the heart of a free woman by words and deeds. This is how most wives are taken – by mutual agreement. Only one who is shaman cannot be wived. These are married to the Gods, or to other shamans. Also wives may be given… the most precious of all gifts.”
Vireon nodded, understanding. “Tell me, Great King, what happens to the children of a woman who is a gift- wife?”
Angrid smiled. “The children follow the mother, of course. None can separate the she-tiger from her cubs. This is our law.”
Vireon laughed. “You have made me wealthy and happy this night.”
He thought of Fangodrim… of Danthus the Sharp-Toothed, Ohlung the Bear-Slayer, Dabruz the Flame-Heart, and even old Rockjaw in lonely Steephold. All his cousins, lonely and in need of female companions… many who lost their families to flame and chaos when the Old City crumbled. These Udvorg brides and their strong broods would be fine gifts indeed.
But there would need to be more, far more, if the Uduru race were to preserve itself. Every willing male giant must couple with the unwed daughters of the thriving Udvorg. Otherwise, the pale-skinned Giants would fade from the earth. In these cold halls he had found salvation for his people. Now he must seal the compact that would make that salvation complete.
“Great Ice King!” he announced, standing tall upon his seat of iron and stone. The ale sang in his veins. “I will take my wives and children south and reunite our peoples. The descendants of Hreeg and Udvorg will drink together again. This I have seen in my dreams!”
He raised his cup, and the Giants roared their approval.
“But more than that!” said Vireon. “Let our kingdoms of north and south become one united realm. Let all the land between the Black and White Mountains rejoice at this historic unification! Let our children, blue-skins and pale-skins, sing together of the heroes and battles that make us strong! Let us come together!”
A round of cheering broke like thunder inside the feasting hall. Only the shamaness Varda did not cheer. She retained her frosty composure. Vireon could not tell if she disapproved of this unification. But King Angrid rejoiced and led his warriors in an ancient anthem. After three rounds of listening, Vireon was able to join them. His dancing feet upon the table rivaled the pounding of the drummers.
The next morning he awoke on a pile of furs. Watery sunlight filtered through the viridian walls. Someone had {So pounding carried him to this chamber, though too much of the black ale had stolen the memory of everything after his unity speech. He remembered his six wives and nine children. He smiled, imagining his uncle’s face when he returned to Udurum.
He stood and made himself ready for a morning audience with the King, but a great sadness fell upon him like a cloud before the sun, robbing the earth of its golden glow. He sat down upon the furs, listening to the silent creep of the ice all about him. A pain in his heart grew from a dull ache to a stabbing sensation, and he lost his breath. He lay back, gasping, a fish suddenly cast out of water.
Tadarus…
He moaned his brother’s name. Tears flowed from his eyes. An emptiness filled the hollows of his chest and stomach. He knew, somehow, with a certainty he had never felt before. His brother was gone.
He closed his eyes. The handsome face of Tadarus swam into his vision, conjured from memory. Then other visions: Tadarus picking him off the floor when he fell as a waddling infant; Tadarus showing him how to swim in a cold lake within sight of the palace towers; Tadarus guiding his hand to perfection with sword, spear, and axe. Wrestling him, laughing with him, running at his side, embracing him. Their father’s hands sitting on both their shoulders, standing side by side before the cheering city… Men and Giants shouting his name, and that of Tadarus. His mother hugging both brothers at the same time. Even young Fangodrel, smiling slyly at one of Tadarus’ jests.
His brother was dead.
How could he know?
Yet he did.
As he pulled on the tiger-cloak, one of his wives came into the chamber. She gave him meat and a slab of green cheese. “I am Trylla,” she told him. “I was the wife of Dolgir the Stoneheart.”
She stood three times his height, but she kneeled so that her face was even with his. He took her great head in his hands, and kissed her forehead gently.
“Trylla, I am sorry for the loss of your husband.”
She stared at him, masking her emotion as the shamaness had done.
“Gather all my wives and children together,” he told her. “Prepare for a journey. We leave this very day.”
Trylla had a single child, a young boy of five, who was nearly as tall as Vireon. His name was Dolmun, and he responded eagerly when Vireon asked him to lead him to the King’s hall. In the throne room Vireon explained his vision to Angrid, that his brother was in jeopardy or had already died, though he knew secretly that the latter was the truth.
“Go then,” said the Ice King. “Let our cousins know that our gates are open to them… and our hearts. Let them come, Vireon. Let them find happiness with the Udvorg.”
Vireon bowed low before the King. “It shall be so,” he promised.
“But remember,” said the Ice King. “No humans will be welcome here {weeon bowed. Let them stay in Vod’s city.”
Vireon agreed. This was no land for frail humans. Once again there would be a realm exclusive to Giants. In truth, there always had been. It had been rediscovered. He thanked the Ice King again and vowed to return.
At midday they set out across the plateau: Vireon, his six wives, and his nine children. Wrapped in furs dyed to shades of ebony, snow, and scarlet, they marched down the slopes in quiet resignation. The day was storm free and well made for travel.
Alua came to him at dusk, when they stopped at the rim of the snow-dusted foothills. She came as a white fox, gliding up a hill on four paws, but when she reached him she stood on two legs. Her arms wrapped about him, and his blue-skin wives turned away. The children stared in wonder at this transformed creature.
“I told you I would return,” he said. She saw the distance in his eyes now. The sadness and the ache. He did not try to hide it from her.
To his wonderment, she spoke. “Where do you lead them?” she asked in the Uduru tongue.
He blinked, and might have laughed if his heart was not so heavy.
“South,” he said. “To my people…”
“You are troubled,” she said.
“How d-did you…” he stammered. “You speak?”
The tip of her pale nose touched his, and her blonde mane fell loose down her back. “Each night as we slept side by side,” she said, “I took a bit of your language from your dreaming mind. Now I speak it. Does this please you, Vireon?”
To hear her say his name was a thrill he could not express. He smiled and held her close. Their hearts beat like the Udvorg drums, thrumming in perfect unison.
“Yes,” he told her. “You please me. Only you, Alua.”
He fought back the tears that slipped like traitors from his eyelids.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
He shook his head. He could not speak of his brother. Not now. Not in front of his Udvorg wives. He kissed her neck, soft as silk, fragrant as a blossom.
“What… what are you, Alua?”
She smiled, tilted her head in that endearing way.
“I am what I must be.”
He laughed. It spilled from his mouth like blood from a puncture wound.
“Will you come with me?” he whispered.
Sh e nodded, a silent affirmation. Her eyes were locked on his.
“It will be strange to you,” he warned.
Now it was h {›No'0emer turn to laugh. “You are strange to me,” she said.
She conjured the white flame and built a warm fire a small distance from the Udvorg, who needed no
