“We will. I will,” Dagmar said again. “I will watch over them all.” His voice was firm but Bayr shook his head, doubtful, despairing. Bayr didn’t believe his uncle could protect her. Ghisla didn’t think so either. But the matter was clearly out of Bayr’s hands.
Master Ivo and the purple-robed keepers descended the stone steps of the temple, surrounding Bayr and Dagmar. Ghisla and the other girls trailed behind them, trying to hold back their tears.
Dred and the warriors of Dolphys were mounted and waiting, their postures as grim and apprehensive as those of the keepers.
“Word has spread. We must go now, Bayr. We must go now,” Dred urged, waving him forward.
But it was too late.
The chieftains, led by Erskin and the king, were striding into the temple square, three dozen warriors following behind them.
“You cannot claim him, Dred,” Erskin shouted as they drew near. He sounded fearful and almost desperate, as if he too could not imagine the mount without its protector.
“I can and I have,” Dred returned. “He is my daughter’s son. He is my kin. I have no other. I would not deny you, Erskin. Why do you seek to deny me?”
“He is the Temple Boy. He swore to guard the daughters of the clans,” Lothgar of Leok brayed. “We stood on these steps, gathered around this flame, and Bayr of Saylok promised to protect them the way he has protected the princess. He cannot break that vow. He must remain on the temple mount.”
For a moment, Dred was silent, as if stunned at the development. Ghisla realized suddenly that Dred had not been present the day the daughters were brought to the temple. Dred had not seen the Highest Keeper light the Hearth of Kings and promise that it would continue burning in their honor. He had not seen Bayr swear to serve the daughters of the clans.
Bayr stepped out from among the robed keepers, his warrior’s braid so long it touched the new blue sash tied around his waist.
“Why does he wear that sash?” Ghisla whispered. She still understood so little about the customs and traditions of the clans.
“Because he has been claimed. Now he wears the colors of a clan,” Juliah said, almost wistful. “I wish I could wear the colors of Joran.”
“You cannot deny a clan their chieftain,” Dred said.
The Dolphynian warriors beside him grew still. Bayr drew to a halt halfway down the steps, and Dagmar froze beside him. The king and the chieftains balked as well, and the metallic whisper of swords being drawn shivered through the square.
“Return inside, Daughters!” Keeper Amos insisted, as if afraid that a skirmish was about to ensue. But none of them moved.
“What chieftain?” King Banruud hissed.
“Dolphys has yet to choose a chieftain,” Dred said. “The boy must present himself to the clan to make a claim.”
“You will be chieftain, Dred of Dolphys,” the king retorted. “We all sat at council when it was decided.”
“One old man for another?” Dred asked. “That is not in the best interest of my clan.” His clansmen shifted again, uncertain, but still they did not protest.
“You have the blessing of the keepers, the support of the chieftains, the nod of a king. Why do you insist on claiming the boy?” Aidan of Adyar asked, his voice thoughtful, his gaze narrowed.
“I am not the best choice. If given the opportunity, I have no doubt my clan will choose him.” Dred pointed at Bayr, and all eyes followed his finger.
“He is not yet grown,” Erskin argued. “How can he lead a clan?”
“Have you killed a man, Bayr of Saylok?” Aidan asked.
Bayr nodded once. “Yes.”
“Have you bedded a woman?” Lothgar boomed.
Bashti snickered and Elayne gasped.
“Th-there w-was no b-bed,” Bayr stammered.
Lothgar grinned, and the men at Dred’s back relaxed infinitesimally.
“Sounds like a man to me,” Aidan said. “Looks like one too.”
“He has protected the temple and the princess since the king was crowned. He has not failed or faltered. But he has a clan, and his clan has claimed him, and you cannot deny us our chieftain,” Dred pressed.
Ghisla watched Dagmar wrap his hand around Bayr’s arm, as though willing him to yield, to trust.
“The clan has not made their selection. Your people have not spoken. You cannot speak for them, Dred of Dolphys,” the king argued.
“I can’t. But the boy must come to Dolphys and be heard,” Dred insisted.
“This is a farce,” the king argued, his tone glacial.
“It is not,” the Highest Keeper intoned from the shadow of his hood. “Dred of Dolphys is a man of vision.”
Erskin scoffed and Lothgar folded his powerful arms in disbelief.
“Dred of Dolphys forsakes his own claim to the chiefdom for another, better man,” the Highest Keeper argued. “Would you do the same? I can think of many warriors in Ebba and Leok who would lead their clans with great distinction.”
“The clan will choose him,” Dagmar’s voice rose, strong and sure. “I am a keeper of Dolphys. In the temple, it is I who represent the clan. Bayr of Dolphys has my blessing.”
“He cannot forsake Saylok for a single clan,” King Banruud protested.
“He is not a slave, not a supplicant, not the son of the king,” the Highest Keeper said. “He has fulfilled a duty and will now fulfill another. When you were chosen as king, Sire, you did not break an oath to Berne. Someone took your place. Someone will take his place.” The Highest Keeper’s voice was so mild—and cutting—none could disagree.
“And if he is not chosen?” Lothgar interrupted.
“If I am n-not chosen . . . I w-will return,” Bayr promised, and Dred of Dolphys looked at him like he wanted to clap his hands over Bayr’s mouth.
But Bayr’s vow eased the tension in the chieftains, and Aidan of Adyar grasped his braid with one hand and his sword with the other. “He’s been claimed. Let him go. If the Norns will it, he will return.”
Lothgar of Leok echoed the motion, but Erskin of Ebba and Benjie of Berne did not. The king’s face was a mask of indecision, his big legs planted, his arms folded, his shoulders set. Still, no one stepped forward to impede the boy’s progress as Dagmar escorted Bayr the final steps to Dred’s side.
“To Dolphys,” Dred shouted.
“To Dolphys,” the warriors behind him hollered, and as one they turned for their horses.
“To Dolphys,” Dagmar ordered Bayr, his voice firm.
Bayr swung up onto his mount, his eyes clinging to his uncle’s. Then he looked at the keepers and the daughters, a fleeting glance filled with pain and apology.
“No,” Juliah moaned beside her, and Elayne clutched her hand.
“What will we do without him?” Elayne wept.
“I don’t know,” Ghisla whispered. “Odin help us.” Odin help her.
The moon was full and the hour late when Ghisla picked her way down to her favorite overlook on the east face of Temple Hill and sat in the grass, tucking herself back into the shadows so she could call out to Hod. Below her was the long, grassy slope spotted with rocks and trees that eventually flattened in the Temple Wood below, but she could see in every direction. If she saw anyone or felt any danger, she could scurry back to the tunnel in the hillside and be back inside the temple in minutes.