Free Winter Song by Colin Harvey

he said. "Understood. I'll hope that I do a good enough job of convincing him how grateful I am."
        "I would," she said. "And if I were you, I'd hope that it's enough." Though she smiled, the fear in her eyes didn't fool him. He could understand fear, but there was hope as well. Why?
        "Come on," she said. "We mustn't keep him waiting too long."
        "Ragnar's house?"
        She nodded.
        Like the barn, it was about forty metres long, perhaps twenty metres wide. Karl looked back at the barn; all the buildings were dug into the hillside, and covered over with turf. Smoke issued from a vent on one of the roofs. Bera said, "His family sleep here, in the winter, his labourers too. They're up with the flocks now." She helped him descend steps into a half-lobby that stank of furs and boots ingrained with body odour, and through into a long room lit along each wall. Except for one, which was all window, looking down over the barn, onto the lake. "Strengthened glass," Bera said. "Two centuries old."
        This room stank too, of bodies crowded together for too long, but now it was nearly empty of people, though boxes and piled possessions were strewn everywhere. "The main hall, where the children and Thralls – the indentured labourers – sleep," Bera said. At the far end was a five metre-long table, around which two women bustled, setting out jugs and plates: "Hilda and Asgerd, Ragnar's daughter and older daughter-in-law."
        "Good morning," Asgerd said with a shy smile. She was another blonde, but subtle to Thorbjorg's voluptuous.
        Hilda was as dark as her father, and her mouth was down-turned; she looked as if life perpetually disappointed her. "My father," she faintly emphasised the first word, "will see you now. You can leave us, Bera."
        "Why can't Bera stay with me?" Karl said. "I couldn't have got here without her help."
        Hilda stiffened, but before she could answer, Bera said, "I'll go and find you a walking stick, Karl, then go help in the kitchen."
        Hilda dipped her head a centimetre in acknowledgement, or dismissal.
        " She knows her place," Hilda said. The rebuke to Karl was clear: so should he.
        "Is she a servant?" Karl said, refusing to be intimidated.
        Hilda looked offended. "She is fostered here. Farms that cannot support their people often place children with other farmsteads, and the children work for their keep, as does everyone else. Everyone," she emphasised, then added, "but Bera's family were killed when their farm was buried beneath lava. So sad. So unusual, that a volcano blows, but they knew the risk. Lush farmland often means volcanoes. Come!"
        She led Karl into a large chamber in which Ragnar sat gazing at some papers, his shoulders draped with a white fur lined with coloured ribbons. Karl wondered if he was supposed to be impressed.
        Ragnar looked up. "You're here. Good." He noted Karl's trembling right leg: "Do I scare you so much?" He grinned.
        "Muscle spasm," Karl said. "Being on my feet. Still recovering." He did feel a little weak.
    "Then sit. Hilda, fetch him some warm sweet water."
    Hilda departed.
        Ragnar gazed at Karl, who stared back. Ragnar said abruptly, "Where are you from? And what were you doing naked on a hillside at night?"
        "I – uh, I fell from the sky." Karl felt foolish saying it, but his companion hadn't gained enough vocabulary while he'd been unconscious for anything but simple concepts, although his lexicon was expanding hourly.
        "Why?"
        "My ship was attacked. I was forced to… leave it. It was destroyed. I had no time to take any possessions."
        "A starship? Not a sailing ship?" Ragnar's tone hinted at scepticism.
        "A starship, yes." Keep it simple, caution urged. Karl wasn't sure whether this man was friend or enemy, although his instincts suggested more the latter.
        "Who attacked you?"
        Karl said