The sun seemed to take forever to crawl into the sky. Gerhard woke up before when the room was still dim orange and rolled himself out of bed. He looked at Erik and jumped back, having forgotten he was there.
“Oh, right. Apologies boy.” He slapped his naked stomach and exhaled heavily. “I forget the world when I sleep.”
Erik stood up, looking at the window. “It’s fine, really. You think there’s any work for me? I just want to do… something.”
Gerhard walked toward a bucket, pulling it up from the ground. “This early? Won’t be much.” He stopped by the door, turning around. “Maybe Ósk and her husband, Raggi. They own a bakery and Raggi is as lazy as I’ve met.” He laughed. “They might need something this early. They’re back the way you came. You’ll be able to smell the bread.”
Erik followed Gerhard down the stairs. “They won’t be angry with me?”
Gerhard turned as they entered the kitchen, unlatching the back door. “They haven’t a reason to be. Wary, might be. Not your fault. The valkyries choose who they choose.” He yawned looking over Erik’s clothes. “No sense going out in that. Best you wait in the front hall for Fulla. I’m going to wash and fetch water for the cleaning.”
He left without anything else, leaving Erik alone in the hall. It was quiet again, something he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. Erik walked out to the front hall and sat at one of the benches. The hall was fairly large, with ceilings higher than he would have expected. Last night, when it was full of people drinking and shouting, it had seemed so much smaller and all the more terrifying. The feeling wasn’t helped by their reaction to him saying the name Göll. He walked around the hall, looking at the tables and benches. They were made of boards at least, unlike the rough chairs in Gerhard’s room above. They were smooth to the touch and felt as if they’d been sealed with something. They definitely weren’t bare wood. They may have even been shiny at some point. There were divots worn into every single seat and the edge of every table where people had sat. There were knife marks among the chips and stains. He ran his fingers across them in the silence, forcing himself to accept where he was. Everyone in the hall had accepted it.
A light knock at the door to the alehouse startled him.
“Fuck. Just…” He straightened himself up. “Coming. Hold on.”
He ran to the door, looking at the latch. A metal spike through a pair of loops and a metal handle that operated an iron bar to hold it shut. He pulled the spike and opened the door. It was the girl from the night before. She seemed surprised to see him.
“Oh, cock.” She flushed, eyes opening in surprise. “No! I didn’t mean to… not you. I just… I hadn’t expected you would be here.” She looked down at his ripped shirt and held out the clothes she’d brought. “I’m not married.” She shook her head, panicking. “No, I mean. The clothes. I…” Her hands opened and she let out a squeak. The garments landed on the stone by her feet and she turned and ran off.
Erik reached a hand out. “Wait!” She kept running. “Thanks!” He yelled it after her and the girl stumbled.
He winced through a smile, not wanting to laugh at her. Erik really wished he could thank her properly. She’d made him feel more normal than anything else. He bent down and picked up the clothes, shutting and securing the door. There were shoes as well, something he was thankful for even though they looked strange. Leather with wood on the bottom. All of it was used but it seemed clean enough. He pulled his clothes off and laid them on the table, dressing himself in the things Fulla had brought. The clothes were rough but comfortable enough. As much as his brain screamed to keep his old clothes, he figured that was a bandage best ripped off now. He’d be used to the wool before long.
Erik opened the door and stepped out into Kvernes again, this time in the light. The dim orange had changed color, but a fog was hanging over the town. It wasn’t terribly thick, but it kept the morning light reasonable. He was thankful for that, really, never having been a morning person.
The path was much easier to see in the early morning light, as were most of the shops of the square. Some part of his brain told him that the words on the signs were in runes, something he’d never learned to read, but he could understand them. They were all simple signs bearing the name of the owner and what the shop was for. “Smithy” on the top line of the blacksmith’s sign and “Halfdan of Kvernes” on the bottom.
It was quiet, generally, along the main street. A few people standing by their doors and talking. They waved at Erik as he went by and he returned the gesture. He wondered about the magic that made him able to understand everyone and even read the signs. It was useful, either way, and in the face of shape-shifting weapons, it seemed almost a given.
The smell of bread surrounded him all at once, reminding him of why he was walking down the main path in the first place. He looked around, noticing a single-floor wooden house that took up more space than most of the ones around it. There was no sign hanging near the door, but rather one on the ground. “Bakery.”
Erik guessed there weren’t likely to be multiple bakeries in a town of maybe a hundred or so people and he knocked at the door. He heard bickering from inside and then the locks being seen to.
The door swung open to
