Free Storm at the Edge of Time by Pamela F. Service Page B

Rogenvald for revenge because before that Rogenvald had set fire to a house where Thorfinn and his wife were staying and they only escaped by leaping through a second-story window and rowing across the Pentland Firth at night.”
    Jamie shook her head. “Oh, and I suppose that Rogenvald only did that to avenge something else which—”
    â€œYoung Arni,” said a deep voice behind them, “you are telling the story backward, but the gist’s right. Soon you should have it in proper skald fashion like your father here.”
    The man looking down at them was huge and not the least bit handsome. His nose was a great beak, and on either side dark eyes glinted under shaggy eyebrows. His wild black hair was tufted here and there with gray. Altogether he was not a person to be ignored.
    â€œEarl Thorfinn!” Arni exclaimed, bobbing his head. “My friends here are … not locals. I thought they needed to know all about your great deeds.”
    â€œAnd so should everyone,” the big man boomed, “in Orkney, Scotland, and beyond.” He bent toward them and winked. “Particularly since we are about to add a new verse. Come, all three of you must join us in the great hall tonight for feasting, drinking, and storytelling. Then your friends will have more stories worth spreading when they return home.”
    He straightened up and slapped the man beside him on the shoulder. The little gray-haired man staggered but kept smiling as if he were used to it. The Earl continued: “Even dead, that little weasel Rogenvald keeps pestering me. But come this spring, we’ll finally put him and his minions to rest, and you, Arnor, and your son, too, can sing about it. In the meantime, though, we might as well enjoy ourselves!”
    With a huge bark of a laugh, the Earl strode down the road. Arnor looked at his red-haired son, then cast a questioning glance at his two companions.
    â€œFriends of mine from the mainland,” Arni sputtered.
    The skald squinted more closely under Tyaak’s hood. “And from a bit farther away, too, I suspect. But the Earl has invited all three of you. Come early enoughto get a place.” With one more glance at his son’s friends, he hurried after the Earl of Orkney.
    Arni whistled with relief. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to juggle these stories about you.”
    â€œThen let us find that stick and get out of here,’ Tyaak said impatiently. “Should we not be looking more in that direction?”
    â€œWhy that way?”
    â€œIt just seems—Because we have not as yet.”
    â€œThose are the big official buildings down there—the church and the Earl’s residence.” Arni puffed up a little. “As the skald’s son, I see quite a lot of those places, and I’ve never noticed any carved beam end like the one we want.”
    Jamie tried to pull her cloak even closer; the sun seemed near setting, and it was getting very cold. “I still think it’s stupid to look only for roof beams. It could be a soup stirrer or a fence post or—”
    â€œNo, it’s high up. My magic tells me that much. Yours would talk to you, too, if you’d only listen.”
    Tyaak snorted, and Jamie kept silence. She supposed she’d be willing to listen if there were only something to hear. But all she had was a vague picture in her mind of what the staff should look like. Urkar hadn’t even told them which of the carvings was here, but she imagined it was a bird—a black bird. That was just a wild guess, though.
    â€œAll right,” Arni said, “let’s head Tyaak’s way. The Earl’s feast will be starting soon, and we can check out the beams in the church on our way.”
    At the gate of the churchyard, however, they ran into Sven Havardson and several other boys.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t the failed swordsman turned sorcerer,” Sven said wryly.