“I promise not to sing,” she said, and the tears escaped, dripping down her cheeks and hiding in her borrowed tunic. She had promised the same to Arwin, and he had not believed her.
“I would not let you keep that promise. I would beg you to sing to me all day. And Arwin knows it. He is afraid, Ghisla. I am afraid too. Not of you . . . but of myself.”
“Then I will go. Why have you followed me? Why did you not just let me go?” she cried, swiping at her cheeks.
“It is not safe for you out there. The only safety is in the clans or in the temple . . . and even then . . . there is no safety.”
“I don’t care what happens to me.”
“If you don’t care . . . then let Arwin take you to Lothgar. A life in the temple will be a better life,” he insisted.
“A better life than a life in a cave?”
“I will not always dwell in this cave. Someday . . . I too will go to the temple. Arwin is teaching me about the runes. I am to be a keeper one day.”
“And you will go to the temple?”
“Yes. I will come to Temple Hill and ask to join the keepers there. And we will see each other again.”
“Do not promise me, Hody,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hate you.”
“You don’t?” Hope rang in his question.
“No,” she sighed. She stopped walking. She could go no farther. The tide flirted with her feet.
“If there are no girls in Saylok, will I not be valued? Surely someone will want me. Why must I go to the temple?”
“Have you ever seen wolves fight over a rabbit?”
She was silent, shocked.
“Now imagine the wolves are starving and there are hundreds of them. Thousands of them.”
“I found you, didn’t I? You are not a wolf.”
“No, I am a blind boy who has no way to protect or provide for you. Not yet.” He sighed, the sound so heavy she staggered beneath its weight. “Mayhaps not ever.”
“If I agree, if I let Arwin take me to this Lothgar, will you come with us? To Leok?”
“Arwin will not want me to come.” He inhaled. “But he cannot stop me. I will come.”
“How far is it to Leok?”
“We are in Leok now,” Hod said. He crouched, and in the wet sand he made a shape like a star—fat and six-legged and rising at the center.
“We are here, where Leok begins to curve into Adyar. Adyar is the top of the star, Leok lies to its west, and Berne to the east.”
“And where are the Northlands?” she asked.
He pointed out to sea. “You have already come a great distance, Ghisla. And Odin has kept you alive thus far. You have survived sickness and plague. You have survived the sea. You have even survived Arwin. The fates have plans for you, Ghisla. You will be a great lady.”
When she didn’t answer, he continued his lesson in the sand.
“The southernmost leg of the star is Ebba. The land between Ebba and Berne is Dolphys. The land between Ebba and Leok is Joran. Temple Hill is here . . . in the center of them all. That is where Lothgar will take you.”
“And I will be safe there?” She sounded bitter.
“You will not be alone. There will be others, daughters like you, who will be brought to the mount. Arwin says the king has decreed it. He asked for a girl from every clan to be brought to the temple.”
“Why?”
“As a symbol to the people . . . or for safekeeping . . . or for reasons only the Highest Keeper knows.” He shrugged. “Arwin says the daughters will be taken to the temple and not the king’s castle. That is good.” He rose and crushed the star he’d made with the toe of his boot. “Lothgar has asked that every daughter in Leok be brought to the keep. So far, Arwin said no one has obeyed the summons.”
“Why?” That was hardly a comfort.
“They do not want to part with their daughters.”
No one would protest parting with her.
“I am not of Saylok . . . or of Leok. I cannot represent the clan,” she argued.
“They need never know that.” Hod’s voice was firm and his marbled eyes reflected the moonlight. “You are a gift from the gods. And I believe you will do great things, Ghisla of Tonlis.”
She did not want to do great things. She wanted a place to lay her head and a family to love her. She wanted a friend and a fire and a song that would make the ache go away. But that was not to be. Not now. Mayhaps not ever.
He reached out, touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She moved closer and reached for his wrist. He let her guide him. His fingers were sandy and cold from his map making, and his palms were broad. He had not yet grown into them, but, the gods willing, he would. He would grow into his hands and feet and his smooth cheeks would become whiskered and leathery like her father’s had been.
The grief stole over her quickly and she bit down on her lip as he touched her carefully, the tips of his fingers learning her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and the point of her chin.
“Now I’ve seen your face,” he said, his hand falling away. “I won’t forget it. I won’t forget you.”
She didn’t believe him.
“We must go back. Arwin is stirring.”
She hesitated.
“Ghisla?”
She knew what he was asking. She slipped her hand into his, and they began walking back to the cave.
“Will you remember me?” he asked softly.
“Yes, Hod. I will remember you.”
“And do you promise me you will not give up?”
She sighed.
“I promise I will not give up today,” she said.
They left for Lothgar’s keep at dusk. Arwin had insisted that Hod stay behind, but Hod had refused, just as he’d promised.
“You will need me, Master. We must travel at night. Traveling with a girl will attract the worst sort. An old man and a blind boy are of no interest to anyone, but Ghisla will be,” Hod said.
“Ghisla?” Arwin asked, spitting the word from his mouth. “You must cease calling her by that name. Ghisla is not a name of Saylok. She will need a new name, one with the sound of the clan of Leok.”
Traveling in the dark didn’t bother Hod at all. He didn’t stumble or seem fearful, and he was the one who urged them to the side of the road to huddle behind the trees when another group approached. He heard people long before they were visible.
It took two days of traveling to reach the chieftain’s village. Hod said it sat near the tip of the land of Leok, like all the biggest villages in Saylok.
“The clans sail from peninsula to peninsula, one leg of the star to another. It is faster by boat than by land.”
Conversation between them had grown stilted and awkward with Arwin listening in. He was suspicious and wary and demanded silence and separation whenever they halted or slept. His mood grew more and more fretful, and by the time they reached the village around Lothgar’s keep, he was bristling with impatience.
“We should wait for the morn to approach him,” Hod suggested. “It will be safer for Ghisla when the keep is empty.”
“We will go now,” Arwin snapped. “I have not rested well in a week. I will take the girl to the edge of the wood and point her to the chieftain’s lodge.”