Thorfinn scowled. “Maybe best I not tell that here. This is kittle ground, the Troll’s Hood, and he newly slain was not human. Who knows what vengeful ghosts are aprowl?”

Ragnhild shuddered but kept at her work. Hadding stirred and groaned. Suddenly she slipped a ring off her right middle finger, a plain gold band, laid it in the wound, and poked it deep. At once she went on binding.

Thorfinn returned. Hadding struggled, as if to sit up. Thorfinn lowered himself and took the helmeted head on his knees. “Are you well, lord?” he asked. “This is me, your guide. The thurs is dead.”

“I, yes, I—maybe—” mumbled Hadding. He moved his arms, caught his breath. “Broken ribs, I think.”

‘And a slashed leg, bruises and scrapes, a knock on the noggin. But you’re a tough one. Lie still. When you’re more awake we’ll begone.”

Thorfinn took off his cloak, rolled it up, and very gently laid it beneath Hadding’s head. Rising, he met Ragnhild’s eyes. She had donned her tunic and stood steadily. “You’re the king’s daughter, eh?” he said. “Well, tell your father how the best of men saved you from the worst of dooms.”

“I will,” she answered, “but who is he?”

“I told you, we’d better not say that till we’re well away from here. His following is camped half a day’s trek hence. It’ll take longer than that, of course, the shape he’s in, but we’ll get there and bring you home.”

Ragnhild shook her head. “Thank you, but best I seek my own folk. They were to bide awhile, maybe a little nearer than yours. I know the way they’ve taken. We can bring the hero to them.”

“What of his men? If neither he nor I come back, they’ll be wild. They’ll recklessly seek hither. They’re not uplanders. Belike they’ll get lost and grope around till they die. He’d never forgive me that.”

Ragnhild smiled with tight lips. “It seems you and I must part.”

He nodded. “I understand. You don’t know what kind of men we are or what we’ll do—the more so if our lord dies, as he might. We could be foes of your father, Vikings, or outlaws, nearly as bad as him over there.”

“I meant no scorn or fear of you.”

Thorfinn chuckled. “I wonder if you have any fear in you to give. And as for scorn, no, I do understand. You have to keep on the safe side. Honor binds us both. I only dislike the thought of you waiting alone till morning, amidst this filth and stink and black witchiness.”