Read A Companion to Wolves Online
Authors: Elizabeth Bear
A Companion to Wolves (5 page)
Spring gave way to dawning summer, and when the pups were four months oldâjust as another batch of tithe-boys was being sought for Asny's litterâthey were allowed to sleep where they wished. Viradechtis chose to sleep beside Njall, rousting Brand from his place without so much as a by-your-leave. And the tight ache of homesickness in his chest finally lifted for good.
The next afternoon, although Njall's duties were still with the tithe-boys, Ulfgeirr came to tell him that his sleeping quarters were being switched to the roundhall, for the sake of Viradechtis and the other boys.
It wasn't too strange to sleep in a huge hall full of snoring men and wolves who whined and ran in their sleep. It wasn't so very different from the boys' dormitory, although much bigger, and besides, Viradechtis was there beside him, her blunt puppy muzzle buried in Njall's armpit, her thoughts clearer and sharper to him with every passing day. Even the sounds of sex, whether solitary or companionable, were familiar, and he contributed his share. He missed Alfleda; none of the wolfheall's thrall-women took his fancy, and he was reluctant to go into the village, afraid that the villagers would react as Alfleda had and scorn him. In any event, with Viradechtis too small to follow him he wasn't going anywhere, which left him alone with a restless drive that would
not
be sublimated into weapons practice or patrolling and tracking lessons.
not
be sublimated into weapons practice or patrolling and tracking lessons.
He'd somehow expected the wolves would speak in words, and of course they didn't; that had been a child's fancy and foolishness. What Viradechtis gave him when her
gold-velvet eyes met his was a sense of humor so sharp it was almost malicious, coupled to a thousand details of scent, of hearing, of the world moving around her and the pack moving through the world. He was never certain, exactly, when the bond happenedânot like Sokkolfr and Hroiâbut soon he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been able to reach out with his heart and feel his wolf-sister's attention: warm, wry, and deadly sardonic.
gold-velvet eyes met his was a sense of humor so sharp it was almost malicious, coupled to a thousand details of scent, of hearing, of the world moving around her and the pack moving through the world. He was never certain, exactly, when the bond happenedânot like Sokkolfr and Hroiâbut soon he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been able to reach out with his heart and feel his wolf-sister's attention: warm, wry, and deadly sardonic.
It was an idyll, a precious summer where he threw himself into his wolf and the business of the wolfheall and his friendship with Brandr Quick-Tongue and the Stone Sokkolfrâand the entirely surprising mentorship that grew up between himself and Hrolleif, starting that night in the circle by the birthing den.
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T
he summer evenings stretched almost to morning, the sky light even after the sun went down. Njall walked with Viradechtis in the half-light, letting her run because it was not fair to the older wolves to bring her like a whirlwind into the roundhall when all they wanted to do was sleep. Sometimes Brandr came with them, although mostly these days Brandr was spending his free time as near to Viradechtis' littermates as he could get. Sokkolfr and Hroi would walk with them, too, and Njall was grateful to Hroi for teaching Viradechtis.
he summer evenings stretched almost to morning, the sky light even after the sun went down. Njall walked with Viradechtis in the half-light, letting her run because it was not fair to the older wolves to bring her like a whirlwind into the roundhall when all they wanted to do was sleep. Sometimes Brandr came with them, although mostly these days Brandr was spending his free time as near to Viradechtis' littermates as he could get. Sokkolfr and Hroi would walk with them, too, and Njall was grateful to Hroi for teaching Viradechtis.
“It's his nature,” Sokkolfr said. “He is very well suited to be the brother of a housecarl.”
“Is that what you want to be?”
Sokkolfr was silent for a time. “I don't know if I would be any good with the tithe-boys,” he said at last. “But I like orderliness.”
“I think you'd be just fine with the tithe-boys. You wouldn't do it like Ulfgeirr, but that's not the same thing as doing it badly.”
And then Hroi and Viradechtis came back from a long elaborate game of chase, their sides heaving, very pleased
with themselves, and Njall said, feeling a great warm glow of happiness spread through him at the words, “Let's go home.”
with themselves, and Njall said, feeling a great warm glow of happiness spread through him at the words, “Let's go home.”
He liked walking with company, but he most frequently went out alone, just he and Viradechtis and his thoughts. On the solstice-eve, he found himself positively glad to escape from other people, for the wolfheall was like a kicked-over anthill with preparations for the solstice-fest, and Njall had been ordered about and snapped at and teasedâNot-Jarl, Gunnarsonâall day. And he had thinking he wanted to do.
Grimolfr had said two days before, when Njall was helping him scrape deerhides for leather, “Have you thought about your name yet?”
“My name? But I'm not ⦠she isn't ⦠.”
“Don't try and tell me you're not bonded, pup,” Grimolfr said.
“I thought she had to be older.”
“Bitches bond earlierâunless they're froward, as some bitches are. But that's not your little girl.”
“No,” Njall agreed helplessly, happily, and half-grown Viradechtis looked up from where she was wrestling with her father; for a second Njall was enveloped in pine-boughs-in-sunlight and knew that that was her way of saying:
Mine
. Skald and Grimolfr traded a look, and Grimolfr burst out laughing, a thing which Njall had never witnessed before.
Mine
. Skald and Grimolfr traded a look, and Grimolfr burst out laughing, a thing which Njall had never witnessed before.
“Well, that's settled,” the wolfjarl said.
So Njall had been trying to think of a name. He'd asked Brandr, whose suggestions made his face burn, and Sokkolfr, who said, “It's
your
name, Njall.” And out here, just himself and his sister, feeling peace well up and spill over, it occurred to him that the sensible thing to do was ask her.
your
name, Njall.” And out here, just himself and his sister, feeling peace well up and spill over, it occurred to him that the sensible thing to do was ask her.
She thought the question extremely funny. But she cooperated, enough that he got a strange, momentary, dizzying view of what he looked like through her eyes, precarious and fragile and pale, skin and hair and eyes all pale, like snow, like ice.
Oh,
thought Njall.
Isolfr.
thought Njall.
Isolfr.
It was, in the end, as simple as that.
Njall walked back to the wolfheall pensivelyâalthough not so pensively that he did not lose a good stretch of time to a game of Viradechtis' inventionâand when he reached the courtyard, he dodged two tithe-boys, five wolfcarls and their brothers, three thralls, and a flock of goats, entered the roundhall, rich with the scent of Jorveig's cooking, crossed through to the back and opened the door to Grimolfr's records-room, which was also the wolves' birthing den. And there, on the deerhide rugâ
He stopped. Stared, pressing one hand instinctively over his mouth to keep from making a sound. Stepped back and closed the door, as quietly as he could.
And turned and fled.
He found Brandr in the bathhouse, along with the usual assortment of wolfcarls and tithe-boys, and dragged him into the back corner where they could talk without being overheard.
“What?” said Brandr. “You're white as new snow.”
“I saw ⦠I didn't mean to ⦔ He swallowed hard. “Hrolleif and Grimolfr ⦔ And because he couldn't quite bring himself to use any crude word for it, he dropped his voice to a whisper and said, “
Mating
.”
Mating
.”
Brandr snorted laughter, and then again at the look on Njall's face.
“
What were you, born yesterday? Hrolleif's lucky Vigdis is konigenwolf, and he only has to lie down for Grimolfr. Some of the other bitches breed to six or seven dogs in a heat.”
“
What were you, born yesterday? Hrolleif's lucky Vigdis is konigenwolf, and he only has to lie down for Grimolfr. Some of the other bitches breed to six or seven dogs in a heat.”
Njall didn't say,
But Hrolleif was on top
â
But Hrolleif was on top
â
“You'd better get used to the idea,” Brandr said. “'Cause that's going to be you in another couple years.”
“Thank you, Brandr,” Njall said, as witheringly as he could, and set himself with shaking hands to clean away the day's grime, wondering
Can I do that? Could I lie down for that?
Can I do that? Could I lie down for that?
It was in the long lazy hours after supper, while Viradechtis and her littermates and Ingrun's three, who were
still young enough for puppy-games, went tearing around roundhall and courtyard, knocking over wolfcarls when they could and swarming Skald every second lap, that Hrolleif came up to where Njall was sitting, helping Sokkolfr comb through Hroi's dense coat looking for ticks, and said, “Njall, do you have a moment?”
still young enough for puppy-games, went tearing around roundhall and courtyard, knocking over wolfcarls when they could and swarming Skald every second lap, that Hrolleif came up to where Njall was sitting, helping Sokkolfr comb through Hroi's dense coat looking for ticks, and said, “Njall, do you have a moment?”
“Go on, Njall,” Sokkolfr said. “Hroi and I can manage, can't we, brother?” And Hroi sighed happily and rested his head on Sokkolfr's thigh in a way that would send the leg to sleep in a matter of minutes.
Njall got up, feeling his stomach knot. Viradechtis was there, pressing against him, bumping her broad head up under his hand, and he sank his fingers into her ruff and was comforted.
He followed Hrolleif through the drowsy cheerful crowd of the werthreat and into the records-room, where Vigdis thumped her tail in greeting. Hrolleif sat down on the bench along the inner wall and motioned Njall to sit next to him. “Vigdis says you saw, earlier.”
The blush felt like fire. Viradechtis dropped her head across his lap and he looked down, watching his own fingers worry gently at her ears. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean toâ”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Hrolleif said. “We were due to have this conversation anyway. Njallâoh. Grimolfr said he spoke to you about choosing your name. Have you?”
“Yes,” and really it would be easier if he just burst into flames right now. Died of embarrassment.
Viradechtis disapproved emphatically, nudging her head into his stomach in a way that she knew perfectly well made it hard for him to breathe.
“That's why ⦠I was coming to tell Grimolfr ⦔
“Ah,” said Hrolleif and courteously did not laugh. Vigdis had no such scruples, but Njall found he didn't mind her laughter; it was so much like her daughter's. “Then what is your name to be, Njall Gunnarson?”
Njall thought, oddly and very clearly, that that was the last time he would ever be identified as his father's son.
Everything for the wolfheall.
“Isolfr,” he said.
“Isolfr,” Hrolleif repeated thoughtfully, weighing the name in his mouth. “Yes.” He extended one hand, broad, callused, and after a moment's blank confusion, Isolfr returned his grip. And dared to look up at Hrolleif and return his smile. “We'll name you tonight then.”
It was a quick ceremony, no different from the naming of a babe. A sprinkle of water, the shape of Thor's hammer marked on one's forehead, and one was born again. A brother to wolves, now, and no longer a wolfless man.
Pleased, Viradechtis let him breathe again unencumbered by wolf-skull. Hrolleif said, “You've got a strong-willed wolf there.”
“Yes.”
“She'll make up her own mind on most things, you'll find,” Hrolleif said, and traded a loving look with Vigdis. “And you need to be prepared.”
“Yes,” Isolfr said and swallowed dryly.
“You've heard stories, I take it. So had I, when I became brother to Vigdis. But how much do you
know
?”
know
?”
“I ⦔ He was blushing again. Viradechtis was pushing love at him, and Vigdis got up and came over to put one heavy paw on his knee, even as she leaned into Hrolleif.
“Vigdis says I am not to bully you.” And Isolfr caught a sharp picture of a red wolf shaking a white wolf puppy by its scruff. “Isolfr, there is nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what your father may have had to say on the subject.” When Isolfr looked up, Hrolleif smiled rather ruefully. “We've heard a great deal over the years about Lord Gunnarr's opinion of what he calls the âgoings-on' in the wolfheall. Do you agree with him?”
“N-no,” Isolfr said. “I mean, I don't know. But ⦔ He watched his own fingers stroking across Viradechtis' broad head and down into her ruff. Then he looked up defiantly and said, “She's worth it. Whatever it takes, I can do it.”
“You're frightened.”
“If ⦠you won't think me womanish to say it.” Hrolleif's
eyebrow arched under his braids, and Isolfr regretted his choice of words immediately. “I meanâ”
eyebrow arched under his braids, and Isolfr regretted his choice of words immediately. “I meanâ”
“Hush, lad. It's not so terrible as all that.” Hrolleif came to him, and threw an arm around his shoulders, and squeezed hard. “No one's daft enough to throw a virgin boyâ”
“I'm notâ!”
“Oh I'm sure you've bedded your share of willing maids. But have you ever bedded a man?”
Isolfr shook his head, and wished he could stop blushing.
“Nor ever thought of it, I reckon. Then you are virgin in this, and
no one
is daft enough to throw a virgin boy into the middle of a mating frenzy, no, nor a virgin wolf neither. She won't come to heat for another year”âa glance traded with Vigdis, and Isolfr looked down into Viradechtis' eyes and breathed in warmth and wood-smoke, comfort, dried herbs by the hearthâ“and we don't breed a bitch her first season. It's not good for them when they're still growing; they need that strength for their own teeth and bones.”
no one
is daft enough to throw a virgin boy into the middle of a mating frenzy, no, nor a virgin wolf neither. She won't come to heat for another year”âa glance traded with Vigdis, and Isolfr looked down into Viradechtis' eyes and breathed in warmth and wood-smoke, comfort, dried herbs by the hearthâ“and we don't breed a bitch her first season. It's not good for them when they're still growing; they need that strength for their own teeth and bones.”
“What do you do with them, then?” Hrolleif's arm was warm around his shoulders, but Isolfr couldn't fight back the image of his body, straining so hard that every muscle, every vein stood out in sculpted relief, poised over Grimolfr's while Grimolfr arched himself up into it like a man in a seizure. It shortened his breath in his throat with something that felt like fear but wasn't, exactly, and Isolfrânot really meaning toâtugged away.
“Isolate them,” Hrolleif said, and didn't let him pull free. “At first. And when they are older and a little more experienced, and the bitch is ready for a litter, we send them away with another young pair, to learn.” He grinned, and turned Isolfr by the shoulders to face him. “You won't be expected to contend with the pack until you've had some experience, Isolfr. And Viradechtis will take care of you. Even in heat, she'd not risk her brother.”
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