“Now – what I saw,” Liv said in tones that brooked no argument. Hamnet Thyssen saluted her with clenched fist over his heart, as if she were a Raumsdalian general. He wasn’t sure she understood precisely the honor he was giving her, but she did understand it was an honor. With a smile aimed his way, she went on, “The Rulers muster for war. They have a host of mammoths and those riding deer they used gathered together at the place we call the Four Breasts.”

“Yes, you said so as you, uh, flew,” Hamnet reminded her. He wondered how she’d recognized it before the thaw set in and exposed the landscape beneath the blanket of snow. He supposed Bizogots marveled that Raumsdalians could find their way through Nidaros’ winding streets and alleys. All what you’re used to, he thought.

“The Four Breasts aren’t far north of the Red Dire Wolves’ grazing grounds,” Liv said. To Hamnet and Audun, she added, “We went almost that far before we found out the Rulers had set on the Three Tusk clan. So it seems likely they plan to come south, and the Red Dire Wolves stand in their way.”

“What’s that?” Odovacar asked. Liv repeated it louder, then louder still. At last, the shaman nodded, though Count Hamnet still wasn’t sure he understood.

“How many warriors do the Rulers have?” Hamnet asked. “A Bizogot clan’s worth? Three? Ten? Could you tell?”

Liv frowned. “I’m not sure, not when you put it like that. They had many mammoths and many deer – more, I think, than we could keep in one place for very long.”

“Did they have men there, too, to move straight to the attack?” Hamnet persisted.

“Some, at least,” Liv replied. “I’m not sure how many. Their magic tried to keep me from seeing anything at all, but it failed, it failed. That is my land, and it knew me.” Pride filled her voice, and with reason – she’d defied the enemy and got away with it.

“What do we do now?” Audun Gilli asked.

“Talk to Totila.” That wasn’t Liv – it was Odovacar. Somehow or other, he’d understood Audun just fine. And he seemed to have found the right answer, too.

The jarl ofthe Red Dire Wolves plucked at his graying beard. “They muster in great numbers, you say?” Totila asked Liv.

“They do, Your Ferocity,” she said.

“We have no great numbers here. How could we?” Totila said. “The Red Dire Wolves are what we are – one clan. We also have some of your Three Tusk Bizogots, but not many – and even those we have trouble feeding.

How can we hope to stand against a great host of foes, with strong magic? Would we not be wiser to move aside and let these enemies pass through?”

“This is a coward’s counsel!” Trasamund cried.

Totila eyed him. “You are in a poor position to tell me what is best for my clan when you think on what happened to yours.”

Trasamund turned red. “We were taken unawares. We would not have been if I were with the clansfolk and not down in the Empire.”

“And whose fault was that? Did someone steal you and drag you down to Nidaros?” Totila could be as sarcastic as a Raumsdalian.

To Hamnet Thyssen’s mind, though, the Red Dire Wolves’ jarl asked the wrong question. The right one was, Even if you were there, even if the Three Tusk Bizogots were alert, how much difference would it have made? Hamnet feared he knew the answer, which wouldn’t have gladdened Trasamund’s heart. Not much. Not much at all.

“I was trying to get help for us,” Trasamund said. “I did my best to bring the Bizogots together and warn them there was danger coming down out of the north. We stopped here on our way to the southlands, by God. Did you want to listen?” He laughed. “Not likely!”

“Well, who would have listened to a mad, wild tale like the one you were spinning?” Totila retorted. “I thought you were lying through your teeth. Anybody else in his right mind would have, too.”

“And he would have been wrong, and he would have paid for it,” Trasamund said. “And you were wrong, and you are wrong, and you cursed well will pay for it. So what the demon is being in your right mind worth?”

They scowled at each other. They both squared off into positions from which they could easily grab for their swords. With Bizogots, quarrels often ended in blood, not words. A fight here, though, would throw the Red Dire Wolves against what was left of the Three Tusk Bizogots and the Raums-dalians who’d ridden north to help them. Neither Trasamund nor Totila seemed to care.

“Have they both gone crazy?” Ulric Skakki whispered to Count Hamnet. “Crazier, I mean? They sure act like it.”

“They do,” Hamnet agreed. Then he raised his voice to a shout: “Hold, both of you! I can tell this is the Rulers’ deviltry, not your own will. This is one of the things they try to do. They pit our leaders against each other, and then swarm through after our quarrels leave no one who can stand up against them.”

“By God, he’s right,” Liv said. “Despite all we can do, their wizards must be working on you. Why else would you fight when danger to both of you and to all your folk builds just to the north?”

Ulric translated in a low voice for Audun Gilli. The Raumsdalian wizard said, “I feel no enemy magic.” Ulric kicked him in the ankle. For a wonder, Audun caught on. Hastily, he continued, “That only proves how subtle the spell is. Will you let it seduce you?”

Trasamund and Totila looked at each other. Then they both looked shamefaced, and a shamefaced Bizogot was as rare as a white woolly mammoth. “No!” they said loudly. Trasamund drew his sword, but only to brandish it in the direction of the Rulers. Totila shook his big, hard fist towards the north.

“We fight together!” he cried.

“Side by side, till we slay them all!” Trasamund roared. They embraced each other like brothers. All the watching Bizogots cheered. They too aimed weapons and clenched fists at the invaders from beyond the Glacier.

In a low voice, Ulric Skakki said, “You’re sneakier than I gave you credit for, Thyssen.”

“Nothing sneaky about it,” Hamnet answered. “For all I know, I was telling the truth. Even for Bizogots, that fight between Trasamund and Totila was stupid.”

“Even for Bizogots.” An ironic smile played across Ulric’s lips. “Well, you said it – I didn’t. But don’t expect me to tell you you’re wrong.”

“I’m just glad Liv and Audun went along with me,” Count Hamnet said. “And thanks for giving Audun a hand – er, a foot. I saw, even if neither jarl did.”

“Sometimes he’s too innocent for his own good. I helped him along a little,” Ulric said. “And now all we have to do is beat the Rulers. Should be easy, right?” He laughed. So did Hamnet Thyssen. A moment later, he wondered why.

III

The sun shonewarm in a bright blue sky – not merely above freezing, but warm. Just as the Breath of God could reach past Nidaros in the wintertime, southerly breezes came up onto the Bizogot steppe, even up to the edge of the Glacier itself, when days lengthened. After only a few hours of such weather, the snow started looking threadbare. Drips and puddles were everywhere.

“Mosquitoes any day now,” Ulric Skakki said mournfully. “We go straight from the scratching season to the slapping season. Isn’t it grand?”

“Maybe, but maybe not,” Hamnet Thyssen said. “There’ll be another blizzard or two before winter says good-bye for the year. And the birds are coming north to eat the bugs.”

He was right about that. Even so early in the season, the air was murmurous with the sound of fluttering wings. Birds of every size, from larkspurs and flycatchers up to swans, came to the Bizogot plains to breed and to feast upon the brief bounty they offered when they thawed out.

Ulric Skakki only shrugged. “They don’t eat all the bugs. They don’t even eat enough of them. Plenty of bloodsuckers left alive. Anybody who comes up here when the sun shines has reason to know about that.” He mimed smacking at himself.