Thief Eyes

“We’re not breaking up.”

“No, of course not,” Ari said, a little too fast. “I didn’t mean—”

“But we’re both going to see other people, too.”

Any clever comeback Ari had died on his lips. He stared at me in complete silence.

I was suddenly very aware of how close we were standing. “I mean, assuming you’re okay with that”—I was the one talking too fast now—“because maybe you’re not and I’d totally understand if—”

Ari leaned forward and kissed me.

I kissed him back. His hands were warm against my neck. I pulled off his hat, running my own hands through his soft hair. The Star Wars theme blared from Ari’s pocket, but we ignored it. His lips were soft, too, and his skin smelled faintly of snow and more faintly of bear, and the heat that rose in me had nothing at all to do with magic.

“Yes, Haley,” Ari said when we pulled apart at last. “I’m okay with that.” He smiled. No matter what happened a year, five years from now, I would always love that smile. “Are you leaving right away?”

“Next week. Dad couldn’t get a flight out any sooner.”

“Good,” Ari said. “Because your song, it isn’t finished yet.”

My song? “You didn’t have to write something new for me.” But I smiled, too.

“No, I wanted to, only—I don’t like the ending anymore. Too much of that ancient tragedy stuff. I want to change it, but I wasn’t sure you’d be here long enough.”

The snow fell harder, white flakes landing on Ari’s pale eyelashes. His cell phone rang once more. I put my arms around his neck and looked right into his bright green eyes.

“I have time,” I said.

Author’s Note

Hallgerd, Gunnar, Thorgerd, Svan, Hrut, and Hallgerd’s father, Hoskuld, are all found in the pages of Njal’s Saga, one of the best-known and best-loved of the Icelandic sagas—medieval stories about Iceland’s early inhabitants. It is likely Hallgerd and her kin really existed, but all the rest is uncertain. Although Njal’s Saga took place a thousand years ago, it wasn’t written down until the thirteenth century, and as a result it’s hard to know which events are real and which aren’t, or exactly where history ends and fiction begins.

Many of the details in Thief Eyes come directly from Njal’s Saga: that Hallgerd’s uncle Svan was a sorcerer and her uncle Hrut could see the future, that Hrut said Hallgerd had the eyes of a thief, the deaths of Hallgerd’s husbands, and—most memorably—Hallgerd’s refusing Gunnar two locks of her hair. Other details are my own invention: that Hallgerd studied sorcery with Svan, that Thorgerd inherited Hrut’s gift of prophecy, and that Thorgerd had any daughters, let alone daughters whose descendants live on today. None of these things directly contradict the saga, but none of them appear in its pages, either.

Berserks get little mention in Njal’s Saga, but Egil’s Saga features a shape-shifting wolf. In general there are more references to berserks turning into wolves than into bears, but as Freki says, no wolf has ever set foot on Iceland’s shores. Many of the sagas mention sorcery, but they give few details about how it was practiced. The Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft has more extensive records of spells and spellbooks from later times, though. Hallgerd’s spell was inspired by these records, but it, too, is ultimately my invention.

Freki, Muninn, the fire giants, and the mead of poetry come not from the sagas but from Norse mythology. Freki and Muninn are companions to the Norse god Odin—their master, whom Ari refuses to name—and Freki, too, is traditionally a wolf. Muninn has always been a raven, but I invented his mountain—although there is a mountain in Iceland’s Westfjords—Kaldbakshorn—into which Njal’s Saga says Svan may have disappeared when he died. The voices in Muninn’s mountain are loosely based on several other sagas, as well as (once Haley and Ari begin to climb) a few bits of later Icelandic history. The woman whose lover refuses to take her abroad is Gudrun from Laxdaela Saga.

If you’d like to read Njal’s Saga, Egil’s Saga, Laxdaela Saga, or any of the other Icelandic sagas, I recommend finding a relatively recent print translation; in my experience, contemporary translations tend to be more accessible and readable than the older public domain translations available online. For Njal’s Saga, I enjoyed both the Robert Cook and Lee M. Hollander translations.

Finally, most of the places Haley and Ari visit are real, and many still bear the names they held a thousand years ago. Hoskuldsstadir, Hrutsstadir, and Svansholl are all named for their original owners and remain working farms today. Hlidarendi, the hillside where Gunnar died, also kept its saga-era name and is now the site of a parish church. And Thingvellir, the original site of Iceland’s Althing, or parliament, probably appears in more Icelandic sagas than any other location.

This book began at Thingvellir. As I walked through that rift valley for the first time, a half-read copy of Njal’s Saga in my backpack, I heard a woman’s voice whisper in my head, low and full of rage, “I will not allow it.” Later, I would wonder where that voice came from and whether it was real. Right then, I knew only that I had to stop, sit down, and write down Hallgerd’s words and the opening scene of Thief Eyes.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to:

Sigur?ur Atlason, manager of the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft, and Bjork Bjarnadottir, environmental ethnologist, for answering my many questions and making me feel welcome in the Strandir region. Larus Bragason, for a tour of the Njal’s Saga sites in the south of Iceland, where Hallgerd, Gunnar, and their neighbors lived. Matthias Johannsson of the Hotel Laugarholl for the best meal I had in Iceland, with apologies for sending an earthquake to his hotel in return. Wildlife biologist Andrew Trent for answering my questions about polar bears. Stephanie Rosas, William Winhall, and Kelly Terry of Sea-World San Diego for not only answering my questions but also letting me visit with their resident arctic foxes, Boris and Natasha.

Inga ?ora Ingvarsdottir for reading the manuscript from an Icelander’s perspective, for answering more questions, and for always being willing to geek out about the sagas with me. Sarah Johnson and her daughter Elayne for reading the manuscript from the perspective of Americans living in Iceland, and all their family for welcoming us into their home. Everyone else who read all or part of the manuscript, sometimes on short notice: C. S. Adler, Catherine Keegan, Jill Knowles, Larry Hammer, Ann Manheimer, Patricia McCord, Earl Parrish, Frances Robertson, and Jennifer J. Stewart. My husband, Larry Hammer, again, because it was his idea to go to Iceland in the first place, and because his memory for visual details—not to mention his quiet conviction that of course I could write this book—helped me through countless scenes.

My fabulous editor at Random House, Jim Thomas, who always knows how to make my words better, as well as Random House editorial assistant Chelsea Eberly, publicist Meg O’Brien, and designer Heather Palisi, all of whom have helped to get those words out into the world.

My also-fabulous agent, Nancy Gallt, and her assistant, Marietta Zacker.

With so many people doing so much to help me, any mistakes that remain must be my own. Thank you all. I couldn’t have written this one without you. 

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