Slouch Hat nodded slowly than looked over at Svala and started speaking, his words slow, broken and hesitant. The girl’s face fell slightly, and Padric felt guilty for dispelling her smile, hating himself for asking the question, but then she answered and the sound was captivating. It was the most Padric had ever heard her say, and he found he could not imagine her speaking any other language. The words, though a mystery to him, were perfect coming from her lips, folding warmly in the air in tones that pleasantly tickled his ears. Arnheir and his captains spoke brutally. But coming from Svala, the language of the fjordmen was a song that would never tire. Padric was disappointed when she stopped speaking, but relieved to see that the sorrow had fled from her face, replaced with a look of compassion aimed directly at him.

“She says,” Slouch Hat relayed. “That she feared the goblins would kill the dwarrow. Something about dwarrow growing stronger in death, becoming…creatures of death. I am uncertain of her meaning. But she is of Middangeard and her people have dwelt close to the dwarrow for thousands of years.”

“Tell her,” Padric said. “That I am sorry she is locked up here. That she was given to me because of a lie. That she has had to see so much blood spilt. That I will never be able to free her or save her from all this madness. Tell her…just tell her I am sorry for everything.”

Slouch Hat spoke briefly and Svala’s answer was painfully short.

“She does not blame you,” Slouch Hat told him. “And neither should you.”

“I don’t,” Padric said looking over at the husk and smiling. “I blame you.”

The husk gave a derisive creak. “I blame Kederic Winetongue.”

“Please, do not,” Padric said. “That man is suffering enough. And he lied to save us when he had no cause. We tried to murder him, Slouch Hat. He could have let us die.”

“They left him at Reaver’s Meadow,” the husk said.

“I know,” Padric replied. “I was never allowed to speak with him. And there is no telling what will be his fate now.”

“Nor ours,” Slouch Hat muttered.

“Nor ours,” Padric agreed.

They sat in silence for some time and Padric felt his eyelids growing heavy. “Tell Svala to take the bed.”

He barely heard the exchange, but felt the husk’s lean fingers grip his shoulder. “She says you should share it.”

Padric did not bother to open his eyes. “I have no want to move from this spot.”

“Come,” Slouch Hat shook him. “You are in need of rest.”