Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

“That I also do not know. None that I have seen so far, but there are many new prisoners in this latest batch.”

“Gratitude, Altene. Your information is most valuable. Go now and ask among the prisoners if any know the fate of the other Teclan.” He paused. “And Altene, if your methods do not prove adequate to obtain the information I seek, use the prisoner guards. Tell them you are working on my behalf, and they are to assist you in whatever ways you deem necessary. This information is very important to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Altene murmured, unable to hold back the smile at his compliment and trust in her as she turned to leave.

Jarl waited a few moments then followed Altene outside the tent. Nena heard him speaking to one of his guards, his voice low. She strained her ears, trying to focus on his words. “Yes, a star and a lightning bolt, on the upper left arm,” he said.

The guard’s response was too muted for Nena to make out.

“Report exact numbers back to me once you are finished. And you are to search every single one. Am I clear?”

Did he not trust Altene? Was he sending a guard to double check the prisoners? More importantly, if Altene’s words were true, then her father and brother must still be free! Surely had the chief of the Teclan and his son been captured, Altene would have heard of it right away.

THE REMAINDER OF the day was a steady procession of men to see Jarl. Nena soon realized that what she had assumed was a grossly oversized tent to fit his ego, was, in fact, at times far too small. Some men had disputes. Some requested new orders or clarification of old. Some offered suggestions or requested permission to take on a new project. Others presented Jarl with problems for him to solve: problems with supplies, problems with weapons, problems with other men. Jarl addressed each issue calmly, though sometimes she could tell he was irritated or disinterested. He was easy to read.

Unlike the Teclan who were trained from an early age to reveal nothing—to keep their faces and bodies inexpressive, the Northmen were the opposite. Jarl was no exception. His face, body and even his energy aura clearly transmitted what he was feeling, though the other Northmen seemed not to be able to see it. The way the muscle in his cheek tensed when he was angry. The way his left shoulder dropped a fraction when he was bored. The way the small lines in his forehead became deeper when he was interested and giving careful consideration. Nena could read it all. Foolish, untrained, undisciplined Northman, she thought with disdain.

Every detail of every encounter, she filed away to potentially use in her escape. An escape, since being bloodsworn to the girl, had become a hundredfold more difficult, but still possible. She just had to be ready to seize the opportunity when it arose. To do that, she needed to learn everything she could about them.

When the next man entered, Nena was struck by how filthy he was, but the way Jarl reacted to him, sitting up and giving him his full attention, told her this was a man of importance. She took closer note of him. His thick dark beard and clothes were covered in a fine black soot. She smelled an acrid burnt smell even across the tent where she was secured. He was a large man—not near so tall as Jarl, but his body was much thicker, like the trunk of a tree.

“Is this what you had in mind, Jarl?” The dirty man asked as he held out something for Jarl to examine. Nena could not see what it was. Jarl took the item, and Nena heard the clink of metal. So this man was a forger—able to create and repair their weapons. No wonder he was so important to Jarl. For that same reason, he could be important to Nena. When she escaped, she would need a weapon. If she could locate the forger’s tent, there should be many there to choose from.

“Yes. These are perfect. Gratitude, Eigil,” Jarl said. “I shall see you properly rewarded.”

“No reward required. It was a pleasure to create something other than dagger and sword.” The man dismissed Jarl’s offer and smiled, his teeth appearing very white beneath the soot in his mustache.

Nena could tell Jarl was, in fact, very pleased by whatever it was this man had made for him. Her curiosity grew. Was it some unique weapon? If so, it had to be very small—and small appealed to her.

After the man left, Jarl stood and walked toward her, the item hidden inside his bulging fist. Her eyes darted from his hand to his face to his body, trying to identify not only the metal object, but also his intentions toward her in time to react, if necessary.

“I have a gift for you,” Jarl said. “Something to keep you safe.” He opened his hand and there in his palm was the forger’s masterpiece. Two small metal wrist shackles connected by four short links of chain. They were unlike any she had ever seen. Each one opened in the normal fashion with a hinge on one side and a lock clasp on the other, but they were delicate—more like bracelets, and each was lined with a soft rabbit fur cuff.

Jarl’s eyes searched her face to see if she recognized the significance of what he held, but her face remained a smooth mask. How could she show nothing? She was such an enigma to him. Did she not understand his intent or know what they were? With these, there would be no gnawing herself free. He reached for one of her wrists, but she jerked it away and stepped back, her eyes locked on his in clear defiance. Jarl nodded and smiled, satisfied. She knew.

“I’m going to replace the rawhide on your wrists with these. I had them designed