Cora had tried to dissuade Sven from making the joining formal, Rufus had mocked him, and Lars had been fascinated by his older brother’s daring in bringing this wild road woman to their home. But when Cora had seen that Sven was not to be budged, that he would leave with Ki forever, she had yielded graciously, recognized their agreement formally, and made her tribute to the Harpies in their honor.
So, let them discuss it yet one more time, Ki whispered to herself as she ate. Let them rake and sort the facts, commiserate with Cora over this outsider forced into her home, over the waste of a fine son who could have joined farm lands or timbered country. Ki felt only tired. But then a sudden wail of loneliness snaked up in her, so strong that Ki wondered if she had cried out loud. Sven, Sven, gentle of hand, always giving her too much, giving to her before she thought to ask, always thinking of her, making her way smooth before her. Sven, his wide hands bloody as he received his son from her body; Sven, sunlight on his face, making him squint as he rode beside the wagon; Sven, firelight on his shoulders and back as they made love beside the fire while the children slept safely within the wagon.
In the wake of her silent agony came rage. Sven would never have permitted this to be done to her. Why did she sit here humbly through this insane meal? Why sympathize with their ridiculous need to cozen themselves with images of their dead renewed by Harpy magic? A surge of angry strength went through Ki. She wanted to rise suddenly, to send her chair flying, to sweep from the table before her the dishes and food. Her darting angry eyes crashed into Cora’s agonized look. Cora knew of her internal tempest. Knew it and feared it. Ki felt the power surge within her. She held it all in her hands.
Strong hands pressed down on her shoulders.
‘I’ve finished all I can eat of this meal. And I’ve not seen you touch a bite for some minutes. Won’t you take a piece of fruit to finish on and walk outside into the cool with me?’
Ki had never heard Haftor’s voice more tender. She looked up into eyes that seemed to suffer her humiliation as keenly as she did. She began to rise, then checked herself. She looked to Nils.
It irritated Ki that others might interpret her glance as requesting permission. Cora also looked to Nils, who muttered something to her, and Cora sent Ki the barest of nods. Ki rose, wondering at the wounded look that Lars sent her. Haftor leaned past her to select two perfruits from a bowl on the table. He presented her with one, and then followed her as she moved to the door.
Outside she found a smoky autumn night. The smells in the air told Ki that the leaves were loosening their holds on the trees. Soon they would carpet the ground of this river valley with yellow birch and cottonwood leaves, with here and there a sprinkling of red alder. The ground would grow hard with frost, and the wagon roads would be very good to ride on early in the morning, before thaws could soften them to muck. Ki wondered how soon she would be on those roads. Cora had promised to release her as soon as the healing was done. Ki would have to speak to her privately. Would she be able to leave in three days when this Rite of Atonement was over? Or must she wait until they had actually paid their Harpy visits and been satisfied? Ki bit deep into her perfruit.
‘It’s bitter,’ Haftor said in a low voice beside her. She had almost forgotten him. She shook her head in denial.
‘Mine’s sweet,’ she contradicted, holding it out so that he might sample it also.
‘It’s not the fruit I was speaking of. Ki, why did you endure that dinner tonight?’
Ki bit the perfruit again, chewed slowly. She did not know how to answer him. If she confided to Haftor her true reasons, would that negate this rite for him? Would it jeopardize her freedom to leave? ‘It was Cora’s will,’ she ventured.
‘Cora’s will!’ Haftor snorted. He spit the pit of his fruit across the darkened yard. ‘So they will tame you, make you meek for the good of the family? It’s as fitting as putting a deer to the plow.’
‘It … it isn’t what it seems, Haftor.’
‘It never is, Ki. Not what it seems to me, nor what it seems to you. Take to your road tonight, Ki. I’ll help you harness the team and provision your wagon from my own larder. Leave now, while their tongues wag over you. I’ll speak not a word of your road to anyone. And I know a way that none would guess. Go while you can. My father did. Sven did. This is not a good place for you.’
‘What of you?’ Ki asked, puzzled. It was the second time Haftor had voiced these feelings.
Haftor laughed a small, hard laugh. ‘Me? I’m a coward. Sven refused to ever visit the Harpies. Did Cora ever tell you that? I think not. She felt it keenly that he would not go with her to meet the grandparents that died before his birth, that he did not visit his dead father. Sven was willful, even as a boy. I always wished for his courage. A visit to the Harpies cannot be forced, you know. Sven never went. So he was really alive, just as he is really dead now.’
Ki averted her face from the hardness of his words, but Haftor boldly seized her shoulders, turned her back to face him.
‘It’s like a poison, Ki. No, not a poison. It’s … when you have it, you feel you would die without it. Only since your rebellion made me stop going have I seen it. There are others that know it now, too, I’ll wager, though few will speak it to Cora’s face. Do you think many of them will return to the Harpies, Rite or no Rite? They have been coming to life, Ki, these last few weeks, and finding it precious. It’s becoming real for them. For some it is heady. Rufus had found that he runs the holdings well, even when he cannot go to his father for advice on a field or the selection of a bull. Lydia holds her head high at last, finally freed of her mother’s nagging tongue, that had belittled her for seven years beyond her deathbed. And Lars. Poor Lars has discovered that he has a heart that must be joined, as well as a body and lands. You’ve put the bitter edges back on our lives, and now we see the sweet ones. You’ve awakened me from a dream that has lasted sixteen years, since first they brought me here, and Cora, to comfort me in my orphanhood, took me to the Harpies to see my father again. With that visit, I was bound. How could I ever leave the one place in the world where my father was still alive to me? And yet …’ Haftor struggled a moment. ‘She never realized what she did to me. She thinks I have forgotten how it was. I have not. I do not hate her, Ki. But I can never love myself as once I did. The things I did at her bidding, the things I accepted …’ Haftor shook his head as his voice trailed off. He coughed, clearing his throat.
‘Ki, Cora asked you to make this Rite, did she not? She seeks to lure you to the Harpies. Answer me this, Ki. If you could embrace Sven again, could cuddle Rissa’s warm little body against you, tweak young Lars’s nose for his nonsense … would you ever leave Harper’s Ford?’
Haftor’s eyes were dark holes in a white face inches from Ki’s own. The darkness was cold about her. The lonely wail that had sounded inside her echoed again through her. To have them back, to hold and be held, to feel Sven’s warm breath on her face.
‘Bones,’ said Haftor. ‘Bones and meat nibbled by worms. But the Harpies dress it anew, sell it to you for more meat, and direct your life to their best advantage. “Build up your flocks, Rufus.” So your father tells you. Harpies are ever hungry. Open more land to pasture. Bring in more cattle. Why waste your time on sheep? A calf is bigger than a lamb, more satisfying to a Harpy’s hunger.’
Ki’s heart thudded. She wrested herself free of Haftor’s grip, then stepped away from him.
‘Cora would not do this if that were true.’
‘Cora would never do a thing this evil,’ Haftor agreed. ‘If she knew how evil it was. But she is old, and she has never known any other way. Shall she deny it, admit that when she dies a few years hence she will be truly dead?’ It might have been a sob that caught Haftor’s words in this throat. ‘Who among us can resist such pretty lies? I don’t believe in myself. I don’t believe in your will, either, Ki. So I tell you to go.