She was eager to get on with this. Ready to go through her Cohesion Rite and join the ranks of the Galdra. But what if Harpa had changed her mind?
Harpa’s focus turned to her grandson. “I am old and set in my ways,” she said, breaking the silence. “You know that about me, Reynir.”
Rey merely grunted.
“But I have thought long and hard about it. It seems threads, long thought severed, have merely been frayed.” Harpa paused, thumb rubbing along the lovely tablet weave belt she wore today. “I am honor bound to play my part.”
Silla’s brows drew together.
Harpa appeared to chew on words she did not wish to voice. “I’ve realized this is bigger than you or me, Reynir,” she said after a long moment. “It is my duty to see this through.”
Rey nodded. “After this, I will ask nothing else of you.”
Harpa and Rey stared at one another, as though they held a silent conversation to which Silla was not privy. “Very well,” said Harpa. She turned her stern gaze to Silla. “If I agree to do this, you must listen to what I say. You must not question my methods.”
Silla nodded eagerly.
“You’re old,” said Harpa, making Silla’s smile fall.
“I’m twenty?—”
“It is difficult to teach galdur past a certain age. Your mind has firmed. It will fight against what needs to be done.”
“I think you’ll find I’m quite determined.”
Harpa ignored her, turning to Rey. “Explain everything.”
Rey sighed, running a hand over his textured curls. Silla turned away, embarassed she’d attacked him like a madwoman the night before. But Rey…he’d shown her softness. Had pulled her close and let her cry into his chest.
“King Kjartan’s bodyguard took her from Askaborg,” Rey was saying. “He kept her safely hidden in Sudur lands for seventeen years, had her taking skjöld to suppress her priming. She seems to have Ashbringer intuition—a cold white light. And perhaps Breaker strength.”
“What?” Harpa had her back to them, rummaging through the jar-laden shelves.
“Strength,” repeated Rey. “She pushed me clear across a field.”
Harpa whirled on Silla, eyes narrowed. “You’re not a twin.”
Silla lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug.
“How can this be?” asked Harpa. “Perhaps youhada twin, but the other never quickened in the womb?” She went back to picking jars from the shelves. “What do you know of the Galdra, Eisa?”
“Please, call me Silla.” She swallowed hard. “I know there are Warrior Galdra and Mind Galdra.”
“Yes,” said Harpa. “And you are a Warrior Galdra.”
Her heart warmed to hear this. She needed to become a warrior—needed to be as powerful as Rey…
“Warrior Galdra,” continued Harpa, “include the Blade Breakers, capable of great strength. The Shadow Hounds, who bend light to their will. The Harefeet, who generate great bursts of speed. Ashbringers, with fire at their fingertips. And the Smiths, who can sever and forge the bonds of this world.”
“Wait,” said Silla. “I’ve not heard of the Smiths. What do you mean by bonds?”
“Bonds are the weavings of this universe,” said Harpa. “They are everywhere—in everything, so small, you cannot see them. They shape the stones and each blade of grass. The Smiths can change these bonds; can cut or forge them anew; can create new things from what nature has provided.”
“My armor,” said Rey, smoothing a hand along the intricate leather-like scales. “It was made by a Smith we call the Tailor. He specializes in creating newtextiles; armor as durable as chain mail but a fraction of the weight; blankets holding as much heat as ten furs.”
Silla held herself absolutely still, taking in each word.
“The buildings in Kopa and some in Sunnavík,” Rey continued, “were made by the Stone Masons. They specialize in cleaving the bonds within stone.”
