Sky in the Deep(16)

I could make it through winter. I could make it back to Hylli, to my father and Myra. I could earn back my honor.

Footsteps crunching in the snow brought me to my feet and I stood to face Fiske as he opened the door. When the light spilled in, the snow was falling softly, some of it caught in his hair.

The door closed behind him and he looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching for something in mine. “Iri says I don’t need to worry about you being a danger to our family.”

Iri was a liar. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill every one of them if I thought it would get me home, but it probably wouldn’t.

“I saved your life. I’m hoping that’s good enough reason to believe him.”

I pressed my tongue to the top of my mouth. “By my count, you’ve tried to take my life more times than you’ve tried to save it.”

I pushed past him, opening the door and ducking out into the open air. I fell to my knees, scooping up a handful of snow and holding it against my neck where the skin was blistered. A long, hissing breath pushed out of me as I tried to breathe through the sting.

He started down the path ahead of me and my feet followed him in the direction we’d walked the day before. I studied the incline. The village crawled up above us, houses set beside and behind each other in uneven rows. At the top of the hill, their ritual house sat, much like the one in our village. The smoke from the fire was floating up from its roof, fading into the fog that hugged the treetops.

Again, the Riki stopped to stare as we walked in the falling snow, stilling their hands on their work to watch me follow Fiske like a dog through their village. I didn’t meet their eyes as we passed them. I was disgraced. Weak. And every one of them knew it.

The house stood on a hillside near the tree line. It was bigger than some of the others, with long thin logs stacked together to form the walls and a thatched roof. Fiske didn’t wait for me to enter. He opened the door and disappeared through it, leaving me outside.

There was nothing keeping me from walking straight into the snow-piled trees. And there was nothing keeping a Riki from burying their knife into me. I’d probably killed several people from this village. And more likely than not, I’d have to kill more before I left this place.

I stepped through the door slowly, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife that hadn’t been there in days. Iri sat, bent over a wooden table with a hammer and a stack of animal furs. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye before returning to his work, but I could see the tension in him, winding his muscles tight beneath his tunic. I wanted to pick up one of the burning logs in the fire and throw it at him.

“Ah.” An older woman stood at the table in the middle of the main room with her hands pressed into a ball of dough on a kneading board. She wiped the flour on the sooty apron that wrapped over her red wool skirt, looking at me. Her dark hair was grayed near her hairline, braided into one long strand that wrapped up over her head, but her eyes were a sparkling blue like Fiske’s. “You’re the Aska, then?” Her gaze dropped down, inspecting the arm still wrapped to my chest. Her lips pressed together. “What happened there?”

My eyes moved to Fiske, who leaned against the wall, eating.

“I shot her.” He didn’t look up from his bowl.

The woman’s eyes widened. “And then you bought her?”

He tipped his chin in an answer, still not bothering to look over at us.

A creak sounded above me and two big eyes peered over the edge of a loft, watching me beneath a muss of dark hair.

“I’m Inge.” The woman tilted her head to the side, thinking. “I should take a look at your arm. Are you hungry?”

I shook my head in answer, looking away from her.

She pulled the wooden spoon from the pot and tapped it on the rim, smirking. “Halvard, come down here.”

Footsteps tapped above us and a small boy leapt down from a wooden ladder that reached up to a sleeping loft. His eyes didn’t leave the collar on my neck as he moved across the room.

Inge patted his back, handing him the spoon. “Come stir while I take a look at the Aska’s arm.”

I took a step back toward the door.

Fiske finished, setting his bowl down, and Iri stood to follow him. They went outside, leaving the door open. Through the doorway, I watched Fiske reach down into a pail and set a big silver fish onto a wooden table. He kept his attention on me as he pulled his knife out and cut down its belly. On the other side of the table, Iri did the same.

Inge set a bowl down on the table and prepared a bundle of herbs, soaking them the way Runa had. When she came toward me, I pressed my back into the wall.

She stopped, dropping her hands. “I only want to clean it for you.”

Of course she did. I wasn’t of use with my arm like this.

I moved toward the table, eyeing the room. The house looked lived in, probably at least a couple of generations old. Some of the wall slats were newer wood, recently replaced, but almost all were grayed with many winters and rains. A long counter ran along the right wall with food stored in barrels beneath it and vegetables strung up on hooks. Beyond the fire, three large trunks sat closed, probably where the weapons were kept.

Inge unwrapped my arm as I sat down slowly, holding it firmly in place until it was free. I dug my fingers into the edge of the bench as she gradually lowered it and set my hand in my lap. The skin covering my shoulder was a dark purple, still swollen but not as red as it had been two days ago. I tried to slow my breaths and blinked back the prick behind my eyes. I could tell by the way she handled me that she was a healer. Maybe the one Runa was apprenticing with. She was focused, gently cleaning the skin before filling the wound with something that looked like beeswax. I lowered my face to smell it.