Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 Read Online Free PDF

surroundings.
    “The eunuch says he's glad to learn that you're not mute after all,” the man said.
    Valdis frowned.
Eunuch?
She lifted a brow at Damian. Birka's skald had ventured to Miklagard once and brought back many amusing and scurrilous tales about the eunuchs of the great city, aping their mincing gait, corpulent forms and feminine voices. The darkly handsome Greek before her displayed none of the affectations of the “third sex.”
    But it explained much. No wonder Damian was unaffected by her presence in his sleeping chambers. He was not a true man.
    The Varangian certainly was. He strode toward her with the confident awareness she expected in a male. He stopped an arm's length away from her and let his gaze slide over her as though he hadn't been at the slave market and already seen her unclothed.
    “Who are you?” he asked.
    “Have you been gone from the fjords so long you've forgotten your manners?” she returned with tartness. “You might at least give me the favor of your name before demanding mine.”
    “Erik Heimdalsson from Hordaland. I'm a centurion, and a soldier quickly loses patience with the niceties of polite society. Now, as to your name, your host demands it, not I.”
    Valdis cast a glance at Damian, who was looking at her expectantly. “He's not my host. He's my gaoler. And he seems to think he owns me.”
    “He doesn't just think it, he knows it,” Erik said. “If it's any comfort to you, he paid handsomely for the privilege. You at least owe him your name.”
    “I owe him nothing, but I'll give my name to you. It's Valdis,” she said. “Valdis Ivorsdottir of Birka.”
    Erik relayed the information. Damian flashed his row of even teeth at her and repeated her name with the beguiling hint of an accent. Then he withdrew to his room, busying himself with correspondence at a small desk but keeping a discreet eye on Valdis and Erik.
    A self-appointed chaperone.
    “A soldier, you say.” Valdis draped herself across the gold brocaded divan and motioned for Erik to sit on the ottoman opposite her. “Rather an odd choice for an interpreter, don't you think?”
    “I'm not here to translate. I'm here to teach you their language and I expect you to learn quickly.” He ignored her offer and stood over her, hands fisted on his waist.
    She smirked up at him. If he intended to intimidate her, he'd have to try harder than that. Damian's protective presence insulated her from this big man's threatening stance.
    “You seem intelligent enough. The eunuch admitted he tried to teach you. Why have you resisted learning?”
    “Because whatever he wants me for must require it.”
    “Are you always this stubborn?”
    “What would you have me do?” She rose to face him. “I am not accustomed to life as a thrall. I'm the freeborn daughter of a landed
karl.
Unlike you, I've no ax to wield or I'd have done it. Would you submit willingly to an iron collar?”
    “I see no collar.” He looked down at her and Valdis felt his gaze traveling further south than her neck. Her nipples tingled under his scrutiny. She turned from him and strode to the open balcony.
    “Maybe not, but I feel the weight of it all the same. I won't bear it.” She glanced over her shoulder, mildly disappointed he hadn't followed.
    Erik was looking around her gilded chamber. “
Ja,
I can see how life on a cushion would gall a body. You are clean, well-clothed, fed and housed as if you were the goddess Freya herself.” He moved toward her, and then walked past her to lean on the balustrade. “Has the Greek made any other demands on you besides learning his language?”
    “No.”
    “Then consider yourself fortunate in your lot. Everyone in this city is a thrall, one way or another.”
    Valdis frowned at him in confusion.
    “Every soul in Miklagard serves the emperor. From the boy who sweeps the camel dung from the Mese”— he extended an arm to point at the wide major thoroughfare that knifed through the city—“to