down. Far enough that Half-Ear Clegg had a moment of vertigo, as he always did. Inspecting the ice on the Wall itself, Clegg couldn't find the source of the noise. It may have just been a normal bit of melt falling, but you could never be too sure.
When Clegg blinked, part of the wall seemed to move to the side, just a little. He focused on that spot, slowly realizing the texture of the white ice there was more scale-like than it should be.
A few feet below him, a large pale eyelid opened, black reptilian pupil set in a massive golden eye focusing on him. The eye winked, then closed again. He could see, now, the almost wolf-like snout of the white-scaled beast, the odd stag-like horns atop its head, and a long sinuous body that almost faded into the ice of the Wall as he watched.
Half-Ear Clegg slowly wiggled his way back from the edge, concerned. The thin air hadn't had him seeing things like this since his early days in the Watch.
He waited, watching Sally. The mule stood watching him, as though expecting him to just continue. Well, if she wasn't bothered, Clegg probably didn't have anything to worry about.
He stood, taking the reigns in hand, making his way eastward. He was so focused on his water-tossing that he failed to notice the pale dragon and her companion snake over the edge of the Wall, across the top, and then down over the other side.
Half-Ear Clegg put the odd incident down to airsickness, putting it out of his mind like he had dozens of other oddities.