Éire’s Captive Moon (44 page)

By Odin’s lost eye, the
kvinn medisin
was going to be his death. Why had the woman followed him? He’d understood the alarm and the upheaval because she was treating him. The fear in the air had been something he could have smelled. And the word she’d used had reminded him of his own word for “sail.” As he bolted from the healing room, he’d heard the word (
a fear aduaidh
) A-far-adooie, which was what the islanders called his people.

I may not remember what happened yesterday, but I do remember how I got here!
Determined to find answers, to find people he knew and a tongue he could understand, by the gods, he made his way from the flurry and out into the quieter countryside. A quick glance to the skies had shown him the direction he’d needed to go, and he drew on older memories— memories he had retained—to guide him to where he knew the
skipniu
would be waiting.
 

What was the matter? Why was his mind like a net trying to hold water?
 

Seeing his own blood had persuaded him to return with the blue-eyed medicine woman. That, and the idea that if he’d returned to the place where he knew the longships would be, though there was no guarantee he’d be able to talk to them. Something about leaving this place sent up a signal fire within him.

He didn’t know why he wanted to stay, but he did. As he glanced at the woman next to him, he wondered if this pull to her was his
wyrd
. He’d thought he’d met his
wyrd
before. She was a woman from this island.
 
Perhaps Loki the trickster had been toying with him.

“
Heill!
”

It was strange hearing his own tongue after not doing so for who knew how long. There, just over the rise of land, were Tuirgeis and Geirmundr Kingson.

“Cowan?” the black-haired said. It was a name that Agnarr recognized.
 
Pain edged her tone, though, and Agnarr checked to see if she’d hurt herself with her tiny knife. More sharp sounds, demanding but worried, came from her, and Agnarr was relieved that Tuirgeis was at his apparent ease.
 

He lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but still he couldn’t get the words from his mind to his mouth. Ei-lean glanced up at him, her lips set into thin lines. Then she said something to the berserker who said something to Tuirgeis in what sounded like another tongue Agnarr could remember hearing a lot of, once.

“I heard you were injured,” Tuirgeis said and stepped closer to grip his forearm.
 

Agnarr nodded, returning the gesture of greeting before pointing to his mouth. He hoped his fear didn’t show in his eyes.
 

“Agnarr?”
 

“My fostering daughter, Ei-lean, says that Agnarr cannot speak,” she said in the tone she’d used with him back in the healing room. The berserker translated.
 

Relief such as Agnarr could not remember feeling in a long time flooded his body, making his eyes water. Words said on his behalf in a language he could understand! He nodded in full agreement and winced when the inevitable pain tried to split his skull. But he’d needed to acknowledge that what Kingson had translated was correct.

“Agnarr?” the
kvinn medisin
 
said, and she’d accented his name oddly, perhaps, but he welcomed hearing it in her voice nevertheless.
 

He turned to her, grateful for what she’d done and wanting to thank her, even if he had no words. Pressing his hand to his chest, he bowed to her and tried to convey his gratitude. When he unbent to his full height, he hoped she might have a smile for him.
 

Instead, her brows were drawn, her face white, her expression furious.
 
“Agnarr? Agnarr
Halvardson
?” Fire flashed in her eyes, words tumbled from her, but he understood none of them save “Cowan” and “Charis.”

Then he fully realized who she was. Cowan had introduced her as his foster
daughter
. So she was
Eir’s
foster daughter.
 

Ei-lean knew, then, who
he
was.
 

And she hated him.