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Sister (Mimir's Story - Part I)
🕑 Added 2022-06-30 18:00:05 +0000 UTC[Author's note: My brain is pretty fried from the huge alpha build update this month, so I had to split this story up into two parts: Part II will be posted next month! đ And for now, I'm placing Some Kind of Virus on hiatus while I work through my writer's block on that: I know exactly what's going to happen for that story and how, but I don't currently have the motivation or interest to actually write it! Letting it rest will let me work on other things until the inspiration returns. In the meantime... Mimir! If this story feels fast-paced, it's intentionally so, to mirror the breakneck disorientation of Mimir's general situation. And I would be shocked if anyone predicts which surprise character is going to pop up in Part II...
Also, this story is marginally more enjoyable if you read one of Blade's stories, Quicksilver, first, though it isn't necessary! And for anyone wondering, Helvar is a small fiefdom south of Orlop!]
Everyone in town was whispering about the fortune-teller, but no one actually dared to approach her tent.
Initially, Anneth was too busy to pay much attention to the gossip. She was never inclined to socialize much with people outside of the castle to begin with, but this sennight, sheâd hardly had time to exchange even a muttered hello with the florist and the butcher. Her master and the lord of Helvar, Tristram Agrane, was in one of his infamous tempers, and Annethâs sister Casserah was running her ragged trying to appease him. Whenever Tristram Agrane was displeased, someone else sufferedâand the new lord had much to be displeased about. Casserah, who was Lord Tristramâs head cook, was determined that tonightâs banquet would gentle his mood: his favorite foods, the holiday celebrations for St. Caphrielâs feast, and the annual arrival of the traveling theater troupe of which Tristram was a patron all seemed to be promising signs of a milder temper. But all of that also meant that Anneth was too tired, footsore, and hot from scurrying all over town on errands to pay much mind to the rumors and speculation about Helvarâs newest arrival.
Her ears only pricked up when she came into view of the shabby purple tent, little better than a large lean-to of cloth draped clumsily against the town squareâs central tree. There was a pair of teenagers observing the lean-to from afar, arms crossed and discussing the matter as gravely as if they were heads of state at a political assembly.
âI heard Dame Ambau went to speak to her, and left the tent looking white as a sheet. Apparently the old bat wonât say what she heard in there.â
âProbably she got told that sheâs going to drop dead at any moment, but I could have told you thatâAmbauâs already almost dust and bones!â After a quiet laugh, the shorter of the youths lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. âYou know what I heard? They say that the seer is mad andblind: she did it to herself so she wouldnât have to look at the horrors of the future.â
âThatâs rubbish. Howâd she set up the tent, if sheâs blind?â
âI donât know, but itâs true. Rafe told me.â
âHow would Rafe know? No one else has gone in there, so how would anyone know?â
âPeople have gone in. Look at the collection plate outside of her tent. Itâs full of coins.â
âI think they were trying to pay her to go away, not for her services. You know magic is illegal, donât you? If the Inquisitors ever caught wind of her being here, or if they heard of anyone actually paying her coin to use magic on themâŚâ
âTch.â A dismissive gesture. âThe Inquisitors never come here.â
âYou canât always see them in plain sight,â the taller one cautioned. âAnd you never know: all that trouble with the lord and his sisterâwouldnât surprise me if the Autarchâs people showed up here someday soon, and woe to that fortune-teller, and anyone whoâs visited her, if sheâs still around.â
That sent a chill down Annethâs spine. Cautiously, she made her way across the town square and towards the purple tent, hanging her vegetable-laden basket from the crook of her elbow. The tent flap was stirring a little in the drowsy noonday heat: summer in Helvar had come unusually dry and dusty this year, another worry to sour Lord Tristramâs mood when he read over reports of the fiefdomâs crop yields and taxes. When she stooped to peek inside the tent, she saw a very thin, very frail-looking young woman in tattered clothes sitting cross-legged on the ground, a kind of opaque veil draped over her head and face, so that she looked like a gauze-swathed mummy or shimmering ghost. Anneth couldnât see much of her features, other than that she had blankly-staring silver eyes and long, wavy black hair, but she did see that the fortune-teller was deep in contemplation over a pile of small bones and dice scattered on the ground before her. She didnât look up even when Anneth drew aside the tent flap and let the noon light in.
âWell met,â Anneth said cautiously, in the customary greeting of the locals of Helvar. She made an effort to enunciate clearly: Casserah was always nagging her about being too soft-spoken and hard to hear, which put her in danger of annoying Lord Tristram. Still, the fortune-teller did not react to the sound of her voice. âErâmay I ask how long you plan on staying here? The guards in our town are slothful and lazy, but I worry that they may come along to oust you if you linger here so visibly.â And if not them, then the Inquisitors. Because those teenagers are rightâhowever far from civilization we are, however long it takes, they will be here eventually.
The fortune-teller continued to stare down at her dice and bones. Anneth shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the basket handle digging into the soft skin of her arm, and wondered if she should simply let the tent flap fall and turn around to mind her own business. She glanced at the battered tin collection plate positioned just outside of the tent entranceâfilled with chunky copper bits and even a few silver lyssâand said helpfully, âYou have plenty of coin here. Enough to rent a room at the inn. Do you need me to show you where it is?â If the fortune-teller was blind, was she even aware that she had money in the plate?
Finally, the woman in the tent stirred, looked up, and then blinked, very slowly and languidly, as if dazzled by the sunlight now streaming into the tent. She stared for a moment at Anneth, as if she recognized her face but couldnât quite place her, before she said in a soft, melting voice even quieter than Annethâs own: âAnneth?â
Anneth felt a stab of fear go through her heart; it was as if her chest had been pierced by an icicle. But then she told herself, Sheâs a fortune-teller, so I suppose itâs her business to know names and read minds and all that, so no point losing your head over it. So instead she answered, trying to keep her voice steady, âYes?â
The fortune-teller blinked at her again, almost seeming befuddled, though her face looked fairly expressionless under the veil. âYouâre not afraid of me,â she said.
âWell, I suppose I donât have any reason to be,â Anneth returned carefully, setting her basket down on the ground so that she could kneel properly and arrange her skirts. âDo I?â
The fortune-teller thought about it for a moment. âNo.â
âForgive me for my bluntness, but you donât seem as if you could hurt a fly, and if you say anything upsetting, I suppose I could just ignore it,â Anneth continued, not quite knowing why she was saying all of this. âAnd my sweetheartâheâs one of Lord Tristramâs guards, up at the big castleâhe has Ket blood, so Iâm not afraid of Diminished folk, not like some others here. In fact, Iâm quite used to them. So you neednât worry about me.â
The fortune-teller had tilted her head to one side, as if listening to some faraway song that Anneth couldnât hear. âSweetheart?â she repeated, as if she didnât know the word. âThe man with orange hair?â She continued to listen in silence for a moment. âJunoth?â
Annethâs heart bucked again, and for a moment she felt quite dizzy and faint. But she managed to croak, knowing she was in too deep to walk away now: âYes, thatâs him.â
The fortune-teller nodded sagely. âYou will have healthy children together. In almost all paths that I can see. Though sometimes theyâre twins, and sometimes they come one at a time, first a boy, then a girl. The girl has your hair.â
God in Heaven, either Iâve gone completely mad or she has, Anneth thought. She said desperately, âYesâwellâthank you. Iâve always wanted children, so itâs a reliefâŚâ She trailed off, very much at a loss for words, before she said, âI donât have any coin left to pay you: I spent it all on all of these leeks and turnips for the feast tonight. Butââoh, Casserah was going to kill herââperhaps you could come with me back to the castle. If you wonâtâif you canât stay in an inn, perhaps it would be safer to spend the night in the root cellar. No one ever goes down there, so theyâll never know. And my sister is the cook for Lord Tristram, so we can make you a hot meal or two until youâre ready to go on your way. Unless you plan to stay in Helvar more permanently?â Please say you donât intend on staying. Itâs not safe here, not for the likes of you.
The fortune-teller shook her head. âI canât stay,â she murmured. âI have to find my sisters, and one other person, too. The gods have urged it.â
âOh, well, that sounds very important,â Anneth said in a rush of relief. She rose, picking up her basket, and said, âThen letâs go up to the castle. We can pack up your tent and be on our way before the town guard decide to stir themselves.â
The fortune-teller nodded and rose to her bareâdusty, Anneth realized with even more horror than she had felt about the soothsayingâfeet with surprising grace, murmuring her thanks. Anneth helped her pack her things in an astonishingly compact packâsomeone had fashioned it for the fortune-teller, she suspected, to make her travel as easy as possibleâbefore she thought to ask, âWhatâs your name, anyway?â
The fortune-teller had to think about it for a moment. âMimir,â she said finally, plainly. âAnd yours?â
What? âIâm Anneth. You named me just a few minutes ago.â
âOh.â Mimir frowned absently, then looked away. âI suppose I forgot.â
#
Mimir sat quietly on a stool in Lord Tristramâs kitchen as a full-out war seemed to rage on around her. The slight young woman with vivid red hairâAnneth, Mimir told herself, her name was Annethâand the sturdy, strident-voiced blonde continued to argue with each other even as they dashed and ducked all around the kitchen, dodging the flurry of helpers, servants, bakers, larderers, kitchen maids, and scullions scurrying around with well-practiced ease. The blondeâAnnethâs older sister, Casserahâtook a moment to set a steaming bowl of fish soup in front of Mimir, then turned and promptly threatened to beat her sister to death with a rolling pin.
âYou always do this, Anneth, you always take in strays and runaways, this is just like that vagrant you picked up outside of town, and that cat you thought could be the kitchen mouserââ
âShe seemed like she needed help! Everyone in the square was staring at her, and you know it was only a matter of time before she was thrown in the town jail, and I thought she was blindââ
ââyou see something helpless and you canât just leave well enough alone! And tonight of all nightsâyou know how important it is that the evening goes off without a hitchââ
âShe isnât going to bother a soul, I promise you. Sheâll stay in the root cellar, Steward Thelme need never know, and then sheâll be on her way once sheâs fed and a little stronger.â
âYou always say that, too!â Casserah suddenly turned sharply to Mimir. âHow long has it been since you last had a good meal?â
Mimir, who had been staring fixedly down at the soup, raised her eyes to meet Casserahâs. âI donât remember.â Had it been Heth Macoll? Orlop? Orâno, she hadnât been to Orlop yet, had she, Helvar was somewhere south of there, she was going to go there next, or had she come from there? And wasnât Heth Macoll years ago?
Casserah looked pointedly at Anneth, who said in an exasperated voice: âShe means it literally, Cass, not figuratively. She probably doesnât actually remember. I think the poor thing has some sort of memory problemââ
âOh, wonderful! So is she going to forget that sheâs supposed to stay out of sight and wander into the middle of Lord TristâLord Helvarâs feast?â
Casserah stands behind her, looking at something off to the side, red-faced and weeping. âPlease donât let them hurt her, take me, Iâll do it in her stead, I pushed her into itââ
âNo, no, Junoth and I can keep an eye on her. But, Cass, she did something pretty remarkable earlierââ
âYes, you mentioned it already. She guessed the name of that orange-haired dolt you call a lover and said that you would have two babies? Well, Lettie predicted that Old Johnâs horse would have two foals over the winter, andthat one of them would be spotted, and you donât see her charging money in the town square.â
A scullery maid sidled up to the corner table that Mimir was perched at and set down a hunk of bread, and Mimir saw the spectral blur of three of her futures before she shut her eyes against them, the taste of the fish soup still greasy on her lips. Too many faces in here, too many voices, everything too bright and populated, a multitude of folds and phantoms all clamoring for her attentionâ
âSorry for all of the chaos,â the scullery maid said in a friendly, conspiring whisper. âYou came here at a bad time, you see. Our lord and master, Tristram Agrane, he recently inherited the fiefdom after the old lord passed. And if that wasnât already hard enough, his sister, Lady Cythera, well, she had some kind of outburst during his enthronement ceremony at court, in front of all of the other nobles and powerful lords. Sheâs always been a bit odd, Lady Cythera, but once her brother took control, she became quite unmanageable. Had a lot of very strange religious ideas and beliefs. Very passionate and unruly. Anyway, no one here quite knows what she actually said, but apparently it was very shocking and scandalous, and all of Lord Tristramâs rivals paid witness to it. He was so disgraced that he had to send Lady Cythera off to a convent a long ways away to become a nun and live in seclusion, though a maid I know from the Lockwood fiefdom wrote and said that she heard Lord Lockwood saying she ought to have gone to prison, not a convent. Imagine! Well, Lord Tristram loves his sister dearly, so of course it pained him to do it, and heâs been in a foul temper ever since. But what else could he have done? He had to protect his household and reputation from the shame. Anyway, tonight Casserah thinks she can make everything better by throwing the lord a grand feast while this theater troupe performs for him, though everyone knows that Junothâthatâs Annethâs man, heâs one of Tristramâs guardsâhe thinks the three of them should leave the household altogether and be done with it, though he wonât say why. But Casserah always says that if theyâre going to afford a wedding for the two of them and provide for all of Junothâs little brothers, they canât chance finding work elsewhereâŚâ
âSosie,â Casserah barked. âWhat did I tell you about telling tales? Did you finish descaling that fish?â
The scullery maid pouted, but she moved away, taking her ghostly reflections with her. Still, the inside of Mimirâs head swayed, even though she kept her eyes mostly shut. Flickers and flashes of silver light still crept under her eyelids. She had lost her veil somewhere and couldnât remember when sheâd last seen it.
The butler waits for a saucier to prepare gravy for the silver tureen, the eighty-year-old version of him standing and waiting for his grandchild to dutifully ladle him soup from a humble stove. The dishwasher weeps over a bleeding wound in his palm. Anneth pores over a book, roundly pregnant, and asks aloud, âBut is Kinley any better than Orlop?â Junoth stares at a dark-haired man as if heâs seen a demon. Ashen-faced, he says, âAre you here to kill me?â A familiar face with keen, iladrin-glowing eyes and an aura blazing with spectral power smiles as a tall Hunter with piercings in his ears jokes, âThe Hero of Haven wants to spend time with me?â
ââŚMimir? Mimir, are you all right?â
A hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. Anneth. Mimir bent again towards her soup, reaching for the spoon with a trembling hand, and didnât reply. Nausea and dull confusion churned in her skull, but food helped. Anneth pulled up another stool and watched her eat for a moment, then leaned forward and said softly, âCasserah didnât believe me when I told her about yourâtrade. I thought perhaps you could tell her somethingâsomething smallâbut if it makes you ill, or itâs too difficult, you neednât bother.â
Mimir continued to plow through her meal, staring stolidly at the table, while someone elseâan eavesdropping silver-polisher, perhapsâhissed, âYouâd better not, Annie. Youâll get in mighty trouble if the lord finds out youâve had a Mage working magic in his kitchen.â
âNot so,â the butler whom Mimir had glimpsed as an old man scoffed. He had a very lofty, worldly air, like a well-traveled scholar talking to a bunch of village rubes. âI donât think fortune-telling is actually illegal, not like the other Mage arts are. There are plenty of hedgewitches and shamans who do it at the horse fair in Kinley, in plain view of the Vice Guard, and no one ever seems bothered: I suppose because it canât harm anyone.â
Casserah shot Anneth a meaningful look, as if to say, So does that mean you brought her here for nothing?
The high-handed butler continued, âAnd besides, Lord Tristram has always been more lax about such things than other lords. Magic and Diminished things have always amused him: it was the one thing that he and Lady Cythera clashed repeatedly on. Donât you remember the year he had those fire-breathers perform for his birthday? She called him blasphemous and threatened to report him for heresy, and old Lord Helvar slapped her for it.â He paused significantly, allowing everyone to take this in, then added smugly, âAnd besides, with everything else heâs been up to, some charlatan hedgewitch in the kitchen is the least of his lordshipâs concerns.â
This created an uproar as everyone within earshot pressed him over what that could meanâthe butler seemed to insinuate he was privy to very sensitive information without actually saying soâand Mimir, unable to bear the sudden blaring of noise, said abruptly, âThe theater troupe isnât coming tonight. Theyâll say it was because their leader fell ill, but it will be because they fear the negative attention Tristram has received and they want to avoid becoming embroiled in any potential scandal, since they tour and visit other lords throughout the year. Casserah might break her ankle picking mushrooms and will be bed-ridden for a winter, though I donât know when. And youââthis she addressed to the butler, whose eyes had turned as round as a childâsââyou usually marry a woman named Lyda, if you marry anyone at all.â
The room fell completely silent.
Mimir still heard and felt the thunder of a dozen potential reflections shouting at herâThatâs unnaturalâThat canât beâYou see? I told you!âHow did she do that?âI donât love Lydaâbut for one blessed moment, the occupants of the room could only stare at her in shocked, wordless silence. She let the quiet wash over her like a balm.
Then an orange-haired young manâlean, sharp-featured, wiry, and wearing the uniform of a palace guardâcame into the kitchen and looked around with startled puzzlement.
âWhat are you all doing, standing around?â he asked in astonishment. âItâs only an hour until dinnertimeâand Lord Corovannâs just arrived!â
That kickstarted the kitchen into a renewed frenzy of activity: servants leapt for trays and dishware, and Casserah resumed charging around the kitchen, bellowing orders like a drill sergeant. Whoever this Lord Corovann was, apparently news of his attendance was even more important than whatever Mimir had just saidâor, at least, it left the others no time to dwell on it.
The kitchenâs new visitor looked sidelong at Mimir, like a dog eyeing a suspicious stray cat who had suddenly materialized in his field of view. âWho are you?â he asked with blithe curiosity, leaning his hip up against her table. Though he carried a fearsome mace buckled at his waist, he had a somewhat guileless, artless innocence about him.
Mimir returned to her soup and ignored him. Anneth was going to explain the situation to her lover soon enough. Indeed, out of the corner of her eye, Mimir could see herâor a version of her, a few seconds aheadâstanding up to kiss him now.
âA fortune-teller?â Junoth echoed incredulously once Anneth had finished telling him the story, having pulled him into a more secluded corner of the kitchen. Mimir couldnât quite hear them from where she was sitting, but if she concentrated hard enough, she could listen to the echoes of the words reverberating through all the layers of what they were going to say next. He wrapped an affectionate arm around Annethâs waist, pulling her closer so he could kiss the crown of her head. âReally, Annie, you pick up the strangest people.â
âDid she tell you your fortune?â he asks.
She squirmed playfully out of his grip. âLike you?â she teased. âI seem to recall finding you in the town square, trying to prove your worth to the town guard by picking fights with random passerby to prove you were strong enough to subdue them. Who was it who went out of her way to bring you up to the castle and find you a job then?â
âYou.â Junoth grinned. âI donât blame you for wanting to help, scarletâitâs one of the things I like best about you. But Cass must be pretty mad.â
âShe is, but sheâll forget she was after tonightâs feast is over.â
âRight.â He glanced over at Mimir, who had drained her bowl and was patiently waiting for someone to come along to refill it. âAnd did she tell you your fortune?â
Anneth smiles, a little shyly. âShe said you and I have twins. A boy and a girl. The girl has my hair.â
âShe did, but Iâll tell you about that later. You said Lord Corovann is here?â
Junothâs lean face sobered. âHe is, along with six of those other minor lords.â He lowered his voice then, bending so that their heads were pressed close together. âI have a bad feeling about all of this, Annie. Tristramâs meeting with those men way too often, locking himself in the study with them and talking for hours. Iâve been in noble houses before. Thatâs not normal. I think heâs up to something.â
Annethâs brow furrowed. âHanson alluded to something similar, so I think he shares your suspicions. But you donât think itâs reallyâ?â
Junoth shook his head. âI donât know. They talk about mercenaries and keeping things quiet, strategic points of âmobilization.â If I didnât know better, Iâd think they were plotting something⌠something that the Inquisitors should be investigating. And you know what happened to me and my family. Once the Inquisitors come, itâs not good for anyone.â He straightened to his full heightâthough he was not much taller than Casserah, he looked positively lanky in comparison to Annethâs petite statureâand shook his head. âWe should leave before that happens. As soon as we can. Tonight, even.â
Blood and fire, fear and screaming, lashes of searing pain and ash in the air and armies on the marchâ
âWe canât, not with Casserah in charge of the feast. It would be a disaster without her. And what about your brothers?â
âHiroâs fifteen now, old enough to get an apprenticeship or a job. He wants to. We wouldnât have to worry so much about themâtheyâd still be with us, but it wouldnât be like it has been. Everyone could help pitch in and feed the family. Theyâre old enough now.â
Little Hiro dead from a bandit raid, Hiro an apprentice harvesting tomatoes on a farm, Anneth coughing into a handkerchief, looking pale and wan as she tends to Casserahâs broken ankleâ
Anneth was shaking her head, with the weariness and exhaustion of someone shuffling dutifully into a well-worn argument. âWhere would we even go? And wouldnât Tristram send people after us? His head cook, one of his best guards, and one of his housekeepers all disappearing when heâs up to something heâd want to keep a secretââ
âThatâs just a chance weâll have to take. Iâve outrun people who wanted to find me before.â
âYou shouldnât go,â Mimir murmured to her empty bowl. âYou should stay.â But of course, no one heard her.
The butler from before, Hanson, suddenly burst into the kitchen again, looking wild-eyed and frantic. He pointed a shaking, gloved finger Mimirâs way, and a few people standing closest to himâJunoth and Anneth includedâfell still at the look on his face.
âShe was right,â Hanson babbled, looking positively terrified. His sleek hair, previously gelled as tightly to his scalp as a beetle-black helmet, was now slightly mussed and askew. âShe was right, she was right, and his lordship is completely beside himselfââ
âWhat are you talking about?â Anneth asked, her voice quiet but as sharp as her older sisterâs. âRight about what?â
âA message just came for Lord Tristram. The acting troupeâthe Syanese Playersâsent a letter saying exactly what sheââ He pointed at Mimir for emphasis. ââsaid they would say. That they canât come tonight, after all; their leaderâs fallen ill and they send their regrets, but they would never dream of risking bringing infection to the house of a great lord like Lord Tristram.â He looked at Mimir as if she had sprouted two more heads. âShe really can tell the future.â
Before anyone could respond, Casserah gave a kind of strangled scream from the far side of the kitchen.
âWhat do you mean, theyâre not coming?â she fumed, slamming an enormous pot of a red, spiced broth down onto a counter; although it sloshed and wobbled dangerously, it never spilled a drop. âThey canât justâto send a messageâitâs an hour before dinner! They were expected to be here this morning, I have a meal fit for forty people already partway cooked with the first course ready to be served, and they send a message? Donât they know what an insult that is to Lord Tristram?â
âI think they know,â Hanson said grimly, while Junoth muttered to Anneth, âThat canât be good for his temper. Heâs been counting on their performance ever since he sent Cythera away, and this is an additional slight on his honor.â
âThey must not expect him to be around long enough to exact revenge,â Anneth murmured back. âCould they have heard something on their travels on the road, or at the other lordsâ courts?â
âThat doesnât matter,â Casserah snapped, shoving six large wads of raw bread dough into the central stone hearth as her assistants continued to mill and scamper around her like industrious mice. âWhat matters is that we find some way to replace them before those other lords leave. Tristram wonât take it out on any of us until everyone else is gone. If we can find some other form of entertainment before then, perhaps we can avert his gaze from any of us.â
âHow are we going to find someone to replace an entire troupe of actors and players in less than an hour?â Anneth asked, exasperated. âHelvar doesnât exactly have many performers.â
âThere must be someone who could amuse his lordship. What about Athan the Younger? He can juggle, canât he?â
âBarely,â Junoth scoffed. âAnd heâs more likely to get his head cut off than make Lord Tristram laugh. What about that new innkeeper, the one down at the Houndâs Tooth? I hear he can do card tricks.â
âWhat if we fetch them both and make them a combined act?â Casserah snarled. âItâs at least something. And Junoth, if you can do your axe-throwingââ
âIâll do it,â Mimir said.
âYou said I wasnât allowed to do that anymore.â
âWell, obviously Iâm changing my mindââ
âWhat was that, Mimir?â Anneth asked.
Red hair, chains, heat and sweat and silkâ
If you leave now, youâll dieâ
Lady Cytheraâs jewelry, no one will ever knowâ
Brightburnerâkithmaâthe watcher in the nightâ
âIâll do it,â Mimir repeated. âIâll be the lordâs entertainment for tonight.â
Again, the hot, crowded kitchen went completely and utterly still. Even the ghosts of the future paused, standing like jurors in a silent gallery, observing the movements of the person they had meant to condemn. Then, with the immediate future determined, marked, and set, they vanished before Mimirâs eyes like blown-out candle flames.
She blinked against the sudden clarity and hush of the world.
âAre you completely mad?â Junoth was asking her in an awed voice.
Mimir rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand; her veil, she realized with sudden pleasant surprise, was still draped partly across the top of her head, only folded back so she could eat.
âNo,â she told him calmly, looking down at her refilled bowl of soup. âI am Mimir, and I am a Sister of the Silver Eye.â
âWhat does that mean?â
âIt means she knows what sheâs talking about,â Anneth said, shaking herself out of her stupor when Mimir didnât reply. âAnd, I suppose, it means Lord Tristram will like her.â
