Free Wolfskin by Juliet Marillier Page A

to be told, all the same. For it is not solely your own future I tell here, but that of others, those whose lives may be touched by your choices. You have a long and strange path ahead of you, Eyvind; you see only the glory of your existence as Thor’s right hand, but that is by no means the sum of it.”
    â€œWhat could be better than that? What could be more important?”
    â€œThere are lessons to learn: secret knowledge to be found where least expected. There is a deep well of treachery, and a bright beacon of love, and the path between them is narrow indeed. There’s the rarest of treasures laid by for you, son. Make sure you don’t let it go.”
    â€œTreasure? I suppose I’ll see some of that, when I’m a Wolfskin.”
    â€œI suppose you will,” said the cat woman gravely. “But that is not the kind of treasure I mean. Now go, son. Do not lose sight of yourself, in the midst of it all.”
    â€œThank you. I won’t,” said Eyvind, but he did not understand her words, nor did he care, for he had received the answer he wanted and his heart was aflame with joy.
    He waited outside for Somerled, and tried not to overhear. He stroked the cat; it sat quiet, purring, but he could feel the bunched muscle in it, and see its knife-sharp claws. It was a wonder there were any chickens left.
    It was hard not to hear them. Somerled’s voice was crisp and clear, the old woman’s soft, measured; and yet it came to Eyvind’s ears as if she intended her words to reach him. He would have moved away, but the cat had its claws in his sleeve now and a look in its feral eye that said, You’d better keep scratching my ear or I’ll show you what I really am.
    â€œTell me the truth,” said Somerled.
    There was a little pause. “Is it the truth you seek, or merely the confirmation of what you have already decided will be so?” asked the cat woman.
    â€œIt does not become an old crone to play games with words,” Somerled snapped. “I seek the truth, of course. Why else would I come here? But perhaps you are a fraud. Perhaps you tell only fabrications, to fill folk’s heads with impossible hopes.”
    â€œWhat if I tell the truth and it does not please you?” she asked softly. “What then? I cannot always give good news. The world is a harsh place, Somerled. You’ve good cause to know it.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Somerled sounded angry, and yet she had not even begun her foretelling.
    â€œYou know what it means. Your path has not been an easy one. As it began, so it will continue. Show me your arm.”
    A short silence.
    â€œYou did your friend no favors,” said the cat woman, “in binding him to you thus.”
    â€œIs it foretold, then, that I should proceed on this uneasy path quite alone? With no friend at all by my side?”
    â€œI did not say that. Eyvind will sacrifice much to adhere to his promises.”
    â€œAnd what future have you foretold for him? A short but glorious life wielding the axe for Thor? My friend is a simple fellow with simple dreams. If you see that for him, he will be well content.”
    â€œIf you would know, you must ask Eyvind. Here, it is your future we examine.”
    â€œCome on then, out with it! What do you see?”
    â€œTake a pinch of this; throw it on the fire. Now look at me.”
    Then there was nothing for a long time, so long that Eyvind wondered if the cat woman could not see any future for Somerled, or perhaps a future she was reluctant to tell. When at last she did speak, it was slowly, as if she chose each word with caution.
    â€œBlood and passion, treachery and death. Beyond that, there is…there is…”
    â€œWhat? What?” hissed Somerled.
    â€œIt is not clear. There are two ways here, and it cannot be told which you will choose. In each there is a journey. One way holds power and influence. I see a man there who is a