With Brynn missing in the forest and being hunted like an animal, the thought of stabbing Ovrek was more reasonable by the moment.Cenric wouldn’t stab him in the chest or gut or anywhere fatal.He’d stab Ovrek through the foot where it would take forever to heal and be a wretched inconvenience to a man about to lead an army.
As the king, the jarl, and the jarl’s son walked down the beach, through the forges and storehouses, they talked.Some of the questions were the same as those Cenric had asked.He heard names he remembered and some he didn’t.
Begrudgingly, Cenric had to admit to himself that Ovrek had put as much effort into awing him as he now put into awing this jarl and his son.Maybe Ovrek really did value Cenric as an ally.Or maybe a part of Cenric was just desperate to believe that was the case.
They made their way from the forges to the weaving house.They were still not permitted inside but stood back to watch as women carried out rolled sails for the dozens of newborn ships waiting along the beach.
“Impressive,” Dagrún said.
Cenric was beginning to wonder if Egill spoke at all.He’d seen the man’s lips move, but hadn’t yet heard his voice.
“My queen is excellent in all things.”Ovrek’s chest puffed out just a little at that.“Impeccable and above reproach.”
Cenric bit his tongue at that.Sifma was the one who had first accused Brynn.Like Ovrek, he’d wanted to believe the best of her.Vana thought the world of her, but Cenric’s own opinion was suffering at the moment.
The four men made their way from the women’s weaving house toward the animal pens.
Cenric appraised the sky.The morning was mostly gone.Why was there still no word of his cousin or his wife?Surely Hróarr should have at least returned to report a fruitless search?
Something was wrong.
“We will not take all the animals with us, of course,” Ovrek said to Egill.“The farms and shires of Hylden are rich with livestock and game.”
Cenric thought of his own shire with its farms and forests.He expected that the Valdari would be helping themselves to his herds and flocks if he didn’t pledge allegiance to Ovrek soon.It was a matter of time.He could feel Ovrek’s ambitions closing in on him like the wooden chutes they forced animals through during Blydmoth.
Ovrek led the jarl and his son to the edge of a wooden fence.Cenric could hear pigs on the other side, rooting through the leftover scraps that would be fed to them by the kitchen thralls.
Cenric had not seen this part of Istra yesterday.Perhaps they had run out of time.Rows of pens separated cattle, pigs, sheep, and a large pen with stocky horses.The fences were new, not yet weather-worn, and the animals probably only gathered here at night or when they were awaiting slaughter.
The king went on, his voice as animated and engaged as ever.For all his dourness, even Egill seemed enraptured.Ovrek had a way of doing that—captivating your attention, making you see his dreams as he did.Ovrek was saying something about cattle and horses now.
Cenric stared toward the forest and the distant mountains.Where was Brynn?Why hadn’t Morgi warned him about what a wretched business this trip would be?
The king led them away from the animal pens and back toward the shipyards.“I must show you my banner ship.I shall call itSifma,after my queen.It is the largest ship we have ever built.”
The sight of theSifmawas not as shocking as it had been the first time, but it was still impressive.Cenric allowed himself just a moment of appreciation—perhaps even envy—at the sight of her more than forty oars.It was a magnificent ship that would loom like a beast over most vessels.
Egill and Dagrún appeared rightly impressed, staring in silence as they wandered quietly in the shadow of its mast.
Around them, workers continued at their labor.The ship was by no means finished and it would need to be if it was to sail to Hylden in a matter of weeks.
“My father has heard tales of this ship,” Dagrún broached the topic in a lilting, oddly cautious tone.“
“And what might those be?”Ovrek smiled, but there was a hardness to the set of his jaw that seemed out of place.
“Did you use yew for the ribs and mast?”Dagrún gestured to the great vessel.
Cenric studied the ship more closely.He couldn’t see the ribs from the outside, but now that Dagrún mentioned it, the mast was of darker wood than the oaken strakes.
Ovrek’s smile wavered for just a moment.“It’s good wood.”He tensed, as if bracing himself.
Dagrún took several heartbeats to respond, almost as if he had been waiting for Ovrek to deny it.“I see.”
Ovrek bristled.“I honor the First of Fathers as much as any Valdari.”That seemed a strange response.
“And you honor our holy sites?”
“Of course.”Ovrek’s tone brooked no argument.“Like all Valdari.”
