Chapter Seven
In which Fanndis arranges a meeting…
She was careful not to let her cloak drag the stones in the church. Seeing a few faithful parishioners kneeling in prayer, she made sure her footsteps were soundless. To her left, a young priest walked quietly with a village merchant that Fanndis had once traded with. Fanndis kept her hood over her head and walked over. She didn’t want to disturb them, but she needed to find out where Father Kimbli was.
“Excuse me, Father,” she whispered.
The young priest turned in surprise at her beckoning.
“Yes, my lady? Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I was wondering if I could speak with Father Kimbli about a private matter,” she quietly asked.
“He’s counseling someone at this moment, my lady. He should be finished soon. Have a seat over there, if you like. If you need anything else, please let me know.”
Though she was a Seidh woman, Fanndis had always felt welcomed by the village priests. She sat where the young man had instructed her and could hear the soft murmurs of Father Kimbli’s voice guiding the parishioner through their conversation. The church hadn’t changed. Stained glass windows depicted the colonization of Niflheim and scenes of the first settlers arriving in New Kristiansand. Vaulted ceilings towered above her and the smoke from the incense and candles mingled with dying light. She observed women and men praying. Being among the people of the village brought a smile to her lips. Stigg was wonderful company, but it grew rather dull being confined to the forest for six years. Still, she reminded herself that she had not been locked in a tower as the young Maslyn had.
Fanndis broke off her thoughts when she heard the office door opening and watched a middle-aged man leave. After a minute or two, Father Kimbli came to the doorway and waved at the man he had been counseling. Turning his head, he caught sight of her. The old man jumped a bit. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Hello, Kimbli,” Fanndis greeted.
She could not help smiling with her words. Kimbli drew a sharp intake of breath and grinned.
“Fanndis, is it really you? It has been so long…I thought I’d never hear your voice again. How are you?” Kimbli stammered.
“I’m well. I’m getting tired of the lonely woods, though. I think it is high time I caused a stir, don’t you?” She hoped he would understand the implications of her comment.
“Let’s talk in my office,” he said, ushering her inside. “What’s happened, Fanndis?” Kimbli knew she’d never leave the woods without something extraordinary to tell him.
“He’s out of the tower. Soryn found my secret passages. Everything we had hoped for is coming to pass—just a little earlier than we figured, old friend.”
“I knew he would discover them, eventually. Jori certainly doesn’t know about the passages, but after all those days I spent with you in that study, I knew the boy would find them sooner or later. I’m glad of it. It was painful for me to see him suffering all alone.” Kimbli bowed his head and prayed a prayer of thanks.
“Many things have happened in the boy’s last week. He’s made a friend. I believe she is a serving girl. Her name is ‘Arna’. Soryn is quite taken with her, I think, and she with him.”
“Oh, really? I’ve only heard of a serving girl named ‘Jordis’. Perhaps she prefers ‘Arna’, for some reason. I’m happy that he has some company. I’ve never been able to help him open up or share his thoughts. I’m just a kind, senile old man to him,” Kimbli chuckled.
“I’m sure you’ve been tremendously good company for the boy. You were always a good friend to me.” Fanndis smiled.
A comfortable silence fell over them. It seemed as though six years had been only six days.
“What is it that you came to talk to me about, Fanndis?” Kimbli inquired.
“I want to know if you can help me arrange a small coup in the castle. It is time everyone knew that boy’s potential and that he was openly accepted as the new Maslyn. The village seems to be doing fine without a village leader, but if only for Soryn’s sake, they need to know he is ready to take command and make decisions for their welfare. He needs to meet with Governor Frey and transition into his mayoral role. A transition of that sort will obviously require him to undergo intense training, but I think time will run out if he isn’t allowed to start now. That fool Asmund, has kept him locked away longer than was necessary. The monster that ran away the night of the fire hasn’t been seen or heard from in years. The boy is no longer in danger. Will you help me convince everyone of this?”
“Of course, Fanndis. The village has been peaceful for several years now. I agree that the threat is gone. I will speak with Asmund about this, if you like.”
“That would be grand. I’ll have Stigg pay a visit to Jori. I think that Lord Maslyn should make his debut in the village no later than next Freya's Day. He has been hidden away for far too long and will be nervous. However, if he is to be anything like his father was, we’ve got to help him find his courage to step into the light as a leader.”
“How can I contact you?” Kimbli asked.
“Don’t you have that ratty old crow of yours? Have him send me a message.” Fanndis had hoped to see Kimbli’s pet bird, Aquinas, again. They had been quite fond of each other, back in the old days.
“Yes, he’s still around here somewhere. I think I sent him off a few hours ago to forage. He eats all the time, as I’m sure you remember. I’ll send him when we need to talk,” Kimbli replied.
“I know you’re supposed to visit with Lord Maslyn today, but do you think you could postpone your meeting until I can get this sorted?” Fanndis asked.
“Certainly.”
Fanndis stood up and prepared to leave. Kimbli rose as well, saddened that their meeting had been so short. They both had much work to do if they were going to help Soryn gain his rightful place in the village. He watched the old woman put her hood back up and extended his hand.
“Come here, you old fool,” Fanndis said, reaching to hug Kimbli. “It’s good to be among friends again.”
He smiled in return and nodded. Fanndis left the room, closing the door carefully so that she wouldn’t startle the parishioners. Outside, she unhitched Liv from the post. Once she had mounted her horse, Fanndis clicked her tongue and they moved forward. There was one more visit she needed to make. The back roads south of the church meandered and zigzagged through cottages until she broke through and faced the frozen River Ingrid. Liv nimbly trotted across the ice and up the bank. Another cluster of cottages lay on that shore. They rode on snowy cobbled roads between thatched houses, which became increasingly elaborate and sturdy. Within minutes, she stared at the town’s second, smaller castle, the home of Governor Frey. Guards met her at the castle gates and she politely announced that she had an appointment with the governor.
The guards bade her to wait and one went to confirm the appointment. Fanndis scheduled no such meeting, but she was sure that the governor would see her from his meeting room. The large glass window above the great front doors framed his body as he talked with several men. Fanndis watched from below and saw the guard interrupt the meeting and mention her arrival. Governor Frey peered out the window and Fanndis nodded when he saw her.
Returning to his post, the guard helped her dismount and then led Liv off to the stables. The second guard retrieved a housemaid to show Fanndis inside. She was a middle-aged woman sporting a sour expression. They said nothing to one another. Downtrodden and hunched, the servant opened the Governor’s private office door for Fanndis and left her without comment. Fanndis raised her eyebrows at the woman’s back as she walked away. “What a happy woman,” she remarked to herself.
When Fanndis walked into the office, Governor Frey sat in his straight-backed chair with a furrowed brow, accompanied by pursed lips.
“What are you doing here, Fanndis?” he asked, massaging his temples. “Shouldn’t you be out in your forest thatching the roof or someth
ing?”
“Well, it’s lovely to see you, too, Frey. And here I was, thinking you wouldn’t be excited to see me. I’m glad I was wrong. To what do I owe this cheerfulness?” Fanndis loved to push the politician’s buttons.
“Humph. You’re here, might as well tell me what is important enough to interrupt my exports meeting,” he scowled and stared at his bookshelf.
Fanndis cackled, “I’m here because I’m tired of staying out of the village and because it’s high time you ordered that coward Asmund to let Lord Maslyn out of his tower. Things have gone on long enough.”
Frey just stared at her.
Fanndis waited a couple of minutes and then prompted him, “Well? What have you to say about it?”
“You mean Asmund hasn’t let him out after all this time?” Frey asked.
Fanndis realized the governor’s surprise was entirely genuine and was dumbfounded.
“You didn’t know?!” she gaped.
“No, I did not. I don’t make a habit of personally checking in on every noble in the country. His papers were signed with the Maslyn’s seal and I’ve received them regularly. I know that Asmund would never be allowed to touch the seal, let alone use it falsely, so I assumed that the boy was protected until the threat had passed and was then let out. Was that not the agreement?” Frey knew he would soon have a word with the Maslyn’s steward.
“It was the agreement. Those of us who were closest to the family, however, knew that the immensity of the threat merited keeping him in the tower for several years. Several years, however, turned into a permanent arrangement, from what my trusted sources tell me. Apparently, Asmund had an easier time dealing with the boy when he did not have to talk to him face to face. I think the stingy miser has been having his fun pretending to be the Maslyn, himself. I know that Asmund’s not a wicked man, but he is certainly both naïve and ambitious.” Fanndis frowned. The fact that Governor Frey knew nothing about Soryn’s extended “protection” did not encourage her.
“Step out there and tell my servant, Mika, to saddle my horse at once. This ends tonight. That boy is the Maslyn of the village, such as it is. He cannot be permanently locked away like some criminal. Nothing that happened that night was his fault. I can’t believe this! Asmund shall be dealt with immediately,” Frey shouted. He stood up and wrenched his cloak from the back of his chair.
Fanndis assumed that Mika was the woman who had shown her the way to the office. She glimpsed outside the door and sure enough, the dour, plump lady stood there, shoulders slouched forward. Fanndis wished she would smile or at least do something to improve her unfortunate appearance.
“Excuse me, madam, but the Governor needs his horse saddled immediately.” Fanndis grinned in an encouraging fashion, but Mika just grunted and left.
Fanndis shrugged and turned to see Frey walking up towards the door. She moved out of the way for him in deference, though she vividly remembered their days as children, when they refused to step aside for each other in any event. They usually ended up stuck in a doorframe, somewhere, after trying to fight the other to get through first.
Frey stomped down the hallway, clearly angry. Fanndis was thankful that his anger was not directed at her. She followed, laughing inwardly. Things were working out much easier than she had anticipated. Apparently, they would have the boy freed within a few hours. This would allow him to make decisions as the head of the castle and the village. She knew he was not ready for such a responsibility. Asmund was not fit to act as a mentor. It would have to be someone else; Kimbli, perhaps. He was the only one who knew enough about the family and about running the village to help the boy. She hoped that the church elders would release him to do so. Fanndis knew she was leaping ahead again. For now, she needed to calm down and see where Frey’s tirade would lead.
He threw open the front doors. Guards and servants scrambled around him to get out of his way. They knew what he was like in his black moods. One of the grooms from the stables held the reins to Frey’s grey longhair, tremors of nervousness causing his hand to shake. The beast was a magnificent animal—several hands taller than Fanndis’ Liv. Frey mounted and waited for Fanndis’ horse to be brought out. When she was settled, they both set off together at a gallop towards the Maslyn’s castle. They rode in an awkward silence. Talking with people other than Stigg had brought on a sort of giddiness. Frey’s fuming silence was disappointing. She had hoped for more conversation from her childhood friend.
Frey’s grey hair whipped in the wind, distracting Fanndis. Her aging heart still ached at the thought that, many years ago, they might have been married. She had been too stubborn and willful to answer his proposal favorably. For years, she regretted the decision. Some of his harsh behavior might be due, in part, to her refusal of him years ago. Despite her pleas, Frey never took her back. In the end, she managed to find love. Stigg’s father had been one of the fishermen in the village. He had been a kind man. He died at sea, poor soul. Fanndis realized she was brooding and shook off her thoughts, trying to pay attention to the matters at hand.
A dreary malaise overtook the two of them as they rode towards the Maslyn’s castle. The sight of it was somewhat overwhelming. It was far larger than Governor Frey’s own castle. Built several hundred years after the colonization ship landed on Niflheim, it was one of the oldest buildings in Oban. It had been designed as a communal shelter and fortress for the people of New Kristiansand. Years later, it became the home of the Maslyns—the village’s leading family. Eventually the mayoral title itself became known as “the Maslyn”. The Governor of Oban began living and working in New Kristiansand about fifty years ago. A separate house was set aside for the first governor so that the existing Maslyn line did not have to uproot and move out of their majestic ancestral home. Frey much preferred his own home to the Maslyn castle. In the twenty years he had reigned as Governor of Oban, he had made many improvements to it.
Fanndis thrust her chin high in the air as they neared the castle. The two of them entered through the gates and dismounted. Guards swarmed around the governor to attend to his horse and person.
Frey tersely declared, “I need to see Steward Asmund, if you please.”
Fanndis said nothing. She kept her hood over her face and followed Frey when the guards opened the doors for them. Familiar scents and aromas filled her nostrils as she stepped into the castle. It had been six years since she had lived there. Everything was just as it had been and she did not need to look up to know where Asmund’s office was located. She knew without being told that the steward would have taken over the previous Lord Maslyn’s private office in order to conduct village affairs. She smirked. It had been hard for her to accept Asmund as steward in the past, but the previous Lord and Lady Maslyn had been very fond of him—only God knew why.
A servant announced the governor’s presence and Frey stormed into the study. Asmund, a thin waif of a man, sat behind the great pine desk with eyes as large as saucers.
“Why, G-Governor F-F-Frey, sir, how n-n-nice of you to drop in. What can I do for you?” Asmund sputtered, obviously startled by Frey’s unscheduled visit.
Frey, a man of strong stature, loomed over the desktop and drummed his fingers on the pine surface. One fist was stationed firmly on his left hip. Any fool would have been able to tell that he was furious.
“Do you mean to tell me that Lord Maslyn has been imprisoned in that infernal tower for six years? Six years!? This is an outrage, Asmund! You ought to be thrown in prison for this! The agreement was made years ago so that the boy would be freed when Fenris’ threat had passed. Was that not the agreement?!” Frey’s voice resounded loud enough that that entire wing of the castle had certainly heard.
“Y-yes, your honor...” Asmund sunk lower in the great chair upon which he sat.
“Why was he not freed? That beast hasn’t been seen or heard from in at least three years! This is preposterous! Lord Maslyn should have been free to roam about after the first year had passed!” Fre
y took his right hand off the desk and paced as he spoke. “I am infuriated, Steward. You are no longer fit to be caretaker of this village’s wellbeing. I am formally removing you from this post. You may seek employment elsewhere. We will find a suitable replacement immediately.”
Asmund’s face grew ghostly white and he was struck dumb in shame and shock. He had never intended harm to Lord Maslyn. He had just conveniently chosen to ignore the boy’s existence, save for needing his signatures and seal on legal documents. Being the sniveling coward that he was, Asmund stood up, mustering what little dignity he could, and bowed to Governor Frey. On his way out, he paused and peered at Fanndis’ cloaked figure. Peeking underneath the hood, he gasped.
“You!” he spat in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“I grew tired of living in those woods. Thanks to the governor, here, it looks like your edict is null and void. I truly wish you the best, Asmund. I don’t think this job has agreed with your health. You seem pale…” Fanndis smiled mischievously.
Frey sighed and walked to the other side of the desk, collapsing in the chair with dramatic flair. He had been too harsh on Asmund—the coward was not a dangerous man, after all, just dimwitted and ambitious (a potent combination). Still, Lord Maslyn’s rightful place was behind the desk where Frey now sat, not up in that drafty, frostbitten tower. He rubbed his forehead with his right hand.
“Fantastic…who will we get to replace him? I can’t think of anyone who would know the family history well enough to be an adequate replacement for that idiot. What do you suggest Fanndis?” Frey looked up desperately.
“You’re asking me? You actually care what I think on the matter?” She sounded more caustic than she intended.
“Yes. You are a very wise woman. Just think if you had gone against your wise judgment all those years ago, we would’ve gotten married. Imagine what a disaster that would have proved to be. Your judgment is sound and I trust you. Who would you appoint as a suitable replacement?” Frey asked, seriously.
Fanndis had prepared her answer long before. “Father Kimbli. He has been the closest friend to this family for several generations. It would be unthinkable to appoint anyone else. He already counsels the boy each week, and Soryn trusts him. There can be no one else, Frey.”
The governor considered Fanndis’ words carefully. It would not be too difficult to convince the church elders that Kimbli should be the advisor for the boy. It would be hard to convince Kimbli of it, however. Frey grimaced and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
“Will you talk to Kimbli? I’ll smooth things over with the church elders if it becomes an issue. Once I explain the situation to them, they should not be difficult to convince. Are you certain Kimbli has kept the boy’s imprisonment a secret from the other priests?”
“I’m not sure if he has or not. I think that, before we do anything else, we should find Jori and let that boy out of the tower. I was going to send my son to talk to the manservant, but things have progressed more quickly than I imagined. I should have known I could count on you to act with haste. Forgive my disbelief. Thank you, Frey.” Fanndis turned to leave in search of the manservant.
“Fanndis…” Frey began.
She paused. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry you’ve lived out there alone all these years. I should have protested when they banished you. I shouldn’t have let them do it. It was all so chaotic after the fire. I didn’t know who to trust. I’m sorry,” he said.
Frey’s eyes were honest and he gazed at her with an expression that held too much emotion to be merely apologetic.
“It’s alright, Frey, truly. You’re helping now, and that is what’s important. Besides, I’ve not been alone. Stigg has been with me the entire time, bless him. I expect he’s been the lonely one with only his persnickety old mother for company,” Fanndis jovially replied.
Governor Frey stood up and followed her out the door. Since he had set foot into this quagmire, he might as well see it through to the end. Fanndis appeared to know where she was going and he tagged along like a faithful dog. He was reminded of what had almost become their engagement and how they would have spent their entire lives quarreling if they had married. He knew that they were better off as comrades in arms. This way, they were entitled to be at each others’ throats while remaining firm friends. Still, they were getting along quite well today.
They came to a large oak door. He had not paid attention enough to the passageways they had taken to know where in the castle they were. Fanndis tried the handle to no avail.
“I knew it would be locked. I just thought I’d try it, just in case,” she admitted.
Fanndis calmed her nerves and commanded her mind to empty. Small pinpricks of sensation began to work their way up through her core and into her right arm. It had been a while since she had used the Seidh for breaking and entering, but she figured the situation called for that sort of thing. Placing her tingling hand on the handle, she formed the mental command in her mind. Through her body, the yreth in her blood danced and the shout in her mind ordered, “Open!”
This time, when she pushed down on the handle, the door opened. Frey had seen Fanndis work spells and such before, but having been away from such displays for so long, he was taken aback when the door swung inward. Icy air bombarded them as they entered the passage to Soryn’s tower room. They did not hear any talking or sounds of any kind as they walked over the stones, their footsteps loudly ringing in their ears. They climbed up the few stairs leading into the bedroom, and then stood in the doorway. The two children stopped eating their lunch and stared at them in surprise and confusion.
“Well, I see we’ve come too late for the noon meal. Shall we go for a stroll in the fresh air instead?” Fanndis offered cheerily.