Raye finally wrangled Svein into his room, and into his bed for a desperately needed rest — he hadn’t slept nearly enoughthe night before — but even once he fell asleep, he kept sniffling, his claws still extended sharp from his fingers. And Raye was sniffling too, and she had to make herself leave his room before she started sobbing again.
But now she was alone in the cramped cottage, blinking around at the plain walls and floors, the sparse furnishings, all the little holes and cracks and weaknesses she hadn’t been able to fix. And then the huge loom, with that endless bolt of flat beige cloth upon it. Waiting for her to offer up more of her time and her body, her boredom and her pain.
And without warning, another memory flared through her thoughts. Kalfr, standing tall and handsome beside this very loom, carefully tracing his finger against her richly coloured tapestry.This is so stunning, Raye, he’d told her, his voice hushed and reverent.You bear the goddess’ own magic, in this.
Raye shook her head and shoved the memory away, and stared back down at the expanse of beige cloth. No. The tapestries were long gone, and there was nothing else to do. No other way to survive. And no guarantee that Gaelfr — or Kalfr — would ever come back.
So finally she sat down at the loom, and began working. Lifting the warp threads, passing the shuttle through, beating down, lifting, passing, beating, again and again and again. Gods, she was so tired, and she couldn’t stop glancing behind her toward the door, jumping at every creak, every gust of wind. Waiting not only for the men, but for Gaelfr. He’d promised he would come back, but what if he’d changed his mind, what if he was dead?
It plodded around and around through Raye’s exhausted brain, and an afternoon had perhaps never passed so slowly. Her only saving grace was that Svein was still asleep, rather than milling about bored and whining, demanding to know whenGaelfr would return. So she forced herself to keep weaving, keep sitting there, until —
A bang. At the door.
Raye choked and leapt off her stool, her hands trembling in midair. Svein burst out of his room too, his eyes wide as he rushed past her toward the door. As if…
“Grant me entry, woman!” called a deep, decisive voice. “It is only me.”
Gaelfr. He’d come back. Raye couldn’t deny her sudden wheeling relief, or her faint whimper as she staggered toward the door. Pulling at the bars and latches, and yanking it open to reveal… him. Gaelfr. Standing here alive and unharmed, still wearing his cloak and his sword and his axe, his usual frown firmly in place.
“Papa!” Svein yelped, as he hurled his arms around Gaelfr’s waist. “You came back!”
Gaelfr stilled for an instant, gazing down at Svein — and then he dropped to his knees, and folded Svein’s body into his arms. While Svein clung back tighter, his shoulders shaking, the tears streaming from his eyes.
“Ach, my son,” Gaelfr murmured, hoarse, into Svein’s hair. “I swore to you I would come back, did I not?”
Raye bit her lip and swallowed, gripping her still-trembling hands tightly together. Yes, Gaelfr had come back. He’d kept his word, and come back.
But he frowned again as he glanced up at her, his nostrils flaring. “Men came here today,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. “Did they frighten you? Harm you?”
His voice was surprisingly sharp, his eyes darting toward the now-clean washbasin, and Raye clutched her hands tighter, fought for breath. “N-no harm,” she replied, clipped. “I didn’t let them in.”
Gaelfr’s frown deepened, and he gently extracted himself from Svein, and turned to sniff at the closed door behind him. “Five of them — nay, six,” he said, his lip curling. “And a hound, also.”
Raye numbly nodded, and Gaelfr studied her again, as bitter comprehension flicked across his eyes. “Ach,” he said, on a harsh exhale. “They scented…me. In the garden, mayhap.”
Raye darted a look down at Svein’s watching eyes, but made herself nod. “I didn’t… realize,” she said thickly. “Apparently they’ve been… watching me. Watching for adult orcs. And they accused me ofharbouring and abetting— participating in some kind of plot against the capital — and they said — they said —”
Her voice rose, her breaths heaving far too fast, and the look on Gaelfr’s face was thunderous, his huge body looming too close over her. “They said what, woman?” he demanded. “Tell me!”
Raye flinched and staggered backwards, her breath choking, while before her, Gaelfr winced, and rubbed at his eyes. “I only —ach,” he muttered, and Raye flinched again at the feel of his hand, spreading against her back. “Come, woman, and sit. And then we shall speak.”
He nudged her forward, toward the bed, in an order that Raye didn’t try to resist. And once she was seated on the bed, Gaelfr sank down close beside her, his hand still warm on her back, stroking up and down.
“Son, will you grant me a spell alone with your mother?” he asked Svein, who was now hovering uncertainly before them. “Only a moment.”
Svein nodded, but he kept hovering, his claws extending and retracting from his fingertips. “Papa, I… I didn’t scent them,” he said, his voice small. “I didn’t scent the bad men in time, because my nose was stuffed, because I was… I wasweeping.”
He dropped his head, and betrayed another sniff. As if he was ashamed, because he hadn’t smelled the men in advance. And Raye was already shaking her head, reaching out to stroke Svein’s arm, while Gaelfr firmly gripped his shoulder.
“There is no shame in this, son,” he said. “We all must weep sometimes, and this is why we must stay together, and help each other. And” — his mouth thinned — “I was not here to help you, was I?”
Svein’s head snapped up, his eyes pathetically hopeful on Gaelfr’s face, and in a jerky movement, Gaelfr pulled him close, and pressed a brief kiss to his hair. “You were very brave, my son,” he said, rough. “I am so proud of you. And we shall speak again in another moment, ach?”
With that, he gently nudged Svein toward his room, and Svein went this time, only slightly dragging his feet. While Gaelfr let out a heavy breath, and again rubbed his hand at Raye’s back.
“Now tell me, woman,” he said, quiet. “All of this. Please.”
Please. It was perhaps the first time Raye had ever heard him say it, and it was enough that she began speaking. Pouring out the entire tale, her voice rapid and choked, her tongue tripping on the words. Telling him about the men’s surveillance, the accusations, the threats. And how they’d only left once she’d used Gaelfr to threaten them in return, and how if any other orcs came, they would kill Raye and Svein both, but Svein first, so Raye could —
