extended his own cautiously. ‘You didn’t feel that just now?’ He touched his own nose with his other hand.
‘Course I bloody felt it!’ It was quite possibly the most painful thing I’d ever experienced, and that from someone who learned the hard way not to jump into the saddle from a bedroom window.
He brought his hand closer to mine and a pressure built against my skin, all pins and needles and fire. Closer still, and more slow, and my hand started to pale, almost to glow from within, while his darkened. With an inch between our extended palms it seemed that a cold fire ran through my veins, my hand brighter than the day, his looking as if it had been dipped in dark waters, stained with blackest ink that collected in every crease and filled each pore. His veins ran black while mine burned, darkness bled from his skin like mist, a wisp of pale flame ghosted across my knuckles. Snorri met my gaze, his teeth gritted against a pain that mirrored mine. Eyes which had been blue were now holes into some inner night.
I gave one of those yelps that I always hope will go unnoticed and whipped my hand away. ‘Damnation!’ I shook it, trying to shake the pain out, and watched as it shaded back to normality. ‘That bloody witch! Point taken. We won’t shake on it.’ I gestured to a gravel beach on the outer edge of the meander. ‘You can drop me off there. I’ll find my own way back.’
Snorri shook his head, eyes returning to blue. ‘It was worse when we got too far apart. Didn’t you notice?’
‘I was rather distracted,’ I said. ‘But, yes, I do recall some problems.’
‘What witch?’
‘What?’
‘You said “bloody witch”. What witch?’
‘Oh nothing, I—’ I remembered the fight-pits. Lying to the man on this point would probably be a mistake. I was lying out of habit in any case. Better to tell him. It might be that his heathen ways could lead to some kind of solution. ‘You met her. Well, you saw her in the Red Queen’s throne room.’
‘The old völva?’ Snorri asked.
‘The old what?’
‘That crone at the Red Queen’s side. She’s the witch you’re talking about?’
‘Yes. The Silent Sister everyone calls her. Most don’t see her though.’
Snorri spat into the water. The current took it away in a series of lazy swirls. ‘I know this name, the Silent Sister. The völvas of the North speak it, but not loudly.’
‘Well now you’ve seen her.’ I still wondered at that. Perhaps the fact that we could both see her had something to do with her magic failing to destroy us. ‘She set a spell that was to kill everyone at the opera I went to last night.’
‘Opera?’ he asked.
‘Better not to know. In any event, I escaped the spell, but when I forced my way through, something broke, a crack ran after me. Two cracks, inter-woven, one dark, one light. When you grabbed hold of me the crack caught up and ran through both of us. And somehow stopped.’
‘And when we separate?’
‘The dark fissure ran through you, the light through me. When we pull them apart it seems the cracks try to tear free, to rejoin.’
‘And when they join?’ Snorri asked.
I shrugged. ‘It’s bad. Worse than opera.’ However nonchalant my words might be though, and despite the heat of the day, my blood ran colder than the river.
Snorri set his jaw in that way I’d come to recognize as consideration. His hands quietly strangled the oars. ‘So your grandmother sentences me to the fight-pit and then you bring down her witch’s curse on me?’
‘I didn’t seek you out!’ The nonchalance I’d been striving for wouldn’t come from a dry mouth. ‘You stopped me dead in the street, remember?’ I regretted using the word ‘dead’ immediately.
‘You’re a man of honour,’ he said to no one in particular. I looked for the smirk and found nothing but sincerity. If he was acting then I needed lessons from the same place he’d got his. I concluded that he was reminding himself of his duties, which seemed odd in a Viking whose duties traditionally extended to remembering to pillage before raping, or the other way around. ‘You’re a man of honour.’ Louder this time, looking right at me. Where the hell he got that idea I had no notion.
‘Yes,’ I lied.
‘We should settle this like men.’ Absolutely the last words I wanted to hear.
‘Here’s the thing, Snorri.’ I eyed the various escape options open to me. I could jump overboard. Unfortunately I’d always viewed boats as a thin plank between me and drowning, and swimming as the same again but without the plank. The tree offered the next best option, but willow fronds aren’t climbing material unless you happen to be a squirrel. I selected the last option. ‘What’s that over there?’ I pointed to a spot on the riverbank behind the Norseman. He didn’t so much as turn his head. Shit. ‘Ah, my mistake.’ And that was me out of options. ‘As I was saying. The thing is. The thing. Well, honestly.’ The thing had to be something. ‘Um. I’m afraid that when I kill you the crack will run out of you just the same as it would if we got too far apart. And then – boom – a split second later I’d be too far apart. So tempting as it is to pit my princely fighting skills against those of a … what is your rank? I never found out.’
‘Hauldr. I own my land, ten acres from Uulisk shore to the ridge top.’
‘So as much as it tempts me to break with societal rules and pit the arm of a prince of Red March against a … a hauldr, I’m concerned that I wouldn’t survive your death.’ From his frown I could see that it might be a risk he was willing to take if no better alternative were on offer, so to forestall him I added, ‘But as it happens I’ve always had a hankering to visit the North myself and see firsthand just how reaving is done. And besides, my grandmother worries so about these dead ghost-men of yours. It would put her heart at ease to have the business sorted out. So I’d best come with you.’
‘I mean to travel fast.’ Snorri’s frown deepened. ‘I’ve left it too long already and the distance is great. And be warned: it will be a bloody business when I get there. Slow me down and … but you were moving pretty quick when you crashed into me.’ His brow smoothed, thunderclouds clearing, and that smile lit him up, half-wild, half-friendly, and all dangerous. ‘Besides, you’ll know more about the terrain than me. Tell me about the men of Rhone.’
And just like that we were travelling companions. I’d bound myself to his quest for rescue and vengeance in some distant land. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. Snorri could save his family then slaughter his enemies to the last man, necromancer and corpse monster, and that would be that. I’m good at self-deception but I couldn’t manage to make the plan sound like anything other than a suicidal nightmare. Still, the icy North was a long way off – plenty of opportunity to break the spell that bound us together and run away home.
Snorri took up the oars again, paused, then, ‘Stand a moment.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. I’ve good balance on a horse and none at all on water. Even so, not wanting to fall out with the man within moments of our new understanding, I got to my
