The Sea of Trolls

and life. He sang of the deep forest, of drifts of acorns under oaks, of dappled sunlight and wild leeks to unearth and savor. When he was finished, he felt light and happy, as though he himself had been running through the woods.

He looked down to see Golden Bristles grunting softly and gazing up at him with adoring eyes. The change in the brute was astounding. The sows, meanwhile, had finished their mustard and were snuffling about for more. They were soulless creatures, Jack decided. Not so Golden Bristles, who whuffled seductively. Plain as plain, the giant pig was saying, More.

So Jack sang another song, and all the while he edged along the rafter (thereby getting splinters in his backside) until he’d gone as far as possible. He wasn’t out of range yet, but he had a chance to run to the outer fence before Golden Bristles caught him.

Jack dropped to the floor. He fell wrong, and his feet slid out from under him. Instantly, he was back up, but Golden Bristles was faster. The boar bounded to the fence and stood between Jack and freedom.

The boy and the pig stared at each other. Then Golden Bristles came forward, panting and whuffling, his chin in the air, for all the world like a dog begging for attention. Carefully, Jack reached out and scratched the boar under the chin. Golden Bristles grunted.

“You’re an old softie,” Jack crooned as he did with the pigs back home. “You’d melt like butter if I did this.” He rubbed behind Golden Bristles’ ears. The boar’s eyes closed in ecstasy. “Well, well,” said Jack. “I think the thralls are in for a surprise.” He penned the sows and the boar into the clean sty and climbed out to open the barn door.

Pig Face, Dirty Pants, and Lump leaped back.

“You were singing,” said Dirty Pants. “What was that about?”

“You ain’t chomped,” said Pig Face disappointedly.

“No, I’m not.” Jack stood before them proudly, his hands on his hips.

“But I heard Golden Bristles scream,” muttered Pig Face.

Jack was seething with rage, but he didn’t intend to show it. He had other plans.

The thralls galumphed inside. “Hoo! It’s foul,” commented Lump.

“Not my fault,” said Pig Face. “The boar’s too fond of human meat by half. He’s a troll-boar. I’m not getting close to him.”

“You will if Olaf tells you,” said Dirty Pants.

“That’s what the new boy’s for. Hey, boy! Come in here. You haven’t done your job.”

Jack went in and deliberately leaned over the fence. Golden Bristles trotted to him and lifted his chin to be scratched. “Gooood piggy,” Jack crooned. The thralls’ eyes almost dropped out of their heads.

“Sei?er,” murmured Dirty Pants. “That’s what the singing was about.”

“So that’s why Heide was interested in him,” Lump whispered.

“This is skald’s magic, not sei?er,” announced Jack, who wasn’t entirely sure about it. “I’m a skald. I do not clean out pigsties.” He handed the rake to Lump, who took it automatically. “If you annoy me, I’ll make you come up in boils. If you try to hurt me, I’ll drive you insane—or worse!”

The thralls looked stunned. It was clear they were trying to figure out what “worse” could mean. “If I tell Olaf what you’ve just done, he’ll chop you into little bits.” The thralls’ white faces told Jack that this threat, at least, was entirely believable. “Now I’m going to the great hall for breakfast. I expect you to have the barn cleaned out by nightfall. And throw a few buckets of water over Golden Bristles. He’s not happy about being covered with muck.”

Jack strode out as if he were the captain of a drekar. He didn’t look back. He had little enough going for him in this horrible land. If he could bully the thralls into fearing him, so much the better. He owed them nothing.

Once out of sight, Jack collapsed under a hedge, and the terror of his near destruction came over him. He trembled and tears leaked down his face. Why were so many people out to get him? How could he possibly survive so many enemies? He looked up to see Bold Heart chuckling to himself nearby. “I have at least one true friend,” Jack said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “And maybe I have two, if you can count Golden Bristles.”

Jack dug the splinters out of his hands while he calmed his nerves. He heard curses and shouts from the pig barn, so perhaps Golden Bristles wasn’t being such a good piggy anymore. This cheered Jack up considerably, and he sauntered to the great hall in a happier mood. Bold Heart followed him the whole way, not going off with the other crows as he had done before.

Chapter Twenty-two HEIDE’S PROPHECY

“This iss not well done,” said Heide as she arranged and rearranged Olaf’s magnificent scarlet cloak. It was late afternoon, and the household was preparing to attend King Ivar’s welcome-home feast. If welcome it was. In spite of Olaf’s gifts, Ivar had waited an insulting two weeks before acknowledging the triumphant hero.

“You are giffing Ivar the troll-boar, but iff the king sees that boy, he will want him, too,” said Heide. She fussed with Olaf’s beard, which had been decorated with ribbons, before presenting him with his party helmet. Jack felt cold when he saw it. It had the same weird, hawklike mask. But this one was covered in gold and engraved with designs—a line of warriors marched around the rim, and beautifully wrought vines covered the top.

“He’s going to sing my praises, woman. What good is that without an audience?”

“And whhhat”—Heide drew out the word like a sigh of wind off the sea—“will the king think iff you haff a skald and he does not?”

“Ivar’s all right,” said Olaf uncomfortably. “I’ve served him all my life. He’s an honorable man.”

“He wasss,” Heide said with a sigh, “before she arrived.”

“Yes, well, you’re not changing a thing. Get my sword, boy. I’ll have to take it off at the door, but it looks good with the cloak.”

And so it did in the new scabbard Skakki had decorated with jewels he’d pried from a looted cross. Jack could hardly lift it, but Olaf strapped it on easily. Skakki would attend as well in his own finery, bearing a sword he had won in battle. He would never be as large as his father, but there was no mistaking his bravery.

Jack liked him. He had his mother’s intelligence. He was gentle with the younger children and unexpectedly kind to the thralls. Olaf said regretfully that Skakki had not inherited his berserker tendencies, but he was proud of his son in spite of this flaw.

Dotti and Lotti were covered in jewelry—rings on every finger, bracelets, necklaces, charms, and three large brooches, two fastening the straps of their jumpers and one in the middle. From these brooches hung further items on copper chains: keys, combs, scissors, knives, and a small silver scoop Dotti said was a nose-picker. They had learned about nose-pickers from Heide and found them most useful.

Rune looked every inch a skald in a white robe with his harp slung on his back. He was unable to sing, but the music had not left his fingers. Even Thorgil had unbent enough to wear a clean green tunic. The necklace of silver leaves she had fallen in love with shone at her neck. At Jack’s neck was the iron collar of a thrall.

Jack was nervous about meeting the queen, but after he sang (without mistakes, Rune warned him repeatedly), he could melt into the background. The real problem was Lucy. She would be given to the queen, and Jack couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Olaf said Frith liked pretty children, perhaps because she had none of her own. She treated them well when she wasn’t in a snit. As to what happened to the children when she was in a snit, Olaf was silent.

“At last! At last! I’m going to my castle!” Lucy cried. “I’m going to see my real parents.”

“Mother and Father are your real parents,” Jack said.

“No, they aren’t,” declared Lucy, and Jack didn’t have the heart to disillusion her.

“Aren’t you going?” he asked Heide, who was still in her stained work dress.

“The queen doess not like my presence,” she replied in her smoky voice. “It makes her nerrrvousss.”

Jack was disappointed. It would have been nice to have someone around who could make the queen nervous.

“I haff thiss to say, dear ox-brain,” Heide continued as Olaf made ready to leave. “Iff you take this boy and