nucleus of his henchmen was closing around him, and he had even taken the stranger, Ragnald, into his broch on more than one occasion. It was undeniable that many of the Storn were beginning to show their mistrust of Horn.
“Mouse,” said Gudrun, “there’s one more thing—you’ll have to help give the Spell-making tonight.”
“No. I can’t,” said Mouse automatically. The thought of sitting in front of the whole tribe made her feel sick. The thought of sitting near the fire pit still made her feel uneasy. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can. I can’t speak loud enough. I’ll get them to carry me to the great broch. I’ll whisper to you, and you can recite the lines to everyone.”
Mouse shivered and looked at Gudrun.
“You’ll do it,” said Gudrun. “You must do as I say. Horn has told you that, hasn’t he?”
29
“Sig. I have to give the Spell-making tonight.”
Mouse.
I’d been sitting, feeling sorry for myself. Feeling stupid for running away. I had got nowhere, and I felt I was still going nowhere. I had spent the day digging up shriveled potatoes. And I remember thinking then that things were bad not just for me. The fishing was worse than ever; the crops were failing.
I was sitting on one of the grassy banks behind the great broch, watching the sea. Mouse came over.
“I have to give the Spell-making,” she said.
I nodded.
“I know,” I said.
“Who told you?”
“Ragnald.”
“Ragnald!” she said. “How did he know?”
I shook my head.
“Horn seems to like him,” I ventured.
“He scares me, Sig,” she said. “There’s something about him that scares me.”
“He saved my life, Mouse,” I said. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
I said this, but I felt something of her fear, too. He was strange. But I seemed to have won the point with Mouse.
“Yes, of course it does,” she said. “Don’t be angry with me. I’m just worried.”
“About the Spell-making?” I asked.
“Hmm,” she said. “The Spell-making.”
So that was it.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be wonderful. You’re going to be something special, Mouse. With your skill, your mind.”
“No,” said Mouse, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
“Yes,” I said. “You will. While I go on finding seaweed and growing potatoes.”
She put her hand on my arm.
“Sigurd,” she said, but I was not in the mood to listen.
“I’m going inside,” I said.
I left.
As I ducked under the low doorway of the broch I saw that Sif had been watching all this. She scowled at me.
For once I failed to ignore her.
“What?” I said aggressively.
“Troubles?” she said slyly.
“None of your concern.”
“Perhaps I can help?”
She seemed to be playing a game. I shouldn’t have said what I said next, but I was too angry to care.
“The only thing you can do is tell your father to sort this village out before we starve.”
“How dare you!” she said.
“It’s nothing but the truth!” I answered. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we’re not in trouble.”
She was silent. Amazingly, she looked worried.
“Is it really bad?” she asked, as if she’d never thought about it before.
Expecting another of her tricks, I paused for a moment. But I could see no game this time.
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly, “but if it goes on like this, we’ll starve before summer’s here. Your father gave a whole bucketful of grain to Skinfax the other day. I saw him.”
Again she seemed dumbfounded, almost shocked. So unlike the Sif I was used to.
“We’re eating too much of the grain,” she agreed. “But Skinfax must eat.”
“He’ll end up eating that horse,” I said bitterly.
I left.
30
Again Mouse found herself in the center of the great broch. She was not in trouble, but she was more scared than when Horn had raised his sword above her head. For this time she had to speak in front of the whole tribe of the Storn.
She looked
“Mouse,” said Gudrun, “there’s one more thing—you’ll have to help give the Spell-making tonight.”
“No. I can’t,” said Mouse automatically. The thought of sitting in front of the whole tribe made her feel sick. The thought of sitting near the fire pit still made her feel uneasy. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can. I can’t speak loud enough. I’ll get them to carry me to the great broch. I’ll whisper to you, and you can recite the lines to everyone.”
Mouse shivered and looked at Gudrun.
“You’ll do it,” said Gudrun. “You must do as I say. Horn has told you that, hasn’t he?”
29
“Sig. I have to give the Spell-making tonight.”
Mouse.
I’d been sitting, feeling sorry for myself. Feeling stupid for running away. I had got nowhere, and I felt I was still going nowhere. I had spent the day digging up shriveled potatoes. And I remember thinking then that things were bad not just for me. The fishing was worse than ever; the crops were failing.
I was sitting on one of the grassy banks behind the great broch, watching the sea. Mouse came over.
“I have to give the Spell-making,” she said.
I nodded.
“I know,” I said.
“Who told you?”
“Ragnald.”
“Ragnald!” she said. “How did he know?”
I shook my head.
“Horn seems to like him,” I ventured.
“He scares me, Sig,” she said. “There’s something about him that scares me.”
“He saved my life, Mouse,” I said. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
I said this, but I felt something of her fear, too. He was strange. But I seemed to have won the point with Mouse.
“Yes, of course it does,” she said. “Don’t be angry with me. I’m just worried.”
“About the Spell-making?” I asked.
“Hmm,” she said. “The Spell-making.”
So that was it.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be wonderful. You’re going to be something special, Mouse. With your skill, your mind.”
“No,” said Mouse, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
“Yes,” I said. “You will. While I go on finding seaweed and growing potatoes.”
She put her hand on my arm.
“Sigurd,” she said, but I was not in the mood to listen.
“I’m going inside,” I said.
I left.
As I ducked under the low doorway of the broch I saw that Sif had been watching all this. She scowled at me.
For once I failed to ignore her.
“What?” I said aggressively.
“Troubles?” she said slyly.
“None of your concern.”
“Perhaps I can help?”
She seemed to be playing a game. I shouldn’t have said what I said next, but I was too angry to care.
“The only thing you can do is tell your father to sort this village out before we starve.”
“How dare you!” she said.
“It’s nothing but the truth!” I answered. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we’re not in trouble.”
She was silent. Amazingly, she looked worried.
“Is it really bad?” she asked, as if she’d never thought about it before.
Expecting another of her tricks, I paused for a moment. But I could see no game this time.
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly, “but if it goes on like this, we’ll starve before summer’s here. Your father gave a whole bucketful of grain to Skinfax the other day. I saw him.”
Again she seemed dumbfounded, almost shocked. So unlike the Sif I was used to.
“We’re eating too much of the grain,” she agreed. “But Skinfax must eat.”
“He’ll end up eating that horse,” I said bitterly.
I left.
30
Again Mouse found herself in the center of the great broch. She was not in trouble, but she was more scared than when Horn had raised his sword above her head. For this time she had to speak in front of the whole tribe of the Storn.
She looked
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