Free Dream of Me/Believe in Me by Josie Litton

war who would be reclaimed by their own side or people guilty of some crime who were freed after serving a time of labor. With rare exception, they were treated decently. It wasn't unusual for a slave, once freed, to remain in the community, many having married and settled down even while still technically in servitude. Judging by Brita's poor clothing and Marta's manner to her, slavery among the Norse was much different.
    Or perhaps this was just an isolated case. Cymbra cautioned herself not to leap to any conclusions even as she wondered at her status. As a captive, was she also considered a thrall? If so, she was certainly being treated far differently than Brita.
    The younger woman returned bearing two steaming buckets of water. She set them down and went out again, then returned with a shallow leather trough and a bucket of cool water.
    “The Lord Wolf said you were accustomed to this way of bathing, lady,” Marta explained. “He said the heatof a proper sauna would likely be too strong for you just now.” The pursing of her mouth indicated what she thought of such weakness.
    Cymbra looked at the trough doubtfully. It was far too small to hold her and she had no idea how she was supposed to bathe in it.
    “Come, lady” Kiirla said, darting a quick glance at her mother for approval. “If you will stand here—”
    Following the young woman's gestures, and guessing at what was intended, Cymbra stepped into the trough. She hesitated when Marta held out a hand for the ermine cloak but steeled herself and gave it up. Marta looked her over very frankly, her eyes hardening. Kiirla looked startled and quickly looked away. Brita kept her eyes averted as she mixed the water in another bucket, tested the temperature, then nodded to Marta.
    The task of hauling the water had been left to the slave, but pouring it over Cymbra was Marta's privilege. She made a thorough job of it, but when she took up soap and a rough cloth, Cymbra insisted on doing the rest herself. She was shivering by the time she finished, there being no heat in the lodge. Apparently it was not considered necessary in summer, although by Cymbra's standards the air was decidedly cool.
    “Now you will eat,” Marta directed when Cymbra was dried and wrapped in a sheet. She indicated the table. “Please to sit, lady.”
    Cymbra sat. Brita gave her another shy smile as she removed the cover over the tray, revealing a carved wooden plate holding slices of smoked fish, bread, cheese, and a handful of lush, ripe blackberries. A cup of equally rich design was filled with milk.
    As Cymbra ate, she gazed out the windows at the town below. She saw the dragon ship riding at anchor, the water of the bay sparkling around it.
    Other vessels docked nearby also had high, curvedprows, but these had not been carved into the nightmare symbol of the Norse raiders. They also appeared to have wider keels, which made her think they were merchant ships kept for peaceful use.
    The people in town seemed to have returned to their normal tasks. The lanes were busy once again and there was a fair amount of activity in the marketplaces. On the hills beyond the town, goats and sheep grazed. So large were the flocks that they were spread out all the way to the tops of the slopes.
    Contemplating the obvious prosperity and power of the Wolf's holding, she ate as much as she could, finishing just as Brita dragged a large chest through the door. Neither of the other women made an effort to help her. Cymbra was about to do so when surprise stopped her.
    “That's mine.” It was her very own chest, the one she had used for years and had last seen in her chamber at Holyhood what seemed a lifetime ago.
    “Yes, lady,” Brita said as she straightened.
    Marta shot her a hard look, instantly silencing her. “The Lord Wolf also directed this be brought to you, lady. It contains your belongings.”
    Slowly, Cymbra walked over to the chest, knelt beside it, and opened the lid. On top was a small