Much the same as when he was poisoned by Nelmar, Sif was wrought with fever, delirious in bed and unconscious for what felt like weeks. All of his dreams were fragmented and hideously distorted; and when he was not dreaming he was lost in darkness, gripped by terror.

He dreamt of his strange thing dying, of the pain he'd suffering when thrown against the tree, of how his teeth cracked when he pulled the stake that tethered Hélna out, of his fight with Nelmar and how she bitterly cried that he had killed her sister. He dreamt of killing the bear and how its body had been burnt, as the villagers could not eat an animal that had tasted human flesh, of holding the dying girl, of seeing his old woman dead. He dreamt, and he was certain the world would never return to him, that this time he would be stuck there forever.

You poor thing, a voice echoed in his head, a distant memory.

Like the warmth of the hands that healed him, he found himself soothed, the pain lessening.

The darkness receding, he realized that morning light was filtering through his eyelids. He woke slowly, blearily; one of his cats was asleep on his chest, so he reached up to pet it. There was a cool wet cloth on his forehead, and, disdaining the damp, his hand slid up to remove it.

Placing his cat to the side, he sat up.

" Grandmother?" he called, then remembered she had passed. " Rágn?"

The door opened, Rágn and his mother coming in with a basin of water and blankets. They evidently hadn't expected that Sif would be awake yet, and all parties involved mutually stared at one another. The cat mewed.

" Lady Hélna!" Rágn's mother exclaimed, and then immediately began weeping. Rágn thrust the water basin into her already burdened hands and quickly strode over.

" Lady Hélna! Are you recovered? What happened? Why did you speak in that bastard's voice?"

He seemed genuinely concerned; already, Sif felt a headache. But perhaps that was from sleeping for days. He cradled his forehead in his hands, and gestured weakly.

" Obviously, due to his presumptive behavior, he was cursed, and I took his voice from him as punishment," Sif lied boldly. It was the first time he had ever spoken of punishing anyone, and he didn't know whether or not that made it unbelievable. " I did not expect it to stay within me."

This was splitting hairs, but close enough to the truth to be plausible, right? He had known that he could steal a tongue; but he hadn't expected or intended to steal the tongue of Calsar's so-called priest.

" You're certain it's not a wicked hex?" Rágn asked, like he hadn't understood the first time.

" Yes," Sif answered. " What man would cast a hex that left him so much more worse off? I am now able to speak, and he is... wherever he is, mute. Where is he?"

The words felt foreign in his mouth. He had never spoken before, and it was difficult to tell whether or not he was doing it right. He even had the man's accent, so unlike the voices of his village.

Rágn looked worried; his mother stepped forward to set down the basin and blankets.

" Lady Hélna, my errant son nearly beat him to death for his trespass, but Yrnhold and I convinced him to call a healer and keep the man alive so that you may determine what to do with him. We have made a gaol of the goatshed."

Sif nodded along as she spoke.

" That is good," he declared. " I do not believe in killing people, unless they themselves have killed. You are wise in your temperance, mother."

He noticed that her face went a bit pink; perhaps she was embarrassed that they had lived together for so many years and he could not recall her given name? But names were hard for Sif, when so many people clamored for his attention.

" Will you go to see about his punishment later?" Rágn asked, anxious.

" Yes, when I am fed," Sif said carelessly. " Mother, can you fetch me a breakfast? I feel my hunger in sharp pangs. Rágn, stay to speak with me."

Rágn's mother, still blush, nodded and then very swiftly retreated from the room. Rágn watched after her with an obvious longing for escape, like a cornered mouse.

" And... what would you have us speak of, Lady Hélna?" he asked, shamefaced, as the door closed.

Sif folded his arms.

" Firstly, let us dispense with the 'Lady' nonsense," he said, watching as shock colored Rágn's face. " If even Grandmother had it known I was sexless, then why still the Lady this and Lady that? From now on, have it so that I am addressed properly as Lord."

He felt victorious and very smug that he was finally able to demand this; it had bothered him for years.

" Yes, Lord Hélna," Rágn answered, voice a bit small.

" On from that," Sif continued, " Who else in the village heard that man speak? It will be more difficult to explain my voice if the people take it for witching."

" Just myself, my parents, and cousin Rán," Rágn answered, his tone betraying some hesitance. " But wh-"

" Good," Sif cut him off, finding that he was enjoying speaking very much. " Only you know the real reason he came here, no? We shall have it that the man was a bandit merely impersonating Calsar's banner, and that in trying to rob the house, I cursed him with a hex."

Rágn stared a bit dumbly at him.

" Is it okay to just lie to people like that?" he asked, evidently baffled.

Sif tipped his head.

" Yes? Why wouldn't it be?" he asked in return.

" Because lying is bad?" Rágn answered, sounding for all the world like a child trying to recite moral lessons he wasn't sure he understood.

" Would you rather have it that they hear one of Calsar's men violently assaulted their god? Would it not be the same as hearing Calsar himself did it?" Sif asked.

" No, no, you're right- that would be a terrible misunderstanding," Rágn agreed immediately. " It's certain that Lord Calsar couldn't have known of this man's evil intent. We shouldn't trouble the people."

Though he said as much, Sif himself was not so sure. The man had acted quite arrogant and certain of what he was doing.

In itself, this raised more questions, but given Rágn's reaction, it was likely that he had no answers that would satisfy Sif.

" Then have it be so," Sif said. " For now, I will satisfy my hunger. Go tell who you must that I will address the village tomorrow morning."

" What of me, Lord Hélna?" Rágn asked, unmoving.

" What of you?" Sif said, a little annoyed.

" I brought this upon you," he said, sounding guilty. " Should I not be punished the same as the priest?"

" Why should I punish you? I don't like to go around punishing people. It's not as though you yourself attacked me. Even being so underhanded and cowardly in calling the man, how could you expect that he would act the way he did?" Sif said, peeved. " Your guilt is punishment enough. Now go quickly and convey my intentions. Don't bother me with petty things like that."

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