Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

Annika the Woolgatherer, Annika the Rabbit.” All said in fond jest, but they wouldn’t be jesting if she failed. “If I went home now, I’d be Annika the Promise-Breaker.”
    Valdís nodded, lifting the latch to the storeroom. Swords glinted on the walls. Three cannons sat in a neat row, covered by canvas, the balls stacked into pyramids. All of the weapons had come from Valdís’s ship, and she kept them in good repair—and Annika hadnever been certain whether Valdís held on to them because of the memories or in preparation for some other threat. Considering what she’d said about expecting trouble to come to Hannasvik, however, it was probably the latter.
    Valdís held open the door while Annika brought in the first armload of silks and velvet. “What makes you believe you’ll ever be able to go back?”
    It hurt that Valdís had to ask. Did she think Annika would fail? “I will find her.”
    “No.” The older woman’s bony hand caught Annika’s arm as she passed back through the door. “Even if you find her, what makes you believe you’ll be satisfied with going back?”
    Why wouldn’t she be? “It’s all I’ve dreamed of. I’ve never thought of doing anything else.”
    “You should.”
    She was speaking to the wrong person. “I’m not like you, Aunt.”
    “I know. You remind me of someone else.”
    “A cowardly foe?”
    Valdís thinned her lips and let her go. Annika carried the next two loads in silence—and damn that old woman, her head was filled now, trying to think of something she could do, somewhere else to go. But she loved her troll. She loved Hannasvik. Of course, she’d loved seeing more of the world, too—but Annika couldn’t think of anywhere else that she’d like to stop, to settle. Iceland was her home.
    Frustration boiled up in her. Dumping the last load on top of the pile, she faced the old woman and threw up her hands. “ You came back.”
    “To Smoke Cove.”
    “Which is close enough to Hannasvik.” Annika could imagine herself here, too. It wasn’t so different. “And you’ve done more than I ever will, have more reason not to be satisfied.”
    “Yes.” Her steely eyes narrowed. “Be thankful for that.”
    But Annika wasn’t. She stared at the other woman, realizing. She wasn’t thankful for it .
    Valdís cackled suddenly, watching her face. “So you see.”
    No, Annika didn’t. It was true, she wanted to do more. What , exactly, she still had no idea. And she couldn’t do it now, anyway. “Finding Källa comes before everything.”
    “So it does.” The older woman sniffed. “The fish ought to be done by now.”
    And Annika was starving. But she wanted to know first, “Why did you come back?”
    Valdís turned toward the stair, waving for her to follow. “For the same reason everyone runs back home: lost love.”
    “The father of your sons?”
    “No, though I loved him in my way. This was a widow I met after my sons had grown.”
    Annika slowed. “From the New World?”
    “Yes.”
    “No one ever said anything of her.”
    “Some stories you don’t share with an entire village.”
    Oh. Annika wouldn’t either, then. “She didn’t return your feelings?”
    “She did.” Valdís paused at the bottom of the stair, looked back. The steel in her gaze had softened. “But she was afraid to act on them. I called her a coward and left, thinking that she would realize how much she needed me and decide that I was worth the risk. It was the most foolish thing I ever did.”
    “She decided you weren’t?” Annika didn’t know how anybody could. Valdís would have tripped anyone’s heart.
    “I don’t know. When I returned a year later, she was dead.” At Annika’s gasp of denial, she nodded. “A wasting of her lungs.”
    A mist seemed to pass over Valdís’s eyes, but with a single blink, there was steel again.
    “I came back to die, Annika. Why not? I lived a full life. So Iset up my store and planned to while away the years until I could join her.” A sharp smile pulled at her mouth, and she started up the stairs. “That’s taken longer than I expected it would, too.”
    David had never been courted before. All through dinner , Lorenzo di Fiore spoke of the geological activity to the south and the schemes his father had envisioned to exploit it. More than once, David caught Dooley’s gaze on him, his friend’s amusement at the situation as blatant as the attempt to entice him. The work did sound fascinating, and di Fiore’s