I snort.
“Sing?”
“Yes, girl, sing. Do you sing?”
“I know some songs, but I can’tsing.”
“Pity.” She shrugs. “Galdr is very powerful Seidr.”
“True,” says Elof, mouth full of elk. “Very powerful.”
“But don’t worry, I can’tsingeither,” continues Ylvin.
“True, can’t sing,” confirms Elof.
My new teacher stares at her man, releasing a chuckle. Her eyes return to mine.
“Are you willing to sacrifice animals to the gods for power?”
I frown. Sacrifice to honor the gods is normal in ceremony or ritual—followed by eating it during a shared feast. Even we travelers perform Blot. To honor the Aesir and bring fortune to our people. But killing for personal gain? That’s different.
“Blood magic? I didn’t think that would be necessary.”
“Everybody makes sacrifices, darling, both in worship and in daily life.”
I nod, processing her words.
“You would know that,” continues Ylvin, “being captured as a slave. I hope they treat you well.”
“They do, thank you.” My eyes dart to Ari, whose expression is somber as he stares into the fire, avoiding my eyes.
“Come to think of it,” says Ylvin, “I have never heard of a thrall Volva. You may be the first.”
“Not the greatest compliment,” I say with a curt laugh.
Serving Freya while also being under a man’s heel. Contradictory, perhaps. I hadn’t considered it before now.
“Come now, darling,” says Ylvin. “It’s not your fault you are chained. Or is it? I don’t know. In any case, it’s not somethingshameful, even if they want you to feel that way. How else would they control you? By keeping you proud and strong?”
“They aren’t that bad actua?—”
“Many free women are kept in bondage, you know. Pitiful slaves for spiteful husbands. Others have loving, dedicated men in their life, like me. Isn’t that right, Elof?”
“That’s right,” he confirms as he fills another bowl from the pot.
Is that his fifth or his sixth? I stopped at two. Ari stopped at three. Ylvin strokes her man’s arm with a tender affection.
“We will see, my dear Kilda, what magic appeals to you. Jarl Sigurd has a lot of faith in you—it wasn’t cheap getting Elof to carry all of our belongings so far up the mountain.”
Who is this woman? When does wisdom come into the picture? She seems like a rambling drunk to me. She stretches out her long legs.
“What do I see in you? You ask?” she says, even if I haven’t asked. “I’m not sure yet. Are you a Volva? Remains to be seen. But you are doubting if I am. You are skeptical, rebellious. You’re independent. And that, my little bird, is always a good starting point for Seidr magic.”
My jaw tightens—I’m at a loss for words. She seems to be enjoying her monologue anyway. Ylvin stretches to stand before throwing a glance into the air.
“Unless you’re a large group performing Seidr rituals together, of course. Then skeptical rebellion based on radical independence is useless. But you get what I mean.”
Ari shuffles next to me. I turn to him. He’s smiling, apparently convinced. Perhaps he heard something I didn’t. Perhaps he heard more than the drunken ramblings of a madwoman. I’m not sure I did.
