After Erlend’s death, Mira found herself asking Dania far more questions—always in a detached and judgemental fashion, of course. She did not want to give the impression that she was in any way interested in the answers or the brutal Northerners. She merely needed something to discuss as she passed the miserable time.

Mira learned with deep annoyance that soten meant slave-guest-girl from the south and that a soter was a slave-guest-man. Dania explained that soter were, by far, less common. So uncommon that Gittenurg had only one as far back as anyone could remember. Ødger was his name, and he’d been taken because of his skill with shipbuilding and repairs. He was not soter anymore, as he’d been freed long before Dania came to the North herself.

“Take me to him,” Mira ordered, furious with Dania for not mentioning the man before.

Dania frowned at the brazenness of the order for so long that Mira wondered if the girl was not to guide her out of spite.

“Please,” Mira added.

Dania still appeared piqued, but nevertheless, led Mira to the docks, where a stocky man was hewing logs delicately and with attentive precision. He didn’t look like one of Mira’s countrymen—his arms and neck were covered in the bluish Northern marks. His long, dark hair was shaved at the sides and weaved together into a thick strand that ran down his back. He wore the same roughly-stitched furs as the other Northern men.

“Are you sure he’s from the Isle?” Mira whispered.

Dania laughed. “Ødger this is Mira, Mira, Ødger.”

“Pleased to meet you Odger,” Mira said.

“Ooooh, like an owl,” he said. “Oooo-dger.”

Mira couldn’t hear the difference between what she’d said and his correction. “Ooodger,” she repeated.

The man’s eyes had not once lifted from his work; all his focus was given to the thin, two-handed blade he was pulling towards himself along the log and the thin flakes of wood he was shearing from the surface.

“Sir—”

“I’m not a knight.”

Mira knew that; she was only being polite. “I am Lady Mira of clan Arcliff.”

Still, the man did not look up, his brow furrowed in concentration. “And why are you telling me this?”

Mira’s cheeks went hot—not once had she been spoken to with such disrespect by an Islish man, a lowborn one at that. “I’ve heard you know a thing or two about ships, and... well, I want to go home.”

He laughed. “No, you don’t.”

Still, he hadn’t looked up at her.

“Pardon me, Sir, but I am seeking passage home. And given your knowledge and access to seafaring vessels... I hoped you would escort me.”

Finally, the man stopped his work and turned his head in Mira’s direction with a sigh. “And why would you hope that?”

“We are countrymen,” Mira said. “And, as such, bound to one another by a common sense of uprightness and civility. So... will you take me home?”

Ødger shrugged. “No.”

“What? Are you jesting? I am a lady held captive against my will. It is your duty... how can you refuse me?”

A festive smile warmed up his hard face. “Just like this: no.”

“My father will pay for my safe return—”

“No.”

“He would knight you, I’m sure—”

“Still, no.” Ødger’s eyes made their way back to the wood he was working, his thick palms running along the smooth surface, apparently feeling for imperfections. When one seemingly was found, he picked up his two-handed blade again and pulled it along the log towards his chest, skinning a curly stand of fragrant pine off the central piece.

It took everything Mira had to keep herself from shouting at the man. “And, for the love of all that is holy, why not?”

He stopped his work once more and scratched at his chin. “I don’t want to go back to the Isle; I will never return there.”

“But—”

Ødger turned to Dania, with a smile that did not express happiness but rather deep irritation poorly covered up. “Please, take her away from me.” With that, he went back to his work, feeling along the log for the next slice he would make.

Mira couldn’t comprehend the conversation. What man would refuse an honourable quest with such indignation? From a Lady no less? Dumbfounded by the lack of chivalry, Mira allowed Dania to escort her without a word back to the town hearth, where begrimed men and women were already gathering in anticipation of supper to come.

Another thing Mira quickly discovered was that there was a second language the Northerners used: an older one, just for prayer.

“Worry over one language at a time,” Dania said. “You do not need the old language unless you convert.”

Mira learned that the bluish-green stains on the Northerner’s skin had deep meaning, often having to do with their gods. Sotern (which was how you spoke about multiple captives that were both men and women) were only allowed to have the stains on the hands and face. The Northerners, in contrast, could have the marks anywhere on the body. Dania told Mira that the father of her children was almost completely covered with them beneath his clothing, and she showed Mira the stains on her lower back she had taken once freed.

“It is the mark of Vaneurim, goddess of mothers,” Dania said.

Mira took in a sharp breath. “You are a heathen?”

Dania laughed. “No, my lady, I am a devout woman. It is you who is the heathen.”

Mira opened her mouth to speak again, but Dania interrupted.

“Speak your next words carefully, my lady.”

The idea bothered Mira deeply, but more so than fraternizing with a heathen, Mira feared being alone in the frigid, foreign country. She kept her mouth closed.

Like the blue skin patterns, the shields of the Northmen also held great meaning. Each warrior painted their own round wooden piece, choosing what images and patterns were displayed with individual intentions.

On the Isle, all soldiers fought for a lord and so carried his emblem on their shield. Dania explained by describing her captor’s shield one afternoon as the girls trailed after Dania’s sons, who were digging for worms.

“There is a goat, as Eggun, his father, and grandfather worked as goatherds. It is common to have something of your ancestors or family on your shield.”

There was a blackbird, the symbol of the god Torleif, as this was the god Dania’s captor felt spoke to him most and also it was a reminder to remain patient when raiding for impatience could lead to disaster. There was also a small blue flower, native to the North, which Dania showed her in a nearby field.

“It is me,” Dania said. “Hunnengyrt. It is the first Northern word I learned. This is what he calls me when we are alone, and there are no men around to tease him for it.”

Mira spent some time examining Fell’s shield, which had been untouched in his tent since they arrived in the North; even when he trained, the shield remained in his home. She tried to figure why he chose the things that he did: there was a broad tree, though there was no way to tell if it were upside down or not as the roots and branches reflected each other perfectly, and there were no leaves. There were two red flowers, the thorns on their stems much more prominent than the blossoms, and two large, round eyes as well, though the eyes did not match each other and there were no other facial features.

The next time both Dania and Fell were at the hearth, Mira asked after his shield.

“He says no, his father was not a lumberjack.”

When Mira asked of the tree, Fell shrugged. “He says he does not know its meaning; he only liked the look of it.”

When she asked about the eyes, Dania translated, “It is to scare his enemies. If he’s fighting in the dark, they may think it is a giant beast that approaches.”

All of Fell’s answers were lighthearted, and Mira wondered with disdain if the man had ever had a serious thought in all his life.

Mira learned that there were many gods the Northerners prayed to, twelve of which were gods of war or battle. She also began, against her best efforts, to better know the townsfolk. Being keen for music herself, Mira quickly began to discern which songs different people liked and, occasionally, she would play their favourites when they gathered at the hearth together. This was not due to her wanting any Northerners to experience pleasant moments, but rather because sharing in music was something her spirits desperately needed. She especially played for the man who had slain his father, whose name was Toke, in part because he still carried sorrow with him as he walked about, but mainly because there was one night when Fell wandered into the woods with Cat’s eye, leaving Mira alone at the hearth and the blue-haired woman had come again and shouted at Mira, encouraging her to attend the witch that others may have their turn at a reading. Toke told her off, and the woman left Mira alone.

Throughout this time, Mira was of two minds at once. She was unhappy to be in such a cold and violent place. Every night she shivered and cursed her circumstances. She was confused or disgusted by people’s behaviour nearly all the time and was tired of not understanding people when they spoke. She missed her home and dreamt of her mother often, and always in the dreams, her mother was weeping. But there was a second mind that whispered things to her—things she had no right to think.

Mira had never been allowed to wander by herself back in Arcliff. She liked this feeling a lot. She could eat and drink as much as she liked. No one cared if she was loud or if she got her clothes dirty, or if she skipped her prayers every so often. She could stay awake as long as she desired and sleep into midday if she felt so inclined. Further, Mira had never been around a girl her own age before and found herself drawn to Dania as if the girl were a long-lost sister. They would tell each other foolish secrets and giggle and make bracelets out of grasses as they lazed with Dania’s sons and the baby goats Dania spent her days minding.

Sometimes admitting these joys to herself would bring on a wave of guilt, and Mira would clutch Loric’s handkerchief to her chest and manage a few days of strict sullenness. But other times, being able to breathe and move and speak as she wanted was such a great pleasure that she could not bring herself to care.

Mira told Dania of her two minds, and the girl laughed at her.

“The freedom of the North is too beautiful, my lady; it is taking you over the same way it has conquered me.”