There was utter silence once Tamak had finished his tale. The rush lights were dim, casting long shadows against the walls of the longhouse. No one spoke for the longest time, then Rorik, the lord of Hawkfell Island, rose and stretched, and told Tamak that he would remain for so long as he wished. He thanked him, and gave to him a magnificent silver arm bracelet won on a raid many years before near Kiev by Lord Rorik’s father. There was a smile in Lord Rorik’s amazing blue eyes—as vibrant as the light blue of the queen’s eyes, perhaps, which was surely odd—and a bigger smile on his mouth. He turned from Tamak then, kissed his wife’s fingers, then bade good night to all his people. A huge mongrel followed the lord and lady from the outer hall.
Tamak drank more mead to soothe the burning in his throat. Even though the hours had passed quickly and the words had flown easily from his mouth, the kennings smooth and precise, just to his liking, there was pain now and many hours of rest needed to come.
He wondered as he fell into sleep, listening to the snuffling of the goats too close to his sleeve for his liking, what King Sitric had meant when he’d said to Tamak, “After you have recounted this miracle to the lord and lady of Hawkfell Island, I wish you to return and tell me exactly what they said.”
They’d said nothing, Tamak thought, just thanked him, said nothing more. There had been that smile on the lord’s mouth. The lady’s eyes had been downcast. Had he seen amusement in the lord’s eyes? Had he possibly heard the lady giggle? Surely not. There was no reason for her to giggle. He imagined he would never know what they’d thought of his miraculous tale, for the lord of Hawkfell Island did not seem a man to blurt out his thoughts or speak an incautious word.
Tamak fell asleep finally, his throat soothed from the sweet mead, dreaming of the beautiful silver hair of the queen, a beautiful lady, indeed, but one whose temper wasn’t perhaps all that gracious and tranquil all the time, but no matter, and of the sweet smile of the woman Entti who’d given him the mead.
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