“Or so we thought,” Pindor added.
Marika continued. “Twenty years later, rumors began to come out of the deep jungle of twisted beasts—like the grakyl you saw. One was caught and brought here. The Magisters examined it and recognized the evil alchemy of Kalverum Rex. They believed he’d built a stronghold among the crags of the Spine, the mountains that lie beyond Fireweed Swamp. Over the years, hunters and scouts have vanished, while others who come back from the edge of the swamp tell stories of great columns of foul smoke rising from the snowy crags of the Spine.”
“So he’s still out there,” Jake said.
“And growing stronger,” Marika finished. “For the past few years, his horrid beasts have been ranging farther afield. All the way to our very borders.”
Jake pictured the grakyl pinned at the Gate, held back by whatever force protected this valley.
“And this bloodstone?” he asked, thinking of the arrowhead. “What exactly is it?”
“No one truly knows. After the fire at the tower, it was forbidden to dabble into that dark alchemy. You’d best ask my father—”
A shout cut her off. “Ho! Look, it’s Heron’s little brother!”
Jake turned and spotted a group of older boys across the courtyard. They were sitting on a corral fence. Behind them, some Othneilia mounts were being saddled.
“Still afraid of lizards, are you, Pin?” one of them called out.
Another leaned toward his companion. “Hard to believe that’s Heron’s brother. Too scared to even fit a sandal in a stirrup.”
Pindor’s face turned a deep scarlet. Marika touched her friend on the elbow, but he roughly pulled away. Pindor stalked toward the castle gates, leaving Jake and Marika to follow.
“What was that all about?” Jake asked softly.
“Pindor wanted to join the Saddlebacks who patrol the city, like his brother and father before him.” Marika shook her head sadly. “It didn’t go well. He panicked while trying to climb onto a mount. Everyone was there. Even his father. Now he’ll have to wait until next year.”
“What happened?”
“Pin…well, he can be skittish around the bigger beasts. See that limp in his left leg? His father’s old mount—a real ornery fleetback—broke Pin’s shinbone when he was five years old. He had wandered into its stall to offer it a handful of sweetstalk. No one was paying attention.”
Jake stared at Pindor’s back. He walked stiffly, but looked like he wanted to break into a run toward the gates, to get out of sight of the young riders in the practice yard.
“Word of his humiliation spread…and grew larger with each telling,” Marika said. “If Pin hadn’t been Elder Tiberius’s son, it might not have been so ripe a story. People can be so cruel. It was one of the reasons we went beyond the Broken Gate—when we found you and your sister.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we could have returned with a piece of a thunder lizard’s shell—or even better an egg!—it would’ve proven Pin’s bravery and stopped the stories. Perhaps even allowed him a second chance to become a Saddleback.”
They reached the gates and followed Pindor out into the main street. He finally slowed and allowed them to catch up. He stared down at his toes as he continued sullenly through the streets.
Jake strode next to him. He didn’t know what to say, but he certainly knew how Pindor felt.
The Roman sniffed and kept his voice low. “Back yesterday, with that thunder lizard—you chased the beast off with that flute of yours.”
“It’s a whistle actually.” Jake reached and pulled the steel tube out of his pocket. He offered it for Pindor to examine. The boy took the whistle with a longing look in his eye.
“It blows a note that we can’t hear,” Jake explained, “but some animals can. Why don’t you keep it for a while?”
Pindor stared down at the whistle. “Truly?”
“Sure.” Jake shrugged, figuring Pindor could use something to cheer him up.
Pindor’s fingers closed over the gift. “And this can be used to control beasts of the fields?”
“I don’t know about that, but it definitely gets their attention. And with practice, it can certainly be a good training tool.”
Pindor nodded. The pain in his eyes had softened to wonder. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and continued down the road with a lighter step.
Marika stepped next to Jake and smiled over at him.
“What?” Jake asked.
She turned away, then glanced back out of the corner of her eye at Jake. Her lips danced with a grin.
“What?” he asked again.
“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
The Viking hall of Bornholm rose ahead, like a warship forging across the rooftops of Calypsos. The top half of the building had clearly once been the bow of an ancient ship. A prominent wooden prow, carved into the shape of fanged sea monster, jutted out over the street. Below it were doors built of heavy timber, perhaps salvaged from the ship itself.
Pindor grabbed an iron knocker shaped like a wolf’s head and pounded it firmly.
A tiny barred grate opened in the door. “Who wishes entry to Bornholm?”
“I…” Pindor cleared his throat because his voice had come out like a scared squeak. He tried again, deepening his voice. “I come upon the orders of Magister Balam. With the newcomer Jacob Ransom. To visit his sister.”
A moment later, one half of the double door was pulled open. A tall blond woman stepped into view and sized up Bornholm’s new guests. From the deep crinkle between her brows, she must not have liked what she saw. “Come in,” she said brusquely.
Past the doors, a raftered hall spread all the way to the back of the building, where another set of double doors led out to a sunny courtyard. As Jake entered, he was surprised by the cavernous space. Iron chandeliers shaped like deer antlers glowed with chunks of white crystals. They helped illuminate a painted mural on the wall opposite the fireplace. A ship rode the whitecapped waves of a stormy sea, with its square sails puffed out and oars poking from its sides.
Their guide noted Jake’s attention. “The Valkyrie,” she said, kissing her fingertips and touching the ship as she passed.
It was plainly the name of the boat. But Jake also recognized the name from Norse mythology. “The Valkyrie? Weren’t they female warriors? The shieldmaidens of Odin?”