East

Rose

AFTER ARRIVING IN NEYAK and being greeted by Malmo, I went to look for Thor. I found him working on his ship. He was assisted by two friendly young Inuit men, to whom he had taught all his favorite drinking songs.

An older handsome Inuit woman brought a substantial meal at midday, which they shared with me, and I thought I detected a shy sort of understanding between Thor and the woman.

He told me quite frankly that after I had left, he drank up every drop of ale remaining on the broken-down knorr, but that he hadn't had anything stronger than reindeer milk since. Initially he got quite sick, he said, his body not being used to an ale-free diet, but the people who had become his friends—especially the handsome woman, whose name was Rekko—had taken him in and seen him through the sickness.

"I've gotten used to it here," he said gruffly. "Think I'll stick around. And once I get the knorr fixed up, I might even start a small trading business, between Grönland and Iseland. Should keep me out of trouble. For a while anyway," he added with a grin.

I told Thor about Gest, that he had survived the storm (it was information from Gest that had led Neddy and Father to Grönland), and Thor was amazed.

"By Odin, I'd never have thought it possible! Well, that'll be my first voyage, then. Find the old scoundrel and see if he fancies going into business together."

I smiled.

I brought the white bear to meet Thor, and for some reason they took to each other right away. Maybe because both men had been lost for so long, Thor understood him better than any of us. The white bear even pitched in to help fix Thor's ship. He had never done work of that kind before, but he was strong and a quick learner, and it was clear he was glad of something to do.

It was an odd time, our short stay in Neyak. Father, Neddy, Soren, and I were preoccupied with figuring out what to do about the people we had taken away from Niflheim. There were seventeen survivors, and they were from all over the world. The two Njorden were the simplest to sort out, because they could tell us exactly where they had lived. And the same was true of the three from Fransk. But the others were more complicated. Malmo helped with the different languages, and the maps Father had with him were useful as well, but there were two whom we simply could not figure out. One was the young woman who had been on the sleigh with me when I had first gone to the ice palace, and the other was an older woman with flame-colored hair. These two, we decided, would simply come home with us (and they both were quite pleased with the arrangement), while we would make every effort to return the rest to their original homes.

Soren suggested that once we got to Suroy, the first big port in our southward journey, it wouldn't be too difficult to find each a passage to his or her home. And he was willing to pay all expenses. I saw then just how immensely generous Soren was, and I understood how lucky our family had been to meet up with him.

I did not know how those returning home would explain their disappearance. Who would believe the true story? Even the crew of Soren's ship—those who had seen us emerge from Tatke Fjord, a motley group in animal-skin coats speaking a wide array of languages and accompanied by some rather extraordinary reindeer—even they had difficulty believing our tale.

At least, I thought, those seventeen people would most likely have homes of some kind to return to. And unlike the white bear, they knew their names.