Iron Axe by Steven Harper Read Free Book Online

didn’t look it.
    â€œI’m half troll,” Danr said. “My mother was human.”
    â€œHuh,” Talfi said. “You must be pretty strong, then.”
    Danr shot him a sideways glance. Talfi looked to be a little older than Danr, maybe seventeen, though his beard hadn’t begun to grow. His rich brown hair had a slight curl to it, and his features were sharply handsome. His eyes were as wide and blue as the sky. What would it be like to be blessed with such looks?
    â€œI get by,” Danr said.
    â€œWhat are you going to do about the steer, Father?” Karsten asked. He was blond, wiry, and fully bearded.
    Orvandel grimaced. “I’ll have to send it back with . . . er, Trollboy here. You know, I wouldn’t put it past that thief Alfgeir to have sent Trollboy to intimidate me into accepting that scrawny beast as payment.”
    Danr blinked and put down the drinking horn with a click. Sure, that would explain why Alfgeir had chosen Danr for the errand instead of one of his own sons. That made more sense than sending Danr away from the farm to quiet any unrest about the destruction of the Noss Farm.
    â€œI won’t have it.” Orvandel’s face was set. “Young man, you tell your master that his offer is unacceptable and that I want the two milk cows he promised.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Danr said.
    â€œIn fact,” Orvandel said, stroking his beard, “I think it might be best to send one of my own sons with you. He can bring the cows back, make sure Alfgeir doesn’t try to cheat me again.”
    â€œI’ll go, Uncle,” Talfi said quickly. “If we leave now, we can get to Alfgeir’s by dusk and I can come back first thing in the morning. Is that all right, Trollboy?”
    Surprised at being asked, Danr simply nodded.
    â€œNo need,” Orvandel said. “Our guest should get a good night’s sleep first.”
    A pang tightened Danr’s stomach. The simple hospitality of a bench and a meal he could handle, but spending thenight? The traps and pitfalls of guest etiquette lay scattered before him like a set of hunting snares. A wrong word, a mistake at the table, a fart at a bad moment, and for all he knew, he could cause a feud that lasted generations. The very idea made Danr’s hands shake. His mind raced, looking for a way out, and after a moment, it found one.
    â€œThank you,
Carl
Orvandel,” Danr said carefully. “But
Carl
Alfgeir’s orders were clear. I return tonight.”
    â€œNot surprising,” Orvandel snorted. “The man would squeeze pine chips for the pitch. I can imagine how he treats those who work for him. Talfi, you’d better get ready.”
    But Talfi was already pulling a brown cloak over his blue tunic. “I’m ready now.”
    â€œA moment.” Ruta was at the pantry shelves, filling a sack. “I don’t trust that man or his thin-titted wife to feed you properly. Take this.”
    Talfi fetched the bag. As he passed the table where Almer and Karsten were sorting feathers, Almer leaned over to his brother and muttered something. Karsten snorted, and a puff of feathers floated away from him. Talfi ignored this. Danr, now standing near the door, cocked his head. What in Vik’s name was this about?
    Talfi joined Danr in the rectangle of sunshine cast by the open doorway. Ashkame, the painted tree, gleamed green and brown. “I’ll return tomorrow, Uncle.”
    Danr remembered his manners again. “My thanks for the hospitality,
Carl
Orvandel.”
    Orvandel waved a hand at this, and Danr exited the house, stepping carefully over the pile of half-finished arrows on the front stairs. In the garden, he untied the young steer and led it out to the street. Talfi fell into step beside him. Overhead the sun continued to burn, and the headache ground back into Danr’s skull, despite his hat.
    â€œI’ve never been to your village,”