Read Online Foxmask by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online

want.” Creidhe’s words tumbled out in a rush. “You don’t look well. I did wonder—”
    Nessa smiled, and the sudden chill was gone as quickly as it had come. “I’m fine, daughter, and I’ll do well enough here with Ingigerd to keep mecompany until you girls come home. Enjoy yourselves; it will do you good to have some dancing and fun. Perhaps, for you, the path branches only as far as the Northern Isles and a certain fine young man. What happens will be your own choice. Now go on, the men are waiting. Is this your bundle? What have you got in here, a loom and a sack of wool?”
    Then small Ingigerd began to cry, and Nessa gathered her up with soothing words, and all at once it was time to go. Creidhe looked back over her shoulder as her mother’s slender figure grew smaller and smaller, standing in the doorway with Ingigerd in her arms and a brave smile on her face not quite concealing the unease in her eyes. A shiver ran through Creidhe. How long would it be before she saw them again? And what, oh what would her mother say when she learned Creidhe had sailed away in a little boat toward the edge of the world?
    In the end it was almost too easy. The first night of the wedding celebrations, Sam came up from the settlement in his best tunic with the red embroidery and joined in the dancing. It was quite a party; Grim’s wife Eira had not stinted on the ale, and Grim himself had slaughtered a couple of pigs to complement the usual spread of fish and baked goods. A woman called Zaira, who was famous for her cakes, had made a splendid confection with bere flour and honey, and nuts and spices brought over on a knarr from Norway. The goods had their origin in markets far east, places so far away they were like something in a dream. Zaira herself had come from just such a distant land. She was a fine dancer and, as her husband Thord was away at the same council as Eyvind, she partnered one man after another with her dark hair flying and her red lips smiling. She was a little flirtatious, Creidhe judged, but there was no harm in it. Scarred, gap-toothed Thord, a man built like a monolith, had kept this lively woman’s heart since he’d been awarded her as some sort of prize, long ago in another land. Pairings did not follow any strict pattern of culture or kinship in the Light Isles. Look at the bride herself: her father had once been a Wolfskin warrior, and her mother, much younger, bore island blood at its purest. Look at Eyvind and Nessa. Creidhe herself was part of two races. A suitor who could show he was strong and good, and able to provide for a family, might gain approval regardless of his origins. It was a little different for Creidhe and her sisters. If one’s sons were to be some kind of kings, one could not wed just any man, though it might seem to some people that Nessa herself had done just that. Eyvind was a Norseman, and had once been a warrior servant of Thor. His people hadbeen the enemy, the invaders who had brought devastation to the islands before valor and magic had put an end to that brutal season of conflict. But Eyvind had been as carefully chosen as any princeling or Jarl. Both Nessa and her old teacher, Rona, had subjected him to trials of their own, trials in which he had proved his mettle not just as warrior but as stalwart protector, strong in courage and goodness, wise and loving. If ever a man were fit to be a father of kings, it was he.
    Creidhe sighed. Today she had extracted Brona’s promise of silence, and in return made a promise of her own. Yes, she had told her sister, if Sam asked you-know-what, Creidhe would say no. In addition, she’d do everything she could to ensure Sam turned his attentions to Brona herself, who was nearly fifteen after all, and would be quite ready for marriage in a year or two. Everyone knew Sam wanted to settle down as soon as he was satisfied the house was cozy enough; he was saving his profits and