Breath of God

there up on top of the Glacier.”

“You’re still going on about that, are you?” the Snowshoe Hare said.

“It’s the truth,” Hamnet Thyssen said stonily. “If you don’t believe it, try crossing Marcovefa and see what happens.”

“No, thanks,” Gunthar said. “I don’t know where the demon she’s from. For all I can say, she fell from the back side of the moon. But I know a shaman when I see one. We’ve had a witstruck shaman or two in our clan. It doesn’t mean they can’t use spells well enough.”

Buccelin showed Marcovefa how to use the pressure of her legs to urge the horse forward, and how to guide it to the right and left with the reins. She proved an apt pupil. The first question she asked was, “How do you make these big beasts your slaves?”

“We train them, starting when they’re small,” Buccelin answered.

After Ulric translated, the shaman nodded. Then she asked, “And what do you do when they rebel?”

“She really doesn’t know anything about this business, does she?” Buccelin remarked. With a shrug, he went on, “We train them some more. We punish them. If we still can’t break them, we can always kill them and eat them.”

“Ah,” Marcovefa said. “You are men, sure enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Bizogot demanded. The woman from atop the Glacier said not another word. After a few more minutes, she dismounted, and did so with more grace than she’d used getting up on the horse. Buccelin mounted. Marcovefa sketched a salute. He gave back a brusque nod, then made a point of not riding anywhere near her.

In midafternoon, they approached a herd of musk oxen. Marcovefa pointed towards them. “So many large animals! Do you get up on top of these, too?”

“Maybe we could, but we don’t.” By then, Buccelin seemed resigned to playing guide. “We use them for their meat and hides and milk and wool and bones and horn.” He chuckled. “Everything but the grunt.”

Marcovefa thought that was funny, which proved she came from the back of beyond. A couple of other Snowshoe Hares rode out from the herd. “Who are these ragamuffins?” one of them shouted. “Where did they come from? Down off the Glacier?” He threw back his head and laughed at his own wit.

“Yes, I think they really did,” Buccelin answered, which made the other Bizogot’s jaw drop. “We’re taking them to Euric. They know what the mess to the east is all about. This one” – he aimed a thumb at Trasamund – ”used to be jarl of the Three Tusk clan.”

“And I still am, by God.” Pride rang in Trasamund’s voice … for a little while. But he seemed to deflate as he continued, “It’s just that the clan . . has run into a few problems lately.”

“A few problems have run over the clan, he means,” Ulric whispered to Hamnet Thyssen, who nodded.

“We need to feed them,” Buccelin said. “They seem hungry like they just came down off the Glacier, that’s for sure. Any beast in bad shape?”

“We’ve got a cow that’s limping,” the other Bizogot said. “It’s not slowing up the herd or anything, but we can kill it.”

They did, and butchered it, and got a big fire of dried grass and dung going to cook the meat. Meanwhile, Trasamund and his clansmates and the Raumsdalians told what they knew of the invasion of the Rulers. They also told how they’d climbed the Glacier and what they’d found on top of it. None of them, though, mentioned some of Marcovefa’s dining habits. Maybe that was coincidence. Maybe it was shared revulsion. Maybe it was some subtle spell from the shaman. Hamnet Thyssen couldn’t be sure.

He was sure he stuffed himself like a Bizogot, gobbling down meat and fat and breaking big bones to reach the marrow. His hands and face got all greasy. He didn’t care. He’d been empty a lot lately. Not having the fist of hunger pounding his stomach felt wonderful.

So did not needing to worry about standing watch. The Snowshoe Hares insisted that was their job. None of the travelers tried to argue with them. “We’re out of danger for a little while, anyhow,” Hamnet said.

“Danger from the outside, anyhow,” Liv said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I’m like you and Ulric – I usually say what I mean,” she answered. “We have trouble – you and I have trouble – because you can’t get over being jealous.”

“Can you blame me?” Hamnet said.

But Liv nodded. “Yes, by God, I can blame you, because I haven’t done anything to make you jealous.”

“The demon you haven’t.” Hamnet didn’t like arguing in a near-whisper to keep the others from hearing what was going on. He wanted to shout and raise a fuss and pound on things. He wondered why he didn’t. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know about his squabbles with Liv. But he went on quietly: “If you haven’t been clinging to Audun Gilli – ”

“I haven’t!” Liv’s voice was also soft, but fire filled it all the same.

“You sure haven’t clung to me lately. God only knows the last time we made love – I have trouble remembering,” Hamnet said.

“I could say I’m not your toy. I could say we’ve had a few other things going on lately. I could even say you’ve been spending a lot of time around Marcovefa.”

“Her?” Hamnet Thyssen clapped a hand to his forehead. “You are out of your mind! She’s a barbarian, a savage.”

“You mean you don’t think the same thing about me?” Liv retorted. “And why am I out of my mind for doubting you when you’re not out of yours for doubting me?”

“Because nothing’s going on between me and the cannibal,” Count Hamnet answered. She couldn’t accuse him of thinking that about her. “I’m just trying to learn a little of her language and teach her some of yours.”

“Well, what do you think I’m doing with Audun?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing with Audun. That’s what worries me.”

“You pick stupid things to worry about, especially when we have so many real ones that are bigger.” Liv turned her back on him and rolled herself in her hide blanket. “Finding enough sleep is a real one. I had trouble up on top of the Glacier. I never thought I was getting enough air.”

Count Hamnet felt the same way, but he would sooner have jumped from the top of the Glacier than admit it. He got under a hide, too, and closed his eyes. He didn’t think he would sleep at all – too much anger seethed inside him – but exhaustion sneaked up from behind and clubbed him over the head.

When he woke in the middle of the short northern summer night, Liv was leaning over him. He wondered if he ought to grab for one of the knives on his belt. But all she did was shake her head and say, “You fool.”

“What? For loving you too much?”

“Yes. For loving me too much. It makes you stupid, and you aren’t stupid often enough to know how to do it right.” Shaking her head, Liv slid under the hide with him. “Well?” she said: a one- word challenge, as if he didn’t deserve what she was giving him. She probably thought he didn’t.

He did the best he could. It seemed to be good enough. But even if it was, he knew it didn’t really settle anything.

XI

We’ve stayed upin the north too long,” Hamnet Thyssen said as the Bizogots and Raumsdalians and Marcovefa approached the Snowshoe Hares’ encampment.

“Well, God knows I’m not about to argue with you, but why do you say so?” Ulric Skakki asked.

Count Hamnet pointed to the gaggle of tents made from mammoth and musk-ox hides. “Because that’s starting to look like civilization to me.”

“Oh, my dear fellow! Are you well?” Ulric grabbed his arm and made as if to take his pulse. Swearing and laughing at the same time, Hamnet jerked free. Not a bit abashed, Ulric went on, “Much as I hate to admit it, I feel the same way. And if that’s not a judgment on both of us, what would you call it?”

“It can’t really be civilization, though, and I’ll tell you why not,” Hamnet said. Ulric Skakki made an inquiring noise. Hamnet explained: “Euric may want to listen to us, and Sigvat sure didn’t.”

“There is that,” the adventurer agreed. “Sigvat turned out to be one of the best arguments in favor of barbarian invasion anyone ever saw, didn’t he?”