Free Raven Speak (9781442402492) by Diane Lee Wilson Page A

some …” But the odd woman had already mentioned the dead and dying. How had she known? “Your people,” Asa began hesitantly, cautious about asking yet another question. “Has someone from your clan seen the ship … or heard news from it?”
    She half-expected to be struck across the face, so she was taken aback when the woman laughed, revealing a stubble of small brown teeth. “I don’t have a clan, unless you count these two black beasties here.” She indicated the ravens, which had turned to tormenting each other with knocking bills and indignant cackles.
    â€œThen where do you live? How do you live?” Asa couldn’t help it; she asked questions. She had
always
asked questions. They spilled out of her as naturally as breathing.
    The woman ignored her to scold the two quarreling birds. She made a throaty noise, sort of a drawn-out croak ending in a clacking of her tongue. Her raven speak halted the birds’ bickering. One lifted into the air and flapped to a perch on her left shoulder while the other hopped onto her right. They bobbed and conversed anew in a soft, whining language that blended human and bird. Reaching into her pouch, she fed each one something small, something different from the barley cakes. That got Rune’s attention and he nickered. The woman handed him another barley cake, then flicked her fingers at him, sweeping him away. Obediently he backed out of the space and wandered off toward the shoreline. They both watched him in silence before the woman turned Asa’s questions back on her. “Where are
you
going to live?
How
are you going to live?”
    â€œI don’t know.” The answer, inadequate even to her own ears, tightened her jaw. “Last night our skald tried to kill him,” she said, nodding toward Rune, “so we ran away. If we’re going to stay alive we have to find food.” To let the woman know she wasn’t expecting any more handouts, she explained, “I’m going to search the shore some more, then I’m going to try to get up into the mountains, look for leeks or some fallen nuts. If there’s a lake, I can catch a fish.”
    The woman blinked dispassionately. “A leek. A fish. Why nota barley field? Why not a whale? You are thinking only of a single mouthful.”
    A whale. Her mouth leaped to water. How long had it been since she’d tasted boiled
gryn
, salted
spikihval
, chewy
mylja
? Two summers ago, at least, when that unbelievably enormous whale had stranded itself. She swallowed her saliva to her stomach’s disappointment. Such thoughts were ridiculous, precious time wasted on extravagant dreaming. If she and Rune were going to stay alive, they had to begin searching out food for their very next meal, not go chasing after a feast for a season. “Well, two mouthfuls is what we’re after right now,” she said, pulling her cloak around her. She began making her way to Rune, newly realizing how stiff and sore she was. “Thank you for the barley cakes.”
    â€œYou don’t want a whale?”
    That involuntary rush of water crossed Asa’s tongue again. A pleading rumbled in her belly. Temptation sat on one hand, suspicion on the other. She paused, considering. If this strange woman knew of a stranded whale, she could ride back and tell her clan. A whale would feed them for months, well into the summer. A year from now the oil would still be lighting their lamps; the bones would be crafted into smoothing boards and gaming pieces and traded for other foodstuffs.
    â€œAch! I see it in your eyes.” The ravens bobbed noisy agreement. “You want a whale.” The stoop-shouldered woman extended a claw. “Then you will have to follow me.”

TÍU
    How she ached! Both Asa’s shoulder and hip felt as bruised as bottom-of-the-barrel apples, and a raw knob on her knee protested every step. As she followed the old woman up the twisting