“I’ve heard of you,” she said, then nodded at the chain I wore around my neck, “and you wear gold.”

“I do.”

“You wear gold,” she said again, “and you don’t even notice you’re wearing it! A family could live for ten years on the metal you hang around your neck.”

“So?”

“So the gods notice you! The more you become like the gods the more they’re going to slap you down!” She wiped the wool grease from her fingers onto her robe. “When wolves attack the flock, which dog dies first?”

“The bravest,” I said.

“The bravest, aye.” She threw a billet of wood onto the fire. The two of us were sitting at one side of the hearth, slightly apart from the rest of the company. She watched the sparks settle into the smoldering ashes. “I had three sons too,” she said wistfully, “and two died of the fever. But the eldest? He’s called Immar and he’s a good man. Sixteen now and fighting at his father’s side.” She looked at me. “So when did your daughter die?”

“A few days ago.”

“She was ill?”

“Sköll Grimmarson killed her.”

She made the sign to ward off evil. “Oh, he’s a beast!”

“You know him?” I asked with quickening interest.

She shook her head. “We just hear things. But I don’t believe half of what I hear.” She picked up the distaff again.

“What do you hear?”

“He’s a cruel man,” she said, not looking at me. “He likes people to suffer. I hope . . .” her voice died away.

“From what I hear,” I said, “my daughter died quickly. In battle.”

“Thank the gods for that,” she said fervently. “We’ve had runaway slaves come across the hills, and they tell us stories. He hunts people for pleasure, sets the dogs on them. He’s said to have blinded two of his wives for daring to look at a young warrior, and the poor young man was gelded then sewn into a sheepskin and thrown to the hounds. And his sorcerer!” She made the two-fingered sign to ward off evil. “But as I said, I only believe half of what I hear.”

“I’ll kill him,” I said.

“Maybe that’s what the gods want.”

“Maybe.”

I slept that night. I had not expected to, but the gods gave me that small blessing. I had told Finan I would visit the sentinels we had put at the palisade, but he insisted I sleep. “I’ll make sure they’re awake,” he said, and so he did. I dreamed, but none of what I dreamed revealed the wishes of the gods. I was on my own. They were watching me, waiting, wanting to see how their game ended.

With Sköll’s death, I vowed. Or else my own.

The rain ended in the night and dawn brought a pale clear sky. The small wind was warmer, a promise of spring. I woke to the memory of Stiorra’s death and the absurd hopes that she might yet live. I felt abandoned by the gods, and for a moment I was tempted to tear the hammer from around my neck and hurl it into the hearth’s fire, but caution stopped me. I needed the help of the gods, not their enmity, and so I clutched the amulet instead.