Almost as if the night could sense the importance of the discussion, it grew still. The wind could only be sensed by those looking to the sky where moonlit clouds covered and revealed the stars above as they passed overhead. The cold air was heavy and hushed, and the trees in the distance had stopped swaying and rustling. There was only the crackling of fire for sound and illusory, spectral flickers of light from the hearth for movement. The witch had come out of her hut and was sitting among the thick, filthy villagers and warriors with poise and authority, and as the conversation unfolded, Dania did her best to whisper to Mira what was said.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted a chance to speak, though no one had anything to say. Sigyn Speartooth answered the witch’s questions first, though he couldn’t remember being struck by lightning. He couldn’t even recall what he’d eaten that morning.

One woman spoke up and said that Sigyn was unable to put his own boots on.

Sigyn smirked and gestured to his feet with performative flair as he spoke.

“He wonders then, how come his boots are on his feet.”

Many laughed when the woman answered. “She says she put them on for him in the morning. He cannot remember this and so has denied it.”

The crude-featured Northmen debated Sigyn’s capabilities for some time, though a fair few people were deep in their cups and did not appear to be taking things as seriously as Mira thought they should. Rather, they suggested strange feats for Sigyn to perform in order to determine how much of his mind remained within his control. They had him count things and stand on one leg while hopping and give directions to different things in town.

Dania was all giggles as she translated, and though Mira knew nothing of the language, it was clear to her that most people were jesting and just wanted to see how many silly things they could get Sigyn to do.

Mira’s speartoothed captor wandered away at some point to take a piss. Everyone knew this was what he went to do because when Sigyn came back, his trousers were not properly laced. Fell was quick to move in front of Speartooth and remedy the situation, but most people calmed down a little and spoke with a more serious tone after this occurred.

Dania leaned in and whispered, “It is somewhat agreed; Sigyn cannot keep you, at least not unless his thoughts return. People think he will forget to feed you, and you will die, and this will be a waste.”

Mira also thought starving to death would be a waste of her life.

“So now they discuss who will keep you. Many do not want you because they have heard of what happened on the ship—the lightning strike.”

“I did not do it.” Mira shook her head with vigour, afraid they would think of killing her for using dark magic.

“Of course not, my lady—” Dania was interrupted by the witch and chose to answer the older woman instead of continuing her words with Mira.

Everyone looked at Mira: wide pale eyes blinking amid dancing shadows. Broad, flat, fire-tinted faces betraying severe attention. The northern folk began to whisper to one another; some crossed their arms while others tilted their heads to the side in devilish intrigue and Mira’s already frail sense of safety dwindled. She clutched tightly onto Dania’s arm as the girl translated.

“Myret asked me what you said. I told her that you wanted to be clear that you did not cause the lightning. In the North, this is a very odd thing to say, so now they discuss this.”

A rosy young man with blood-red hair scratched his nose as he spoke. “He says he would never have thought a girl could make lightning, but because of your words, he is now considering it. He asks why you would say this if you were indeed, as innocent as you claim.”

A plump and pretty middle-aged woman spoke up. “She says no one can cause lightning.”

An older man with blue lips nodded. “He agrees; it is only Hyrold who can make lightning.”

The rosy man answered. “He says Hyrold has taken the form of a person before, so perhaps this is what you are.”

“She points out that Hyrold has never taken the form of a girl in any story she’s heard.”

“The older man there says that also, if you were Hyrold, you would know our words.”

There were several nods of agreement and a chaotic moment where many people spoke all at once. “They wonder if maybe you are Egil then. Tricking them.”

“I do not understand what any of this means.” Mira began to cry. She did not want to be accused of tricking the fearsome folk as, surely, such a crime would result in some form of terrible punishment.

Before Dania could explain, the witch spoke, and a hush fell over the villagers. “She says that she thinks the lighting is important, but it is impossible to tell in which way. Either Hyrold has come to visit us in human form, or he is watching over you. Regardless, you must be provided for. She reminds everyone to focus on the question they mean to have answered.”

The fork-bearded man, the one who lived in the little room onboard the ship, spoke up. “He says this is important to know first. He says Sigyn was struck while touching you, and though lightning spreads with touch, you were unharmed. Whoever takes you needs to know they will not be treated the same way by Hyrold.”

Mira wanted to say that Sigyn had let go before he was struck, but she was afraid to speak up again in case her words caused further suspicion. The men who were aboard the ship took turns telling the same story again and again. Each time the tale was told, it grew wilder.

“He says, Sigyn took hold of her hand, and the lightning came for him.”

“This man says it was your scream that called the blast from the sky.”

“He has explained that the lightning followed behind you for days afterwards.”

Though the witch spoke quietly, her voice carried through those gathered crisp and clear. “She wants to know if anyone else has touched you. And if anything has fallen on them from the sky.”

Dania answered as it was obvious to all nearby that she’d touched Mira: their arms were twisted together. She shook her head as she responded to the witch’s questions. Cat’s eye also spoke up, no doubt saying that she’d helped Mira dress when she first arrived.

“Myret asks if any other men have touched you.”

Heads shook, but someone pointed at Fell and spoke, and Fell began to laugh.

“He says he was hoping to stay out of the conversation. He tells Myret that he held you up so you could touch the whale, and that he warmed your fingers when they were blue, and that he carried you from the shore to Inga’s home because you were too cold and sea-wobbly to walk and that—”

It was the wrong response to have in every way, but Mira was somewhat impressed that the man had remembered each instance of their contact so clearly.

“He says he touched your hand and your chin when he encountered you on the raid…. Myret has asked who found you first, Sigyn or Fell. Fell says it was himself.”

“She wonders if you were a prisoner there, why did he not think to free you himself.”

“Fell says he did. He was the one who broke down the door; he thought you would leave and go where you wanted once the fighting had settled.”

Sigyn joined in, suddenly eager to participate. “Sigyn says yes, this is how it happened. When he went back to the tower because he had the time for another armful, he saw that you had not fled. He thought you were too afraid of the steel men, so he brought you out of the stone lair himself.”

In the end, the witch asked who wanted Mira.

“Dania, please, it must be you,” Mira cried.

Dania shook her head. “I am already doing the work to feed three, my lady; I cannot. My man is still at sea and might not return for moons. I have not enough to spare.”

“Please.” Mira’s tears came so hard and quick that she felt like she was choking on them. She did not want to be given away like she was a painting.

“Fell thinks you should go with Myret.”

Mira shook her head violently. “I cannot live with the witch!”

The woman with the leaking eyes laughed—a wild, unstable cackle that twisted Mira’s organs into knots.

“Myret thinks you should go with Fell.”

Fell shook his head.

“She says you have already stayed in his home for three days.”

“He says he only did not want you to freeze as Sigyn recovered.”

Wolf-head laughed and spoke with mischievous, teasing eyes. “He says Fell keeping you makes much sense as he also has your instrument, and these two things should go together.”

Fell glared at the man playfully, causing wolf-head to laugh all the harder.

“Myret says that her recommendation, made before all of these good people, is that Fell take you as his soten.”

Mira had not seen the man without a grin on his face since she’d first laid eyes on him, but his jaw became firm, and his stare grew bleak as he shook his head once more.

“Myret says she believes that the gods wanted you here as they waited until you were on board the ship before striking Sigyn. She says Fell is the one who found you, so he should take on the extra work. She assumes it was Fell who told Sigyn that you were a prisoner, and so it is his fault you are here. And also, she says it is far past the time Fell took on more responsibility.”

Everyone laughed except for Fell; the man’s broad face bore a grave and solemn expression that Mira could not help but feel sad when she witnessed. “He says it is unkind for her to ask this of him. He says he cannot keep a soten. She knows this.”

“She asks if he is challenging her decision.”

There was a tension in the air when the witch said this. People grew still. They watched, rigid and unblinking, the only movement in the still cold night coming from the flickering of firelight.

Fell raised his eyebrows and smirked, and said something that caused the tension to shatter. Many laughed. Though when Mira looked to Dania, the girl could not explain. “There are some things that cannot be switched between languages so easy. Fell will take you, though. You will be his… guest-slave—I must think of a better way to explain this. But you will do as he says.”

Mira cried. She could not be a guest or a slave to a man. The gods would punish her for serving a heathen; she was certain of it.

Dania smiled sweetly and brushed Mira’s hair with her fingers. “Being a servant in the North was the easiest thing I had ever done. Usually, sotern are freed within a year or two. This is not such a long time. You will be fine, my lady.”

Her words were not at all comforting.

“Then again….” Dania smiled. “Fell has others who do his work for him.”

“He has other slaves?”

“No, my lady, many free women help him with things because he asks so sweetly. When he came to me this morning, I had other plans for my day, but he was too flirtatious in his request. I could not bring myself to refuse him. Maybe there will be no work left over for you.”

“Flirtatious?” Mira had not heard this word before.

“Yes, my lady, he knows how to ask in a way that makes you want to listen. He often gets away with things he should not because of how he smiles.”

Dania ran her hands up and down Mira’s back as she spoke and then made soft, soothing noises. Mira’s tears stopped. She’d never been comforted by anyone besides Dayne before and had not known women could be so gentle or reassuring.

Fell came to them as Mira calmed. He stood awkwardly, running a giant hand along the back of his head, staring at his boots as his mouth opened and closed many times. Finally, he found his words.

“He says he is sorry. He says you do not have to be afraid of him. He will not harm you.”

He looked at Mira then, for the first time since she was given to him by the witch. It was a hard thing for Mira to explain, but his eyes seemed to be speaking to her. She could see he was suffering, and this was confusing but also pleasing as she felt he deserved to suffer, both for his stupidity and his current position above her. And also, because he’d stolen her harp.

I swear it, his eyes said. I swear I mean you no harm.

Mira did not want to respond because she wanted the man to continue feeling terribly about everything. She could tell he was fishing for some sort of acknowledgement from her; he wanted to know she didn’t think him evil, but Mira was not going to give him that.

It’s how he should feel, she decided.

Things grew more awkward the longer no one spoke.

“Sole?” Fell said.

Nothing could have made Mira feel all the way better, but playing a song would at least empty her mind and lighten the weight of her misfortune.

“He says it is not a request. He is only asking. Not telling.”

This, too, made Mira feel the slightest bit better. She took a seat near the fire and ran her fingers along the smooth, familiar wood.

Dania sat nearby on the grass, pulling her knees into her chest. “He would like you to play the song you first played for him. He would like for me to hear it.”

Mira played Tears of the Mander, and after a short time, Fell began to sing the words. She would never admit this to anyone, but his voice was fine and suited the song perfectly. Dania sang the chorus with him, and many were watching, including the witch and Cat’s eye. The witch appeared pleased with the melody, but Cat’s eye chewed the inside of her cheek with irritation.

By the time the song ended, Dania was in tears.

“Thank you, my lady,” she said, wrapping her arms around Mira and kissing her cheek. “I have not heard it in many years. You have given me a great gift this evening.”

With her mood changed, Dania bid them a quiet goodnight and walked off into the darkness, quickly disappearing into the shadowy night. Mira was bothered that none of the nearby men offered to escort her. Surely a young woman should not be left to walk alone in the evening? But, truly, what could she expect from barbarians?

Mira did not ponder Dania’s lonely walk for long as she quickly became aware that the witch was watching her with care. The woman’s hawkish gaze bore into Mira’s chest and lungs. She knew some witches could cast spells with only a glance, and so Mira did not want to be in the woman’s line of vision. She set herself a little behind Fell.

Let the dumb man take the brunt of the witch’s evil, she thought.

Fell laughed and, speaking, he motioned to the old woman who used stones to tell the future. She came towards them, and Mira backed further away, her heart pattering rapidly. Fell tried to soothe her with gentle words, but Mira could not be calmed.

Maybe he does not know, Mira thought. Maybe he is under her spell and so cannot see the evil.

Fell shrugged and plucked the stopper from another wineskin. Leaving Mira to cower as she pleased, he turned his attention to the witch.

Mira could not remember the route back to the tent, and though she wished desperately to hide from the witch’s presence, Fell did not leave the hearth for many hours. Neither did the witch. The two of them sat close together and breathed from her flute.

Fell was an easy man to understand. At the time, Mira thought it was because he was stupid, that she understood what children were thinking and wanting in much the same way. At first, he jokingly pretended he was cross with the witch, or perhaps he was indeed angry. They stayed silent and stared into the fire, and his posture said, I’ll never forgive you, even though he accepted the flute whenever she passed it to him.

After some time, she spoke and laughed, and despite attempting to keep his grim countenance, Fell laughed too. Finally, he relaxed somewhat, and his tone and expression and body said, if it were anyone else, I would not forgive them, but because it was you…. Soon they were laughing and rambling on about something or other.

The witch set her head on his shoulder, and Mira, who had never seen this kind of gesture before, was intrigued. Back on the Isle, physical closeness was something that did not happen or at least didn’t happen when others could see it. It expressed an affinity that Mira couldn’t understand, a fondness and tender playfulness that Mira had not before encountered. The bond between the older woman and the younger man was both something Mira desperately wanted once she saw it and something that terrified her because it was a witch that was partaking in it.

Mira stayed as far away as she could, shivering and waiting for Fell to guide her back to the tent, trying her hardest not to think of the screams of the witch that was tied to the stake back home.

Ladies cannot be named witch; they cannot be tried for witchcraft. That was another one of Dayne’s lies. Though, in his defence, he’d probably thought he was telling the truth when he said it. Before Mira’s lifetime, no highborn woman on the Isle had ever been tried for witchcraft. Of course, that would change.