A milky mist held low over Nordfjord as Runa woke up in the long house of jarl Ivar. She was a skald apprentice, but that morning words refused to form. A raven, not of the jarl, but a wild one, with salt in its feathers, sat on a beam under the eaves. It tilted its head and sneezed with a black laugh that carried like a river. She pushed the skins away, because for a fraction of a moment it seemed to her that he had spoken her name. Nets were being keyed on the quay and the market smelled of tar, dried cod and tufted wool. A scout boat was coming into the harbour, its side scratched with ice, though it was summer. Jarl Ivar gestured to Runa and then struck the threshold with his staff, for silence. He spoke slowly, as if weighing salt and clouds: "The Bura is returning, but without men, and a chest on board." Runa felt the raven of the beam stir the air again just above her neck. Scout Leif, still with his wet cap, slid a piece of discarded wood out of the basket. It was the side of a paddle, cut in half, with lines drawn on it as if from a map. The lines did not match the known bays, and a black feather was stuck near the edge. Leif mumbled something, but lowered his voice when he noticed the mark cut by the feather. "It's a jarl's knot," he said, "the kind you wear on your mother's armband." The rune touched the weave, and the raven tilted like a boat in a north wind. Night came quickly, with mist that climbed the hillsides like silent sheep. Torches flashed on the water as the 'Bura' touched the pilings, creaking like a snow-covered roof. There was no one on board, just a sealskin, a box and a boot print in the soot. "Don't touch!" - hissed the elder Svala, but the jarl handed Runa a horn with the Isa rune etched on it. "You will open it with a word of song," he said quietly. "Your mother would know which one." Runa hesitated, for she only remembered the beginning of the song of three silences. As she raised her horn, a raven flew to the railing and tapped the iron lock with its claw. The lock vibrated and made a sound, thin as ice spreading underfoot. Leif waited on the shore, the men clutched their torches, and the jarl kept his gaze fixed on the shore. The rune sang the first verse, short as a breath, and the chest responded with a deafening sigh. From the darkness of the fjord came a second horn, unfamiliar, and the waves began to climb against the current. The castle darkened like coal, the raven's pupils dilated, and a streak of fire flashed across the water. Runa raised her hands over the chest as something clattered three times inside. From the deck, from beneath the coils of rope, came the whisper of someone who knew her secret name.