Hjarlmas not stupid, Ragnar said when he received the news. Why chase the Wolf all over the woods when you know he has to return to his lair?

Mother

Shell be all right. Hjarlmas scared to death of her.

Bragi tried reading behind his fathers beard. The man spoke softly, tautly, as if he were in great pain.

The war is over now, Ragnar told him. Understand that. The Pretender has won. The Old House is in eclipse. Theres no more reason to fight. Only a fool would.

Bragi got the message. He wasnt to waste his life pursuing a lost cause.

He had had fifteen years of practice reading the wisdom behind Ragnars terse observations.

Theyll abandon him as quickly as they flocked to him. Eventually. They say... A shudder wracked his massive frame. They say theres a demand for Trolledyngjans in the south. Over the mountains. Beyond the lands of the bowmen. Past the reeving kingdoms. Theres war a-brewing. Bold lads, bright lads, might do well while awaiting a restoration.

Itaskia was the lands of the bowmen. The reeving kingdoms were the necklace of city states hugging the coast down to Simballawein. For half a dozen generations the Trolledyngjan dragonships had gone out when the ice broke at Tonderhofn and Torshofn, to run the gauntlet of the Tongues of Fire and plunder the eastern littoral.

Under the shingle pine, beside the upper spring. The northwest side. An old, broken hearthstone marks it. Youll find the things youll need. Take the copper amulet to a man called Yalmar at the Red Hart Inn in Itaskia the City.

Mother

Can take care of herself, I said. She wont be happy, but shell manage. I only regret that I wont be able to send her home.

Bragi finally understood. His father was dying. Ragnar had known for a long time.

Tears gathered at the corners of Bragis eyes. But Haaken and Soren were watching. He had to impress them with his self-control. Especially Haaken, on whose good opinion he depended more than he could admit.

Prepare well, said Ragnar. The high passes will be bitter this time of year.

What about Bjorn? Haaken demanded. The bastard child that Mad Ragnar had found in the forest, abandoned to the wolves, was not too proud to reveal his feelings.

Ragnar, youve treated me as your own son. Even in lean years, when there was too little for those of your own blood. Ive always honored and obeyed as I would a birth-father. And in this, too, I must obey. But not while Bjorn Backstabber lives. Though my bones be scattered by wolves, though my soul be damned to run with the Wild Hunt, I wont leave while Bjorns treachery goes unrepaid.