Fate's Needle Read Online Free PDF

were shoved to the sides, leaving a wide avenue to the back, where his father’s rooms were. Ulfrik did not bother to remove his weapons. The few men dozing in the hall stood at his approach.
    “Your brother is keeping vigil,” a seasoned veteran of long service to Orm said as Ulfrik strode across the hall, passing two listless slaves who tended pots at the central hearth and looked away at his approach.
    Ulfrik nodded, making for his father’s quarters. When Ulfrik reached the door, Grim stepped out.
    Both men bristled. Pulling back, they assessed each other. Grim’s lip curled, kindling Ulfrik’s immediate agitation. Ulfrik flexed his fists and noticed Grim’s eyes drawn down to them. Neither spoke.
    “How is Father? I want to see him.” Ulfrik decided their father was more important than their feud.
    “He’s with the healer woman now.” Grim’s black eyes glittered in the low light and he folded his heavy arms across his chest. “You can see him in the morning. He is ill. He needs rest.”
    “I did not ride all day to see him in the morning, Brother. Let me through.”
    Grim did not waver. A smirk twisted his lips. “Relax for the night, Ulfrik. It’s not my orders you’re following. The healer woman threw me out, too. Father needs undisturbed rest.”
    Ulfrik sighed and rubbed at his thin beard. “Then tell me what happened at least. How did he become so sick?”
    Grim shrugged.
    The gesture compounded Ulfrik’s irritation. This was their father—a man who commanded the respect of honorable warriors—such a dismissive gesture was an insult.
    “How would I know?” Grim finally said. “Some whisper it is elf-shot.”
    “Elf-shot? You think it is elf-shot? I want to know what happened.” Ulfrik’s voice rose in anger, drawing the eyes of the few men in the hall. He didn’t want a confrontation, but Grim’s answers stung him.
    “It’s what’s whispered, Brother. I don’t know any more about these things than you. Why come home to start a fight? Do you think this will help our father, your yelling at his door?”
    “I’m not yelling!” Ulfrik yelled. Then he felt his face redden.
    Grim’s smile was smug and mirthless.
    Ulfrik looked away, shamed by his easy provocation. “It has been a long ride.” He shook his head to clear it. “At least get me something to eat. I can see Father tomorrow.”
    Grim stared at him. “You can stay in the front room. Why don’t you put your precious sword away there, since you shouldn’t have carried it this far anyway. There’s a stew on the fire; one of the slave girls can fetch you some.”
    Ulfrik did not like his brother’s tone. Grim spoke as if it were his hall, but Ulfrik had long been away. Grim might well consider the hall more his own than Ulfrik’s. He turned aside, to the hearth, where the heat tightened his skin as he sat on the floor beside the fire.
    Ulfrik unbuckled his sword, enabling him to sit better, but still kept it close to his leg. He wanted to remind Grim of his shame, though he guessed such subtleties would elude his brother’s intelligence. Standing over him, Grim barked at one of the slave girls to serve the stew.
    “Since when does Father keep so many slaves? Wasn’t one enough?” Ulfrik asked his brother as the girl ladled the stew into a wooden bowl and held it out to him. He accepted it from her with mumbled thanks. The curly haired girl glided away, her smile genuine and out of place in the tense atmosphere. Grim continued talking.
    “He’s a rich man now, Ulfrik, ever since he came back with all that treasure. Though you wouldn’t know; you don’t visit often. Not that I’ve minded your absence.”
    Ulfrik wanted to fling the bowl at Grim, but instead placed it down and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not hungry, but tired. To bed; I will see Father tomorrow.” Rising to his feet, he then snatched up Fate’s Needle and strode to the small rooms at the front of the hall. He did not need to look back to know that