“Whatisit?”Morrenfollowed Trahern inside the cashel where she found Jilleen waiting. Her sister had a nervous expression on her face, but she gave Trahern a brief nod.
“It’s something Jilleen discovered,” he admitted. “I thought you might like to go with us.”
Something about his tone made her sense her sister’s fear. “All right.”
There was a visible relief on Jilleen’s face, and Morren followed the pair further inside. Several men had begun clearing away the burned wood, while others worked on cutting timber for new framing. A few of the Norse women had come along and were gathering thatch to repair the roofs. Katla was directing the process, as though she were personally trying to rebuild every house. The men appeared irritated, and Morren hid a smile at the woman’s forceful presence.
Jilleen continued leading them to the far side of the fortress, and Morren slowed her steps. If they continued, she would have to walk past the place where she’d been attacked.
She forced herself to shut out the memory. Jilleen was guiding them toward the souterrain passage. Morren reached out and took Trahern’s hand, keeping her eyes averted. She didn’t want to look at the trampled grasses or remember anything at all.
His strong palm guided her away from it, a steady grip that reassured her. She only wished he could protect her from the nightmares, as well as the strangers here.
Jilleen held back the underbrush, revealing the entrance to the souterrain. The underground tunnel was used for storage and as an escape route during times of need. On the night of the attack, the raiders had set fire to the hut that covered the souterrain entrance, making it impossible to use the passageway.
“Why are we going here?” Morren couldn’t understand the purpose or why her sister had led them this way.
Trahern squeezed her hand. “Go on, Jilleen. We’ll follow.”
Once they were inside, Morren could see nothing in front of her. The stale interior smelled of earth and rot. She held her breath, following the pair deeper inside. Trahern’s hand pulled her forward into a shaft of light that shone down from above.
Jilleen pointed to a pile of shattered clay vessels. “Look.”
Morren caught her breath when she saw what her sister was pointing toward. A handful of silver coins were scattered over the ground, as if gathered in a hurry. “Where did it come from?”
Trahern picked up one of the coins and held it to the light. “I suspect it was payment,” he answered. “Given to theLochlannachraiders.”
Looking back at Jilleen, he added, “You were right to lead us this way, so the others wouldn’t follow.” He reached down and poured a handful of coins into Morren’s palm.
She couldn’t repress an inadvertent shudder when the cold silver slid through her hand. “How do you know they belonged to theLochlannach?”
“Because these coins are older. Do you see the long cross? They’re not Irish. Possibly a hundred years old.”
He held one out to her, and she examined it. He was right. She’d never seen coins such as these.
“Should we show them to the Dalrata chief?”
He opened her palm and placed a handful inside. “No. Don’t speak of it to anyone, and we may learn more. After theLochlannachhave returned to their settlement, you can use the silver to buy more grain and supplies for the winter.”
He didn’t trust Dagmar, Morren realized. But she was less inclined to believe that the chief had anything to do with the attack. If he’d been responsible, why would he spend so much effort on rebuilding?
The warmth of Trahern’s hand lingered a little longer than was necessary. Her skin prickled, and she didn’t understand her response to his touch. It wasn’t fear but something else. Something unexpected.
She broke free, kneeling down to pick up the remaining coins. It gave her a means of hiding her embarrassment, and she placed them inside a clay vessel.
“I’m going back,” Jilleen said. “Before Katla notices.”
“We’ll follow you in a moment,” Trahern promised. Jilleen left the souterrain through the tunnel while Morren finished gathering the coins.
When she stood, a gust of wind brought flakes of white drifting down the opening from above. “Snow?” She couldn’t believe it, not this early in the season.
Trahern held out his palm, and the flakes melted upon them. “It’s early for it.” A hint of a smile played on his features. “When I was a lad, I used to fight with my foster brothers in the snow. We’d pack it into balls and throw it at each other.” His mouth softened at the memory.
“The boys used to run from me,” Morren admitted. She reached up and another flake faded upon her fingertips.
“Why would they run?” He led her back outside the tunnel, taking her in the opposite direction toward the barley fields.
Morren breathed an inner sigh of relief that he hadn’t led her back the way they’d come. “Because I could hit any of them with a ball of snow. Jilleen used to taunt them, and I defended her.”
