Tara Runeweaver's Arc

Chapter 11 of 19

The wagon stood outside the hall by morning, wheels sunk into the snow, door bolted shut against the wind. Tara saw it and understood. Bjorn's mother had not come to visit. She had come to wait. Beside it rose the carved post of his line, faces stacked one above the other, every father back to the first. The old woman had set her perch near both, high enough to see the whole yard. Tara climbed the ladder and sat beside her. The old woman did not turn. Below, Bjorn moved among his men, laughing at something one of them said. "Will you bear him sons?" the old woman asked. Tara watched Bjorn's shoulders, the easy way he stood. She kept her left hand open on her knee, cord turned up. "I cannot answer what has not been asked," she said. The old woman made a small sound, not quite approval, not quite not. That evening Tara found Bjorn alone by the carved post, one hand resting on the lowest face. She stopped within reach of him. He looked at her and did not look away. "I want you," he said. "Sons or daughters, it makes no difference. I would have a family with you." Tara felt the cord pull warm against her pulse. "Yes," she said. He took her open hand and closed his around it, and this time he gripped. By morning the wagon door stood open, and his mother was unloading her tins onto the bench as if she had always lived there.