The Blood-Tainted Winter Read Online Free Page B

father, he caught two sets of eyes through the crowd. The first was Erlaug, whose blackened eye narrowed with loathing. The second was Vakre of Finnmark, who watched them both and whose face was unreadable.
    With ale and food in their bellies, the warriors in the Great-Belly’s hall grew louder and unruly. While Raef ate from his loaf, shoving broke out at one table, sending at least three men tumbling to the floor. Bruised pride demanded retaliation, and within moments a brawl was underway. The onlookers gave them space and began to holler abuse and praise, though the first far outweighed the second.
    A hand on Raef’s elbow halted the flow of mead and Raef looked over his shoulder to see Thorald, one of his father’s captains. Nodding his head in the direction of the doors, Thorald indicated to Raef that the Vannheim contingent was leaving the feast. Peering over heads, Raef could see his father slip out into the night. Raef finished his mead and, clutching the last of his food close, skirted the outer edge of the hall until he, too, came to the doors and stepped out into the fresh night air.
    At first, the tent city appeared to be deserted, save for a few dogs sniffing for scraps and a few servants tending to their business. But as he threaded his way to the Vannheim tents, Raef saw enough torches and shadowy figures to realize that his father was not the only lord to leave the feast.
    Half a dozen men, the most trusted captains of Vannheim, occupied his father’s tent, and though they spoke to each other with toothy grins, the air was tense and the jokes half-hearted. They were waiting. At Raef’s arrival, Einarr bade the pair of serving boys depart. The lord of Vannheim poured himself a cup of ale, the dim light of the single lantern setting the amber liquid aglow. Then he poured for each man, a gesture of respect emphasized by the solemn expression on Einarr’s face. Only when Raef and the captains held an equal share did Einarr speak.
    “The Great-Belly speaks of a feast as though we are all gathered in brotherhood and friendship. A merry band joyfully seeking a new leader. Know now that this is not so.” Skallagrim looked at each man in turn. “We have fought battles together, earned silver with blood together, but never have we faced greater danger than we do here. This land’s history is full of gatherings that ran red with bloodshed, and though this is my first, my father attended two and returned with a grim face and tales of treachery. We must be on our guard. Though this gathering is held to determine the fate of all lands, it is Vannheim’s fate that we must hold most dear. Remember that.” Einarr wet his lips on the ale. “Drink, my sword brothers, then leave me with my son.”
    When they had departed, Einarr gestured for Raef to step out of the tent. They walked in silence until they reached the river.
    “What happens now?” Raef asked.
    His father laughed a little. “Only Odin knows. Tomorrow we make pretty speeches and gradually the warriors in that hall whittle us down until the voices call for one man and one man only. They get to believe they choose their king. But even they know, deep down, that the king is truly made with shadowy deals behind closed doors.” Einarr studied Raef in the darkness. “Surely you understood this already.”
    “Yes.”
    “I expect at least one visitor tonight, perhaps more. Someone will want to know if I will end my candidacy and pledge my support to another, or if I could be persuaded to do so for the right price.”
    “And could you?”
    “I would listen to an offer.”
    It was hardly an answer but Raef didn’t press the issue. “If your name had not been called, who would you support?”
    “There are a few names I have considered.” Einarr held up his hand as Raef began to demand a better answer. “Better for now that you not know.”
    Raef tried one last question. “And the Far-Traveled’s words of war to come?”
    Einarr gazed up at the round