That was news to smile about? Annika’s heart twisted. “Oh.”
“No, no,” Lisbet assured her. “It is good. One evening—we don’t know what happened to start it, but we heard Hildegard shouting at her in the street. ‘You don’t
have
to be lonely, you stubborn ewe!’ and ‘You are not the
only
woman missing a daughter!’ Then your mother began shouting back at her. ‘You faithless rabbitchaser! If I took you in, I’d find you riding the butter churn by morning!’ On and on. Oh, Annika, you should have heard it. Everyone came out of their houses.”
“I’ve never witnessed anything of the like.” Camille was wiping tears of laughter. “Never.”
“I never knew there were so many ways to insult a person,” Lisbet said. “They shouted until Frida’s voice gave out, then she stormed off into her home—”
“Probably to find something to write on,” Camille broke in. “Your mother never has given up easily.”
“And Hildegard followed her. She didn’t come out until the next afternoon…and we will be delivering her letter to your
mother’s home, Annika Fridasdottor, because it is also Hildegard’s own.”
Oh. Annika couldn’t respond. Her chest was full and tight, her eyes hot.
Lisbet’s voice softened. “It was time, yes?”
Yes. Long past time. Annika buried her face in her hands, feeling the joyous laughter within but her eyes only crying, crying, as if a huge weight had suddenly vanished, and her relief and happiness was bursting out with tears.
“Weeping already?” Valdís came in and stopped, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have left you two alone with her.”
Now Annika was able to laugh. She mopped her face, let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m afraid that my news isn’t so wonderful. I’ve heard word of Inga.”
“Does she live?” Camille’s expression was carefully hopeful. She had been friends with Inga, Annika remembered—the twins, Frida, and Camille, all of the same age, growing up together.
“No,” Annika told her.
Lisbet put her arm around Camille’s shoulders. The older woman closed her eyes, nodded. “It was too much to expect. If she’d been well, she’d have sent word to us by now. How did you discover it?”
“I met her son, David. He wears her runes.”
“Hildegard will want them.”
Annika doubted that he would hand them over. “He’s here in Smoke Cove, and he’s searching for the mountain.” At their looks of alarm, she rushed on, “I didn’t tell him; he heard me speak Norse, saw my runes, and understood that we were from the same village. Inga asked him to bring her beads here, but he doesn’t know where to go. He’s determined to fulfill his promise, though.”
Camille sat back, her expression thoughtful. “Källa spoke the truth the night before she left.”
During their argument? “No.”
“Not when she called me a stupid hag. But when she spoke of
the likelihood that Hannasvik would be found. Oh, Annika, your face hides nothing. Do you agree with her?”
She couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Camille sighed. “After two months in this village, seeing how many men have come, I agree with it, too.”
“And I’ve always thought the same, though it’s taken longer than I expected.” Valdís slapped two frozen cod onto the wooden table and hefted a cleaver. “Tell us, Fridasdottor, what sort of man is her son?”
“A good man.” Annika couldn’t have said it so quickly of other people. “When I met him, he rescued me from danger in one of the ports, at some risk to himself. We got along well—though we did argue after I learned he was searching for Hannasvik, and he threatened to expose us all if I didn’t tell him where it was—but he apologized for his threat, and I don’t think he would have carried it through. And I don’t think he would hurt anyone, if he could help it.”
“Annika.” Lisbet regarded her with a look of wonder. “You like him
very
much, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I don’t know if he holds the same beliefs as many others in the New World, about women taking each other as lovers.”
Lisbet frowned. “Is it truly so bad?”
“Yes.” Valdís hacked off a fish tail, tossed it to a large orange cat stretching its way from her bed and into the hearth room. “They’ll hold you down and try to cure you of it.”
“Forgive me, Aunt, but that was many years ago.”
“No,” Annika said. “I’ve seen two men hanged for it. I’ve heard of others sent to insanitariums. A man who is suspected might be beaten bloody by a crowd, and I’ve seen men come to blows, simply because one suggested that the other lay with a man. It’s the worst sort of insult.”
“You only speak of men,” Camille said.
“Because no one speaks of the women. I only hear faint rumor
and speculation—and most of that, too, is couched in insult, such as when they talk of the women who live together in England.” She sighed. “Perhaps it is not so bad there, but it’s difficult to find out. Simply by asking, I open myself to rumor and risk.”
“The Englishwomen thought nothing of it until Hanna told them they should be wary of exposing themselves,” Valdís reminded them. “They’d never learned any differently under the Horde—and it has only been ten years since the tower came down. There must be many others who think the same.”
“Yes, but there are also many Brits from Manhattan City who are returning to England. We can’t know what influence the New Worlders will have—whether they will be told not to expose themselves, too.”
A second tail flew across the room. “We cannot know until we confront it, Annika.”
“I hope to have a little more time before we must,” Camille said, then looked to Annika. “What does Inga’s son know?”
“He has guessed some of it—that we are a village only of women, that we have spread the stories of the trolls and witches. I’ve tried to tell him nothing, but he’s clever, and has gleaned what he knows from our conversations.”
“If he’s clever, why hasn’t he guessed the rest?” Valdís frowned at her. “What does he expect a community of women will do—live alone for a hundred years?”
“I suppose that he hasn’t guessed because no one speaks of such things, and so he doesn’t assume it of us.” She flicked the frozen tail back to the cat when he batted it toward her boot. He pounced. “But it cannot be long until he realizes the truth.”
“He needs to know before he meets Hildegard.”
“Yes.” Annika couldn’t bear the thought of Hildegard’s newfound happiness with her mother marred by cruelty or thoughtlessness. She hoped David would be neither. But for her family, she
would take the risk to find out whether he recoiled or was disgusted. “I will talk with him of it, and see his response.”
And try not to think about how much his response might hurt
her
.
Camille took Annika’s hands between hers, regarding her with a worried expression. “You’ve taken so much upon yourself. It’s been four years now. If you can’t find Källa, you ought to come home.”
Behind her mother, Lisbet bit her lip and looked away. Annika could easily imagine Hildegard’s face, too, if she returned without her daughter.
Hildegard would forgive her. Annika would never forgive herself.
“I can’t,” she said. “I won’t, unless Hannasvik is discovered. Unless you need me.”
“To fight?”
“Yes.” That might be inevitable, too.
“Let us hope it does not come to that.” Camille squeezed her hands. “And I will tell Hildegard of Inga’s son as quickly as possible.”
“He’s in Smoke Cove?” Valdís frowned, as if trying to remember seeing him. “Describe his appearance.”
“He only arrived today—and he looks much like Källa. He has the same black hair, the same coloring, and he’s taller than most men. He doesn’t wear a beard. He will be in a dark blue overcoat, which fastens crosswise over his chest with brass buckles. His shoulders are broad, and he is lean rather than fat, though you wouldn’t know it from his clothes. His trousers aren’t so bad, though the seams are roughly sewn and the fit over his ass isn’t as snug as I would like, but his jacket looks to be made for an unshorn sheep, and his waistcoat is loose even when buckled. You will likely not notice, however, because if you see him outside, that overcoat covers it all.”
“I wouldn’t notice, anyway,” Valdís said.
“You will notice him. He looks very serious, at first, but he has three smiles. One is for anyone who reacts to his appearance with fear—though that is not even a smile, I think, but something he does because there is no other response to give. One is for when he is uncertain, and that is only half his mouth, on the side without scars. And there is one that he saves for friends, which moves all of his face, and makes you want to smile, too.”
A smile that she hadn’t seen since he’d revealed his mother’s runes. The realization started a dull ache beneath her breast. She wanted to see that smile again before he left
Phatéon
.
The others were quiet—waiting for more, perhaps. There was too much more. She could go on and on, but Annika remembered one thing that would interest her blacksmith aunt in particular. “Oh! And he has the most marvelous hand. You would be amazed by it, Camille.”
The others stared at her. Then Valdís laughed. “May the gods be merciful to you, girl.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. Perhaps she had gone on a bit long.
“Annika, the way you speak of him…” Camille shook her head. “Should I tell Hildegard more? Should I say something to your mother as well?”
“No.” Though it hurt to say so. “I won’t see him again after tomorrow.”
“Can you be so certain? He has family amongst our people. After Hildegard seeks him out, you may see him again.”
Annika hadn’t thought of that. Though David couldn’t come to Hannasvik, Hildegard might travel to visit with him—and Annika’s mother would probably go with her. If she’d found Källa by then, Annika would be free to accompany them as well.
“Does he know about Hildegard? About Källa?”
“Only that I search for her. I’ve said nothing of their relationship.”
“There can be no harm if he already knows everything but the location,” Camille said.
Lisbet leaned forward, added with a wry smile, “And if you don’t find Källa, return to Hannasvik in twenty years and we’ll be old maids together.”
Is that what their choice would be? If it was, Annika couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be stuck with—but she wouldn’t give up so soon. “I’ll find her.”
“You will,” Camille said, then gave her daughter’s bottom a slap. “And you will not be
old
in twenty years.”
“I’m old now, and in twenty years I’ll be dead.” Valdís scooped the fish into the stew pot, gave a pointed look to Annika. “And house elves aren’t coming to unload that sled. I’ll open the storeroom. No, Lisbet, you stay and help your old mother finish putting out this supper.”
Which meant that Annika was about to get a talking-to. She followed Valdís down the stairs, preparing herself for whatever the woman had to say.
In the darkened shop below, Valdís stopped and gave her a shrewd look before asking, “Why don’t you go home now?”
Aside from every reason that Valdís already knew? Aside from Hildegard’s disappointment, aside from Lisbet’s hopes? Aside from her own need to take the blame of her mistake instead of allowing Källa to pay in her stead?
“Can you imagine the stories they’d tell about me? I don’t know that I could lift my head up again. I am already Annika the Woolgatherer, Annika the Rabbit.” All said in fond jest, but they wouldn’t be jesting if she failed. “If I went home now, I’d be Annika the Promise-Breaker.”
Valdís nodded, lifting the latch to the storeroom. Swords glinted on the walls. Three cannons sat in a neat row, covered by canvas, the balls stacked into pyramids. All of the weapons had come from Valdís’s ship, and she kept them in good repair—and Annika had
never been certain whether Valdís held on to them because of the memories or in preparation for some other threat. Considering what she’d said about expecting trouble to come to Hannasvik, however, it was probably the latter.
Valdís held open the door while Annika brought in the first armload of silks and velvet. “What makes you believe you’ll ever be able to go back?”
It hurt that Valdís had to ask. Did she think Annika would fail? “I
will
find her.”
“No.” The older woman’s bony hand caught Annika’s arm as she passed back through the door. “Even if you find her, what makes you believe you’ll be satisfied with going back?”
Why wouldn’t she be? “It’s all I’ve dreamed of. I’ve never thought of doing anything else.”
“You should.”
She was speaking to the wrong person. “I’m not like you, Aunt.”
“I know. You remind me of someone else.”
“A cowardly foe?”
Valdís thinned her lips and let her go. Annika carried the next two loads in silence—and damn that old woman, her head was filled now, trying to think of something she could do, somewhere else to go. But she loved her troll. She loved Hannasvik. Of course, she’d loved seeing more of the world, too—but Annika couldn’t think of anywhere else that she’d like to stop, to settle. Iceland was her home.
Frustration boiled up in her. Dumping the last load on top of the pile, she faced the old woman and threw up her hands. “
You
came back.”
“To Smoke Cove.”
“Which is close enough to Hannasvik.” Annika could imagine herself here, too. It wasn’t so different. “And you’ve done more than I ever will, have more reason not to be satisfied.”
“Yes.” Her steely eyes narrowed. “Be thankful for that.”
But Annika wasn’t. She stared at the other woman, realizing.
She wasn’t thankful for it
.
Valdís cackled suddenly, watching her face. “So you see.”
No, Annika didn’t. It was true, she wanted to do more.
What
, exactly, she still had no idea. And she couldn’t do it now, anyway. “Finding Källa comes before everything.”
“So it does.” The older woman sniffed. “The fish ought to be done by now.”
And Annika was starving. But she wanted to know first, “Why
did
you come back?”
Valdís turned toward the stair, waving for her to follow. “For the same reason everyone runs back home: lost love.”
“The father of your sons?”