Ran shivered then, in deep shudders that racked her body as something within her raced into every bone and muscle through her blood and into her heart. The water was within her, as was the power about which the voices, and voice, had spoken. But what her destiny was or who this great evil was, she knew not.
She yearned for Einar more than ever in that moment. She needed someone to confide in about these wondrous but frightening changes and events. Her father had not returned yet, though she knew Svein Ragnarson had no patience for things that did not involve shipping goods, sailing or making a profit.
Matters of faith or other facets of life meant little to him. Even his children were important to him only for what they could bring to his collection of power and wealth. His long-dead wife had been acquired as an asset to his business interests. Part of his disinterest in his children had played to Ran’s benefit, for once she was too old for a nursemaid and had reached the end of her education, Ran had been left on her own much of the time.
Ran could do as she wanted. See whom she wished to see. Fall in love without rules.
That thought forced her feet to move. Ran made her way to the back door of the house and opened it quietly. Her bare feet made no sounds as she walked to her chamber. Her father’s house was staffed by only a small number of servants until he returned. So she did not worry overmuch about being discovered as she was.
“Another encounter with the sea, Ran?”
Ran turned and faced Dalla, the woman who kept house here and oversaw the other servants. She also was her father’s bedmate when he was here.
“Dalla, I did not see you as I passed.” Ran continued walking, hoping the woman would let the matter lie. Had Bjorn spoken to her in spite of his agreement not to speak about what had happened? If Dalla knew something, her father would know it within minutes of his arrival. “Pardon my rudeness.”
“Is the water not too cold to swim in it now, Ran? You could catch your death and become ill.” How did the woman manage to convey both concern and hope for a bad end in one utterance? Dalla had that talent. Ran stood up straighter and offered her best glare to the woman who was no more than a servant and a whore.
“I do not answer to you, Dalla. Do not mistake your place.”
“Ah, but you will answer to your father. Will you not?” Dalla walked closer and returned her glare with a haughty one. “’Tis you who should not mistake my place here, Svein’sdóttir. You will be married off soon and leave forever while I will remain in your father’s favor in a way you will never be.”
Ran slapped the woman’s face for such an insult, watching as the servant was shocked by the action. No one put Dalla in her place, not even Ran’s father, so the woman carried on as though she were mistress of this house. She was not and never would be, for her father would never honor Dalla with marriage.
Yet, the insult and the reminder of the other part of her bargain with her father stung. Without another word to or glance at Dalla, Ran made her way to her chamber and slammed the door shut. Now reminded of the rest of the bargain—a marriage of her father’s choosing in exchange for two years of control of the shipping business in Orkney and a large share of the profits made— Ran, threw herself on the rope-strung bed and screamed into the pillows.
She’d wanted some control over her life, unusual as that would be, and her father wanted to use her to make an alliance, so the agreement gave them both something they wanted. In two years she would still be of marriageable age and in the prime of her childbearing years, too. But, she would have money of her own and her children would inherit her share of Svein’s business interests. It was practical. It was beneficial. At the time she’d agreed, a marriage of convenience and business was the only kind she would consider, especially so close to Soren’s betrayal.
Now though, this new happening, this strange change, forced her to consider what to do. Did she pursue the cause of her new ability? Or ignore it and discover the reason for it when it revealed itself to her? An ability to control the seas would be an advantage of immeasurable opportunity for her father. If she could use her power to move ships as fast as she’d traveled, there would be immense profit.
Somehow she knew that this power was about something much, much larger than profit. The voice said her destiny was to save humankind from some great evil. And she knew to the depth of her soul that it was true. The voice also said something evil was coming and that she must prepare. How could she do that? What was her part? Rolling to her back and staring at the ceiling above her, she realized that whatever was happening involved both Einar and Soren.
Einar’s seemingly innocent and unconnected words now made sense to her. With his brief message of consolation he had also included words about a larger future and her place in something bigger than Orkney. She’d thought he meant a marriage to a man from across the sea in Scotland or in Norway or elsewhere, part of her father’s plan for an alliance that crossed boundaries. Now she thought Einar’s words were connected to this power.
And Soren . . .
His arrival in the marketplace was a surprise. His departure should not have been. But in those few moments before he’d walked away, he’d grabbed his arm in the same place she had held hers—the place where that peculiar mark now lay. If they shared the same mark, did he have the same power as she? Or was his different?
Ran sat up and pushed her damp hair from her face. She held her arm up and examined the mark. It no longer burned or stung, but now it appeared alive. The two lines resembling waves undulated under her skin, the marks moving like the sea did.
The only way to find out if Soren bore the same mark and how he was involved would be to see him again. On the morrow, she would visit Ingeborg and leave word for Soren that he could examine the letters his grandfather had sent to her. Then, when he came to get them, she would try to find out whether he bore the mark. And what Einar had told him. For she could not believe for a moment that his grandfather would not have shared such knowledge with Soren if he’d known it.
Ran spent the rest of the day and evening in her chambers reading and reading again the missives from Einar. Now, his words seemed to carry a message she’d not seen before this change had taken place. Now, she looked at the words and phrases in a completely different way and wondered at their meaning.
As she collected the letters into the box where she kept them, Ran was convinced of one thing—Einar Brandrson knew much more than anyone else did about all of this.
Seven
Ingeborg greetedher warmly and invited her inside. It had been two years and yet she could detect no hint or trace of anger or disappointment in the way Soren’s aunt spoke to her. In little time, they sat close to the fire, sipping some hot tea. Ingeborg knew much about herbs and plants and made several different varieties. This one was her favorite and Ran was pleased that Ingeborg remembered.
“So you saw Soren and he told you of Einar’s passing?” Ingeborg asked.
“Aye. I went looking for Einar to thank him for his letters these past two years and found Soren at the broch.” Ran could not stop rubbing her hand across the lid of the box in which the letters sat. “He said Einar passed quietly?”
“Ran, I know you were special to him. He spoke of writing to you after . . .” Ran shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “Soren spoke true—Einar passed in his sleep. He was buried next to his wife.” Ingeborg nodded to the box. “Are those his letters?”
“Aye. Soren asked to see them. He said Einar had been confused the last few months and wanted to see if the letters could help him understand why.”
“Einar was disturbed, surely, but never confused,” Ingeborg said with conviction. “I’ve thought on it much since he passed. At first, when he lived, I did think him confused, but not now. He was disturbed over some matter.”
