Fires of Winter Read Online Free PDF Page B

was Garrick’s ship that had brought them.
    And so, being young men on their first voyage east (for only Haakorn had traveled this far before), they lingered long, reveling in the new and unusual. Garrick purchased many gifts for his family. Some he would distribute on his return; others he would save for special occasions and ceremonies. He had necklaces and armbands made for his mother from precious jewels he bought cheaply from the Arabs, and he also obtained Chinese silk. For his father he found a splendid sword like his own, with its prized Rhenish blade, and the handle richly engraved and inlaid with silver and gold. For his brother Hugh he purchased a helmet of gold, a symbol of leadership.
    He bought gifts for his friends and trinkets for Yarmille, the woman who ran his household and commanded the slaves in his absence. For himself he purchased extravagantly—Byzantine silks and brocades to make fine robes, tapestries from the Orient for his home, and a barrel of iron utensils that would delight his slaves. Each day they stayed in Bulgar, Garrick found something new to add to his collection. Finally his friends began to make wagers on how much silver he would part with before the day ended.
    This day in midsummer, with the cloudless sky almost white in its intensity, Garrick entered the house of the engraver, Bolsky, his friend Perrin at his side.
    The little man looked up from his work table in the center of the room and fixed his squinting eyes on the two young Norsemen dressed in short, sleeveless tunics with tight-fitting long leggings. They were both of towering height with broad chests; corded muscles rippled on their bare arms. They had taut, powerful bodies without an ounce of excess flesh. One had auburn hair and a trim beard; the other was blond and clean-shaven. The blond had eyes that were cold and skeptical for one so young. They were the color of aqua, like shallow waters on a bright day. The other had laughing eyes like glowing emeralds.
    Bolsky was expecting the blond Viking, for he had requested the engraver to make him a fine, silver medallion with the picture of a beautiful girl engraved on the underside. He had given Bolsky a sketch of this girl, and the engraver was proud of the finished work. On the front was a proud Viking ship with nine oars, and above the ship was a hammer with crisscrossed wings and a broadsword. On the back of the medallion was the girl, worked in minute detail, the very image of the sketch. A sweetheart, perhaps, or a wife?
    “Is it finished?” Garrick asked.

    Bolsky smiled, and opening a fur-lined bag, produced the medallion with its long silver chain. “It is done.”
    Garrick tossed a pouch of silver on the table and took the medallion, slipping it over his head without even inspecting it. But Perrin, his curiosity pricked, lifted the heavy silver disk from Garrick’s chest and examined it closely. He admired the symbols of wealth, power and strength, but when he turned the medallion over, his brows drew together in a disapproving frown.
    “Why?”
    Garrick shrugged and started for the door, but Perrin was close on his heels and drew him to a halt. “Why torture yourself this way?” Perrin asked. “She is not worth it.”
    Garrick raised an eyebrow in surprise. “ You would say this?”
    Perrin grimaced. “Yea, I would. She is my sister, but I cannot condone what she has done.”
    “Well, do not fret, my friend. What I felt for Morna is dead—long since.”
    “Then why that?” Perrin asked, gesturing at the medallion.
    “A reminder,” Garrick answered, his voice hard. “A reminder that no woman can be trusted.”
    “I fear my sister has left her mark on you, Garrick. You have not been the same since she married that fat merchant.”
    A shadow came over the younger man’s blue-green eyes, but a cynical smile twisted his lips. “I am simply wiser. I will never fall prey to a woman’s charms again. I laid my heart open once, and will not do so a