Beyong the Gap

XV

Seeing a new face, hearing a new voice, felt strange to Count Hamnet. The Rulers hardly counted. Most of them hadn't spoken the Bizogot language, and the ones who did showed themselves to be outright enemies. Hilderic wasn't. He and Trasamund kissed each other on both cheeks in the usual greeting of Bizogots who hadn't seen each other for a longtime.

"By God, your Ferocity!" Hilderic said. "By God! It's good to see you! You've been gone a long time. Some people were starting to wonder if you'd ever come back."

"Oh, they were, were they?" the jarl said. "I'm not so easy to get rid of as all that, and they'd best believe I'm not. Who are these fools who have no faith in Trasamund?"

Hilderic suffered a sudden coughing fit. "Uh, that is … Well. . . You see . . ."

Trasamund laughed. "All right. Never mind. You don't need to tell me. I can understand that you don't want a name as a snitch. But I'll find out sooner or later-have no fear of that. And when I do, I'll make those doubters pay." He thumped his chest with a mittened fist. "Yes, / will take care of them. You don't need to worry about it."

"May it be as you say, your Ferocity," Hilderic replied. Hamnet Thyssen and Ulric Skakki exchanged covert smiles. Trasamund always saw himself as larger than life. Because he did, he could make other people see him the same way most of the time. Hilderic, though plainly a seasoned man, certainly did.

Liv worried less about how important other people thought she was and more about things that really mattered. "Where is the camp you rode out of, Hilderic?" she asked. "We've traveled long and hard. We aren't at the end of our tether, but we aren't far from it, either."

"It's not far, lady," Hilderic said. Then he stopped and blinked. The face of every traveler who understood the Bizogot language must have lit up. Hamnet Thyssen knew how happy he was. Hilderic went on, "The guesting will be good, too. The herds have done well through the summer and into fall."

"Lead on!" Trasamund boomed.

Hamnet soon found that something he already knew remained true- what a Bizogot meant by not far was different from what a Raumsdalian would have meant. But they did reach the encampment just before darkness fell. Hamnet wondered whether he'd ever seen anything more beautiful than those black mammoth-hide tents.

Bizogots swarmed out of the tents to greet the travelers. "Welcome back!" they shouted. "Welcome home!" It was home only to Trasamund and Liv, but none of the Raumsdalians complained or contradicted. These tents might not be home, but they came much closer than the endless expanse of wilderness the travelers had crossed.

The Bizogots slaughtered and butchered a plump young musk ox. Spit flooded into Hamnet Thyssen's mouth. Trasamund scooped out a handful of the raw brains and ate it, blood running down into his beard. Hamnet did the same. He'd learned to tolerate the Bizogot delicacy on his first trip up beyond the tree line, years earlier. On this trip, he'd learned to enjoy it. And he was hungry enough now to find it delicious beyond compare.

Ulric Skakki took some of the brains, too. "Always glad when my stomach is smarter than my head," he said.

"Mine is most of the time, I think," Hamnet said, licking his lips.

None of the other Raumsdalians wanted anything to do with raw brains, though Liv came up to eat some. Trasamund clapped Hamnet and Ulric on the back in turn-gingerly, for his hands were still sore. "By God, the two of you make pretty fair Bizogots," he said.

"Thank you, your Ferocity." Hamnet knew the jarl meant it for praise, and some of the highest praise he could give.

"Thank you so much, your Ferocity," Ulric Skakki said. If Trasamund listened to the words, he would find nothing wrong with them. If he listened closely to the tone, he would find he'd given praise Ulric didn't want.

For a mammoth-herder, Trasamund was a sophisticate. Beside Ulric Skakki, he might have been a child; the irony went over his head. He was frank as a child, too, for he went on, "Maybe not as good as the real thing, but pretty fair even so."

This wasn't the Three Tusk clan's main camp-that lay farther south. These Bizogots had followed their herd of musk oxen into the Gap. Most animals went south for the winter. Musk oxen, shielded against cold and blizzards by their long, shaggy hair and soft, thick underwool, could head the other way if they chose.

Even though this was only a small band of Bizogots-a couple dozen men, fewer women, a handful of children-Hamnet Thyssen felt as if he'd suddenly come into Nidaros after a long sojourn in his castle. Unfamiliar faces talked about unfamiliar things in unfamiliar voices. So much chatter almost made him want to flee the tents for the quiet and solitude of the frozen plain beyond them.

Roasting musk-ox meat sent up a delicious aroma. Count Hamnet's stomach growled like a short-faced bear. Even if he did feel slightly overwhelmed, he decided to stay around.

He didn't mind half-raw meat at all. He did mind waiting for it to cook all the way through. So did the other travelers. He overheard one Bizogot say to another, "I thought these folk from the south couldn't put it away like real people do. I guess I was wrong."

"I thought the same thing," the second Bizogot answered. "Only goes to show you shouldn't believe everything you hear, doesn't it?"

Eyvind Torfinn stared in mild astonishment at the pile of rib bones in front of him. "I never could have eaten like this before I set out from the Empire," he said. "Never, I tell you. Amazing what practice will do, isn't it?"

"Amazing what hunger will do, isn't it?" Ulric Skakki said. Hamnet Thyssen thought that came closer to hitting the mark, though what Earl Eyvind said also held some truth. Without practice, Hamnet didn't think he could have gorged himself like this. Without being hungrier than he ever got down in the Raumsdalian Empire, he wouldn't have wanted to.

The Bizogots passed around skins of smetyn to celebrate the travelers' return. The fermented mammoths milk tasted good to Hamnet, which only showed how long he'd been away from anything with a kick to it. It also mounted straight to his head, which showed the same thing.

Audun Gilli drank himself to sleep in short order. The Bizogots took such things in stride. They draped a mammoth hide over the sodden wizard and shoved him near the edge of the tent, where people were less likely to trip over him or step on him.

"Well, your Ferocity?" Hilderic said. "Tell us of the lands beyond the Glacier. Are there people there? Did you find the Golden Shrine?"

"There are people. There are indeed," Trasamund answered. He spoke of the Rulers, and of how they not only herded but rode mammoths. That made all the Bizogots buzz, as he must have known it would.

"Can we do that?" Three of them asked the same question at the same time.

"I don't see why not," the jarl said. "But we won't do it today, and we won't do it tomorrow, either. We'll have to figure out everything that goes into it, and we'll have to get the mammoths used to carrying men on their backs. The time will come, though, and I think it will come soon."

Gudrid and the Raumsdalian guardsmen who'd never learned the Bizogot tongue began to follow Audun Gilli's example. Hamnet Thyssen didn't suppose he could blame them-not in one sense, anyway. Listening to a language you couldn't follow had to be boring. But they'd traveled with Bizogots for months. They-and Audun-should have learned more than they did.

He glanced over to Liv. She'd waited longer than she might have to start learning Raumsdalian, too. But she was doing well with it now.

In the flames that came from butter-filled lamps, Hilderic's eyes glowed like a wild beast s. "If we learn this art, we'll ride roughshod over the rest of the Bizogots!" His fellow clansmen rumbled approval at the idea.

But Trasamund regretfully shook his head. "Once we learn this art, I fear we'll have to show it to the rest of the Bizogots."

"What? Why?" Hilderic demanded.

"Because the Rulers, God curse them, are full of greed," Trasamund said. "We see the opening of the Gap as a chance to go north, to see what lies beyond the Glacier. They see it as a chance to fare south, to lay hold of what lies below the Glacier."

"They can't do that!" Hilderic wasn't the only Bizogot to say that-far from it. Several of the big blond men shook their fists at the north.

"I hope they can't," Trasamund said. "But they have tricks we know nothing of yet. This mammoth-riding is bound to be but the beginning."

"The jarl speaks truly," Liv added. "One thing we saw while we were with them-their magic is strong, very strong, perhaps stronger than any we know ourselves. If the Raumsdalian shaman were awake, he would tell you the same."

"Still and all, they can be beaten," Hamnet Thyssen said. "His Ferocity proved as much."

A reminiscent smile spread across Trasamund's battered features. "Well, so I did," he said, and then waited till his people clamored for him to tell them more. He was indeed a sophisticate-for a Bizogot. He spoke of his battle with Parsh, finishing, "And after I beat him, the poor fool killed himself for shame."

"Killed himself? For what?" Hilderic said. "For shame, you say? What shame in losing a straight-up fight, as long as you gave your best? Did he?"

"He did." By the way Trasamund rubbed his chin, he had no doubt of that. He stopped smiling. "Oh, yes. He did."

"For shame of losing to a man not of the Rulers," Hamnet said.

"They are a serious folk, then, the Rulers." Hilderic sounded impressed in spite of himself. By the way several other Bizogots, both men and women, nodded, he'd put into words what they were thinking.

"They are a danger, a great danger," Liv said. "We would do well to put warriors at the narrowest part of the Gap, to make sure they cannot break through and come down into the richer country we mostly roam."

The Bizogots who hadn't traveled beyond the Glacier stared at her. So did Trasamund. "Meaning no offense, wise woman," he said, "but we of the Three Tusk clan have not the warriors to hold the Gap. Even if we sent all our men, I doubt we would have enough. And if we did that"-he chuckled as if humoring a madwoman-"who would tend the beasts?"

"Let everything be as you say, your Ferocity, but the Gap still needs to be held," Liv replied. "If we have not men enough to do it, let other clans send warriors to our aid. Let even the Raumsdalians send warriors to our aid, so long as we hold the Gap."

"Let other clans' warriors cross the land of the Three Tusk clan in arms?" That wasn't the jarl. It was Hilderic, horror in his voice. "Let the Emperor's warriors cross our land? By God, it cannot be!" Solemn nods from his clansmen said they agreed with him.

"I am one of the Emperor's warriors," Hamnet Thyssen said mildly. "You see others here beside you. What harm have we done?"

"He is right," Liv said. Trasamund's big head bobbed up and down.

But Hilderic said, "You are travelers. You aren't an army. While you're here, you obey the jarl. You don't follow the Emperor's orders. If an army came, it would come to hold us and conquer us and take our wealth away."

Count Hamnet almost burst into hysterical laughter. What wealth? He wondered. He had no idea how to say that without mortally offending not only Hilderic but also Trasamund and Liv. While he tried to find a way, Ulric Skakki beat him to the punch, saying, "No Raumsdalians would want to hold a land where trees won't grow." He put it more diplomatically than Hamnet could have.

"Ulric is likely right about the southerners," Trasamund said. "But I wouldn't care to let our own folk onto our grazing lands in arms. Who knows what they might do?"

"If we yield the Gap, if we don't fight there, we'll have to fight farther south-here, or in our very heartland." Liv sounded desperate. "We could put a stopper in the skin." A Raumsdalian would have spoken of a cork in the bottle, but it came to the same thing either way.

"What of the Golden Shrine?" another Bizogot said. "We asked about it before, but got no answer. Do the Rulers hold it?"

"They do not." Eyvind Torfinn spoke with assurance. "As far as I could tell, they know nothing of it. We did not find it, but it is safe. Believe me when I say this, for it is true."

"What does a foreigner know?" the Bizogot muttered.

"This foreigner knows more of the Golden Shrine than any Bizogot," Trasamund said before Earl Eyvind could even begin to speak for himself. "Don't argue with me, Wulfila, for I know what I'm talking about."

Wulfila bristled. Anyone who tried to tell a Bizogot what to do-even the jarl of that Bizogot’s clan-was taking his chances, if not taking his life in his own hands. But then Liv said, "Trasamund is right," and Wulfila subsided. If a shaman said a Raumsdalian knew a good deal about occult matters, how could an ordinary Bizogot quarrel with her? Oh, a fool might,, but Wulfila didn't seem a fool-not that kind of fool, anyhow.

"If I had to guess," Earl Eyvind said, "the Golden Shrine has ways to make sure that those who would trouble its tranquility have no chance to do so. I cannot prove this, not with the little I know now, but I believe it to be the case." He sounded like a scholar even while speaking the Bizogot language. In an abstract way, Hamnet Thyssen admired that; he'd never imagined such a thing was possible.

Wulfila seemed impressed, but he asked, "If that's so, how do you know the Golden Shrine wasn't hiding from you?" That it might hide from a Raumsdalian seemed natural to him, where he never would have dreamt it might conceal itself from one of his own folk.

Eyvind Torfinn looked quite humanly surprised. "I do not know that, not for a fact. I do not believe it is true, but neither do I know it is not."

Count Hamnet was surprised in turn, for that seemed to satisfy Wulfila. Voice gruff, the Bizogot said, "Well, you seem honest, anyhow. Who would have thought it, from a man of the south?"

Trasamund upended a skin full of smetyn. He belched enormously, which showed good manners among the Bizogots. Then he yawned enormously. "Let us speak of all this another time. For now, I do believe I will die if I don't crawl under a skin pretty soon."

None of the travelers-those who'd stayed awake that long-argued with him. The Bizogots had hides and blankets to spare. The weather was cold, but not as cold as it might have been. Plenty of covers could make the difference between life and death when the Breath of God blew its hardest. Now the mammoth-herders shared them out to their guests. Hamnet Thyssen was as glad to slide beneath one as any of the others-and even gladder when Liv slid under the same one.

Count Hamnet woke in darkness. Liv was draped over him, smooth and bare, one arm flung across his chest, one thigh over his leg. One of his hands rested on the small of her back. He moved it, just a little. She murmured something wordless. It sounded happy. He hoped it was.

How long since he'd wakened with a woman in his arms before Liv? He knew that, down to the very day-since the last time he'd awakened so with Gudrid. After that, he'd bedded women, yes, but he hadn't slept with them, not in the literal sense of the words. He hadn't wanted so much intimacy.

Now .. . Now he had to remind himself not to wake Liv, not to rouse her as he was roused himself. He might want her, but she wanted sleep, and she'd earned the right to it. If she woke by herself. . . But that was a different story. So he told himself, over and over again, and made himself hold her quietly. It wasn't easy.

Then, just when he was on the point of drifting off again, she did wake- in surprise, more surprise than he'd shown. "What?" she said, and then, a long beat later, "Oh. Hamnet."

"Yes," he said, as if the two of them lying naked and entwined was the most natural thing in the world. And why not? he wondered. Why not, by God?

She smiled against his shoulder. "That's good," she murmured.

"Yes," he said again. He might have been announcing magic grander than any the most talented wizard could hope to work. He might have been-and, as far as he was concerned, he was.

Feeling her warmth against him made most of his warmth concentrate in one spot. Liv could scarcely help noticing. She laughed softly. "You're ready? So soon?"

He said, "Yes," one more time, and he might have been announcing another miracle. Again, he thought he was. He hadn't been so eager, so avid, for a very long time. At his age, he hadn't thought he could be. Getting happily surprised made a pleasant novelty.

Had he ever been so avid? He likely had, back in the first days with Gudrid. His arms tightened around Liv. She laughed again, and kissed him, and then twisted, limber as an eel, and suddenly they weren't just entwined but joined. "Shhh," she whispered as they began to move. By the nature of things, the Bizogots often made love in a tent with others present. That was all right. Waking others up while you did it, though-that was rude.

Hamnet Thyssen tried to remember his manners. Afterwards, he thought he did well enough, right up till the moment when joy overwhelmed him. He didn't think Liv remembered very well then, either. Neither one of them was inclined to be critical. He sighed with regret when he slipped out of her. A moment later, his eyes slid shut and he was asleep again.

It was still dark when he next woke. If anything, he and Liv were even more tangled up than they had been before. He didn't pat her. lam a virtuous man, he told himself. I can resist small temptations. He hadn't tried-or wanted-to resist larger ones.

Other people were stirring now. Morning had to be close by, if so many were waking up. Liv came back to herself not long after Hamnet did. This time, she knew where she was, and with whom. She kissed him on the end of the nose. "We should dress," she said.

"Ah, too bad," Hamnet answered, which made her laugh.

They wriggled into their clothes under the hide. Anyone watching that from the outside might have guessed they were doing something else instead. No one seemed to be, though, and they weren't the only ones who'd celebrated returning to the Three Tusk clan. Trasamund hadn't always been perfectly quiet under his hide, either.

Roast meat left over from the night before broke their fast. The jarl left three or four of the weariest horses behind at the encampment, exchanging them for beasts his clansfolk had been using. "Sooner or later, we'll replace them all," he said, "but I don't want to leave a whole herd of screws up here. They might need sound horses."

"Sensible," Ulric Skakki whispered to Hamnet. "Who would have thought Trasamund had it in him?"

"Not fair. He's a good enough jarl-better than good enough," Hamnet said.

As if he hadn't spoken, Ulric went on, "Of course, by the noises last night, he had it in everything but the cat."

Ears heating (some of those noises might have been his), Count Hamnet said, "The Bizogots don't keep cats."

"That must be why he didn't, then," Ulric said blandly.

"Er-right."

Hamnet didn't have one of the fresh horses, but even the animal he was riding seemed glad of the longer than usual rest it had got the night before. The travelers hadn't been riding for more than a couple of hours before they came upon a herd of mammoths, with a couple of Bizogots steering it toward the best foraging. Trasamund shouted back and forth with the herders. He eyed the mammoths in a way he hadn't before. "How would you climb up on their backs without making them want to squash you flat?" he murmured.

"Personally, I wouldn't," Hamnet Thyssen said quietly. Laughing, Ulric Skakki nodded.

But Trasamund, with the thought in his mind, didn't want to turn loose of it. "How would you?" he repeated. "Do you suppose it takes magic, Liv? Do the Rulers spell their mammoths into quiet so they can mount them?"

"I don't know, your Ferocity," she answered. "I saw no sign of that, but I can't prove anything."

"I want to try it." Trasamund seemed ready to jump off his horse-he rode one of the fresh ones-and onto the back of the closest mammoth.

"This is perhaps not the ideal time for experimentation," Eyvind Torfinn said. "We have news to deliver, important news, and your untimely demise would assist only the raiders from beyond the Glacier."

"What untimely demise?" the jarl demanded indignantly. "Nothing would happen to me."

One of the mammoths swung up its trunk and let out a sound that reminded Hamnet Thyssen of a blaring bugle filled with spit. It also made him wonder if the enormous beast was giving Trasamund the horse laugh.

A glance at Ulric Skakki's raised eyebrow made him suspect the adventurer was thinking the same thing. "There's a time and a place for everything, your Ferocity," Hamnet said. "This probably isn't the time to try riding mammoths."

Trasamund glared at him. To the Bizogots, the time to do something was the time when you thought of doing it. But the jarl, unlike most of his countrymen, had gone down to the Empire and at least understood the idea of waiting, even if he didn't much care for it. "All right," he said grudgingly. "All right. It will keep, I suppose." He let out a martyred sigh that filled the air in front of him with fog. If he was going to pass up the opportunity, he wanted everyone around him to recognize what a fine fellow he was for doing it.

When the Bizogot herdsmen learned that the Rulers rode mammoths, they too were wild to try it for themselves. They weren't going anywhere important; they had nothing to do but guide the beasts in their charge. If they wanted to clamber aboard one of those beasts, they could … as long as the mammoth let them.

"I wonder if they're going to do something they'll regret," Ulric said.

"Well, if it goes wrong, they won't regret it long," Hamnet answered.

"A point. A distinct point," Ulric said. "But look at them. They think they'll be mammoth-lancers by the time the Rulers come through the Gap."

"The Rulers shouldn't come through the Gap-Liv's dead right about that," Hamnet said. "We ought to be able to stop them right there if they try."

"We ought to be able to do all kinds of things," Ulric Skakki said. "What we will do . . ."

Count Hamnet wished he hadn't put it like that. Plainly, the Bizogots and Raumsdalians wouldn't be able to do some things, no matter how obvious it seemed that they should. Trasamund's clansmen hated the idea of letting other Bizogots, let alone warriors from the Empire, cross their land even to fight the Rulers. Every other Bizogot clan would probably be just as unhappy to let its neighbors cross its grazing grounds. As for the Empire . . . Who could say whether the Empire would take the idea of a threat from beyond the Glacier seriously at all?

"We may have made the greatest journey in the history of the world for nothing, you know," Hamnet Thyssen said.

"Yes, that occurred to me." Ulric Skakki sounded surprised it had taken so long to occur to Hamnet. Then he glanced over toward Liv and smiled a little. "But you wouldn't say it was for nothing any which way, would you?"

"For myself? No," Hamnet answered. "I was talking about things bigger than any one person's affairs." He waited for Ulric to make some lewd pun on that.

The adventurer didn't. Instead, he asked, "How many people ever think past their day-to-day affairs?" And he answered his own question. "Not many, by God."

"Some do," Hamnet said. "Some have to, in the Empire. If they didn't, we'd be as barbarous as the Bizogots."

"Do you think we're not?" Before Count Hamnet could respond to that, Ulric Skakki held up a hand. "Never mind, never mind. I know what you're saying. But people like that are thinner on the ground than you think, your Grace. Not everyone comes with your sense of duty nailed inside his chest."

"You make it sound so wonderful," Hamnet Thyssen said.

"Oh, it is, it is." Ulric smiled a crooked smile that showed a great many sharp teeth. "If you don't believe me, ask Gudrid."

For a red moment, Count Hamnet wanted to kill him. Then, grudgingly, he nodded, saying, "You have a nasty way of making your points."

"Why, thank you," Ulric Skakki said with another carnivorous smile. Hamnet had no answer for that at all.

When the travelers found the Three Tusk clan's main encampment, everyone celebrated-everyone but Hamnet Thyssen, For him, it seemed more an end than a beginning, and an end he didn't want.

The smile on Liv's face flayed him. "This is my home," she said, and the words cut like flensing knives. "How I've missed these tents!" she went on, carving another chunk from his happiness. He wasn't used to being happy. Back before he was, he would have borne up under anything. Now . ..

"Would you like to see Raumsdalia?" he asked, and worked with his tongue to free a chunk of musk-ox meat caught between two back teeth.

She looked surprised. "I hadn't even thought of that. I hadn't thought of anything past coming back to the tents of my clan."

Ulric Skakki knew what he was talking about, sure enough, Hamnet thought. "I don't want to leave you," he said. "I… hoped you didn't want to leave me."

"I don't," Liv said, and peered at the dung fire over which the meat cooked. "No, I don't. But I don't think I can turn into a Raumsdalian, either."

"No more can I make myself into a Bizogot," Hamnet Thyssen said.

"Are you sure?" Liv asked. "You would be an ornament to my folk, an ornament to my clan. You are strong and brave and wise-and a man, as I should know." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "What holds you to the Empire?"

"Loyalty," he said at once. "I must go down to Nidaros and let the Emperor know what I have seen, what I have done, and what I think we need to do in times to come."

Liv gave him a nod that was almost a bow. "Your answer does you honor. But once you've shown your loyalty, why not come north again and lead the free life of the tents with me? What would you be losing?"

Hamnet had never thought of himself as a man who set much store by material things. But things were what sprang to mind when he asked himself why he didn't want to live the mammoth-herders' life for the rest of his days. Books. Beds. Linen. Bread. Ale. Beer. Wine. Mead. Even the language he'd known from his cradle was a thing ot sorts. He could get along in the Bizogot tongue-he could, indeed, do better than get along-but it wasn't his, and never would be. He laughed a little when he thought of tobacco. It was Ulric's vice, not his; he'd smoked only enough to convince himself he didn't want more. But the herb came up to Raumsdalia from the south, and it hardly ever came any farther north. The only Bizogots who used it were men who'd learned the habit in the Empire. But never having the chance to smoke again . . . That seemed a bigger thing.

How much would he miss the society of his fellow Raumsdalians? Not much, not most of the time; he was honest enough to own up to that. But, most of the time, he stayed in his castle, and his countrymen had the courtesy to leave him the demon alone. Escaping the Bizogots if he came north to live would be much harder. It might well prove impossible. For all the vast plains they roamed, the barbarians lived in clumps and knots of people, especially in winter. If they were going to survive, they had to. Hamnet Thyssen imagined himself cooped up with a tentful of nomads for months on end. The picture didn't want to form. The more he thought about it, the less that surprised him.

He sighed. "You have your place; I have mine. Maybe you wouldn't fit in mine. I don't know if that's so, but I can see how it might be. But I'm sure I would never make a Bizogot. I need to be by myself too much."

He wondered if that would make any sense to her. To his relief, and a little to his surprise, she nodded at once. "Yes, I saw as much when we traveled," she said. "Few Bizogots have such a need. Is it common in your folk?"

"Not very," Hamnet admitted. Liv nodded again; all the other Raumsdalians up here, even hapless Audun Gilli and scholarly Eyvind Torfinn, were more outgoing than he. He continued, "But what others of my folk feel is not the problem. What I feel is."

"You seem to want my company." Liv didn't mean only that he wanted to sleep with her, though that was in her voice, too.

And now Hamnet Thyssen nodded. "I do," he said. "Aside from that"- he wasn't going to deny it was there; he hardly could, things being as they were-"I like talking with you. And one of the reasons I like talking with you is that you don't feel as if you have to talk all the time. You . .." He groped for words. "You keep quiet in a pleasant tone of voice."

He waited. That would have said what he wanted to say in Raumsdalian. He wasn't so sure it did in the Bizogot language. When Liv smiled, so did he, in relief. "I thank you," she said. "I'm not sure I ever got higher praise."

Now Hamnet wasn't sure whether she was sincere or sarcastic. "I meant it for such."

She smiled again. "I know you did. Bizogots do live in each other's pockets, don't we? We can't help it, you know. If we didn't help each other all the time, if we didn't stay close so we could help each other, we couldn't live up here at all."

"No, I suppose not," Hamnet said. "Now I've seen how you live. Don't you want to come down to the Empire and find out what life is like there? You wouldn't have to stay. I don't think I'll stay forever myself." He drummed his fingers on the outside of his thigh. "I don't think the Rulers will let me peacefully stay there."

Liv bit her lip. "Part of me would like to, but… I don't know. It's a far country, far away and very strange."

"You went through the Gap. You went beyond the Glacier." Hamnet gestured toward the towering ice mountains that shaped the northern horizon. "After that, what is the journey to the Empire? A stroll, a nothing. The way south gets easier, not harder."

She shook her head. "The travel might not be hard. The travel probably isn't hard. But when I went beyond the Glacier, I was still myself. What would I be when I came to the Empire? Nothing but a barbarian." She spoke the last word in the Raumsdalian she was slowly learning.

"If anyone calls you a barbarian, turn him into a lemming," Hamnet Thyssen said. "That will teach the next fool to mind his manners. Or if it doesn't, he's a big enough fool to deserve being a lemming."

"You don't understand." Liv sounded almost desperate. "Chances are no one will call me a barbarian to my face. You people don't come out and say the things you think the way we do. But you think them whether you say them or not-and what can I do about that?"

Count Hamnet grunted. She wasn't wrong. Raumsdalians did think Bizogots were barbarians. He thought so himself. He had good reasons for thinking so. He also had good reasons for making exceptions now and again-as with this shaman with tears standing in her eyes. Would his countrymen make those kinds of exceptions? He feared not.

And what he feared must have shown on his face, for Liv said, "You see? It would be the way I told you." She started to turn away, then looked back at him in angry defiance. "Give me one good reason why I should go down to the Empire. A good reason, I tell you."

She was afraid. He could see that, but for a moment he could find no reasons anyhow, not reasons of the kind she meant. Then he did-and in finding one he discovered Liv was not the only one who could be afraid on this cold autumn morning. If he told her what the reason was .. . But he would lose her if he didn't. He could see that.

Even so, his heard pounded like a kettledrum in his chest as he answered, "Because I love you."

Her eyes widened. Maybe she had some small idea of how hard that was for him to say. She couldn't possibly know all of it, not unless she knew everything about him and Gudrid. Even not knowing everything, she said, "You look as if that was harder than going into battle."

"Maybe it was," Hamnet said.

"How could it be?"

"In a battle, all they can do is kill you. If you love someone and it goes wrong, you spend years wishing you were dead." Hamnet knew how true that was.

"You mean it," Liv said, wonder in her voice.

"I usually mean what I say," he answered. "I meant what I said when I told you I loved you, too. And I meant what I said when I told you I wanted you to come down to the Empire with me. Will you?"

"I don't know," she said, which made him want to shout in frustration. He made himself keep quiet; if he pushed too hard, he would push her away. He could feel that. Instead of pushing, he waited. Slowly, she went on, "But I don't see how I can say no, not with things the way they are, not when I love you, too."

"Ah," he said-a small sound, one that didn't come close to showing how his heart exploded in rainbow delight.

Liv's nod was altogether serious. "Yes," she said. "I do. And because I do, it seems only right I should go south. You've seen how Bizogots live, I should at least see your way, too." She made it sound only reasonable. Hamnet was much too glad to care how it sounded.