Page 22 of To Tame a Viking Warlord

Torstein looked out at the olive tree. Njal was right. He knew Njal was right. Every sensible part of him said so.

"All my life," he said slowly, "I have done what the jarl asked of me. I have never once gone against him. Not in battle, not at sea, not in his hall."

"I ken. That's why he trusts ye."

"But if it came to it, I would defy him for her."

Njal said nothing for a very long time. Below them the olive tree stirred in a faint breeze, and a few of its leaves drifted down into the empty courtyard.

"Then the gods help us all," Njal said at last. "Because ye've never gone back on your word in your life."

Torstein did not answer. He sat beside his friend until the sky above the rooftops began to pale, and the first call to prayer rose over Fez, and he knew that somewhere beneath it she was waking too.

Then Njal changed the subject. "At least we have some good news."

"What is it?"

"Mathias made enquiries and he's found the exact location where the merchant lives. You'll need to send word so he'll know to expect us."

"Good, good. Once we have the parcel, that gives me good time to hunt for my woman before we return home."

"Your woman is she now? Do ye think she's the one?"

"Aye, I do. Gods' blood. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am certain she is my destiny."

***

Chapter 9

The first thing Samira noticed each morning now was the guards. Her father had hired more men since the pendant had been brought home from al-Qarawiyyin and locked in the vault beneath the library.

It had been two days, and Samira was still reeling from everything her father and Zohra had told her. Her mother had belonged to an ancient secret order. She had died guarding the pendant, but not before she had arranged for it to be hidden safely within the walls of al-Qarawiyyin until the next guardian could take over.

Samira had held it only once. It was a small disc of blue-green stone set in old gold, warm in the hand, etched with the sign of Tanit. On the back was a mark almost identical to the birthmark on the inside of her wrist. Zohra said the pendant could reveal what was concealed, including hidden treasures and relics, but only for the one whose blood it answered to. Now it was Samira's turn to guard it, as the women in her family had done before. She understood well enough what such a thing could do in the wrong hands. There was still so much she could not fathom.

Through all the revelations, she felt her father was still holding something back. Something of crucial importance was missing.

That morning, he told her they would have guests.

"From the north," Dawud said, and would not meet her eye. "They arrive this afternoon. It concerns the pendant, and it concerns you. I want you present."

"Who are they?"

"Men who were sent a long way to find us." He turned a page of the ledger in front of him without reading it. "You will understand when they are here."

She did not like the way he said it.

On the way down to the courtyard, Samira passed one of the new water carriers kneeling by the fountain to fill his jars. He kept his head bowed as she went by. There was a yellowing bruise across his forehead and a healing split in his lower lip, and she thought vaguely that the kitchens worked the new men hard. Then she forgot him, because the gate was opening.

***

TORSTEIN AND HIS MEN ensured they dressed appropriately for the meeting. Since arriving in Fez they had discarded heavy wool and fur for local alternatives. The qamis was plain linen and hung to his shins, loose across the chest, the sleeves wide enough that air moved up his arms when he walked. Under it the sirwal gathered at the waist and fell easy over his thighs, for ease of movement. The burnus was undyed wool and sat light on his shoulders with the hood flat down his back. On his feet, sandals. He wore no arm bands.

His hair was tied back. He had shaved and washed that morning with water from the funduq well.

Now the three of them stood in the gateway of the house of Dawud ibn Yusuf al-Idrissi, and Torstein thought only that the sooner the parcel was in his hands, the sooner he could begin searching Fez for the mysterious woman from the souk.

At the gate, one of Dawud's guards asked for their swords. Torstein unbuckled his and set it in the alcove beside the gatehouse, and Njal and Mathias did the same. No one asked for the knives at their belts. In Fez a man wore his dagger as he wore his belt, and to ask for it would have been an insult.