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252 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2007
He leads me through the hall Garreth brought me in and then into the castle's great room, where I stop with a quiet gasp and look around. I had thought this place dark and forbidding, but now, with sunlight streaming through the high windows, I realize I was wrong.
The darkness made all the furniture look black and heavy, but now I see that the large tables are deep red, with carved legs and polished to gleaming. The banners and tapestries are richly dyed, scarlet and deep green and dark blue and gold. And they're beautiful, worked with ornate pictures of wolves and horses and snow cats and other Northlands creatures. A fire crackles orange in the huge hearth, keeping the room warm despite its size, and benches and chairs are gathered in front of it, waiting for a storyteller and listeners to pass the cold nights.
Ahead of me, Erik stops and turns. "What's the matter?"
"This place," I say slowly, still dazzled. "It's beautiful."
He looks around, too, and shrugs."This? It's not bad."
I shake my head, realizing that this room has to be larger than the main room at Alder's inn, back home in Harnon. "It's so big. How many people live here?"
"At the castle?" Erik's brows pull together in thought. "Well, there's Da, and us. That's six. Nan and her girls make ten, add the stable boys, Jana the cook, Lord Ivan, Lord Erfold the Wise and his wife, Master Thorvald the Physician, Master Fenrik the Smith and his family . . ." he shrugs. "Twenty-five? Thirty? Alaric would know exactly, and could tell you without blinking an eye," he adds with a grin. "I'm not really sure."
I nod, a little overwhelmed at the idea of living with so many people. "So, do they call you Erik the Uncertain?" I ask, teasing, as we leave the room.
He grins again. "Erik Archer. Actually."
"Because you're as quick to shoot with a bow as you are with your mouth?"
"Not as quick as you," he retorts, half-laughing. "Or as sharp, apparently."
"And the others?"
"Well, they call Alaric the Golden."
"I know that one."
He nods. "And then Coll Horse Master. Officially, at least," Erik adds with a wicked smile. "Everyone calls him Coll the Fat, though."
"And he doesn't mind?" I ask, trying not to giggle.
"Course not. He is, isn't he?" Erik waves one hand dismissively. "Then there's me; they call Finn--actually Finnlay, by the way--'the Deaf,' of course, and Garreth the Youngest."
"I see Northlander names aren't always flattering."
"No. But they're always true."