“Great Fá, this is—”
“Lyria of Lagalos,”Fá finishes.“The companion you’ve told me so much about. We have another guest worthy of note.”
Volga and I follow his gaze to see Sigurd half naked and standing in chains beside a pile of presents given to Fá. My heart grows heavy. Sigurd has been beaten badly, but tries to look so proud. They caught him after all.
Fá calls back to a miserable-looking Obsidian in mockery.“Jarl Skarde, you pout. I told you to rejoice for your son and his liberation from hisimprisonmentunder Darrow.”
Sigurd stares at his father with his head held high. Slumped, Skarde says nothing.
They’re all so afraid of Fá.
Fá’s eyes fall on me. They are no longer smiling. They are pits of evil in a face that looks like a piece of steak dragged by a truck and then repaired with titanium. I look away and feel ashamed. The shame is replaced by horror when I see a small gap between the hunk of metal serving as their table and the ground. Gold eyes look back at me. It was not the wind moaning. Golds lie crushed beneath the massive table.
Volga has noticed. Her eyes linger then dart away.
“You are frightened, Lyria,”Fá murmurs.“Do not be. I know a debt is due. My granddaughter has told me how you saved her from the mines of the Red Hand. For this, I shall spare you the pain you deserve for coming to turn her against me.”His metal fingers caress the scars through the hair on my head.“After all, nothing of interestresides in your head any longer.”He tilts my face up to look at his.“Darrow would not send you unto us with secrets. Would he?”
Fá begins removing the muzzle.
“She may blaspheme the Allfather,” Volga warns and shoots me a look that says,Don’t get yourself killed.
“Did I break Ilium only to fear the voice of a silly Red girl?”he says and finishes removing the muzzle. I’d spit at him if my mouth was not chalk dry from fear.“Darrow has fallen far. Once, I admired him. But what sort of warrior sends such a fragile thing to do his dirty work?”he asks.“Defeat has made him a coward.”
“He issued you a challenge, didn’t he?” I reply. “You’re the coward. Hiding behind your army.”
“I am here,”Fá says.“Under the open sky. Where is he? Hiding in the Deep.”He smiles as I try to hide my surprise.“Yes. I know he awaits me there, girl. Just as I know he let me take two of the sealifts, both leading to an obvious trap. But there are other routes down, down, down.”He chuckles.“Do you know what a Moses Column is? A pillar of force that parts the very sea.”
Oh gods. Does Darrow know Fá’s plan?
I sneer because it’s all I can do. “Did Atlas show those routes to you?” I ask in Nagal and shout to the jarls. “Fá is a puppet of the Fear Knight. You are tools of Gold.” Then in Common, “Do you hear? The Fear Knight is the Allfather! You are puppets of the Society!”
The party is loud and Fá has not called for their attention. Few pay me any mind. Their diversions are more interesting than a babbling Red girl. Fá smiles down at me.“Your Nagal appalls. Darrow must be desperate if the only weapons he has are lies.”He returns his attention to Volga.“I am told she carried a message too?”
Volga proffers up the holocube.
Fá rolls the cube between his fingers.“More lies?”
“They say you serve Atlas,” Volga says.
“I have told you of my time with Atlas.”
“They say you serve him still.”
Fá watches her a moment before chuckling.“They would. Would they not? So many lies to tear us apart.”Fá crushes the cube.“Your loyalty brightens my heart, daughter.”
“I am glad, for I must ask a boon of you. I owe Lyria a debt. She is dear to me. Aside from you, she is all that is dear to me. I would ask foryour mercy, my King. Allow me to add her to my retinue or send her back to Mars.”
“Is she a friend of our people?”
“Yes.”
“Did she not come for Darrow?”
“No. She came for me.” I know deep down she believes that. “She was a slave like us, and the Republic has mistreated her too. Her eyes are not open, but her heart is brave.”
For a moment, I see great sadness in Fá’s eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, and then seems to change his mind. His eyes harden, and he waves to the partying jarls.“You know what they say of you, my kin. The Volk claim you are impure. Unnaturally born. The Ascomanni whisper of your mercies. They think you are weak, with Republic sympathies, and worse. A woman. Look at them. Beasts, all. They follow us like desert creatures follow a man without water. Waiting. Waiting.”
“We are the blood of Ragnar,” Volga says. “Let them wait.”
