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passed it back.
    Gotiskolker darted him a shrewd glance. “So you may, my
    friend, but you will have to look for it. Fridmarr could not convince the
    people of Hjaldrsholl to let him sharpen his sword at the troll’s
    grindstone, so he stole the grindstone. But his plan came to pieces
    when Sorkvir heard of it. He lost the sword and the grindstone, as well
    as the life of his brother Bodmarr. He tried to kill Sorkvir and was
    outlawed for life. Sorkvir now has the sword hanging among his
    trophies, the grindstone is hidden, nobody knows where, and Fridmarr
    has not been seen for more than forty years. But he swore he would
    return and avenge the death of Bodmarr someday.”
    Leifr smiled. “A good story. For a moment I almost believed it
    was real.”
    “It is real, you dolt!” The scavenger’s eyes burned with a flare of
    rage. “I’m offering you the opportunity for fame and wealth and honor!
    As surely as the stars travel their courses in the heavens, our paths have
    crossed this night to change the fate of many people, as well as
    our own. Are you unable to recognize fate when it comes knocking
    at your door?”
    Leifr shivered in sudden unease, peering around at the dark
    barrows. “This is no place to speak lightly of fate,” he growled. “If
    dying is what I’m after, I’ll turn myself over to those thief-takers now
    and be done with it quickly and relatively cleanly.”
    “Fridmarr’s father is dying. What could be more natural than
    asking for a truce until Fridmundr is dead?”
    Leifr snorted. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t take such impossible risks
    with my life. It’s the only one I’ve got, you know, and I want to save it
    as long as possible.“
    Gotiskolker nodded his head. “Well, I hadn’t pegged
    you for the overcautious sort. I must have made a mistake. By all
    means, avoid taking chances and your life will be a long and a dull one
    —not to say impoverished. When Sorkvir took over Solvorfirth and
    killed our chieftain Hroald, he took all the gold he could squeeze from
    all the landholders. It amounts to quite a little, I’d say, but getting it is
    a chancy thing. You don’t like to take risks, as you said, so I suppose
    there’s nothing more to be said about all that gold. Chests of it, so I’ve
    heard.”
    Leifr turned around and bent an evil glare upon Gotiskolker. “It’s
    lucky for you that I’ve learned to tolerate the meaningless jibes of
    individuals whose worth is negligible. I’m tired of talking. I’m going
    to try to sleep. But I warn you, scavenger, I sleep with both ears and
    one eye open and my hand on my sword. If you have any thoughts
    about scavenging my head for a reward, you’re far more likely to get
    scavenged yourself by the foxes and ravens that pick your bones.”
    Gotiskolker wrapped his ragged cloak more closely around
    himself and huddled nearer the fire. “Go ahead and sleep. You’ve
    nothing to fear from a one-armed barrow robber. I’ll watch for thief-
    takers and keep the fire going. If anyone approaches, I’ll warn you.”
    Leifr arranged his sword, shield, and axe beside him where he
    could grab them at an instant’s notice. He grunted. “Now all I have to
    worry about is watching you. I don’t see what I’ve gained by this
    bargain.”
    As was his habit, he dozed lightly, like a cat, awakening
    frequently to check his surroundings. Each time he awoke,
    Gotiskolker was sitting vigilantly nearby, his hood drawn down,
    with the firelight occasionally catching the sparkle of an eye or the
    harsh angle of his cheekbones and broken nose.
    Near dawn, Gotiskolker uttered a sudden warning hiss. Leifr
    awakened, crouching over his weapons, all vestiges of sleep instantly
    dissolved.
    Gotiskolker muttered, “Three men are coming down the
    ravine from the settlement above. Thief-takers, I wouldn’t wonder.”
    Leifr took one swift look at the three riders proceeding cautiously
    toward the barrow field. “I know those three. They’ve been