The Butcher of Gadobhra-Chapter 552: Dear Mater and Pater....

The main doors to the underground food storage area for the the village of Sedgewick opened and a large girl and three large, shaggy cattle walked slowly and carefully through the town and out the front gates. Signe had been careful to open the inner doors of what Delbert called an 'airlock', herd the cattle into the large room beyond, and close the inner doors tightly before opening the outer doors. Delbert kept a clean house, and Signe approved. The warmlands had far too many insects, pollen, and dust for her liking.

And, the town was too warm. She felt better as she crossed the bridge and moved away from Sedgewick. The winds changed and the air became colder a mile from the town. She could feel Winter's influence more strongly. She'd noticed it the first day when she arrived.

She looked at the side of the road for the large, white rock she had placed at the border only two days before. It was now a distance of thrice her height behind her. She picked up the rock and moved it forward, marking the border again. Winter was being pushed away from the town. Who and how was beyond her. Perhaps her father would know. Feeling the cold winds again made her cattle happy. Raul picked a spot in the middle of a meadow and the three of them began to graze. She was worried about the packs of small wolves that had attacked the town, but she had seen nothing of them since the battle had ended.

"Raul, keep good watch. I must gather my thoughts and write to Pater." Her bull lowered its head and pawed the ground, then trotted to a spot that put him between his wives and the forest. Signe relaxed and bent herself to the daunting task of composing her thoughts. Her head was like a tangle of yard after the cats played with a skein and it took much effort to formally put down what she needed to say, and not ramble on and on about little things.

Dear Pater and Mater,

Things go strangely here in the warmlands among the small people. My trip here was uneventful, and I followed your advice to avoid unpaid combat. Thank you for teaching me this, Pater. Rude people tried to tempt me to into fighting without a contract, but your wise words echoed in my head and I simply walked away without stepping on them.

The simple village where I live is filled with interesting people, none of whom are what they appear to be. The people are small, but powerful. It does not show at first. You've told me that the Ice Wizards of the Council take great pains to talk of their power, even those without any. These people are the opposite, cunningly hiding their true power. They build, grow and prepare food, and live much like our village. But much like Granny Nortje, the earth shakes when the town is angry.

I was greatly afraid for my little herd when I met the Firewalker who took your ransom. His inner fires burn uncomfortable warm, and worse, he cuts meat for a living, killing fearsome beasts and carving them into parts for the kitchen. I feared greatly for Raul, but the Butcher insisted that he had plenty of meat, and it would be a shame to sacrifice such a fine bull. We have come to an agreement. Raul will remain mine, in exchange for two cows and a bull from his progeny. This will go quickly, as the first two calves will be born in the coming month, and the Shepherd has told me that my two fine cows will be pregnant again soon after. When this debt is paid, I will be free to return with my little herd, and maybe a few more. The Shepherd is another person of great power. In the north he would be a Beastmaster in highest demand. He commands many types of animals and breeds them for special purposes. He was greatly concerned when we arrived and has kept Elsie, Bessie, and Raul from suffering from the unnatural heat. Yet for all his power, he talks like a common sheep herder. I would have paid him gold for his services, but he takes churn milk instead.

It is good that you and the Butcher came to terms, Pater. And I must warn you about fighting him again. If you have to, kill him quickly without talking or joking. He is too dangerous, and burns so hot. I need you to be at my wedding, and not melted on some battlefield waiting for a harsh winter wind to bring you home. A great battle was fought in the town, and I watched as he bested many Snarlfangs, tearing one apart with his bare hands. For such a small firewalker, his strength is great. Talking to him is like talking to you, Pater. He has wisdom that others do not see, and that makes him very dangerous. I am happy that you will not take a contract to fight against Sedgewick as long as I am here.

The battle went well for the town, and now they are turning the wolves into sausages and the Snarfangs into stews and roasts. Huge piles of carcasses were fed to the Butcher's smoking demon who cast them forth as wagon loads of sausage. He will take them south and sell the barrels of meat to the little emperor's armor to feed their troops. Like a good mercenary, he values his work and time. I am not skilled in war, Pater, but any Jotun girl knows that armies march upon their stomachs. I have helped Mater prepare your baggage train three times now and I know you have guarantees of proper food while on campaigns, and a release clause in your contracts when dealing with ill-prepared hordes. It seems to me that sending more beasts to attack Sedgewick will only be feeding the warmlander armies. I could not see the main battle, but the dead wolves piled against the walls showed the strength of the villages defenses. And I have heard the Butcher say 'Everything is Sausage.' Small folk troops may not fare any better, and also become fodder to feed another army. The barbarian clans would not find this town easy to take.

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As terrible as the Butcher is, he is not the real power in the town. A skilled Ice Wizard named Delbert the Mighty dwells here. He controls the food and his lair stretches beneath the entire town. Winter sent envoys to parley with him, but they were fools. They couldn't see his power, and dared to laugh as he explained his advanced wizardry to them. He froze them solid, Pater, and keeps them as statues in his lair. They are colder than the heart of a glacier or the middle of the night in high winter. So cold that I am afraid to get to close to them. When I make churn milk for him, I put the bucket near the statues until it stiffens. I think it adds a nice flavor, and Delbert likes my cooking.

That may be why he has offered me and my herd rooms in his lair. A day does not go by when he and the Shepherd don't share a bucket of churn milk. Delbert is not like the Council members who have visited you. He isn't vain and doesn't hide his knowledge. He has told me of his theories on Absolute Cold. I listen politely, not only because of the examples in the next room, but because he speaks so passionately of his work. I will try to write more about what he calls thermodynamics when I understand it better. Somehow, he uses cold to manipulate heat, something I have never seen or heard of before, and his mastery of cold is growing. He is so confident in his power that he is humble. I wonder if the difference is his Jotun heritage? I think he has hidden it until now, but he manifested his ice form in battle when fighting the invading Snarlfangs, standing beside the Butcher and not hiding behind an army as many of the Council of Winter like to do.

He would have made a powerful ally for Winter, maybe even ruled the Council eventually. I hope you can meet him someday, to judge for yourself and perhaps gain an ally for our steading. I must go now, my herd has eaten and are restless here in the open.

Your dutiful daughter, Signe.

It was two days later when a tired Ice Sprite flew into the Jotun steading of Morthag Chasm and flittered about until it found Jarl Brogthall relaxing by the front gate. It had snowed ten feet that afternoon and the sprite had thought him just a large snow drift until she heard him snoring. He came awake quickly as she got near, hearing the slight purr of her wings. He offered her a frozen pudding and three candied mulberries, treats preferred by the sprites. She happily exchanged the rolled scroll she had carried from the warmlands for the treats.

Brogthall read the message three times, first scowling, and then a smile appeared on his face. He jumped up, almost forgetting to limp in his haste, and yelled for his wife. "I have news of great import, my wife. You must judge for yourself, I am so bad at understanding how womenfolk think. It is a good thing we sent her along with her dowry."

His wife read the message seven times, annoyed that he had gotten the news first. "As I'm sure you've guessed, she has found someone. Negotiations may be complicated if she wants a wedding anytime soon. What will you do?"

Brogthall had been thinking of that. "First, I will go yell to the great glacier that I wish my friend Bronk would come for a visit. I promised the Council that I would give them any interesting information that Signe discovered. I will pick a few nuggets from her letter and give them to him. Better the ogre than one of the small wizards. I am beginning to question their judgement."

His wife rolled her eyes. She had never trusted them. "It is strange. I would never have thought that my daughter would pick a wizard over a warrior. And a small folk? But if he is of our blood and can fight Snarlfangs, I may get used to the idea."

Brogthall laughed, "He may not be so small for very long, if he likes her churn milk so much."