She acknowledged him with another sniff, this one quite regal. Hamnet understood what she said next. Since Euric probably wouldn’t, Ulric Skakki translated: “And well you might.”
“What do you people want from the Snowshoe Hares?” Euric asked, this time with the air of someone who might think about giving it. Getting turned upside down – literally – might do that to a man.
Trasamund took advantage of the edge they’d gained: “Food to keep us going, and horses to let us move as fast as the Rulers.”
“I can give you meat and suet and berries. We’ve had a good year with such things,” Euric said. “But horses for so many?” He shook his head, even though he sent Marcovefa an apprehensive look while he did it. “I cry your pardon, too, Your Ferocity, but we haven’t got so many beasts to spare.” He might have – would have – said no before, but he said it much more politely now.
“How many can you give us?” Hamnet Thyssen asked. “If we can get some from you, maybe the next clan farther south will give us more.”
“The Rock Ptarmigans?” Euric didn’t quite laugh in his face, but he came close. “Well, maybe they will, since your shamans are so strong. But most of the time you can’t pry a dried musk-ox turd out of them, let alone anything worth having.”
In Raumsdalian, Ulric said, “I wonder what the Rock Ptarmigans have to say about the Snowshoe Hares.”
“Nothing good, I’m sure,” Euric said in the same language, “but they’re only the Rock Ptarmigans, so what do they know?”
Hamnet Thyssen had rarely seen Ulric abashed, but he did now. “You caught me by surprise there, Your Ferocity,” the adventurer admitted.
“That will teach you to talk behind somebody’s back in front of his face,” Euric said. Then he swung back towards Count Hamnet. “How many horses can we spare? A dozen, at the most.” He looked horrified as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Plainly, he’d wanted to name some smaller number. Just as plainly, he hadn’t been able to.
Marcovefa looked pleased and innocent at the same time. Did some small spell of hers make the Snowshoe Hares’ jarl tell the truth regardless of what he wanted? Hamnet wouldn’t have been surprised.
By Euric’s sour expression, neither would he. On his own, he probably would have said four and haggled up to eight or so. “Well, I will not make myself out to be a liar,” he said now. “You may take them. But when times come right again, you will pay the clan for the use you got of them.”
“Agreed,” Count Hamnet and Trasamund said in the same breath. And Marcovefa nodded. She might not speak the usual Bizogot language, but sometimes she understood it even so.
When Euric clasped hands with the Raumsdalian noble and his fellow jarl to seal the bargain, he also held out his big, square hand to the shaman from atop the Glacier. That struck Hamnet as only fair; without her, they wouldn’t have had a bargain. They certainly wouldn’t have had the one they had. More than a little relief in his voice, Euric said, “And now – we feast.”
Bizogots could usually out-eat Raumsdalians, not least because the mammoth-herders went hungry more often. When Marcovefa got a chance to show what she could do, her appetite amazed even the Bizogots. “I’ve seen a man twice her size who couldn’t put away that much,” Euric said admiringly.
“You may have hard times here, Your Ferocity, but I promise you that it’s worse up on top of the Glacier,” Count Hamnet said. “No horses or musk oxen or mammoths, just hares and voles and little animals halfway between called pikas. When Marcovefa’s folk get hungry, they get
“I suppose so,” the Snowshoe Hares’ jarl said. He no longer seemed to doubt that the shaman did come from the top of the Glacier. Thoughtfully, he added, “I’m surprised they don’t start eating each other when times get tough.”
Hamnet Thyssen decided it might be just as well to pretend he didn’t hear that. He counted himself lucky that Euric left it there.
Someone passed him a skin of smetyn. Next to wine or even beer, fermented milk was no great delight, but he was glad to drink something besides water. And, even if the Bizogots’ brew was thin and sour, pouring down enough of it would let him forget his troubles for a while.
Trasamund started drinking as if he intended to forget about his troubles for a month. When Marcovefa tasted the smetyn, she looked puzzled. She asked a question of Ulric Skakki. “What does she say? Does she like it?” Euric asked.
“She asks, what is it you drink besides water?” Ulric said.
That set Trasamund laughing. He’d already downed enough to let almost anything set him laughing. “What do we drink besides water?” he echoed. “Anything we can, by God! Anything we can.”
“Why?” Marcovefa asked. Hamnet Thyssen understood her on his own; the question was almost identical to the Bizogot phrase,
“Tell her she’ll find out after she drinks for a while.” Trasamund laughed some more, this time in anticipation.
Ulric Skakki put that into Marcovefa’s tongue. She nodded as if accepting a challenge and began to drink as seriously as she’d eaten. Before long, her eyes grew bright, her smile went slack, and she swayed even though she was sitting down.
“They don’t have smetyn on top of the Glacier?” Euric asked, his voice dry.
“We didn’t see any or hear of any,” Hamnet answered. “Would you want to try to milk a rabbit or a vole?”
“Well, no,” the jarl said with a wry smile.
Marcovefa said something else. “She wants to know why her head is spinning,” Ulric said. “She says she hasn’t eaten any shaman’s mushrooms, but she’s all dizzy anyway.”
Liv looked interested when she heard that. “They have magic mushrooms up on that rock, do they?” she said. “I can’t say I’m very surprised. Mushrooms grow almost everywhere.”
“She’s talked about them before,” Count Hamnet said.
“I didn’t notice.” Liv’s voice was chilly.
“Tell her people down here use smetyn and things like it instead of mushrooms most of the time,” Audun Gilli said.
Ulric Skakki did. Marcovefa spoke in return. “She says this isn’t as good. She doesn’t see all the colors she would with mushrooms, and she doesn’t feel as if the sky were about to break.” Hamnet didn’t know what that meant; by Liv’s nod, she evidently did. Marcovefa added something else. “She says this isn’t
“In the morning, she’ll feel like her head’s about to break,” Audun Gilli said. “And so will Trasamund.”
“Yes, but Trasamund will know why,” Hamnet Thyssen said. “For Marcovefa, it’ll be a big surprise, and not one she likes very much.”
“Everything that happens to Marcovefa down here is a surprise,” Ulric Skakki said. “Some of the surprises, she’ll like. Others? Her first hangover? Well, maybe not.”
Some of the Snowshoe Hares began pairing off. That was another thing that happened at Bizogot feasts. Euric found women for Trasamund and the Bizogots who accompanied him, and one for Audun Gilli as well. They weren’t all beauties, but Hamnet didn’t think any of the Bizogots would have to close his eyes to lie down with one of them.
Then Euric surprised him. The jarl inclined his head to Marcovefa and said, “If you feel like it. ..”
Yes, the shaman from atop the Glacier sometimes understood what people meant without understanding what they said. She also surprised Count Hamnet – she smiled and nodded and, none too steadily, got to her feet and went back into Euric’s tent with him.
“Well, well,” Ulric said, a slightly bemused grin crossing his foxy face. “That ought to be interesting.”
Arnora set a hand on his shoulder and shook him. “What about us?” she said with drunken intensity. “Don’t you want to be intereshting –
“My reputation would never be the same if I said no,” the adventurer replied. “I aim to please, and God forbid I should fail in my aim.” He rose, too, more smoothly than Marcovefa had done, and went off into the deepening twilight with his scar-faced lady friend.
That didn’t quite leave Hamnet and Liv all alone, but not many people were close by, and none of them paid any attention to the Raumsdalian noble and the Bizogot shaman. “Well?” Liv said, an odd note of challenge in her voice. “Shall we?”
