Isgrimnur looked uncomfortable. “We will treat her with respect, you have my word. But yes, she must surrender to us along with her advisors. Your queen is no innocent. She was a great force behind the Storm King’s wrongful war on our people and lands.”

Viyeki was as shocked as the rest. He had been curious what the mortals intended to gain from this seemingly pointless meeting, but not in his wildest imaginings had he thought they would ask for the queen to be handed over. He felt as though he were on fire inside, and when Suno’ku raised her hand to forbid Yayano more angry questions, he was relieved. Now the general would curse the mortals and refuse them, then he and the others would return to the mountain so they could all prepare to die in a way that was fitting. If that was all they had left, the decision of how to make a proper end to the great song of their race, it was still better than surrender to this pack of hairy animals.

But to Viyeki’s astonishment, Suno’ku merely said, “If you are finished, we will take your words to our leaders. You will have our reply by dawn tomorrow.” She turned on her heel and began to march back toward the gates. Viyeki fell in behind her with the rest of the legates, so stunned that his thoughts seemed barren, like a high mountain pass scoured by gale winds.

As the mountain’s face loomed above them, Suno’ku abruptly stopped. The salley-gate was opening, but at her sharp order the guards inside let it grind to a halt.

“Wait for me there,” she told Viyeki and the others. “I have one last word for the duke.”

“Do not throw yourself away,” said Yayano. He looked to Nijika, legate from the Order of Song, but it was impossible to tell from her expression whether the tattooed Singer agreed or disagreed with him.

Viyeki felt the ominous mood drop over him again like a chilly fog. “Stay with us, General,” he begged. “There is nothing to dispute. Their surrender terms are no terms at all.”

“I did not ask you, Builder,” Suno’ku said, not even glancing in his direction. “You have the words to take back to our masters. Those shameful words.” Her face was like something carved on an old temple, the expression something that no one alive could read and properly understand. “I have now fulfilled my task, and thus am no longer a legate.”

“But, General . . . !” Viyeki began.

“Silence.” She fixed him with a stare so hard and cold that it almost made him stagger. “Go back to your drawings and tools, although they will avail you little. Mere stones cannot save us now.” And so saying, she left them in the shadow of the gate and marched toward the mortals.

Duke Isgrimnur and his men had turned away to return to their lines, but a cry of warning from one of the guards made them face around. Viyeki could see the duke talking angrily to his men as he tried to get free of them and turn back to meet Suno’ku.

Here is the flaw in the stone, Viyeki thought with sudden apprehension but could not say why. All he knew was that in that instant, as he watched the two walk toward each other, the slender Hikeda’ya and the broad, shaggy mortal, he felt he stood before a weak place in the world and time, a flaw that had been there for countless years but had only now worked its way to the surface. He did not know precisely what had come before or what would come after, but he knew nothing would be the same. Without thinking, he took a few steps after Suno’ku, but the other legates grabbed at him and held him back.

“Damn you, Sludig, I love you like a son, but if you lay your hand on me again you will lose it.”

“My lord, Duke Isgrimnur, please—”

“By Heaven’s bloody hammer, I will speak to her!” Isgrimnur knew it was what his young king and queen back in Erkynland would want. And even though he had to swallow his own hatred to do it, he knew that it was what his God wanted, too, or his faith was all sham.

He turned to face the Norn warrior. Even as a trickle of fear made its way through his innards, he could not help admiring her. Her walk was purposefully martial, yet her every movement was that of a sleek predator, a cat or wolf. The duke was twice her size, but Isgrimnur had seen the Norns fight hand to hand, and he knew that if it abruptly came to blows, he would be hard-pressed to keep himself alive until his men could help him.

“I wait for you, General,” he called. “Do you think to kill me? I warn you, Jarl Vigri is small but his heart is that of a giant’s. It is also full of hate for your people. And there are others of my nobles I could not even bring to the parley because I could not trust their fury.”

“I do not come to kill you, Duke Isgrimnur.” She stopped in front of him. “I come to tell you something you should know. The Hikeda’ya will never surrender either our mountain or our queen. Never.”

“Then why the hurry to inform me? Tomorrow at dawn would be soon enough. Our task will still be the same.”

The fairy woman stared at him for long moments. Isgrimnur did his best to hold her eye calmly, marveling that he should have to steady his knees in the face of a slender woman more than a head shorter than himself.

“I think your kind are little better than animals,” she said at last, “But I think you are an honest mortal. That does not mean I would not happily kill you and tie your head to my saddle by that bristling beard.”

“Of course not. Is that why you returned—to flatter me?”

She smirked—it could be called nothing else. The duke had never seen a Norn smile. It was an unsettling experience.

“I said before that you do not understand us. I will tell you once more, and then the Garden itself will witness I have behaved honorably. We will not surrender, mortal. Even if you batter down our ancient gates and bring all your numbers into our mountain, still we will not surrender. You said that the women and children could flee, but you understand nothing about us. Not even the lowliest caste-servants or slaves will give in, even if you kill every Sacrifice.” She pointed toward the mountain. “Those Hikeda’ya you dismiss as mere women and children will lie in wait for your warriors in every dark place of our home, at every bend in every tunnel, with stones and sharp sticks. And eventually there will come a moment desperate enough that the Order of Singers will call up some of the older, darker inhabitants of our mountain. Those of your brutes who are not slaughtered will stumble in waking nightmare through the dark places until they die. You cannot conceive of the terrors you will face, Duke of Elvritshalla. Victory? That is no word for what the survivors of your army will take away from Nakkiga—those few who escape. Madness will be their reward. Madness and death.”

Something rumbled as she finished. Isgrimnur looked up at the sky, but the low gray firmament was so full of darkly knotted clouds that the thunder might have come from any direction.

“I thank you for your honesty, General. I will not make the mistake of calling you ‘Lady’ again.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But do not mistake my troops, either. They are fierce fighters all, hard men. They have faced your kind many times already and do not fear them. And they have many losses to avenge.”

Suno’ku looked at him again. The duke thought he could see something moving behind the bland face, a hint of what almost looked like surprise.

“Losses?” she said, her voice cold as the sky. “Losses, you say? I saw a hundred of my best Sacrifices die before my eyes at Asu’a. I saw my foreparent, our greatest general, pulled down and swarmed by your rabble. I found his body in pieces.”

“Asu’a. You mean the Hayholt.” Isgrimnur fought down his own anger. “My son and heir died there at your people’s hands. My son. And Thane Brindur’s son was burned alive by your troops only a short time ago, remember? We could hear his screams all over the battlefield.” The sky rumbled again, and this time even the ground seemed to shudder. Isgrimnur wondered if the Norns were working some foul new weather-magic. Was he being stalled? What other reason could this hard-faced killer have to trade words with him after their business was plainly finished?