For all that Rágn said about how surely the message wasn't really conveyed, how surely no one would really come, on a bright day in the middle of summer, an envoy from Calsar arrived.

Sif was out to catch fish for the festival which celebrated his defeat of Helna's sister, and the younger grandson called out for him.

" Lady Hélna! Rágn says there's a man here to see you!" he called, voice thin and reedy.

This suited Sif just fine, for as much as he liked his wilderness, he was at the limit of his patience with the water. He took himself away from the stream, and followed after the lanky child, returning to the village.

People were poking their heads out of their houses, but afraid to fully step out; a large black horse with a needlessly elaborate saddle was hoofing the ground, reins held by coven Yrnhold. In his other hand was a long wooden pole that held a needlessly elaborate banner, embroidered in great detail and dyed in a rich, vivid blue. It had a bold design on it that Sif didn't understand the meaning of.

He passed his wet cloak to Yrnhold, and discarded his muddy socks as he went through the doorway and stepped up into the house.

Standing in front of the cold hearth was a man in foreign-looking clothes, a bit like the gambisons the returning soldiers had brought back with their armor, a sash thrown over his shoulder. He had a hard look on his face, and Rágn stood beside him, looking cowed.

" This is your Lady Hélna?" the man asked Rágn; Rágn nodded smally, eyes going back and forth between them. Sif made a point to avoid his gaze, and kept his eyes fixed on the man. There was something in his manner that he didn't like.

The man stepped away from Rágn and bowed, his eyes equally fixed on Sif. He appeared calculating.

When he straightened, he spoke shortly.

" I have heard much of your power, Lady Hélna," he said formally. " Lord Calsar has some interest in you. I would like for us to speak privately, so that we may have your divinity conveyed to the capital."

" Lady Hélna is unable to speak with words," Rágn said, stepping forward a bit. " Shall I-"

" No," the man said, cutting him off. " I will hold audience with Lady Hélna alone. If she so wills it."

Though Sif didn't trust this man, he did not want him to reprimand Rágn further; Rágn was one of his people, and thus he felt only he could reprimand him. He nodded curtly. It would be easy, he decided, to lie to this man until he could get him out of the way.

He had had private audience with the other priest, anyway, and nothing bad had come of that, not really.

Rágn's mother escorted them to the kitchen storeroom, wringing her hands, and closed the door after they entered. They both sat on the dirt floor, the room illuminated by light streaming through the raft windows.

" So your name is Hélna, and you are this village's god," the man said.

Sif nodded.

" I have been told you had a companion spirit, which sacrificed itself so that you could wield your true power, and you descended from the ether in order to save these people from a flood," the man said. " Is that correct?"

Sif nodded.

" You killed the wraith Nelmar, and offer blessings to the people, allowing the harvest to grow heavy and the livestock fat," he continued. " Is that correct?"

Sif nodded. He had never heard the water woman named, but knew the people to call it a wraith; it was the only wraith he had killed.

" Covenah Rágnhold has told me you are a goddess of the land, and your power comes from your union with it; that you must maintain chastity forevermore," he said. " Is that correct?"

Sif nodded.

" Good, that makes this easy," the man said, nodding along with him. " We must simply rid you of it."

Sif blinked, not understanding.

In the next moment, the man leapt forward and grabbed him, pulling him by his hair and trying to press his mouth onto his, knocking him over. Nothing like this had ever happened to Sif; he panicked, no idea what to do. He had not expected this man to try to hurt him, and kicked at him, beating at his back and scratching him. He in turn held Sif by the throat while tearing at his tunic and forced his mouth open, not seeming to care. When his tongue entered Sif's mouth, Sif did the only thing he could do and bit down on it; too late, as the blood was gushing into his mouth, did he remember that the water woman had told him that in order to have a voice, he would need to take a tongue.

He felt something shift, a change in the life that flowed through his body, as the man at last ripped away and clawed at his own throat, gurgling, fear in his eyes; blood spewed from his mouth as he stumbled backwards and crashed into the storage basins, spilling barley and groats across the floor.

Sif, still dazed and panicked, hurried to fix his torn tunic and belt, vaguely aware there was another noise in the room but uncertain of what it was. His eyes were stinging with tears of pain and he collected himself off the ground, tripping over his own feet as he ran to the door and frantically pulled at its lock, pushing it open.

" Rágn! Rágn!" someone was screaming; it was not the man who had just had his tongue bitten out, but then who else could it be?

Rágn and his mother came very quickly around the corner; they had likely been waiting. Upon seeing Sif, they both looked shocked and confused. The blood drained from Rágn's face as he rushed forward.

" Lady Hélna- what's going on?! Why do you- What's that man done to you-"

Still disoriented from the shock of being attacked and the spiritual pressure of stealing a tongue, Sif nearly collapsed as he stepped out of the storeroom.

" That man! That man tried to do something horrible to me!" he cried, voice wavering, breaking. Was it his own? It still sounded just like the man it had come from. How could he explain that to Rágn? He hadn't even meant to take it!

Rágn's eyes went wide, and he picked Sif up, pushing him at his mother, and went inside the storeroom himself, where the man was still wordlessly writhing in pain. He did not say anything for a moment, and Sif became terrified that Rágn would take him for a lying monster, like the water woman was.

Sif was shocked to see Rágn begin cursing and kicking the man on the floor, but in equal measure he was beginning to become overwhelmed with a hideous wave of nausea, which made it hard to focus.

" You bastard! Son of a bitch! Whoremonger coward!" He could hear Rágn yelling; he had never heard him speak so coarsely before. Sif heaved and vomited blackish, thick blood across Rágn's mother's chest. She seemed to pay no mind, as she herself was hysterically berating Rágn for behaving the way he was in front of poor Lady Hélna, who had just suffered such a terrible indignity, her nails digging into Sif's limp arms as sharply as claws.

Sif passed out, darkness enveloping him.

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