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Gaunt was entranced. She saw in this Everart someone who could have been a bard.

She cleared her throat, raising her own bardic voice. “Squire, it’s not so very long ago that your people were considered ‘barbarians’ by your southern neighbors—my people. Indeed, your cousins in the Gamellaw seem little changed. And did your grandfathers fear
our
walls, our coasts, our courage, our more sophisticated food?”

The young woman Malin spoke up. “There is a prayer of Swanisle. ‘From the fury of the Northmen, Goddess preserve us.’”

Gaunt nodded to her, impressed. “I heard it this way:

The sea is calm today

Would there was storm and loss!

For the Northmen sail this way

Goddess save us
.

“Indeed!” Everyone looked up again as Walking Stick strode in. “All of you—you cannot underestimate your danger. If you underestimate it, then my advice is to take a knife and cut your throat right now.”

The royal guards snarled and began drawing their swords, but Corinna stopped them with a gesture. “Sir,” she said, “say what you would. I would like Everart to hear it.”

“The Karvaks,” Walking Stick said, “are the most obedient folk in the world. Their soldiers follow orders without question. And yet their officers are given great flexibility in interpreting these orders. Their army rewards skill, and thus these officers are a match for any from East to West. They have been known to move a hundred miles in a day and are skilled foragers. Thus their army can surprise an opposing force. They choose their own moments to attack and deny the same pleasure to their enemy. Your defenses rely on your coasts, which they have bypassed, and on your footmen and heavy cavalry, which they can outmaneuver. You are on desperate ground, Princess Corinna.”

“Granddaughter,” said Retired King Hakon, “this bizarre outlander cannot simply walk in here and insult our prowess—”

“Insult?” Walking Stick growled. “Feckless fool! I am trying to save you all!”

The meeting dissolved into a torrent of shouting. Before long Gaunt and Bone withdrew with their friends into a corner. She made sure Malin came with them, as the discerning young woman was covering her ears, looking distressed.

In time Corinna shooed out all the mighty, who continued their arguments down the halls. Only Nan and Freidar were left, shaking their heads. Corinna gave a long sigh. “So much for men and armies. Luckily I’m in charge, and will decide matters. But this is not all about armies, is it? I have errands for you all. Especially you, A-Girl-Is-A-Joy.”

Joy ripped off her gloves, raising the hand displaying the mark of three intertwined chains. “So I cannot choose to go with your warriors? Why is that up to you? Aren’t I the Runethane? Or don’t you trust me because I’m from far away and don’t look like you?”

“Joy,” Snow Pine warned. “You are young, and must not insult the powerful.” She stared at Corinna. “That’s my job. So how about it, Princess? Does my daughter have the wrong accent to be Runethane? The wrong skin color? Wasn’t she chosen by the land?”

“By
my
land,” Corinna said evenly. “Of which I am the most powerful liege.”

“Skrymir Hollowheart might disagree with you,” Flint put in. “The mightiest troll-jarl in centuries, I hear. And one who’s recovered the Axe of Sternmark, one of Wayland of Baelscaer’s weapons. You need a Runethane, I should think.”

“You’re no Kantening, are you?” Corinna said. “An Easterner? How do you know of Wayland?”

Flint laughed. “The Easterners think I’m a Westerner, the Westerners suspect I’m Eastern. I’m of the People of the Brush, who dwell in many lands of the Spiral and Midnight Seas. And even though I no longer believe in our God, I do share my people’s love of learning. I know enough of Wayland to know his weapons are nothing to trifle with. You need the Runethane. You need Joy.”

“And how well did Joy fare against Skrymir? Eh? I do accept you as Runethane, Joy, of course I do. But you obviously need time to master the power. Time you won’t get marching to Garmsmaw Pass.”

Joy folded her arms. “What do you want me to do?”

“Listen, all of you,” Corinna said, though Gaunt noticed her eyes did not meet Haytham’s. “We face a monster out of myth—Skrymir. Mortal armies can be met by armies. To deal with Skrymir will take heroes.”

Flint chuckled. “Are you under the impression any of us fit that description?”

Corinna smiled a little. “A-Girl-Is-A-Joy does.”

“I will concede that.”

“But I will take everything I can get. You are all clearly bound up in this. I am a Swanling, but I am also a Kantening, and I know the strands of fate when I trip over them. If you will accept my commission . . . then seek a way of defeating Skrymir. In return I can offer royal gratitude. I might provide you homes, wealth, interesting work. Assuming, of course, I have a land when all is done.”

Gaunt said, “Princess, Bone and I have a mission of our own, to find our son.”

“We can’t just go questing against every troll-king that comes our way,” Bone said. “Majesty.”

Nan spoke. “I have only compassion for what you are feeling. I’ve lost sons of my own. But from all we’ve heard, Innocence is likely to be found among the Karvak leaders. And thus near Skrymir.”

Freidar added, “And indeed, if Skrymir understands Innocence’s power, your son’s not safe from him.”

“In the meantime,” Corinna said, “how will you seek Innocence when the land is torn by war? You will want a ship.”

Gaunt glanced at Haytham. The inventor shook his head, looking at Corinna. “I’m sorry, Persimmon. Aside from the balloon Walking Stick stole from the Karvaks, I don’t have anything now that can fly. And I’ve committed my work to the defense of Soderland. In any event, I think you will be less conspicuous at sea.”

“You won’t come with us?” Bone said.

“I am sorry.”

You are smitten indeed, Haytham
, Gaunt thought. Then she mused, “We have Deadfall . . .”

“You do have Deadfall,” came the eerie hum of the magic carpet’s voice, hanging there upon the wall. “And I would have my vengeance on Skrymir, who forced me to occupy the hollowness where his heart once beat.”

“Heart,” said Malin. “Troll heart. Eventyr Thirty-Six. A troll can escape mortal wounds by hiding his heart in an inaccessible location. If one finds the heart, one can destroy it, and with it the troll.”

Corinna said, “I am learning to respect your words, Malin Jorgensdatter. But where could the heart be sought?”

“I have knowledge,” Deadfall said. “When I plunged beside Innocence into the sea, he nearly drowned, but I was swept up by a supernatural vortex, magic calling to magic. I was pulled into it and knew it was too much for me, that I would never escape. I refused to be captive again. With all my strength I sought refuge and sensed another source of magic at the edge of the maelstrom. I found a barren island, in sight of a larger island dominated by a great volcano, and there I flopped down to rest. I never beheld the source of the island’s magic. Before the day was out, a flock of green-eyed ravens landed beside me and snatched my edges in their claws. Too weak to fight, I was flown to what you call the Trollberg. There Skrymir examined me and chose to stuff me into the gap in his chest. He believed he could use me to absorb magical power from the world around him. He was right.”

“This is fascinating, old friend,” said Katta.

“I am not your friend. I am your namesake.”

“I am sad to hear you speak so, but let it go. How does this information help us?”

Deadfall said, “While I languished in the gap, I sensed certain energies about it, having the same sensations, the same flavor, if you will, of the magic on the barren island.”

Joy said, “You think the island is where Skrymir’s heart lies?”

“It may explain why troll-birds came to collect the carpet,” Freidar mused, “for such is what they were.”

At once Corinna rolled out a map labeled in Roil. It seemed mostly accurate to Gaunt, though the Chained Straits had looked narrower in person, and she doubted anyone could know the disposition of the northern ice. She pointed at a set of islands in the group labeled Oxiland. Her finger landed beside the X. “These would all fit the description Deadfall gives.”

“Could you fly us there, Deadfall?” Gaunt asked. “Because I am thinking that, with his heart in our possession, we might be able to bargain with Skrymir.”

“Bargain and not destroy?” Nan said.

“If he has my son, I may want to bargain. But suppose his heart were a permanent trophy here in this palace?”

Corinna said, “I like how you think, Mistress Gaunt. Very well, you may decide how best to use it. But I urge you to seek it.”

Gaunt looked at Bone. He nodded.

“All right,” Gaunt said, feeling the world wheel around her. “Deadfall, can you take us to that place?”

“Yes,” said the carpet, “but I will not journey by air. I fear the troll-jarl’s power over the atmosphere, and he caught me once before. I will take ship, guiding you.”

“I’m sure we can find a ship,” Corinna said. “Your friend Katta will go too, I hope?”

Katta said, “Even as echo follows voice. Though he insists I am not his friend.”

“None is,” said the carpet, “for who can trust what is caught between good and evil?”

“Eventyr One Hundred ,” said Malin.

“What did you say?” said Deadfall.

“Eventyr One Hundred. ‘The Companion.’ A bad dead man rises to help the hero who paid to give him a decent burial. Good and evil, side by side, working together.”

“I will never have a burial,” said Deadfall.

“Malin Jorgensdatter,” Princess Corinna said, “I think the kindest thing for you may be to return you to our ally Ostoland, that isle of small villages and whispering forests. But if you wish it, you may stay in the Fortress beside your friend Inga while she heals.”

“I will take ship,” said Malin. “To find the heart. I will miss Inga, but my home will suffer if trolls and Karvaks aren’t stopped.”

“I request,” Freidar said, “the ship be captained by Erik Glint. And crewed by those of his choice.”

“I concur,” Nan said.

“You drive a tough bargain,” Corinna said, and there was silence. “Very well, let the Lardermen aid in this too, if they can. Nan and Freidar, you are among the last Runewalkers in our realm. I can’t command you to help these people, but I would be grateful.”

The two looked at each other. “We will help as we can,” Nan said. “Starting with training you, Runethane, on this journey.”

Joy shook her head. “I’m not going.”

“What?” Gaunt and Corinna said, at nearly the same time.

“I was chosen,” Joy said. “I’ve dreamed of this land and its people. I know what you’re up against. I agree seeking Skrymir’s heart is important, but I don’t think that’s what I’m here for. I think I’m here to fight.”

“That’s madness,” Corinna said.

“Is it?” Joy said, and Gaunt wondered that the girl could hold her own, meet the eyes of this mature, royal-born woman. “You said I needed to train. To learn. I’ll do that better here than on some ship. I was raised to do my duty. The sages say, ‘To see what’s right, and not act on the knowledge, that is a lack.’”

“Well,” Snow Pine said. “For once I can’t fault Walking Stick’s teaching. I’ll stay with you, Joy.”

“And I as well,” Flint said.

Gaunt hugged Joy, saying, “You’re your mother’s daughter, though I’m not sure either of you realize how much! Haytham, you have to watch over her too.”

“You have my word,” Haytham said.

Nan and Freidar shared a look. “And mine!” said Nan. “Freidar . . . will you travel with the questers?”

“Aye,” he said slowly. “I don’t like it, wife, but it seems necessary. And it’s the privilege and curse of a married couple that they can divide their forces.”

Nan squeezed his hand. “One Runewalker with the seekers of the heart. One with the Runethane.”

“So be it,” Corinna said. “I’m glad we’ll have you, Nan. And I look forward to getting to know you better, Joy.”

But as with the sidelong glances of Jokull Loftsson, Gaunt thought there was more to the princess’s scrutiny than met the eye.

For that reason she said nothing about the
Chart
, even as she took Bone’s hand and said, “We’ll go as soon as possible,” for she thought that it, too, might provide a road to Innocence. And she did not trust kings and queens, princes and princesses.

CHAPTER 26

WAR

After hard marching, the allied Kantenings reached Garmsmaw Pass on the fifth day of the new year. Prince Ragnar brandished the banner Landwaster as the army halted. Under its rippling colors his father and grandfather had united the southern realms—shattering idols, accepting fealty, giving gold rings and bright blades. He passed it to his herald with instructions it be kept high. His army encamped on rugged ground just before the pass’s most narrow pinch, and Ragnar kept moving from band to band, making sure the difficult tenting was done, but also ensuring he was seen by all, and that his devotion was understood.

Such a diverse force needed to know someone held the reins. His strongest unit was five hundred horsemen, most of them in mail-shirt byrnies, though some poorer warriors wore leather armor, and some richer ones wore the plate armor that was becoming so popular in countries south and east. For these, Corinna had even created an order, the Knights of Saint Fiametta, in imitation of the fashion in Swanisle.

With them came fifteen hundred footmen with sword, spear, and shield, all trained fighters from the retinues of lords or the town militias. Ragnar also had, as an experiment, fifty longbowmen trained in the Swanisle fashion.

The rest of Soderland’s force was a group of mutually suspicious noncombatants—Swan priests and Runewalkers, representing new powers and old. But he wanted them both at his back. The rabble-rouser Squire Everart had sent none of his peasant fighters, but that suited Ragnar. They’d win without Everart’s help, tales of valor would fill the land, and the squire’s position would be weakened.