Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [46]
“It’s all right. I found my way this far.”
“The first room at the top of the stairs, on your right,” Einar said. Then he gave her shoulders another quick squeeze and went back to his post.
With Rollo padding along beside her, the lass went up the stairs, her heart in her throat. There was a gorgeous rose-patterned carpet to muffle their steps, and at the top of the staircase stood a small table holding a vase of Oriental design. The lass wasn’t sure which was more alarming: that her brother Askeladden lived here, or that the door just beside the small table concealed her injured father.
Mustering even more courage than she had needed before, she knocked softly on the bedroom door. Her knock pushed the door open, for it had not been properly latched. The scene within the room was much as she had expected: her mother, her sister Tordis, her three eldest brothers, all gathered around a bed where her father, pale and swathed in paler bandages, lay. A storklike man dressed in black leaned over him: the doctor.
“Hello?” The lass clutched at Rollo’s ruff for support.
All eyes turned to her, even the bleary eyes of her father. For a moment, no one reacted. Then it was as if the room exploded.
“Lass!”
“Sister!”
“Daughter!”
“How did you get here?”
“Silence, all of you!” This last came from the physician. “Master Oskarson needs quiet!”
Hans Peter reached the lass first, hugging her tightly. Then Tordis, followed by Torst. Askel did not embrace her, but stood with his hands in the pockets of his fine breeches.
“It’s all right, Dr. Olafson. This is my youngest sister,” he said in a pompous voice.
Their mother did not embrace the lass, either. She stood behind Askeladden, playing with the long silk fringe of the shawl she wore.
“Daughter.” Jarl reached out his good hand.
The lass moved slowly toward him. As she went, the warmth of the room made sweat break out on her forehead, and she cast aside the white parka.
Jarl’s right arm was splinted and swathed in bandages. The blankets had been folded away from his right leg, which was splinted and wrapped in even more white linen. Both his eyes looked swollen, and there was a massive bruise on his left cheek. The girl knelt beside the bed and reached out to clasp his good hand.
“Father, I’m so sorry,” she said with a sob in her throat.
“It wasn’t your fault, my daughter,” he said, his voice weak, and gave her hand a little squeeze.
She shook her head. She had a horrible feeling that this had something to do with her situation. Not for nothing was bad fortune called “troll-luck” in the North.
“Yes, well...” The physician cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “When the nurse arrives, I shall give her the medicines for the pain and fever. She will know what to do.”
“Thank you, Dr. Olafson,” Askeladden said. He stepped forward and shook the physician’s hand. “I will show you out.”
The lass couldn’t help but stare after her brother. He was so polished, so polite, it was eerie. Seeing her expression, Hans Peter gave a barking laugh.
“As you see, Askel has found his place in the world,” he said in his dry way.
“And a good thing he has,” their mother said severely. “Where would your poor father be, if Askeladden was not able to call upon the king’s own physician?”
Bowing his head, Hans Peter said nothing. Their mother turned on the lass.
“Have you broken your word?” Frida’s face was stiff, but the lass thought she saw a hint of fear in her mother’s eyes.
Momentarily confused, she blinked, then shook her head. “No, the isbjørn brought me to the city so that I could be with Father. I have to go back in a few days.”
Frida nodded curtly. “See that you do.”
The light dawned on her youngest daughter. Frida was afraid if the lass broke her word to the bear, their newly acquired wealth would be taken away.
“Such a short